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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Day 28, Post #1 by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: The Argument Author/Artist: FloreatCastellum Pairing: Gen Prompt: “Siblings: The only enemy you can’t live without” -Anonymous Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mild language

When he was a child, Ron had sometimes sat secretly on the stairs, feet in slippers too big for him, teddy tucked under his arm, listening to the goings on in the kitchen. Often his sister or a brother or two would be with him. This was especially the case when there was an argument, because they were a nosy bunch of kids, and they would grin gleefully at one another as they heard their mother roar over some issue, like when Bill came home with his first tattoo, or Charlie had done something dangerous like climb on the roof, or the many, many, many things that Fred and George had done. They would gather on the stairs and snigger and delight in their siblings being in trouble - that it wasn't them, and usually it was over something hilarious too.

Today was quite different. The stairs were narrow, so Ginny was pressed right up against him, but she was gripping hold of his arm too. Behind them, Fred and George sat in grim, stony silence, their knees occasionally knocking the back of Ron's head, but, remarkably, none of them were squabbling.

'Is it so hard to just be happy for me?' Percy was bellowing, and that in itself was unusual, because it was never Percy in trouble.

'It's not about that,' Dad was bellowing back, 'are you so naive? Are you really so foolish-?' This was unusual too, because it wasn't usually Dad bellowing.

'Percy... Percy, we're just worried, we're just concerned...' Mum was sobbing. This was unusual, because she usually had a bit more fight in her, not this desperate pleading.

'You're so cynical, the pair of you-'

'We're realistic! You've been promoted well above your grade before the dust has settled on the inquiry-'

'STOP BRINGING UP THE INQUIRY!' Percy sounded quite deranged; the ferocity of his voice made Ginny jump slightly, and grip Ron's arm harder. 'That - wasn't - my - fault! That was the point of it! That PROVED I wasn't to blame, I was acquitted-'

'Yes, and we were delighted,' said Dad, and to Ron's astonishment, his words sounded bitingly sarcastic, 'but even so, you have to see that mass scandal is not usually a precursor to promotion!'

'He SAW something in me!'

'Yes, he did! He saw a potential spy! On our family - on Dumbledore-'

Percy let out a maniacal laugh, forced and sneering and sanctimonious, it made Ron wince as he heard it. 'And you say I'm arrogant?'

'We've never said you were arrogant-' Mum tried to chip in desperately, but Percy continued talking over her.

'You think you're important enough to warrant the Minister for Magic spying on you? You think he considers you in the same circle as Dumbledore? More to the point, you think Dumbledore truly respects the likes of you?'

'Fudge has been going round making it more than clear that anyone who supports Dumbledore can clear out their desks-'

'Utter rot-'

'-He knows I'm friendly with him, he knows I have advised the school on muggleborn inte-'

'No one cares!' Percy screamed. 'No one cares about that stuff! You're ludicrous!'

'Ludicrous?' Dad echoed, with an uncharacteristic scoff to his voice.

'Ludicrous! Not everything is a conspiracy, not everything has an anti-muggle agenda - I know what this is really about, you're embarrassed that your own son is rising above you, is succeeding where you haven't-'

'Percy!' Mum's gasp was so clear that Ron could easily imagine her hand leaping to her chest.

'I've had to struggle against your lousy reputation ever since I started! Do you know how embarrassing it is? Do you know what it's like having people ask if I'm related to the muggle-mad Weasley on Level Two-'

'That's enough,' said Dad coldly.

'I lie to them, d'you know that? I tell them we're only distantly related.'

'What the fuck?' Ron heard one of the twins whisper behind them. 'Is he serious?'

'I never imagined I had raised you to be so small-minded-' Dad was spitting back.

'It's baffling that you raised me at all! You, who has no ambition, no sense, no idea of how ridiculous you come across with your obsession with muggles - is it any wonder you've always been passed over for promotion-'

'-Because of bigotry!'

'-Any wonder you've left your children to grow up in poverty? To be humiliated by the failures of their father?'

'Stop it! Percy, stop it!' Mum was wailing, and whether it was Fred or George directly behind him Ron didn't know, but their knee was trembling against the back of his head.

'It's not failure, it's a matter of principle and integrity!' Dad roared back. 'There are more important things than gold, that's what we've always-'

'You are deluded! You are so blinded by your persecution complex, by your victimhood, that you cannot be happy for your son!' Percy’s voice was hoarse and raw, whether from tears or overexertion, Ron wasn’t sure. 'You can't bear to see him succeed where you failed! To see him make something of himself!'

'Why would I be happy watching my son be manipulated and used? Make no mistake, Percy - this is no achievement, this is Fudge playing you as a puppet - if you're ashamed of your background, that's your prerogative, but there's no denying this family is known to be close to Dumbledore and Harry, and Fudge is waging a vendetta against-'

‘You’re an idiot to run around with Dumbledore!’ snapped Percy. ‘He’s heading for trouble - gone completely power mad the last few years - you know full well his glory days are over. You’ll end up going down with him-’

‘Fudge is fighting a campaign against Dumbledore when he should be-’

‘I know where my loyalties lie, and it is not with my old teacher! It is with my employer, the leader of my government, with people who look at the facts!’

‘The facts are that Harry-’

'Yes - Harry - here we go,' snapped Percy. 'You rank the word of a child above the expert testimonies and mountains of evidence brought up by the inquiry, above your own boss - no wonder he thinks you're cracked. You’re determined to see conspiracy everywhere-’

‘How can you say that? You saw the aftermath of what happened, you saw him-’

‘I saw the actual dead boy, I saw Diggory!’ snapped Percy. ‘Think what his family is going through, their child’s death being used as a political quaffle-’

‘That is Fudge’s doing! That is his choice! He has chosen to make a mockery of Diggory, to disregard Harry-'

‘To question the story of a teenager,’ corrected Percy. His tone was cold and quiet, the kind of sanctimonious "I'm being the grown up here, actually" patience that Ron found unbearably aggravating. ‘The only evidence is his word, it’s not unreasonable to question a witness. In fact, it’s a perfectly standard part of due process.’

Ron’s growing anger was now twisted with a kind of lurching dread. The snide little comments in the Daily Prophet, which they had all blustered and raged and gasped in revolted disdain at over breakfasts for the past week, suddenly felt sinister. As he thought about it, Percy had never joined in… had always been silent…

‘Percy…’ said Mum, so faintly that, as one, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George all leaned forward to listen. ‘Percy, surely you… surely you believe him? Surely you can’t believe he deserves what they’re saying about him? He’s just a child - it’s like the whole world’s forgotten that he’s just a child.’

'Yes, he's just a child - so why should he be the centre of everything?' Percy demanded. 'Why should he shape our family? Impact our careers?'

'Percy… if you had seen him in the hospital wing, if you had looked into his eyes…'

'Mr Fudge was not convinced,' said Percy, as though that settled the matter.

‘Has he asked you about Harry?’ Dad asked abruptly. Beside Ron, Ginny was shaking. ‘Casually?’

‘I - no more than is to be expected when you have someone famous living under your roof-’

‘What did he ask? What did you say?’

They heard a brief, thick silence, and a sharp exhale of air. ‘He… he’s not relevant to this discussion. This is beyond - this isn’t the issue - the only evidence is his word, as I said-’

‘You don’t believe him.’ Dad’s voice was blank, stunned, quiet. ‘You… you know that boy, Percy.’

‘You don’t believe in me,’ said Percy, and Ron could hear his tears now, the slight thickness to his voice, the sniffs between words. ‘You’d rather believe in some ludicrous conspiracy theory from a teenager who thinks he sees You-Know-Who around every corner than believe that your own son might have worked hard, might be talented, might deserve his career. You’d really think so little of me.’

‘That’s not it. That’s not it at all,’ Dad said quietly, and Mum was crying loudly. ‘We just-’

‘I don’t care!’ said Percy harshly. ‘I don’t care what you think! Not any more! Years I’ve put up with it, years! I’m going - I’m gone - I don’t want to see either of you again - you’ve made it clear that you don’t have my interests at heart, this was your choice-’

‘What do you mean?’ Mum shrieked, and they could hear the scraping of chairs being moved aside, thundering footsteps, Mum begging-

The door was thrust open, and Percy stood for a moment in the hallway, looking up at the four of them sitting on the stairs. His expression was unreadable. Tear tracks shone from beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and his mouth was a thin, grim line.

‘Move,’ he told them.

‘You’re being a right bellend,’ said Fred at once.

‘MOVE!’

They did not, and Mum had come running after Percy, hanging desperately onto his arm though he tried to shake her off. ‘Come on, Perce,’ she pleaded. ‘Come and sit down, let’s all cool off and talk about this-’

‘Get out of my way,’ Percy told his siblings once more, and now Ron stood.

‘Harry’s part of our family,’ he blurted out furiously.

‘He’s not, Ron,’ Percy growled. ‘He’s your friend, that doesn’t mean everything he says is right - move out my way.’

‘How can you say that!’ Ginny demanded. ‘What’s wrong with you? How can you say all these horrible things?’

Percy started climbing the stairs, pushing Ron aside and stepping over Ginny, furiously struggling past Fred and George who immediately made their bodies as big and awkward and gangling as they could imagine, shouting colourful insults at him as he pushed past and thundered up to his room.

‘He just needs to calm down,’ Mum was squeaking. ‘Go - go to your rooms, let me and Dad talk to him-’

‘No chance!’

‘I haven’t said my piece yet!’

He returned just a few moments later, carrying a bulging bag with a jumper sleeve trailing out, a little line of abandoned socks and a pair of underwear left on the stairs. ‘I’m going to stay with friends,’ he said.

‘You haven't got any,’ goaded George.

‘Be quiet, George!’ Mum wailed. ‘Percy-’

‘Then I’m getting my own place, I’m not staying here anymore - I’m not letting you all drag me down with you. If you’re all going to be traitors to the Ministry I’m going to make sure everyone’s well aware that I don’t belong to this family any more-’

‘You do, Percy, you do - you’ll always be my son-’ Mum’s words were barely audible beneath her crying. Percy pushed past her, and stormed towards the door.

‘Percy!’ Ron shouted, and to his surprise, Percy turned and looked at him.

Ron could not find the words for his contempt, could not find an insult strong enough, could not decide what to do with the rage that was coursing through him. All he could hope was that Percy could feel it in his cold, hard stare. ‘How could you?’

Percy said nothing, simply looked back for a moment, and then turned his back and strode swiftly to the door. Mum was running after him, and though they heard the ear-splitting crack of disapparation, she stood in the doorway shouting his name.

Dad had not followed, and with a creak, Ginny rose beside Ron and descended the last few stairs. She peered through the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Dad?’

Ron heard a splutter, and then dry, heaving sobs. Ginny vanished into the kitchen. Behind him, Fred and George were muttering mutinously, swearing and cursing.

‘What’s he playing at?’

‘He’s an idiot. A big-headed, pompous, ridiculous idiot, we’ve always said it, we were right.’

‘Who does he think he is? Does he really think that promotion is normal? Does he honestly think he’s that extraordinary?’

‘Moron…’

Ron’s jaw was aching from gritting his teeth so hard, his heart was trying to break through his ribcage and go after Percy to beat him.

‘Do you really think he meant that stuff he said to Dad?’ George said. ‘It’s just…’

‘I bet he does, the git,’ said Fred. ‘I bet he really does pretend he’s not part of the family. He’s ashamed of us. Slimy, brown-nosing prick…’

‘All that stuff about poverty? So uncalled for.’

‘That’s it, really, isn’t it? He’s a greedy arsehole.’

‘Well, he’s certainly written himself out of the will now, hasn’t he?’

‘He won’t care, nothing for him to inherit anyway, apparently.’

That prickling, heated anger was back - his very ears were hot with it, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam had been bursting out of them. The memory of Harry, pale and shaken in the hospital wing, his hands gripping Mum’s robes as she hugged him, was lingering in his mind. ‘Did you hear all that crap about Harry? Did you hear what he was saying about him? Harry!’

‘Yeah,’ muttered George. ‘Pillock.’

‘Why would he say that? What the bloody hell is going on with him? He’s gone bonkers. When did he turn into such a - a -’ He still could not quite find a word strong enough.

‘Berk?’ suggested George.

‘Something along those lines…’

‘Easier than admitting he’s horrible, selfish, idiot snob, I suppose,’ said Fred.

‘Money’s always been an issue, but blaming Dad like that is just…’

‘Nasty,’ said Ron, simply.

‘You can make money without completely selling out and betraying your family,’ said Fred seriously. ‘You can do it and keep your integrity.’

‘He’s acting like we weren’t fed enough,’ said George spitefully. ‘Percy didn’t even get that many hand-me-downs, really - Mum and Dad were doing all right before they were hit with twins, and we all know Ginny was probably unexpected.’

‘Was she?’ said Ron distractedly.

‘Are you joking, you were only about eight months old, who picks then to decide to have another baby?’

‘Mum.’

‘Fair.’

‘Anyway,’ said Fred, ‘Percy’s not exactly been hard done by, not really. He’s just always been ashamed we’re not as well-heeled as his smarmy new colleagues at the Ministry.’

‘It’s childish,’ said Ron, who was feeling another lurch of guilt as he thought back on the previous year. ‘It’s really petty…’

‘We’ve all wished the family was better off now and then,’ said George fairly. ‘Who wouldn’t? But that was a seriously low blow. God, poor Dad,' he added, his voice lowering further. 'I'm glad Ginny's gone in to comfort him, I don't even know where to begin.'

‘Do you think he’s really gone for good?’ asked Ron.

‘Hope so,’ said Fred viciously. ‘Hey - one less mouth to feed now, maybe the family’ll be better off.’

'You know what else,' Ron said sharply, his brain whirring, 'did you hear him dodging Dad's question about what he's said about Harry? Good thing he's buggered off before we go to the Order Headquarters, isn't it? Who knows what he would have blabbered about?'

Fred was looking at him as though in a new light. 'You know what, Ronniekins, that is a really excellent and disturbing point. You're a bit of a bright spark at times, aren't you?'

'Brighter than Percy,' Ron muttered.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #submission #tw: mild language

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fics-n-stuff · 3 years

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What Is Your Place?

Was for @therayel, see request here, but the account has been deactivated in the month and a half that this took

Pairing: Kaz Brekker × Reader (platonic Crows × Reader)

Summary: Faced with a ghost from their past, Y/N finds themself unable to cope and Kaz finds himself uncharacteristically concerned.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: A single swear word, reference to vague trauma, panic attack (??)

A/N: I used they/them pronouns for the reader so that more people could enjoy this story. It was kinda strange to write focused more on Kaz's perspective than Y/N's but I think I quite like how this turned out.

“Jesper, that’s not a toy!” Wylan scolded, reaching over to try – and fail – to intercept the round explosive that the taller boy was tossing between his hands. “We all end up dead if you drop it.”

“I don’t want to die yet.” You chimed in from behind them. Jesper glanced over his shoulder at you before handing the metal ball to Wylan with an exaggerated sigh.

“You guys are no fun.” He grumbled.

“We just value our lives.” Nina retorted.

You looked over at Kaz beside you, his expression stony and his eyes focused straight ahead. Inej was somewhere on the rooftops above, though you could never keep track of the Wraith, and Matthias was waiting at the canal with the boat that would take you to safety now that your job was complete.

The trip through the canals was casual, everyone chatting amongst each other, feeling the fresh buzz of a job well done. You got off of the boat in the Barrel and began the walk to the Crow Club.

You and Wylan were walking at the back of the group, your attention on reading out the ingredients on a little pot to see if what was inside contained the specific chemicals that he needed. You were so focused on your task that you didn’t notice the person walking towards you, and you bumped into them head on.

“Oh, I-“ You began to apologise before you looked up and saw the man stood before you. You froze. The sneer on his face told you that he remembered you.

“Still haven’t learned your place then.” He spat. You knew that your fear and upset was showing on your face, and you could see the smugness that it was prompting from him. You couldn’t find your voice to reply. “It would do you some good to start observing your place in the world.”

You flinched when he took his first step, and he laughed at you as he walked away. You were still frozen to the spot. You could hear Wylan repeating your name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your ears were ringing, your heart was pounding and you could feel your hands shaking.

It wasn’t until Wylan reached out to lay a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your stupor, and suddenly you couldn’t bare the fact that you were in public. There was a burning in the back of your throat and a stinging behind your eyes. Anger and shame bubbled beneath your skin and you just felt so overwhelmed.

You turned around and bolted.

“Saints, Y/N!” Wylan called after your retreating form, effectively getting the attention if the other Crows.

“What happened? Where are they going?” Jesper questioned as the group came back towards Wylan, who shrugged.

“Wraith, go after them.” Kaz said flatly, and Inej took off after you on silent feet. “Wylan?”

“I don’t know what happened. This guy bumped into them, said some weird stuff and then they ran.”

“Well what did he say?”

“Something about Y/N learning their place in the world.” Wylan answered.

“That’s unsettling.” Nina commented.

“What did the guy look like?” Kaz pressed, an urgency now in his voice.

“Uh... tall, bearded, broad shoulders-" Wylan recalled before Kaz interrupted.

“Was there a scar under his left eye?”

“Um, yeah. I think so.” He nodded. Kaz cursed under his breath and started in the direction that you had run.

“Come on, they’ll be headed home.”

“Wait, weren’t we supposed to go back to the Crow Club?” Jesper questioned, but still began following after their leader.

“This is more important.”

“What’s the problem? What’s up with Y/N?” Nina asked, her tone worried.

“Bad memories.” Kaz replied vaguely.

The pace that he set was brutal, speeding across the cobbles of the Barrel as fast as his bad leg would carry him. His limp was pronounced after multiple days of constant action with little rest, and every step he took sent a shock through his leg, but he cared more about getting to you quickly. He knew the memories that this encounter had dragged up for you, and he hated to admit it to himself but he was worried about you.

Your apartment was just a couple of streets over from the Slat, and it didn’t take them very long to get there. The Crows ascended the stairs to your apartment in a hurry, finding Inej posted outside your door.

“I was just about to come back and get you all.” She said. “They won’t answer me. I’ve been hearing bangs and crashes and-“ She was interrupted by the sound of something smashing on the other side of your door, followed by an angry scream.

“What are we supposed to do?” Matthias questioned. Kaz ran a hand through his hair.

“Y/N?” He called through the door. “Can you hear me?”

“What’s happening with them, Kaz?” Inej asked. “It seems serious.”

Another smash.

“Who was that guy back there and why has it left Y/N like this?” Wylan added.

“They have a history.”

A crash and a yell.

“What kind of history?” Jesper followed up.

“It’s none of your business!” Kaz snapped. “And frankly, it doesn’t matter right now. Y/N!?” He turned back to the door, calling louder this time. The rest of the Crows exchanged glances. Kaz called out to you again.

“Fuck off!” You screamed, and the door shook as something hit it.

The Crows were shaken to see you like this. You were usually calm and collected, rational and logical yet mellow. You were a good balance for the group. They had never seen you break before. Except for Kaz.

Kaz had found you like this, broken down and angry at the world. The first time he saw you was in an alleyway in the Barrel, beating the crap out of somebody who had tried to jump you. When he approached you, you almost attacked him too. You would have lost, but that wasn’t the point; he saw potential.

Kaz was the only one who knew about what you had gone through in the past, the people who had wronged you and the trauma they had left you with. That was why he was so worried now.

He leaned against the door, hearing you scream and shout and throw things around, breathing deeply from stress.

“You look really worried, Kaz.” Jesper commented. “You usually only look this worried when somebody’s dying, and even then you don’t always get this concerned.”

“What aren’t you telling us? Is Y/N in some kind of danger?” Nina pressed.

“It’s not mine to tell.” Kaz answered flatly, his attention still on the sounds of you inside the apartment.

You went on screaming and breaking things for a few minutes before things went quiet, and the Crows looked around at each other.

“Y/N?” Kaz called. You didn’t answer. “Y/N, can you hear me?” Still nothing. Kaz reached into his pocket and produced a lock pick, swiftly pushing it into the keyhole of the door.

A faint click came, and he turned the handle and pushed. The door didn’t move.

“It’s locked.” He muttered.

“What do you mean it’s locked? Didn’t you just pick the lock?” Wylan asked.

“There’s a sliding lock, there’s no trace of it on this side of the door.”

“I can go around to the window?” Inej suggested. Kaz shook his head.

“Don’t bother.” He took a step back and kicked. The door shook. He kicked again, wincing at the pain in his bad leg.

“Let me do it.” Matthias said, waving Kaz to the side and stepping in front of the door. He kicked it hard, and they heard the wood splinter. He kicked it again and it swung open, the sliding lock ripped off from the wall.

Kaz was the first to rush in, everyone else behind him, and what they found was pure destruction. Furniture overturned, broken glass and ceramics that had been thrown against the walls, blood on the mirror from where you had punched it in two places. And in the centre of it all was you, on your knees in the middle of the room with your forehead pressed to the floorboards and your body shaking with violent sobs.

“Saints, Y/N.” Kaz sighed, walking over to you. He crouched down as best as he could with the stiffness in his leg, scanning you for any injuries. Nina and Jesper knelt down on either side of you, comforting hands on you back and shoulders, and a wail escaped your throat.

You moved you hand up to hold onto Nina’s hand on your shoulder, the blood on it wetting her fingers, and tried to slow your breathing. Everything was silent for a moment.

“Are you alright, Y/N? Are you hurt?” Inej asked, and you shook your head.

“Can you breathe?” Kaz asked, his tone stony as it always was but with an edge of caring to it. You nodded. “Can you stand?” You took a deep breath and began to push yourself up.

“Be careful.” Wylan warned as you wobbled in getting to your feet, but you stood and you were stable. You took a deep breath and wiped at the tears on your face.

“Come and talk with me in the bathroom.” Kaz said. Your legs were shaky, but you shuffled across the room to the bathroom door with him following closely behind you.

Once inside the bathroom, you leaned against the counter as Kaz shut and locked the door behind the two of you. Then he opened the cabinet under the sink and took out your medical kit, placing it beside you.

“I’m okay.” You croaked.

“You’re bleeding.” He countered, grabbing a cloth and running it under the tap. He rang it out and handed it to you before taking a step back.

“I wasn’t really talking about that.” You chuckled pathetically. You sniffed, patting the damp cloth over your bloody knuckles, and blinked away the wetness in your eyes.

“What did he say to you?” Kaz asked softly.

“I don’t want to say it.” You whispered.

“Okay.”

Kaz was gentle with you, and for a boy very much known for not being gentle it was quite a foreign thing for him. But he knew that he had to be or it would just make things worse. Blunt but gentle was how he got you back to yourself.

“I thought you might hurt yourself.” He stated, feeling compelled to justify his concern.

“I did.” You smiled weakly, holding up your injured hand before picking up a roll of gauze from your medical kit.

“I didn’t tell the others.”

“Thank you.”

“But I think that they’ll want to know.” You sighed at that.

“I’ll tell them when I’m ready.” You mumbled. “How much stuff did I break?”

“I didn’t take inventory, but it looked like a lot.” Kaz answered, earning a whisper of a laugh from you. Your eyes were puffy and reddened, and your shoulders sagged as if were folding in in yourself. It was nothing like the bright eyes and proud posture that Kaz had become accustomed to from you.

You couldn’t help but feel ashamed that your friends had seen you like this. This was a part of you that you had managed to hide from them until now, but being face to face with a ghost from your past had proved too much for you.

“They won’t think any less of you.” Kaz said matter-of-factly, as if he knew what you were thinking. “They all have their own dark histories.”

The two of you stayed in silence for a while, the only sound being your still laboured breathing. Kaz leaned against the wall across from you to take the weight off his bad leg and watched you fidget anxiously.

“He made me feel so small, Kaz.” You muttered finally, your voice cracking.

“But you’re not small.” He replied without hesitation. “You’ve never been small, you’ve just been held down.”

“He said that I needed to learn my place.” You told him with a sniff, and Kaz felt his blood boil.

After he met and recruited you, Kaz had spent months helping you get over the mental blocks that constantly being told to ‘stay in your place' had given you. It was an ongoing struggle, of course, but with Kaz you had found your strength. He hated to see you feeling so weak.

“You already know your place, Y/N.” He said sternly, stepping away from the wall to stand right in front of you. “I helped you find it, but it was yours to decide. What’s your place?”

“On my feet, weapon in hand.” You answered meekly. You had done this before when you lost surety of yourself, and you knew that Kaz would keep going until you pulled yourself together.

“What is your place, Y/N?”

“On my feet, weapon in hand.” You repeated, more firmly this time.

“Again, give me something else. What is your place?”

“With the Crows.”

“What is your place?”

“Among the most dangerous people in the Barrel.”

“One more time, what is your place?”

“Wherever I want it to be.” You stated, squaring your shoulders. You met Kaz’s eyes and saw the proud smirk on his face as you took a deep breath and summoned your confidence back.

“Good.” He nodded. “Stand up.” You pushed off of the counter and steadied yourself.

“I’m okay.” You affirmed, your hands in fists to stop any shaking. “Thank you.”

“I’ll kill him if you want me to.” Kaz deadpanned. He had offered before and you told him not to trouble himself with it, but if he was honest with himself he would quite like to kill that man.

“Don’t kill anyone on my account.” You smiled.

“He would deserve it.”

“A lot of people deserve a lot of things. Fate will pay him back in kind one day.” You shrugged slightly, and Kaz sighed.

“Show me your hand.” He said. You held out your messily bandaged hand for him to look over. You were so surprised when he lifted his own hand to meet yours that you almost withdrew, but you held still as he gently tucked the end if the gauze into itself more securely before quickly removing his hand. “You owe nothing to anyone but yourself.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be loyal to you?”

“I ask for your loyalty, you don’t owe it to me. That’s something that has to be earned.” He replied. “Now, we have to get back to the Crow Club. You don’t have to come if you don’t feel up to it.”

“No, I’ll come.” You asserted. “I started this job, I’m going to finish it.” Kaz’s lip quirked up in the barest smile, and he turned to head for the door.

“Perhaps you’d like to stay at the Slat tonight, what with the state that you’ve left this apartment it.” He offered. You sighed and nodded.

“I think that would be for the best.” You mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

There was a click as Kaz unlocked the bathroom door, and you took a steadying breath as he pushed it open and the two of you stepped back out into your living area.

You stepped out and saw that your furniture had been righted and the rest of the Crows were scattered around the room picking up debris from the floor. At the sound of you stepping out, they all stopped and turned to you.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Nina asked, putting down the shards of ceramic in her hands and rushing over to you. “What happened?”

“I’m fine.” You answered with a smile. “It was just, um, something from my past. You guys really didn’t have to clean up after me.”

“Well, we were waiting out here anyway. We figured we might as well make ourselves useful.” Jesper commented with a smirk and a shrug, and you chuckled lightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Inej checked, and you nodded.

“Kaz helped me get my mind in order. Anyway, let’s get back to the Crow Club and get this job officially finished, shall we?”

“You know, you can tell us whatever happened in your past; whoever that guy was.” Wylan said, coming up beside you as you grabbed your key and headed for the door, which was thankfully still mostly intact.

“Someday, Wy, but not today.” You smiled.

You all filed out of your apartment and started back towards the Crow Club. Nina and Inej walked either side of you, somewhat protectively, and you couldn’t help but be amused – though appreciative – at the gesture.

Kaz led the group, but couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder to check on you every so often.

“So, you like Y/N right?” Jesper smirked, walking by his side.

“What?” He asked flatly.

“You like Y/N. You were so worried about the back there, we all saw it. Is there something going between you two? Because I didn’t think that you were capable of being supportive and calming people down like that.”

“I don’t like Y/N.” Kaz denied, though the pull in his chest suggested otherwise. “I just know how to deal with their problems.”

“Mhm, sure.” Jesper nodded, unconvinced. “And I don’t like Wylan, I just know how to push all his buttons.” He mocked before slowing his stride to join the rest of you.

Kaz released a silent sigh and looked over his shoulder at you. You met his gaze for a moment, a smile on your face, and he knew somewhere deep within him that Jesper was right. There was something between you that he couldn’t keep on denying to himself, as vague and intangible that something was.

“Kaz.” You said, coming up beside him when you reached the Crow Club. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Thanks for your help.” He looked over at you, holding yourself up with pride and the sparkle back in your eyes, and couldn’t help the tiny smile that came onto his face.

“No problem, Y/N.” He answered, a warmth settling in his chest at the knowledge that he had helped you find yourself, grateful that you chose to stay with him.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone netflix #sab #sab netflix #six of crows fanfic #kaz brekker #kaz brekker oneshot #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker x reader #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #dirtyhands #bastard of the barrel

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caramelcal · 3 years

Text

His Favorite Secret.

“I’m tired of being your secret.”

You can find the rest of the prompts here.

i really took this and ran with it huh...IT’S 4.3K WORDS

warnings: mentions of sex, gangs, alcohol, bondage

kinda obsessed with this gang!luke idea. also, i’m not sure if i wanna make “bambi” the reader or an oc, it works as either i believe? bambi is a nickname btw and i honestly feel like making more parts based on this concept tbh

kinda wanna make another part LMAO idk what i’d do it on though </3

Luke was better to her than anything you could possibly expect. He was surprisingly gentle when it came to her, hugging and caressing her that seemed impossible for the way he was and the life he lived. People saw Luke as the 6-foot-odd man that could rip you apart without an issue, without even breaking a sweat but he was so much more than that.

He was so much more than the leather jacket-wearing gangster that everyone depicted him as; heartless and stoic. He was a great lover if he let people in, and she had never been loved that way with anyone before. Surely though, with his life, there were complications to their relationship.

He was different from other people, more violent, more dangerous. The gang, which was run by Luke and three of his closest friends, Calum, Ashton and Michael, was well-known and feared among many, but they were left alone by the police. The police were aware that they existed, but they didn’t do anything about it. There were more cons to arresting them than there were pros.

Luke’s life made everything very interesting. He was rich, of course, and after a while of them dating she had moved into his condo. It was massive, bigger than any house she had ever lived in before and it was just for the two of them. It was a luxurious life that she had not experienced before, and she was still getting used to it.

If there was one thing about Luke that she had learned, it was that buying her things was his love language. He never had been great at the romantic side of their relationship considering he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time and normally just had one-night stands, but he tried his best. That didn’t meant that he ever softened up during sex, though.

Another thing about his life that made stuff interesting was that Luke had to drop things for work. Sometimes stuff would go wrong on a run, or other gangs would try stuff with them and he would have to leave. It was understandable, but still frustrating for her, especially the one time where an emergency had occurred right in the middle of them having sex.

Luke had been very busy the past few weeks, having to deal with numerous issues with the gang and barely having enough time to spend with the needy girl who craved his attention. There had been issues in the club, that was what he had said, but he didn’t go into much detail on the matter, he never did. He liked to keep his relationship and gang life very separate from one another.

A lot of the mornings this week she had woke up alone, void of the warmth she liked to cuddle into in the morning. At least she was getting him all to herself this weekend, she thought. After barely spending anytime with her that weekend, Luke had promised they would spend the weekend together, even if the club was set on fire. Calum, Ash and Mike will deal with it.

“Bambi?” The nickname fell from his lips when he stepped in the front door. She brought her eyes up to look at him, happiness filling her features. She hadn’t been expecting him home for another few hours, but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

Running over to him, she jumped, knowing full well that he would catch her as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her head snaked into the nape of his neck, comfortingly taking in the scent of her favorite person, his arms holding her protectively close to his body. They were alone, thankfully enough. After all, she really hadn’t thought out her jumping hug because her short skirt had ridden up, showing off her underwear which Luke most definitely would be furious if anyone but him saw.

“Welcome home,” She whispered into his neck, hand coming up to play with the hair on the back of his neck. Her eyes fluttered, eyelashes tickling the skin on Luke’s neck as he rubbed her back, taking in the comfort of having the smaller girl in his arms.

He walked forward so that he was fully in the house, using his leg to kick the door shut behind him before walking towards the middle of the room near the couch. He slowly lowered himself until he was sitting down on the plush cushions, the girl now in his lap, still being held closely.

“Bambi?” Luke started, making sure that the girl was listening, to which she hummed into the side of his neck, not willing to move just yet, “I know you wanna hug and kiss and stuff right now but we don’t have much time to pack your bags, you have to stay at the safe house for a few days.”

Almost immediately, the warmth of her face was gone from his neck, and her hands were no longer playing with his hair. She was still held tightly on his lap, mostly because he held her there with a semi-firm grip, her looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. In fact, it had happened quite a few times and each time it made her rather frustrated. She had to remove every single piece of evidence that she even existed in the apartment, and get hidden away in a safe house for the entire weekend, on the edge of town, where she wasn’t allowed to leave until Luke got her himself.

She hated the safe house.

“But you said-”

“Bambi,” Luke cut her off rather firmly, sending her a look which she knew meant that there were no arguments in this. She almost wanted to whine, to argue with Luke and tell him that he said this was going to be their weekend together, just them, no gang stuff, but now she wasn’t even going to get to see him at all this weekend, “I need to have a few low levels over to go over plans, and they’ll be over tomorrow which means we can’t let them know you’re here or that you exist. They still can’t fully be trusted yet, which means that they could be moles and I’m not putting you at risk for that.”

His speech was ended in a soft tone, looking down at her with a small amount of sadness for the girl. His hand comfortingly raked through her hair, piercing blue eyes looking at her but her eyes stay looking down. Slowly, without saying anything, she climbed off of his lap and started to retreat to their bedroom.

“Bambi? Where you goin, baby?” He called out, looking at the girl who stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder.

“I’m packing. That’s what you wanted me to do, was it not?”

Not many words were exchanged afterward with the girl silently packing away every aspect of her life into two duffle bags. She wasn’t even allowed to properly live in her own house, no decorations, photos in frames, nothing. Everything she owned had to be easily removable so it looked like she didn’t even exist in her own home.

Luke watched her from the bedroom door, leaning against the frame coolly as he analyzed her movements. He knew she was frustrated, but she had to know he was doing this to protect her, she should have anyway. Rather harshly, she finally zipped up the duffle bags, throwing them over her shoulder and walking straight past Luke without acknowledging him.

He understood that she was frustrated, but was she really angry at him?

She was quickly at the door, grasping at the handle when Luke had snapped out of his thoughts, walking over to her quickly with ease, taking a grip on her arm.

“You okay?”

“Dandy,” She replied bluntly, looking away from the slightly concerned man, almost as if she was itching to get away from him. Normally, even if she wasn’t happy about being sent away to the safe house, she still gave him a goodbye kiss, but it appeared that he wasn’t going to get one of those tonight, “Gotta go. Wouldn’t want to keep Jacob waiting, would we?”

She walked out of the apartment without another word, but Luke’s eyes were on her retreating figure, “We’ll speak about this on Sunday, okay baby?”

He barely even seen the nod that she sent him before she disappeared down the hallway.

. . . “Please, Jacob,” She pleaded with the driver, with puppy eyes and everything but he tried his best to remain stony-faced. Jacob was the only driver that Luke trusted Bambi with, he had grown up with the boys too, childhood friends with Michael apparently, who Bambi had never even met before.

Jacob was the leading driver for the gang, one of the getaway drivers for bigger and more important heists or events, but normally he just got called in for private transport of any important members of the gang. He, as well as practically anyone who had ever met the girl, had a soft spot for her, and she knew that.

“You do realize if I take you there that I am directly disobeying orders of the leader of one of the biggest gangs in California?” He asked ridiculously, shaking his head with his hands placed firmly on the wheel.

“Jacob-”

“No,” He replied firmly, looking at the girl through the rearview mirror, seeing her begging eyes and sad face.

The man knew that everything was frustrating for the girl, especially when she had to get up and move out of her own house just so that Luke could host meetings and debriefings for the gang.

“Please, Jacob. I’m going to be cooped up in a safe house for three days without talking to anyone, at least let me go to Anna’s for a few hours. She’s been my best friend since I was three, she’s trustworthy.”

The black-haired man didn’t reply for several moments, and a frown fell onto the girl’s face before he started to signal off the highway. It was a familiar road, the one that she had taken many times before to her best friend’s house, and honestly, she had never been happier to see it. At least she would get some enjoyment this weekend.

“Thank you so much, Jacob, just tell me how I can repay you,” The girl said once she was out of the car, bouncing lightly in excitement while she stared at the man who was still inside the car.

He gave her a small smile, one that showed he knew how much appreciation she felt towards him before his eyes turned to the door behind her, “Just enjoy yourself and make sure he doesn’t fire me for this.”

“Consider it done.”

It was nice to see Anna again, it had been two weeks since their last meet up and they had both missed each other greatly. Anna was drinking alcohol, but the smaller girl wasn’t. It wasn’t like she was afraid of what Luke would say if she did, because she certainly wasn’t afraid of Luke, but even though she was angry she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Not that she had exactly abided by his rules anyway, considering she was with Anna right now instead of locked inside the safe house. The safe house had slowly become the girl’s own personal prison, it was bare, bland, and had nothing for her to entertain herself, and there was no company. That’s what she hated most about it, the lack of social interactions she could have while she was in there.

“-we were talking about the weather and shit right? Then he asked to see my tits! I was like are you being serious right now?” Anna rambled on, talking about another failed love interest that had been using her for her body. Anna never seemed to be lucky in the dating apartment of life, but she was a successful girl, and a beautiful one at that, she would get there.

“Was he?”

Anna scoffed, taking another drink of her alcohol, “Yeah! He blocked me after I sent him pictures of minecraft chests and asked him what ones were his favourite.”

The smaller girl let out a laugh, looking at her best friend who had a sly grin on her face, trying to hide it with the glass in her hands.

“Speaking of guys though, how’s Mr. Hemmings then?” Anna jokingly asked the girl, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk on her face, swaying to the music that was loudly playing in the background.

“He’s good, I mean he’s doing good,” The smaller girl quickly corrected herself before her dirty-minded friend could make a joke about their sex life or ask about it. Anna hummed lightly, still smug and still swaying to the music, “I was supposed to be going to the safe house, but I’m here instead, I don’t think he’s very happy.”

“Girl, you’ve been here for nearly two hours!” Anna cried out in shock, eyes wide at the clear defiance that the small girl had for her 6-foot-odd gang leader boyfriend.

“And?”

“He’s bound to know by now! He’s not going to bust through my doors with his gang and shoot the place down is he?”

The girl shrugged lazily in reply, letting some of her hair fall in front of her face as she smiled at her friend, “Yeah he does know, he’s been blowing up my phone for an hour and a half.”

Anna fell dramatically against the back of the couch, hand still tight around her glass of lemonade and pink gin. Her free hand was laying across her forehead with her eyes shut, “Oh please tell me you’ve replied.”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on, I really like my door, believe it or not, I don’t want him or any of his gang members kicking it down!” Anna cried out, giving her best friend a pout to which she just laughed lightly in response.

“He won’t knock your door down, he probably won’t even come. He’s too busy debriefing his gang to even spend time with me and instead shipped me out of the house. Why does he care whether it’s yours or the safe house?”

However, she couldn’t have been more wrong because less than ten minutes later they heard a roaring engine speeding down the road. Anna, who shared a quick look with the smaller girl, got up and looked out the window, seeing no other than Luke gets out of his very expensive sports car and towards the house, “Guess you were wrong.”

He threw the door open, thankfully not breaking it down, his eyes quickly landing on the small girl, grabbing her and pulling her off of the couch, planting her by his side. His grip was tight on either side of her hips, almost as if it was a warning to stay by his side and cooperate for once in her life.

“Anna,” His accented voice wrung through the room as he gave the blonde a curt nod. She waved back awkwardly, maybe too hazed by the alcohol in her system to stay anything intelligible back, and Luke seemed to realize this, “don’t stay up too late, get a good sleep, okay?”

“Aye captain, yes sir,” She saluted him back with a smile on her lips, almost diffusing the tension in the room but it was barely a second later where Luke’s grip retightened on his girlfriend’s hips.

“Okay, good night.” He bid her farewell, walking out of the house with his slightly anxious girlfriend behind him. It seemed as if suddenly she was filled with regret and guilt, especially after seeing how angry Luke was with her.

“It isn’t Jacob’s fault I-” She started when the door shut behind them, the cold wind of the night surrounding her.

“Don’t,” He spoke gruffly, turning around to look down at her with angry blue eyes before grabbing onto her wrist and dragging her over to his car.

Luke hadn’t even locked his car when he had rushed inside to Anna’s house, not that he would be too bothered anyway, it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal the gang leader’s car, especially not in this neighborhood. He didn’t speak another word to the girl as he took her around to her side of the car, letting her get in before he leaned over and strapped her in, closing the door without a single word and getting in his own side.

He started the car up and the only noise heard in the car was the engine as it roared to life and they began to speed down the street. His blond hair was messy, jaw ticking with his eyes glued to the road, never once straying to the girl in the passenger’s seat. Her eyes, however, never strayed from him, picking up every sign that he was furious with her. His posture was rigid, he was impatient, breathing loudly and not even acknowledging her existence beside her; he was seething.

She wasn’t sure if they arrived too fast or too slow to the safe house honestly. Luke still didn’t utter a word, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. She knew not to move already, she knew that Luke didn’t want her to move and honestly she didn’t want to aggravate him further.

True to her belief, Luke opened her car door, undoing her seatbelt before pulling her out of the car. His eyes didn’t stay on her as he stormed into the house, a tight grip on the smaller girl’s wrist. She tried to get his attention, for him to say anything to her as he entered the house but it appeared he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

The main room was still dark, but just the feeling of being in here makes her feel sick. She wasn’t overexaggerating when she said how much she hated the safe house. It felt as if she was defeated, back where she didn’t want to be, somewhere she hated, and with her boyfriend furious at her.

In the time that she had been thinking of how much she loathed the building she stood in, Luke had let go of her wrist and wordlessly made his way towards the front door again. The thought of him leaving her here, frustrated and alone all weekend made annoyance bubble in her stomach and before she can help herself she’s shouting over at him, “So that’s it? Are you just going to lock me in here and leave again?”

Luke stilled, but he doesn’t bother to reply or even look at his girlfriend, just standing there like a statue. She can’t find it in herself to regret the words that come out of her mouth, especially after she awaits the nonexistent reply, causing annoyance to bluster in her stomach. Her eyes roll and her arms flail slightly before they slap against her thighs with a low scoff falling out of her lips, “Typical.”

“Excuse me?” Luke turned around, his voice hard and powerful, one that would normally make her shake, make her look up at him with wide eyes unsure of what to say. Their eyes meet, his blue piercing into hers. He took a step forward, tilting his head slightly with an eyebrow raised, almost as if he’s encouraging her to repeat what she had said moments before, “What did you say, Bambi?”

Her mouth was agape as she stuttered lightly, any feeling of bravery that she had mere seconds ago fizzling away into nothingness. Her eyes darted from one of his eyes to the other, looking at the expectant and slightly smug face as he looked at the stuttering girl in front of him. She tried her best to find the right words to say but she had, ultimately, been rendered speechless.

“Come on, if you’re so big and brave, baby, why don’t you speak up a little? Tell me what you said.” He walked towards her until he’s right in front of her, chests barely ten centimeters apart. Two of his fingers make their way under her chin, pushing her face up until she had no other choice but to look him in the eye, holding her face in such a way that she can’t move easily.

Silence filled the room once more, simply with the two of them staring at one another. Luke stared down at her with a slight smugness and with her looking up at him still frozen almost. When he does talk next, he muttered quietly, almost condescendingly with anger trailing in his voice, “You ruined an important meeting tonight all because you couldn’t follow a simple instruction-”

“Well, believe it or not, I don’t like to be locked up in a house for days on end like a caged animal,” She doesn’t even register that she’s speaking until she’s finished, the words flowing out of her mouth cutting off Luke’s lecture.

“This house is to keep you safe,” His grip on her jaw doesn’t loosen at this point in time, blue eyes swimming with rage. In all of their time together, he doesn’t remember his Bambi giving him this much attitude or a time where she’s tried to argue with him like this. Sure, there were times where they had disagreements or times where there had been a little bit of attitude but he had quickly sorted that out.

“I was safe at Anna’s and I was happy. Isn’t that what you want? For me to be happy?” Her voice is quiet, bottom lip threatening to quiver. She hated how she cried whenever she got frustrated, and right now she’s barely holding back from her eyes becoming glassy. She’s frustrated and annoyed, but she doesn’t want to look like a baby right now, especially when this was her first fight with Luke.

“Don’t try and guilt trip me now, Bambi. It isn’t going to work tonight.”

“I hate it here! I hate constantly having to move into this stupid fucking house where I have nothing to do and no one to talk to! It doesn’t even fucking have wifi or anything! It’s dumb and all because you’re paranoid!” After she finished shouting, she ripped her head out of his hold, standing back and away from him, back coming in contact with the marble counter of the kitchen island.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and as Luke processed her words, he shook his head. His next words are low, like it’s a warning, “Don’t shout at me like that.”

“I’m not-”

“Listen here, doll, because I’m only going to tell you this once,” Luke doesn’t even let her finish before he’s talking. His voice is forceful and strong, something he normally reserved for when his men do something stupid like ruin a drug run, “You don’t call the shots here, I do. I’m in a gang and there are a lot of people that would put a bullet in your pretty little skull just to get to me,” He pressed a finger against her temple, hard enough for her to feel the pressure but not enough for it to hurt her, “People die in this lifestyle and I send you here so it doesn’t happen to you. Don’t tell me that I’m paranoid because I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I get it, I do-”

“Then why won’t you just do what I say?”

“Because I’m tired of being your secret.” She whispered, looking up at Luke’s blue eyes sadly, tears gathering in her own eyes. His head dipped a little, shifting his weight onto his hands which are on either side of her, trapping her against the kitchen’s island counter.

It took Luke a few seconds to finally muster up words, and just from his tone she can tell that he’s disappointed, maybe in himself, maybe because of how she thought of their relationship, “You aren’t my-”

“Then why have I never met Cal? O-Or Mikey? Why is the only time I’ve ever met Ashton an accident? And why do you constantly send me away even if it’s only people you trust going to be there? And-”

“Bambi,” Luke groaned lightly but got cut off straight away when the girl continued to rant, barely even realizing that he had tried to cut her off.

“This was supposed to be our weekend and you just sent me away. I was so excited to finally get a whole weekend of you to myself but no, I was shipped off to this shithole again-”

“This was all because you just wanted me to yourself?” Luke asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised at the girl whose eyes snapped up to meet his.

“That’s what you want, Bambi? You got it.” Luke said, his eyes staying on hers, never wavering as he commanded. He pushed back, hands off the counter and now standing at his full height, towering over her with his eyes never leaving hers, “Hands out. Now.”

“Luke what-”

Her eyes frantically search his face, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She can feel her heart rate pick up, beating loudly in her chest.

“No, Bambi. You’ve done plenty talking tonight. No talking unless I ask you a question, got it?”

She nodded her head, gulping down the thickness in her throat as a thick leather wrapped around her wrists, constricting them. Her mouth parted slightly, she hadn’t even seen or heard Luke take off his belt, but now she can’t even part her hands anymore.

His head dropped to her neck and she can feel her stomach flutter simply by his breath fanning over the skin on her neck. His hand made its way up to the nape of her neck, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking on it so her neck is fully exposed to him, “You’ve me all to yourself tonight, Bambi. And you’re all mine.”

#luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x oc #5sos #5sauce #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer x reader #5 seconds of summer x oc #gang!luke hemmings x oc #gang!luke hemmings #gang!luke hemmings x reader #mafia!luke hemmings #mafia!luke hemmings x oc #mafia!luke hemmings x reader

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Clove Cigarettes

Pairing: Male Vampire (Clarence Marston) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Violence, Blood Drinking, Lewd Content mention.

Part of The Black Dahlia Series

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The room smelled like overpowering lavender. Next to the burning sticks of incense there was a number of long, black candles, the ends burning with small flames. Black wax dripped over the sides of the vanity, and Cal swept back into the room with a soft rumble. He couldn’t remember how long he had been coming and going.

“Mmm.” the woman on the bed moaned, “Cal.” she stirred from her sleep, exposing her pale neck, littered with fangs marks, two puncture holes were bruised and sore, barely scabbed over from his indulgences.

“I’m here.” he rumbled as her hand flopped into his own, “Shh.” he cooed as he spread his leathery wings and crawled over the silk sheets. It was her home. Her room was dark from where he’d closed the blinds and curtains, leaving them in darkness. Cal leaned over her body and touched her skin. She was growing cold. Soon she would die from blood loss.

“Was it worth it?” Cal asked her as his skin slid over her legs, his curls dripping over his shoulders to tickle at her skin. He pressed his pointed, upturned nose to her stomach, grazing his fangs over the skin there, “Was it worth leaving him, for this?”

“Mmmm.” she hummed again as she reached for his face. Cal felt his skin ripple with glamour, pale skin and soft human flesh replacing the cold grey, stony cold feel of his chest, “I like you more.” she purred into the cold skin, “And your bite.”

“You’re addicted to the saliva.” he commented as he pushed her hands to her sides, “It’ll help.” Cal reached for her face and stroked her jawbone, “You haven’t got that long left.” His fangs touched her neck, and she purred as he reopened the wounds. His stomach clenched happily as the taste of iron flooded his mouth. Crimson dripped from the corner of his mouth as he grew excited, leaning into her neck, his teeth tearing the wounds deeper before the rest of his sharp teeth followed them, piercing the flesh so he could grapple her by the throat like a wolf.

“Cal…” she uttered as her manicured nails fell from his hair, stroking the fur over his back as he drew away, blood covering his lips and chin, “C…” the kick of the consonant fell from her lips. The sound gurgled with the blood in her trachea. Blood bubbled on her lips as his wing claws reached to curl around the bedposts, holding his chest up over her dying body. Air crackled in her throat. Cal reached to touch her face as her eyes went glossy, the pupils expanding into their relaxed state as she died. Carefully, the vampire reached towards her face, his claws drawing bloodied lines over her skin.

“Loving me was your first mistake.” Cal whispered against her lips before he kissed them and closed her jaw. He closed her eyelids before kissing each of them and leaning back, shuddering as he looked at her throat. Torn pieces of her neck hung over the sides of the wound and down over her clavicle. With a purr, Cal shoved his bloodied fingers into his mouth, licking himself clean with his black, pointed tongue. There was silence. The candles swayed as he batted his wings once and hissed, fangs slipping past his lips as he threw his wings out in upset.

“Again… Again...” he whimpered to himself as he licked the blood from his mouth, “He told me! He warned me, and I’ve done it again!”

With a wail, he smashed his claws into the altar, throwing the candles onto the carpet.

Roaring, the vampire reared back, pressing himself flat against the wall as he crawled to the ceiling and watched from the corner. The body didn’t move. She laid, her arms pressed up against her cushions and her face turned to the heavens. Maybe she would make it there? Cal whispered to himself as he crushed himself into the corner, his black wing claws hooked into the plaster, and softly uttered his prayers for the deceased. He reached for the cross looped around his neck, clutching the rosary close, for once in his life, as the carpet began to smoke with flames. A fire started by the legs of the vanity, burning orange light quickly moving to consume the cheap fabric flooring. It rippled across the plastic underlayers before it caught the side of the soft cotton bedding and burned its way upwards, consuming the carpet underneath the bed before it caught onto the slats of the bed frame. The fire startled Cal, and he clutched at the walls before panicking and rushing for the window. His claws scrapped at the glass, leaving scratches in the pane as he fumbled with the latches. With a hiss, he smashed his hands against the wood and broke the latches free, the wood splintering against his fingers. Great curls of hair fell over his face before he screamed, the flames catching hold of his hair and burning up the right side of his back, licking the soft, leathery membrane of his wing. Pain burned in his back as he tore open the window and burst out into the sunlight. With another hiss, he covered his eyes, his wings stuttering and flapping wildly as the light burned at his monstrous retinas.

The sunlight wasn’t a death sentence anymore, but Cal regretted his decision to fly out as the sunlight seared at his open wounds, burning the flesh deeper. The star like pattern up his back ran red with boiling blood, dripping onto the tarmac below as he clumsily flapped through the air, heading towards the shaded back streets of the taller city buildings. With another howl of pain, he flung himself down into a shaded alley, clutching at his burnt wing before he dared to shift back into his glamour, naked and in agony, his eyes burning red with fury as he pressed his back against the cold metal of a dumpster. He screamed again at the pain, his blood boiling and fizzing against the metal. Cal looked up at the brick, trying to ground himself before he peeled his healing skin away from the metal again. He hissed violently and his mouth opened wide as spit and blood dripped from his jaw. He gagged and spat curses, his earlier reverence to the Lord forgotten, damning himself again as he gouged at the wall. He could barely hold himself up. A man wandered over to the dumpster with his bag of rubbish.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he caught sight of the shivering vampire, hunched over by the dumpster, “Oh fuck….” he saw the blood and flinched at the sight of the mouth full of fangs, “Fuck no. No way. You need the…” The elf said no more as he was grappled, fangs slicing his neck open. Cal drank from the wound hurriedly, burning with anger, guilt and pain as he gulped greedily, his back stinging but healing over from the burns. He dropped the elf a moment later and marvelled at the male as his eyes rolled up and looked him dead in the eyes, fingers clawing at the dirt as he attempted to gasp for help.

He left the elf in the alley and dragged himself along the alleyways until he found the sewers, slipping into the stinking manhole to hide from the sunlight and to try and figure out how he was going to avoid being institutionalized for the slip up. They found him in the evening, clutching his rosary, praying against his bed, the right side of his back covered in burns scars, and his face and neck still covered in blood.

“It’s been a long time since any of us have seen the owner, he tends to keep to himself.” Flix commented as the male fae handed you a black apron before he shook his head and fished you out a deep, crimson red colour, “It matches you better.” he explained, “But the only rule is that his rooms upstairs are off limits. No one sees him come and go, but Cal likes his privacy, and he’s…”

You took the apron and slipped it over your head, “He’s?” You asked, prompting the fae to continue, “He’s not a serial killer or something, is he?” You joked.

Flix turned his lilac eyes on you as he tied his long, purple tinted silver hair back in a high ponytail, “He’s a recovering vampire. He was institutionalized for three years. They had to get him off the blood.” Flix explained awkwardly, “Ever since he’s been reserved. He likes his space, you understand?”

You nodded, swallowing thickly, “Yeah. I understand.” awkwardly you shrugged your shoulders, “Sorry about…”

“It’s a joke, just don’t let him hear you say stuff like that okay, baby?” Flix purred, “We all know what he is but, just to be safe.” The fae tilted your face up by the chin, two of his fingers pressed under your chin.

Flix leaned close before he pressed the fingers of his other hand to your forehead, the ends glowing with a soft blue light before the light spread over your eyes for a moment, blinding you to the dim bar. You reared back but Flix laughed softly and held you upright as the bright dancing light faded, leaving you dazed and bleary eyed.

“That’s a little spell to stop the unruly sort from coercing you into giving them free drinks or offering them your neck. It’ll stop fae from being able to trick you too.” Flix’s wings fluttered before he grinned with dangerous teeth, “You don’t have to thank me, sweet thing. Your gaze is enough.”

After a moment blinking you scoffed, “You wish you could have a piece of this, Flix.” You flicked his hands away from you and laughed at him.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t fall for mine.” he sang as he pulled on his own apron, “Lets see what you’ve got newbie. Weldrick gave me the ‘all clear’ to grill you on the hardest things I know.”

“You’re not even trying and you still sound desperate for a lay.” You joked as Flix placed the shaker in front of you, “Pick your poison.”

Flix grinned, his black eyes glinting like an insect, shining with rainbows in the strobes before he pointed up at the menus, “A Bloody Mary.”

“Coming right up.” You grinned as you turned to grab the ingredients from the shelves.

It was a difficult cocktail to make without a mix, but you worked in bars from being barely eighteen. You had enough years in you to know how to make it, but whether it was to Flix’s taste was another question. You poured the cocktail into the glass and took a step back. Flix’s gossamer wings dragging over your arms as he took the drink, smelling it before he took a sip.

“Pretty good, for a human.” he joked as the strength of the drink hit him, “Though maybe for the human customers you might want to tone down the booze.”

“If they can’t handle it, why are they drinking?” You laughed as he knocked back the rest of the drink.

“Vampires might appreciate a real bloody to go along with it.” Flix flicked his hair away with a scoff, “There’s blood bags in the fridge, and fresh frozen in the back. Don’t let them fool you into thinking they need warm living stuff, they’re all just con artists.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” You took the glass and placed it in the boxes for cleaning, “So, do you want to test me on anything else, or am I good to go?”

Flix grinned as he leaned over the bar, “You’re good to go, sweet thing.” He batted his long, circular tipped eyelashes, and left you to the end of the bar, “Get those liquors in order, we open in twenty!”

The bar opened to a few guys, larger orcs who were older than the usual bruisers who came through. They were shaved bald in a traditional manner, their heads covered with tattoos and their ears pierced with numerous rings. They snorted in orcish to one another before thanking you for the drinks and leaving to sit in the corner, sighing in relief after their days work. The rest of the customers trickled in later on. The Black Dahlia attracted numerous clienteles and you were witness to all of them. The group of orcs that came in later were younger, headstrong, and brash as they swaggered between the bar and their put together tables. A faun at the end of the bar scoffed and talked to her friend as two of them ordered drinks. Flix served the men with a flirtatious wink, fluttering his eyelashes and you made sure to bump his backside purposely hard as you went past, smacking his hips into the bar roughly as the two orcs turned to the faun and human sat on the end.

“Do you ever give it up, Flix?” You asked with a snort as you placed some glasses into the tubs for washing.

“Not while I’m awake, no.” Flix grinned as he walked towards the next customer. You shook your head and carried on with your shift as the human and taller, older orc headed to the balcony to watch the show.

You had a break at about ten o’clock. It was much busier now that the band were on stage, in full swing of their show. You’d served humans, fae, werewolves and centaurs alike this evening, and you’d not had to deal with anyone who was unruly. You waved to Flix as you left him flirting with a group of Orcs, heading to the balcony to catch a bit of the show as you ate your food from the kitchen and drank the soft drink that you’d stolen from Flix’s personal favourites. The band chugged along before the female brought out a whip and bared her sharp elven teeth, her ice white eyes shining as she ran it along the audience. You laughed as you stabbed another fry, lathering it in sauce before you shoved it into your mouth, and washed it all down with a few glugs of the fizzy juice. Happily, you sat on the stool, watching the clock every now and then as you finished off your food.

As you took another drink, a cold shadow passed over you. You shuddered in your seat and peered behind you to see a slouching man take three long strides towards a table where the handsome orc and his entertainment for the night were sat. The man was a giant, clad in a soft turtleneck and black jeans covered in chains and small crosses. Around his neck sat a long, drooping rosary, and it bounced against his chest as he stopped, tossing black curls of hair from his eyes to peer at the couple over his sunglasses. His eyes burned red in the light but as fast as the colour appeared, it disappeared back into the steel blue. He shook the human’s hand before looking in his pockets for his cigarettes. The orc returned and the situation turned hostile and cold. The male reached for his gum packet instead and shakily unfolded the wrapper and slinked into the shadows, his hair rippling into the walls as he disappeared again from view. You sat with your mouth open before a hand appeared on your table, black nails thumping against the wood before a cold breath blew against you ear.

“Get back to work, newbie.” the gravelly voice growled, and you were quick to oblige, hopping up from your seat and escaping with your plates down the stairs to the bar front.

Your shifts at the Black Dahlia were regular. You even picked up extra hours when the female werewolf, Jude, went off on maternity for her second litter. You hoped to god she made enough money to support that many children, but you didn’t dare to question it as Flix talked about the process of werewolf childbirth.

“I don’t need to know, Flix!” You groaned at him, “One child is gross enough! Never mind a litter!” You smacked at him with your towel, “So hush!”

Flix cackled, “I didn’t think children would freak you out so much!” he prodded your arm, “You enjoy all those blood spurting bands on stage! I was sure you’d love seeing blood and mucus come out….”

You thumped the fae in the arm, “Seriously! Enough!” You scowled as you turned back to drying the pint glasses, “Sometimes you are way too much…” You muttered.

“Hey, come on. I’m sorry sweat pea!” Flix cooed, “I won’t mention it again, promise.” he crossed his finger over his heart.

“Fine.” You reached to pinch his cheek, “But next time I’m going to tell Weldrick!” You threatened.

“Ugh. You’re just a little minotaur’s pet.” he hissed at you playfully before turning back to his own job. Flix exited into the kitchen to load some final plates and glasses for washing.

“You’re fitting in well.” a low voice grumbled from the end of the bar. You jumped out of your skin at the noise, too focused on washing the pots to be paying attention to who was hanging around. You looked up to see the same, dark clad man from the other week. This time his black hair was tied back, revealing the hanging silver cross earrings in his ears. His steel eyes and low brows accentuated a thin face with high cheekbones, making him seem thinner than he was really. Tonight, he was dressed in a set of tight trousers and a tight, long sleeved red shirt, the sleeves long with soft ruffled ends, matched with a tied neck scarf under the collar. His sunglasses were pushed into his hair.

“Cal?” You asked lamely as you placed down the glass you were cleaning.

“Yes. I am he.” he droned as he picked at a beer towel with black painted nails, “Are you enjoying your time here?” Cal asked with a cool stare, his mouth twitching with a sneer, revealing the sharp set of fangs that filled his mouth. It was unlike any vampire you had met before.

“Uh…” Your heart did a flipflop before you could reply, “Yeah. I am. It’s nice to have such a stable job for once.” You confessed quickly, praying he wouldn’t bring up how nervous you were.

“I can hear you on the verge of a panic attack. Calm down. I know they’ve all told you how I was addicted to fresh blood. Bleeding blood, or whatever they call it now. I’m off it. I have been for years.” He snarled, “So stop panicking.”

You nodded, “Sorry.”

“Don’t. I don’t need it. I know what people think.” Cal pointed to the freezer under the counter, “Get me an O negative, please.” It seemed as though he had to squeeze the manners onto the end.

You walked closer and unlocked the freezer before fishing him a pack out and throwing it into the microwave to thaw after clicking the anticoagulant vacuole to avoid it from clotting. As you turned around, Cal grabbed your wrist, dragging you over the bar so he could sniff at you. The vampire’s eyes burned red for a moment.

“Or would you rather give me your blood?” he purred, the gravelly tone suddenly much more appealing, “It won’t hurt.” he comforted you as he opened his mouth full of monstrous teeth.

It was then you looked into his eyes, seeing the cold steel, and blinked.

“Flix put an anti-glamour spell on me. That doesn’t work.” You frowned before dragging your wrist out of his freezing cold grip, “Do you do that to all new starters?”

Cal sat back on the stool as he pushed his glasses back down onto his nose, “Not all. Just the ones I know will be snacks if Flix fucked up the spell.”

“What do you mean ‘know will be a snacks’?” You quoted back at him before throwing his warm blood bag onto the bar.

Cal snatched the bag and looked at the contents curiously before he stole a glass from your clean side on the bar and piped the contents into it. The red blood made you feel a little queasy, and you looked away as he greedily drank it, still ignoring your question.

“I meant…” he swallowed the last of the blood, “Vampires like to prey on new things like you. I might be scary, but they’ll do what they want if no one is watching. Keep your wits about you, or you’ll end up as a blood bag, or better yet, a brood barer for a drider.” he tossed the glass and packet on the bar and sneered as he turned. “Happy Halloween, newbie. Stay away from witches tonight.” His hair flowed into a shadowy smoke again before he disappeared up the shadowed walls and disappeared.

A slim hand fell on your shoulder, shocking you out of your annoyance and making you jump with a small gasp.

“Hey, calm down sweet thing, it’s just me.” Flix’s black eyes appeared next to you before he turned you around to look you in the eyes, “By the look on your face, I’m going to assume you met Cal?” He tilted his head.

“Yep.” You took a steadying breath, “He’s something…” You couldn’t really articulate what you thought in a kind way.

“He’s a bastard. I know.” Flix laughed as he flung his towel onto his shoulder, looking towards the shadows which Cal had disappeared into, “I’ll say sorry on his behalf. He’s…socially awkward.” Flix’s gaze eventually looked away from the shadows, and when you looked back, Flix was quick to wrap his hand around your shoulder and turn you towards the doorway, dragging you down to the other end of the bar.

“Forget about him anyway. Let’s get ready for the costume aspect!” Flix declared as he pushed you into the back room, “I’ve got just the thing for you!”

You shook off the odd feeling and smiled, “It better not be underwear!”

The feeling of being watched followed you all night as you wandered up and down the bar serving various costumed customers. You were in a cape and a set of polymer fitted fangs. Most of the vampires of the evening had taken to laughing at your fangs and white face. A pretty, tall vampire lady had scoffed before asking you if you’d prefer some real ones. Thankfully, Flix’s glamour worked its magic, preventing you from falling under any of their hypnotic spells. You thanked them, laughed, and served them their heated blood drinks. Flix enjoyed the evening more than you, fluttering around with his great wings dipping and curving as he delivered drinks by air. Halloween was the night monsters could let their hair down.

“Hey, Flix.” You looked up above the bar, “I’m just going for a quick toilet break!” You shouted up to him. The fae gave you an ‘okay’ sign from the air and fluttered with a graceful dip down to deposit a set of drinks with some gruff looking werewolves. You hung your apron up behind the bar before you headed to the toilets a little way from the bar. You hopped down the steps and opened the door before freezing in your tracks. A monster made of tentacles and thick slime oozed in a cubicle, and you backed away as a woman’s moans came from the where the toilet wall was. A tentacle appeared from around the door, the eyeball on the end rotated and blinked before the woman paused.

“Why have you stopped?” She whined, and you took that as the exact time to bolt with a rush of apologies spewing from your mouth. You slammed the door to the toilets closed and rubbed at your face, embarrassed and feeling hot as you escaped back to the bar.

A cold shadow lingered over your shoulder before a hand touched you by the bottom of the stairs, icy fingers pressing into the cheap fabric cape.

“A vampire?” Cal’s deep, gravelly voice asked before the rest of his cold body appeared at your right side, “Well, maybe a poor imitation of one.” He chuckled once, twice, and then stepped around your front.

“Cal…” You uttered before composing yourself, “It was Flix’s idea, not mine.”

“Ah. Yes, he does like to do things to get under my skin.” Cal commented before he noticed your squirming, “Is Rendax causing problems in the toilets again?” He asked, “That damn tentacle pest doesn’t know when he’s not welcome.”

“Yeah…well he’s doing a lot more than just causing a problem, I think.” You made a hole with your right thumb and index finger before pushing your left index finger through it, “If you catch my drift.”

“I’ll have Weldrick deal with him.” Cal snapped open his phone with a soft hiss and a scowl as he listened to the phone ring, “Weldrick? Yes… We have an unwanted visitor in the toilets, again.” He snapped the phone closed and you felt yourself smile as you looked at the old flip-phone.

“You know those have been out of fashion for about fifteen years, right?” You tried not to laugh as the vampire held the phone by its small antenna. A soft giggled escaped you.

Cal stepped from one foot to the other, awkwardly looking at his aloft phone, “It is what I was bought before we toured in two thousand and three.” He muttered to himself, “What do you humans use now?” He asked.

You looked him in the eyes, seeing the sad steel colour of them for a moment before you reached for your pocket and produced a smart phone, “Touch screen, colour, internet access.” You clicked it on, and the vampire jumped slightly at the colours in front of him, “Wait…”

Cal recoiled as you push the phone to him, “What?” He grumbled.

“I don’t think it would work, you know, since you’re dead and all that.” You confessed as you typed on the device.

“Probably not.” He confirmed before taking a step backwards, brushing his ponytail away before he cringed and stepped back towards the shadows, “You…” He looked from you to the bar again, “You are welcome to use the toilet near my office while Weldrick deals with our unwanted guest.”

As you nodded, the white minotaur came down the stairs. Your mouth opened at the size of the white bison looking minotaur. Weldrick’s fur was printed with black patterning, like tattoos, and he rolled his sleeves as he came to the bottom of the stairs, preparing to deal with the tentacle monster. The sheer amount of metal rings in his ears made him clink as he walked, and you took note of the nose hoop and eyebrow rings as he stopped short of you and Cal.

“Can Rendax not keep it in his fuckin’ pants for one sodding night?!” Weldrick shouted, and the crowd behind you parted as the minotaur gave Cal’s shoulder a clap. He thumped on the toilet door and opened it with a clatter, “You better be fuckin’ decent, Rendax, or I’m dragging both you and your girl toy out of here fuckin’ naked!” He hollered as he ducked his horned head to grab for the monster inside.

Cal turned on his heels, “Come on.” He led the way up the stairs, melting between the bodies as though he wasn’t even really there. No one paid him any attention and you followed quickly, still desperate for the toilet.

The stairs led to the second-floor balcony before there was another set of doors with a code on the handle. Cal punched in the numbers and opened it to the second set of stairs, letting you go through first before he followed you, closing the door behind him. The locking system re-engaged with a soft click and you turned back to see Cal eye the handle, his hand lingering around the metal before he gave an awkward half smile.

“Carry on up the stairs. It’s the first right door.” He shooed you up the stairs, and you nodded before heading up in front of him. A moment later, he followed in your footsteps, quiet as he made sure to stay a few steps behind you. You quickly found the door and opened it to see a large bathroom. It was perhaps Cal’s personal one, but it was bare, having just a few bottles in the shower basket. You locked the door and listened as Cal stopped outside. The shadow of his shoes remained for a moment before he walked on down the hall and entered a different room. The door closed with a soft click and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you pushed off the door and headed towards the toilet. It was then you wondered if vampires even had to relieve themselves. They were technically dead, after all. You pondered the thought for a moment as you finished your business and washed your hands. You looked at the slate tiles for a moment, admiring the décor, before unlocking the door and sticking your head out into the hall. There was no sign of Cal. You stepped out and turned quickly to rush back down to the bar.

A claw grazed at your head, tugging a piece of hair, running through it quickly. You squeaked and looked up to see black hair hanging from Cal’s head. He was hung just over the door, hunched, with his claws in the ceiling and his head near your own.

“I’d like for you to work next Friday. Is that agreeable?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

You got over your fright with a deep breath, “Yes. That’s fine, but you could have just, uh, asked.”

Cal scowled.

“Without being hung from the ceiling?” You added on before moving out of his way, towards the stairs, “Thank you for letting me use your toilet.” You smiled and disappeared back down to the bar as quick as your feet would carry you.

Cal watched you leave before he slid from the ceiling and snatched your novelty cape from where it was stuck in the door.

“Are you okay?” Flix asked as he fluttered down from the ceiling, his wings brushing at your cheeks before he landed softly.

“Huh?” You asked before realising you probably looked rushed off your feet, “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” You lied with a smile. You rushed back behind the bar before reaching for your shoulders and realising your cape had come free during your escape. You didn’t have the courage to go and fetch it, so you turned back to the people waiting and got started making drinks and taking cash.

Halloween was forever burned into your mind and your retinas after seeing what you did that night. More importantly, however, you remembered the dark look of hunger in Cal’s eyes as he hung from the ceiling, seemingly with nothing but the soles of his shoes and one hand’s fingertips. He liked to lurk around the left wall of the club, his back pressed to it as he scanned the crowds of people. You had no idea what he was looking for, or if he knew you could see him, but he gave you no inclination that he could see you staring. There was always the sad, lonely coldness to his eyes. It burned to hunger whenever an exposed neck went past, and you saw him fidget and reach for a piece of gum often, like he was kicking a habit other than the cigarettes. You watched him again tonight, his tall frame pushed back into the shadow of the balcony, slouched against the wall in a pair of dark sunglasses, his curls of dark hair dripping over his shoulders where they melted back into the shadows around him. He was shirtless, covered only in a leather jacket and black jeans, the studded belt wrapped around his hips. As he turned, you caught a glimpse of the tattoos on his chest with a centre cross between his pecs. It was flanked by three pairs of shaded wings. You looked at the ink intensely before you looked back at your cocktail mixer and wondered what it meant.

As you finished serving the masses, you felt out a breath and sat back on the stool behind the bar, taking a moment to rest your feet before people started to queue with orders again. As you relaxed against the wooden shelving you peered back to the left wall, where you had last seen Cal lurking. He was gone, replaced by a couple cuddled together watching the band who were playing. A soft melody rang out from a synth, not unlike a church organ. It petered into some soft vocals and you dared to close your eyes and let out a breath as your body relaxed a little.

“Enjoying a break?” Cal’s gravelly voice carried over the top of the lilt of a guitar.

“Ah!” You jumped a little, smacking your head against the wooden shelf. You clutched at the spot and rubbed furiously to try and push the pain aside, “Sorry.” You winced at you pulled your hand away, seeing a dot of blood from a little scrape on your scalp.

Steel eyes locked onto your fingers, but Cal didn’t move. The vampire swallowed and tore his gaze away from the blood.

“Here.” Cal reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small handkerchief, “To stop the blood.”

“Thank you.” You took the piece of soft cloth from him and pushed it to the little cut. You avoided his eyes for a moment before slowly looking up and realising that his neck was bare of the rosary, “You don’t have your rosary on.” You commented, off-handed.

Cal looked down at his chest before nodding and pushing his glasses down his nose, “I don’t. You’re more observant than I thought…But that doesn’t answer my original question, does it?” he reached for his back pocket and slid free a packet of cigarettes.

“Smoking will kill you, you know?” You joked before taking the handkerchief away from the scratch on your scalp. “I was. It’s been madness serving tonight. Flix is off so its just me manning the bar.”

“Oi!” Weldrick ducked his head out of the kitchen door, “I’ve been helping you all night, cheeky little fucker.” the minotaur snorted at you before seeing Cal. His blue eyes widened in shock, “I didn’t expect to see you out and about, Cal.”

The vampire snorted as he turned the packet of empty cigarettes with a sneer, “Well, it is also my bar.” He flicked his painted nails at the minotaur.

“Oh, is it?!” Weldrick grumbled, “Well, maybe you can come help serve fuckin’ drinks in it then!”

You looked back at Weldrick and then to Cal. The vampire’s teeth poked out from beneath his top lip before he snarled with a hiss.

“Fuck you, Weldrick. You know I can’t!” Cal curled back in on himself suddenly, all his bite lost as though he had been kicked.

“Yeah. I know why. You’d eat the clients.” Weldrick gruffly stated before he dragged you away by the arm, turning your head before you were deposited in the kitchen out of sight of Cal, “So is that what you’re sweetening this one up for?”

Cal looked at Weldrick over the top of his sunglasses again, “No.” he slammed the cheap vampire costume cape on the bar top, “I came to give this back.” His nails were claws as he dragged his hand away and he grabbed his forgotten handkerchief from the bar.

Weldrick saw the blood on the cloth, “Cal. You know you can’t do this again.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He insisted, “I’m not relapsing, so stop. Just stop. I’m not an animal and I’m over it. I was trying to…”

“Be a bit more human.” Weldrick finished for him with a thump to the vampire’s shoulder, “Well. Don’t let me stop you, but I’m warning you, I’ll intervene again if I find out that…”

Cal sighed, “I know.” before he walked away from the bar.

You peered back around the door with a sheepish smile. Weldrick watched the vampire weave his way back up the stairs before he turned around, his giant tattooed arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s the rule, newbie?” he grumbled at you, his nostrils flared and his pierced ears flicking back and forth.

You ducked your head and fiddled with your apron, “No flirting with vampires?” You looked up, “But I was…”

Weldrick grumbled again, “No. You don’t get close with Cal. Flix warned you about him, and about glamouring!” he insisted, “Watch yourself, that’s all I’m saying.” Weldrick sighed and scrubbed at his messy white fur, “Cal’s a good lad. He’s just…got a lot of issues and things going on in that old head of his. You get me?”

You nodded, “I was just being polite and…he seems nice, just a little eccentric.”

Weldrick laughed at you, “Eccentric is one word.” he clapped your back harshly, winding you, “Look after your neck, newbie. Any vamp would like a piece of you, I’m sure. That girlie in the corner had been eyeing you for an hour before Cal showed up to strong arm his claim. He’s taken a liking to you, whether you like it or not!” Weldrick said before he disappeared into the back again and you sat back on your stool. You looked at the young female vampire, decked in dreads and deadly red lip gloss. She avoided looking back at you and disappeared into the crowd.

You plucked your novelty cape from the bar top and looked up the stairs, where Cal had disappeared into the crowd and up to his rooms. You took a breath and turned back to the kitchen.

“Weldrick? I’m just going to thank him for bringing my cape back.” You said around the door frame, peeking inside to see Weldrick carrying two new kegs of beer.

“Fine. Watch yourself heading up there, okay? Do you know the code?” he asked as he stepped around you and ducked underneath the bar.

“No, but I figured that Cal would be able to hear me knock?”

Weldrick nodded and gave you a thumbs up from underneath the bar, “Bat ears come in handy sometimes.” he snorted as he undid the old keg.

You left the minotaur tucked underneath the bar and headed towards the stairs; your hands tucked into your apron pocket.

A few patrons gave you smiles and greetings as you passed them by, and you smiled and rushed along towards the door, marked by a large ‘private’ sign. You felt silly as you stood in front of the door, awkwardly playing with the frill on the cape collar. One deep breath, you told yourself, as you sucked in air, and held it, calming yourself with a long exhale before you knocked timidly. It didn’t take Cal long to unlatch the lock and open the door inwards, his face painted with a frown and his glasses pushed into the top of his hair. His intense eyes met your own before he looked at the cape in your hands.

“Thank you.” You said, “For returning my cape I mean. I didn’t have the balls to come back and ask for it…and now I realise that I was a bit stupid.”

Cal’s eyebrow quirked, “Its not a problem. I realised you’d left it in the bathroom, but I only just now remembered you were on shift.” he reasoned quietly before he hummed, “Would you like to…”

“Sorry but I’m still on shift, and Weldrick will hang me if I leave him to work alone. But really,” you reached out and laid your hand over his, squeezing it slightly as you smiled, “Thank you. Most people wouldn’t have washed it either.”

You left him stood at the door and rushed back through the customers to help Weldrick pull pints for a rowdy group of elves.

The vampire watched you head back down the stairs with a small grimace before he snatched his hand back to his side and shut the door with a small bang, his other hand clutching the bloodied handkerchief you had given him. He looked at it before heading up the stairs and throwing it into the washing machine in his small flat.

Cal seemed to warm slightly after that night, and he would linger a little closer to the bar during the nights you were on shift, ignoring your stares as he leaned by the wall in whatever black attire took his fancy, always with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, and a piece of gum in his fang filled mouth. This night was no different, but Cal weaved his way towards the stage, the chains attached to his jeans swinging as he tugged the band’s lead singer down to tell him something. You looked over, wiping a glass as he pulled himself up on the stage and threw off his jacket and shirt. Your eyes were drawn to the wings and cross on his chest, and then to the upside-down crucifix on his back, seared on his right side with creeping burn scars. The bar fell silent before the screaming started, and people flooded towards the front, pushing and grinning as Cal pushed his sunglasses into his hair and took hold of the microphone stand. He didn’t say anything but the band on stage grinned and nodded to each other as they started the slow chug of a song.

“Oh, newbie, are you in for a treat tonight.” Flix chuckled behind you as his insect like wings fluttered over the top of your head, “Cal on stage. He’s not sang a song in nearly a year. You better get the mop bucket for the girlies at the front.”

“He can sing?” You asked, confused.

“Don’t you know?” Flix asked back, with a wide-eyed look, “Oh my sun and moon!” he exclaimed, “Cal was part of Black Blood!”

Your mouth fell open, “No fucking way! You’re fucking with me?”

Flix laughed, a gentle tinkering noise next to your ear, “No way, sweetie. He was part of the band until, well…You know the rest.”

“He was a musical god and now he runs a bar?” You stated, “This is surreal.”

“You tend to lose a lot of reputation when you eat fans.” Flix stated before he squealed as he was hit over the head.

Weldrick snorted from above the two of you, looming like an all-white shadow, “Better believe he was a god.” he hummed before sighing, “Too bad the addiction killed his career, and the band. Durzub never did forgive him. Poor sod.”

“What exactly happened?” You asked but before Weldrick could answer you, Cal opened his mouth. You watched in awe as he formed the words, and the crowd leaned a little closer. He caressed the microphone stand as he started to sing about a night in a dark palace and you swore the crowd swayed with each syllable, as though they were under some kind of spell.

“Is that a glamour spell?” You whispered to Flix.

The fae only grinned, his black eyes sparkling as he turned your face back to the stage, “Just watch.”

So, you did, you watched him sway and sing, his hands slipping across faces and himself as he weaved something like a story. One night of passion before the sunrise split the lovers apart and the dawn burned his skin away. Everything was enchanting, his deep voice like a drug you couldn’t get enough, but each time you leaned closer you shook your head and took a step back. The audience was entranced, and you watched the men and women at the front swoon. An organ melody marked the end of the song, trailing into the soft plucking of a guitar and Cal’s eyes stared across the audience, finding your own. He held the stare for a moment before he pushed his sunglasses back over his eyes and took his shirt and jacket. No one followed him as he weaved through the swaying bodies and disappeared back into the shadows of the bar.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked as the audience finally came to and started to cheer, “Were they hypnotised?”

Weldrick huffed, “Not quite. His singing has always had that effect, unfortunately. People are just enamoured. He swears there’s not a trick to it, but something about his singing is plain magical.”

“Magical is one word for it.” Flix snorted as he bumped your hip, “I would say sexy.”

“Watch yourself, Flix.” Weldrick laughed as he turned to head back into the cellar.

“It was amazing.” You stated with a sheepish smile, “I wonder if he’ll sing more?”

Flix nipped your cheek with his finger and thumb, “Once a year, sweet thing, once a year.” he punctuated the statement by poking you in the ribs.

“It’s a shame. He sings so beautifully.” You complimented as you took hold of another glass and dried the water off it.

“I bet you would sing really lovely in bed.” A brash vampire leaned over the bar, flashing his fangs as his blond hair dripped over his eyes. He pushed it back into its styled quiff with a wide, charming smile. He reached for your hand and you took a quick step back, smiling politely.

“Oi. Vampire.” Flix hissed, “You know what’s allowed and what isn’t here.” The fae took you by the shoulders, “No fresh blood. You get the pack stuff, or you find somewhere else to haunt.”

The vampire scoffed, “Why don’t you let them speak for themselves, huh, sparkly boy.” He took your hand again.

“Sir, thank you, but I’m really not interested.” You carefully tried to slide your hand back, but it was caught in the vampire’s iron grip, “If you would like a drink, I can make you one?”

“Get off, fang bag.” Flix snarled.

You didn’t get to defuse the situation, because as you tugged your hand again, a moment later, the vampire was slammed against the bar, pinned in place by Cal. The older vampire hissed, fangs dripping by the youngster’s ear as he pressed his claws into his neck, cutting the skin underneath his ears.

“Cal!” Weldrick shouted but he was silenced as Cal drew his head away, eyes pulsing red and his mouth open, his nose upturned. His face was the picture of a monstrous bat, feral and unhinged, his skin bleeding to a soft grey.

Cal held up a finger to you all before he leaned back over the vampire pinned to the countertop, “What is the one rule I have here?” He asked, his face contorted like a feral animal.

The youngster hissed pathetically and thrashed.

“I’ll gladly gut you and hang you from a church spire.” Cal threatened, “Or I’ll take this to your maker?”

The youngster pressed himself flat, “We don’t touch the humans.” he said, finally, as he deflated in defeat.

“That’s right.” Cal growled, “So, I suggest you find a new bar to fuck about in.”

As he finished the sentence, he threw the youngster towards the door, sending him sprawling against the wall with a slam that shook the bar. The male rushed to his feet before escaping out of the entrance, his hair dishevelled and flying around his head. You closed your mouth as Flix placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks, boss.” Flix uttered as he looked over your hand, “You’re gonna have some mean bruises, newbie.” he commented as he turned your hand palm up.

You couldn’t really focus on Flix as you looked Cal in the eyes. His face morphed back to a human looking guise behind a thin curtain of his hair. He moved his black curls back over his shoulder and nodded at you.

“Thank you.” You flinched as Flix prodded at your fingers.

“You’re welcome.” Cal whispered before he turned and walked away, fiddling with his jacket where it was torn by the youngster’s claws.

“Hey!” You pushed Flix’s fretting hands away and ducked through the bar door, rushing to catch up with Cal. He turned just outside the door to the upstairs flat and looked at you as he reached for a piece of spearmint gum, popping the rectangle piece into his mouth as you floundered, “Can…Can I take you out somewhere? To pay you back for everything you’ve done?”

Cal stopped chewing, his jaw going stiff before he reached for the empty cigarette packet in his jeans pocket and cursed again. He ducked his head, appearing small despite his towering height, standing at well over six feet tall.

“It won’t be, uh, a date or anything, unless you know, you want that. I just want to say thank you, I guess.” You babbled until he reached out his hand.

“Let me see your hand.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a demand.

You held up your bruised hand, “Its nothing.” You deflated, thinking you had been rejected.

Cal looked at your hand for a moment before letting you cradle it again, “Meet me outside. Friday lunchtime. There’s an old diner a few blocks away.” He grumbled quietly.

You smiled and nodded, “Sure. Dinners on me!” You gushed before catching yourself, “Well, not me. I don’t think I have very good blood and…”

Cal let out a low, deep chuckle, before he pushed his sunglasses back up into his hair. His breath smelled like mint as he took your hand and kissed the sore fingers, “See you then.” he rumbled before he unlocked the door and disappeared up the stairs.

Deciding what to wear seemed like the end of the world until your finally settled on something not too flashy, but a little dressy. You fiddled with the bottom of your shirt as you waited close to the entrance to The Black Dahlia. It was a little past midday and you wondered if you had come a little too early. Your fears were shot when the door opened, and Cal stepped out into the sunlight. He was in his sunglasses, the collar of his duster turned up to hide his cheeks with a black, red trimmed fedora on his head to shield his face from the sun.

“Hey, sorry if I’m a little early.” You smiled as you reached him.

Cal shrugged his shoulders, “Its not a problem. I don’t tend to sleep much… And I heard you arrive.” he tapped his ear underneath his collar, “A vampire thing.”

“Oh…You know I never thought of that.” You confessed before pointing to his hat, “You’re not going to uh, burst into flames, are you?”

Cal’s lips twisted up in a half smile, “No. I’m a little sensitive to sun, but I’m old enough that it isn’t lethal anymore. I wouldn’t have said daytime if I knew I would burst into flames.” he nodded his head, “Come on. The diner isn’t far.”

You followed him happily, not straying too far from his side as you made a bit of idle conversation to fill the silence.

The diner was three blocks away. Cal opened the door and let you inside first. It was a cosy place, with wooden interiors and metal accents. It was quiet, with no customers milling around just yet, except for a dwarf, who was asleep in one of the booths furthest away from the door. A female elf looked up from her notebook and smiled brightly as Cal entered behind you.

“Clarence!” she tittered, “By the sun! It’s been so long since we’ve seen you! You know we only live four streets away!” she exclaimed before smacking his shoulder with her towel.

“Sorry, Graeliel.” Cal muttered, “Its…”

“Don’t. I know, sweetheart. I know.” Graeliel reached up and took hold of his cheeks between her palms. She patted his face before tossing her brown braids over her shoulders and dashing behind the counter, “Pam! Pamela!” she screeched, “Clarence is here!”

An older orc woman appeared from the kitchen, her chef’s apron splattered with sauce and her mohawk flattened with the heat of the kitchen, “Boy you best hope I don’t get hold of you!” she shouted as she crossed her arms over her chest, “Three years, and not a word! Not a word!”

Cal shrivelled in on himself a little, “I’m sorry, Pam, Graeliel. I know I should have called or something…”

Pam held up her hand, “Don’t give me that.” she looked down at him and scrubbed at her silver-streaked hair, pulling it back before sighing, “I know, sweetheart. We’ve been worried, is all.”

“Pamela has been beside herself.” Graeliel added before she patted her wife’s shoulder, “But it’s all right. You’re here now…and with company?” She added as she peered around Cal, spotting you stood by the door.

Awkwardly, you gave them both a wave and stepped forwards.

“Ah,” Cal introduced you before adding, “We’re here for lunch if you have the space?”

“Oh but of course!” Graeliel grinned, exposing her slightly sharp, elven teeth, “I didn’t think you would ever find a partner, Cal!”

“You owe me thirty, Graeliel.” Pamela chuckled as she walked back towards the kitchen, “And no, I won’t accept back massages this time!” she shouted out of the door before disappearing again.

Graeliel took your arms and rolled her eyes at her wife before she led you both over to a booth in the other corner of the restaurant. She grabbed a napkin holder and two sets of cutleries for you both and laid them on the table carefully before she laid two laminated menus down too.

“I’ll go and get you some drinks to let you decide what to have. How does two lemonades sound?” Graeliel smiled as she tucked her notebook in the front pocket of her apron.

“That sounds great.” You answered before you looked to Cal, “Wait. Is that okay?”

The vampire nodded his head, “Its fine. I can still have human food and drink, in moderation. It holds no nutritional value, and a lot makes me feel sick, but its nice sometimes.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I don’t think I’ve ever asked a vampire before though.” You smiled. Graeliel nodded and headed off to go and grab you both a drink, leaving you both with the menu and silence, which was occasionally broken by the snoring dwarf at the other side of the diner.

“What are you going to get?” You asked Cal as you flopped the menu back on the table, “Are the club sandwiches any good?”

Cal shifted and pulled his coat off before reaching up to the top of the window and pulling down a window shade, which kept the sun off him. When he was comfortable, he carefully pulled his glasses and hat off, revealing his steel-coloured eyes. He was dressed in a shirt and a dark pair of jeans with his rosary sat on top of his chest. His black hair fell down his back and he reached to tie it back quickly before he picked up the menu and crossed a leg over his knee, resting the ankle on his knee.

“The steak is actually decent.” he commented, “But if you want something light the chicken Caesar wrap is great. They source meat from an organic place…I think. It’s been a while since I was last here.”

“The falafel sounds better.” You grinned, having decided on your meal, “What about you?”

Cal peaked at you over the top of his menu, “The usual.” He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, leaving the menu on top of your own.

“What’s your usual then?” You prodded his hand on the table.

“A pint of blood and a rare steak.” Cal muttered, looking up at you to check for your reaction.

You were shocked for a moment, before you started laughing, creasing yourself against the table as you saw his eyes widen and his hands fidget with the edge of the table.

“Sorry.” You wheezed, “I just didn’t think you’d say it like that.”

A ghost of a smile turned his lips up at the corners, “People don’t like vampires. I wanted to see what you thought but,” he gestured to your wheezing, “it obviously doesn’t phase you.”

Once you finally caught your breath you looked him in the eye, “No, it doesn’t bother me. You’re just different to me, and that’s not a big deal. I’ve seen some scary vampires, and you’re not one of them.”

“Like the one that tried to snack on you?” Cal added scathingly.

“Yeah. He was…Well if you hadn’t shown up, I might not have gotten out of that one.” You smiled, “So, thank you, again.”

“Stop thanking me.” Cal sighed, “I didn’t do anything special.”

“But to me, you did! So, hush, and let me buy you lunch!” You jeered at him, pointing a fork at his face like a dangerous weapon. Cal smiled again and let it drop as Graeliel came back with your lemonade.

“Alrighty then.” she pulled out her notepad out and poised her pen for your orders, “What will you lovebirds be having?”

“Graeliel, we’re just here for lunch.” Cal droned as he rubbed at his temples and reached back to pull the other blind down.

“Hush. I know a date when I see one!” Graeliel tapped the top of his head with her pen, “What do you want sweetie?” she asked. Cal opened his mouth again, but she silenced him with a scathing look, like an insistent mother.

“I’ll have the falafel wrap, please.” You ordered and she nodded before looking at Cal.

“The usual, please.” Cal grumbled before taking hold of his icy glass of lemonade and taking a sip. He didn’t make a face at the sourness but turned to look out of the window, before realising he had the blind down, and staring down at his drink, stirring the straw around idly. Graeliel left you both alone to go and give your orders to Pamela. Cal watched her leave before looking back at you with his ghostly smile again.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions.” he stated before he took another sip of lemonade, “I know I would if I was in your situation.”

You nodded and played with your own straw, “Lots of questions. I saw your face morph into something like I’ve never seen before. You looked like…well, something out of a kids story book.” You took a sip of your drink from your lemonade.

Cal turned his head, avoiding your gaze as a cringe took over his features, “I figured that would be the first thing you asked me about.” he avoided your eyes as he seemed to think about what to say next, “I’m a vampire, yes, but I’m of an old bloodline. Night Terrors. That’s what we were called by the rest of our own race. I suppose we are like bats. Up turned noses, wings and the ability to hang onto any surface.” He droned quietly as the ice in his drink clinked, “Terachi. That’s what we are called now.”

You listened quietly before interjecting gently, “So why don’t you always look like that?”

“Glamouring. Intense glamouring.” Cal mumbled, “Enough that even Flix’s spell doesn’t enable you to see my real face.”

The words sat heavy in your stomach. Cal refused to look at you for a while, his eyes trained on his lemonade.

“I can hear your brain churning. Its an ugly face. Its something humans would run. I’ve hidden my face behind my human appearance from the day I was turned.” he whispered as he pushed his hair over his shoulder again.

Gently, you took his hand from around the glass, stroking his fingers before you squeezed them and let him have his hand back, “How long have you been in music?” You asked, eager to stop Cal from scowling. He looked at the window again before meeting your eyes again and smiling awkwardly, the corners of his lips twitching.

“I’ve played the violin since I was around eight years old.” Cal turned his straw in his drink, “I learned to play the piano, but also the organ.” He saw your look, “My family was very religious. My mother was a faithful catholic. She married and dragged my father into it. I’ve said my hail Mary’s since I could speak.”

“Is that why you still wear your rosary?” You asked, pointing at the black beads hung around his neck and the cross which rested over his chest. His shirt hid the tattoo he had over his pectorals from view.

Cal picked at the cross and regarded the wooden jewellery for a moment before he dropped it back against his chest, “My relationship with the lord is a little complicated.”

“Isn’t everyone’s?” You joked as he shifted in his seat, “I think its nice you still believe. How long have you been, well, like this?” You trailed off at his grimace.

“A vampire?” he asked, “Since I was twenty-six.” He gestured to himself, “It was a service, in 1784. My maker was amazed by my skill with instruments, and I sang for him after. I’ve been like this ever since.” Cal gave himself a disgusted once over, before he looked back down at the wooden table, his nails scratching at the waxy surface, gouging at a name someone had already cut into the top.

“Did you leave anyone behind?” You asked.

“A fiancé. I don’t think I ever loved her like she deserved.” Cal said, “I disappeared after the service. My maker held me like a child as I changed and stopped breathing. I’ve not seen him since...” he trailed off, “I’ve not seen him since I joined Black Blood. That was over twenty-five years ago now.”

“Wow. That’s a long time. Did you fall out over it all?” You asked.

Cal shrugged his shoulders in response, “He didn’t want me out of his clutches I suppose. Either way, its history.” he dismissed any further questions with a wave of his hand.

As though she had seen the tense situation, Graeliel came tootling over with your meals. The elf laid the two plates down in front of each of you and smiled warmly as she pointed to the lemonade.

“Is the lemonade sweet enough? I let Pam make it this time, and she’s a bit sour, so she skimps on the sugar.” she teased as she leaned back and tucked her towel against her hip.

“Its perfect.” You assured her as you took another drink of it, “Its just sweet enough. Anymore and I think my teeth would rot.” You joked.

She nodded and quickly scuttled to a microwave as it pinged. You watched curiously as Graeliel snipped open a back of blood and poured the contents into a blacked-out pint glass. She returned with the glass and placed it in front of Cal.

“Make sure you don’t eat too much this time, hm?” She patted his hand before she smiled at you brightly and left to go and dispose of some rubbish.

You looked at the black glass on the table and wondered just if Cal was going to drink it in front of you or not. He met your gaze and shifted back before he took hold of the glass.

“You don’t have to look, if it makes you uncomfortable.” he reasoned, quietly, holding your gaze for a moment before he peered at the deep red contents.

“No.” You swallowed, “Its fine. Go ahead.” You smiled and reached for your cutlery as he nodded and tipped his head back a little. He pressed the glass to his mouth and quickly downed the blood, his throat working as he guzzled at it like a hungry animal. Cal grumbled softly as he finished and licked at the red blood clinging to his top lip before pressing his finger to it and licking that too. He closed his eyes and swallowed the last of it, his nose curled, before he calmed himself down, and looked back at you. His eyes were wide, as though he had thoroughly enjoyed himself, and you smiled at him.

Cal’s lips curled a little at one corner before he stood to give the glass back to Graeliel. You appreciated the iron smelling glass being moved and carefully started picking at your salad. He returned and you picked up your wrap.

“Well, lets see if you recommended me something decent!” You took a bite and Cal chuckled quietly as your eyes widened at the taste, “Is this home made or something? The sauce is so good.” You said around your mouthful.

Cal nodded with a smile, “They make everything here in house.” he picked up his steak knife and sliced into the very rare steak before feeding himself a small piece, “Still tastes as good as ever.” He leaned to the kitchen and chuckled again.

“Too right it does!” Pamela hollered from the kitchen. You both laughed at her before digging back into your food.

“Are you two finished?” Graeliel asked as you leaned back and grumbled about being too full. Cal chuckled again as he pushed his sunglasses into his hair, and you nodded with a content sigh.

“Pamela’s cooking has that effect.” Cal added quietly as you patted your stomach and laughed.

Graeliel laughed as well, “I’ll get you both the bill.” she walked happily to the kitchen to deliver your dishes and glasses before going to the cash register and bringing you the total on her notepad, scribbled underneath your orders.

You took the piece of paper, but Cal had already pulled out the cash, placing it on the table for Graeliel before he grabbed his hat and tucked his hair out of the way. He noticed you gawking and tilted his head, “Are you okay with me paying?” he asked curiously.

You nodded before huffing, “Yeah, but next time I get the food.”

Cal paused as he shrugged one arm of his coat on, “Next time?” he asked quietly.

“If you want a next time?” You asked with an embarrassed smile.

He nodded, completely silent as he turned his face away from you. He was incapable of blushing much more than a faint pink tone after a meal, but you caught the slight pink colour to the apples of his cheeks before he flicked his collar up.

You followed suit and thanked Graeliel and Pamela as Cal rushed for the door, his long, graceful strides carrying him faster than you could ever hope to be.

Graeliel reached to give you a gentle hug which smelled of jasmine, “Look after him for us, hm? He’s such a sweet boy, just a little wounded.”

“I’ll try.” You felt hot and embarrassed, and your cheeks burned as you looked at Pamela’s smirk. You said your goodbyes and rushed after Cal. He held you open the door and silently offered you his arm. You took the arm and linked your own through it. Cal looked at you through the side of his black sunglasses before he smiled a little wider, revealing his sharp, fang like teeth. It was the only part he consistently couldn’t glamour, you had come to realise. You returned his smile and Cal looked down at you. Your eyes followed a piece of hair as it escaped his hair tie and slipped out over his shoulder.

“I’ll walk you home, if you want?” he asked with a small shake to his voice.

You realised then, that you were smitten with him, and smiled brightly, “Sure. Its not too far. I live near the rose garden park.” Cal nodded and ran his cold fingers over your hand before he slipped your hand down and into his own.

You reached your small flat just as the roads started to get busy with traffic from people going home from work. You reached into your small bag as you neared the door, and quickly rummaged around for your keys. They jingled in your hand as Cal slipped his hand from yours and let you step up to the door alone.

“Thank you.” He uttered, “For taking a chance with me. No one has…been so kind to me in a while. Certainly not someone as gorgeous as you.” Cal whispered the words, as though you weren’t supposed to hear them. He turned his face away from you, his eyes still hidden behind his glasses. The sun was lower in the sky and the beginnings of the sunset were starting, casting an orange glow over his pale skin and the pieces of his black curls which had escaped his ponytail.

“I didn’t take a chance.” You said as you stepped back down in front of him, “I think you’re…You’re much more than just a monstrous vampire. You’re kind, sweet and considerate and…”

“Handsome?” He asked with a quirk to his lips before he licked them and reached out to take your hand again, running his fingers against your own as he digested your words.

“You make me feel…You make me feel grounded. Whole. Like I’m not…” Cal huffed at himself, “Like I’m not some fucking killer freak. I just… I feel like you understand, and I find myself thinking of you, often. I…”

Gently, you reached up and pressed a warm finger to his lips, quietening his rambling, “I like you too, Cal. I think you’re…”

Cal silenced you as he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair again, revealing his steel-coloured eyes. He stared at you with such intensity, and you were drawn to the soft curve of his lips all too easily. He smelt like peppermint again, but you forgot that as he pressed his lips to yours. They were soft but icy cold. The temperature made you jump, but you quickly pressed to him. Cal grumbled something before you were backed against the door, his fangs grazing your bottom lip as his cold tongue brushed against your lips. You opened your mouth and moaned quietly as he kissed you deeply, his fangs grazing your lips again. He drew away, as though shot, and you smiled at the blackness to his eyes and the grey sheen to his skin. His nose curled and you touched the pointed tip of his upturned nose before pushing your hands over his shoulders and feelings the musclar tops of his wings. They flexed beneath his coat, the clawed tips scrapping against the concrete before he dived in to nip your lips again.

“I adore you.” He purred as you felt the tips of his ears and fumbled for the handle. The door opened with a soft click and you pulled on his hands. He caught himself at the door, letting you hold his hands before he was drawn into you and found your lips again, “You complete me.” He moaned against your cheek before you closed the door.

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msotherworldly · 3 years

Text

A Vampire’s Code

Title: A Vampire’s Code

Fiction Type: Original Fiction

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death

Prompt: “You have no proof.”

“You have no proof.” I trembled as they surrounded me, pale faces pressing in like dead masks. Their red cloaks rippled, and several hands reached for me. “I’m young, right? Nobody taught me the rules. That has to count for something!”

“That is true.” A woman stepped forward. She had a round face; she lifted a pudgy, icy hand to brush aside a strand of blonde hair. She resembled one of those Victorian paintings, but for the crimson eyes. “Nevertheless, you have committed a crime. You have killed an innocent.”

“But what does that mean? Aren’t we supposed to eat? I barely know what I am!”

“You know what you are.” She held up a hand. The others stopped their advance.

“Yeah, I’m a Vampire.” I shrugged. “But what does that mean? Will holy water burn me? Will I burst into flame if I enter a church? Is the sun deadly? Is garlic?”

“Who changed you?”

“I thought he was a mugger. I was walking home from my friend’s. We’d been jamming in his garage.”

A man at the woman’s shoulder frowned. Like paper, his face seemed to crumple in on itself. “What is this ‘jamming’ you refer to? Do you mean canning jam?”

The corners of the woman’s red lips twitched. “No, he’s in a band.”

“That’s an overstatement.” I laughed. “We’re not very good. But he launched himself at me, this guy, and then he bit me. Took all my cash too, so I figured it was a robbery. I thought he was crazy.”

The woman nodded.

“I didn’t even make it home. I ran into the park, and just...I fell down the side. Into the ravine. I don’t know how long I lied there. But when I came to, it was night. And when I saw Mrs. Lowe, it was automatic. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until she was limp in my arms.”

“She is an innocent.” The man trembled. “He has had a taste-”

“He’s had no teacher. No guidance. No chance.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.” I looked between them. “I am sorry I killed her. She was always kind to me. When I was a kid, that is.”

“There will be a penalty for your actions.” The woman sighed. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “But we will not destroy you.”

“But he-”

The woman shook her head. “This will appease them.”

I studied her. My brows knitted. “You mean...you don’t think I should be punished? It’s for show?”

“We have to set a certain standard, or there will be chaos. But yes, that is correct. It’s a formality. And when I explain the mitigating circumstances, many will see reason.”

A chill shot up my spine. Who knew Vampires could be cold. I scanned the stony faces. “Many...but not all.”

“There will be those who want to kill you.” She pulled her hood up. “The Vampires of this city are different. There are rules. One can’t kill as they please. In other towns, it’s the same as it’s always been—like animals, they feast on people with no discernment, no respect for human life, no empathy for their former selves.

“When a Vampire acquires a taste for freedom, for killing, we encourage him to leave. You can be a savage in other cities, but not here. Many laugh at our ways, but it’s a way of life which appeals to many of the brood. And one, I believe, which is worth preserving.”

I nodded. “I can understand that. My girlfriend...she would still be human. Even though there are Vampires here, she would be safe?”

The man’s face darkened. “No one is ever safe when there are Vampires around. Accidents happen. Rules are broken. And then we’re called in.”

I looked around. I hadn’t given much thought to my surroundings...but then, there was little to look at. A single light shone on me, and the walls and floors were concrete. If I scanned the corners of the ceiling, I could make out a cobweb and the spider which nested in it’s centre.

“Will somebody teach me? I mean, what things are actually...dangerous? What are all the rules? Can I...still see my friends? Can I see Emma?”

“If you continue to see Emma, she will learn the truth.” The woman grimaced. “And if she learns the truth, you will have two choices.”

I’d read enough horror novels to guess what came next: “I’ll have to kill her or change her. And option number three is-”

“To never see her again.” She nodded. “That is how it must be. I’m sure you can understand. You’ll be permitted to keep a job, to see your friends as often as is necessary to maintain the facade. But you’ll have to find a night shift. I don’t know about holy water, but the sun will kill you.”

“Will I get resistance to the sun with time?”

“No, that’s a myth. One which became popular after Anne Rice started writing, I think. It will always be your enemy.”

“I guess...I’ll go home then.”

“One minute.” The woman whispered to the others. They argued under their breath. The man pointed at me twice. Then he scowled, and bowed. The rest nodded. They shuffled from the room, flicking up their large hoods. They pooled out of the door like a river of-

My hand flew to my throat. I swallowed, and it ached. My tongue salivated, as dry as paper.

The woman shut the door. “We have to discuss your punishment. It’s lucky you didn’t attack a child. Many Vampires are forgiven for killing the elderly. That is, they are punished but not destroyed. It is my understanding that Mrs. Lowe had cancer, and that she was in considerable pain. Of course, you didn’t know this, but certain negotiations can be made.”

“Are you going to teach me?”

She smiled. “No, but I can share some of the...nuances with you. If a human voices aloud the desire to die, it becomes the right of the Vampire to take that person’s life. However, the desire has to be both in earnest and justified. Teens with depression, or who are blowing off steam, are off limits. I learned too late that our wording of that law was too loose.”

“I’d never kill a kid! Not intentionally.”

“I believe you.” She folded her hands. “But if you meet someone with a terrible disease, whether it be an incurable tumour or Lou Gerig’s, and you can prove they wished to die...we consider it merciful, a form of assisted suicide. Death by Vampire is not painful. Victims sink into a blissful sleep before they die. Some survivors of attacks have even claimed it feels good.”

“But what is my punishment?”

“It won’t be easy. There is a girl of seventeen who has come to our attention. Claire Goodall.”

“Hey, I know her. She’s just a couple years younger. She was in the school band. Really big into...Vampires and stuff.”

“She suspects our existence. She’s put an ad out for a Vampire to change her.”

“And you want me to persuade her not to, right? Because I’m the only one who can?”

“No.” Her eyes iced over. Her voice was hard. “You must change her. Even if she doesn’t really want to join the brood. I don’t condone the deaths of the young, but she will be executed if she is not brought over. She knows too much.”

“Couldn’t we give her another year or two? Seventeen is young. And becoming a Vampire is a bit more permanent than marriage.”

“It’s less permanent than death.” She turned away. “We have no other option. Many will kill her. Others will just bite her. But you’re her age. You can do it delicately.”

I nodded. “I guess.”

“She invited this on herself. You aren’t wrong to pity her. But she is responsible for her own fate. And when she is a Vampire, she will need a tutor.”

“Not me? I know jack shit.”

“You will be her friend. A mentor will be sent to you. Invite the girl to live with you, if you can, that you might ease the transition for one another.”

Emma will love that.

“I’ll try.”

What do I even tell Emma? What if she doesn’t want to be a Vampire? How do I know to tell her or not?

But if I don’t-

“You must go now. The others are growing agitated.” She led me outside. They lined the hallways, forming rows on each side. Their faces were expressionless, nearly identically beautiful, as I passed. When we emerged into a parking lot, I turned to thank the woman.

She was gone. I tugged on the door; it was locked. I pelted away, planning how I might change Claire’s existence irreparably, but gently.

#fictober21 #fictober #original fiction #creative writing #writers #writing #am writing #write #short story #vampires #fantasy writing

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heavensenthearty · 3 years

Note

For the writing prompt (kisses) can you do Thomastair and a mix of numbers 11/17 please

Also, I hope you are feeling well! 💕

*awkwardly* Hi!! 👋🏽😅

I know, I know, I'm super late to reply this and I'm sorry, it's just that the past few days have been crazy, and tiring, and... lots of other stuff, but I'm really happy that you sent me this prompt for Thomastairs, I've been coming up with tons of ideas for TLH and TWP fics!

I went a little away from the OG prompts, but I really like how it turned out! I hope you do, too! ☺️💖💖

Read under the cut or in AO3.

“It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it.”

– Christian Nevell Bovee.

Thomas did not know at what moment he fell asleep in Alastair’s house.

His memory was still blurry with the weight of the somnolence; slowly, he saw himself coming to visit that afternoon, but in the present, after a few centering blinks, he focused on Alastair’s own closed-eyed face next to him.

They were on Alastair’s bed.

They were both fully clothed, which was… relieving, he supposed.

The room was dark; he guessed they must have slept in until evening.

A part of him wondered if he should wake Alastair up, and then leave to maintain… manners… but he could not bring himself to do so when watching Alastair’s unbelievably peaceful face in the weakly lighted room.

The light was so scarce and faint that Thomas could only see the outline of Alastair’s profile, yet he readily followed it, mesmerized.

He put his head back on the pillow and roamed the contour of Alastair’s defined cheekbones, feeling his breath hit softly and steadily against his own mouth. It was hard to describe the expression on Alastair’s face considering the way the shadows played across it, but he looked happy in a peculiar way, unaware of that happiness even in whatever dream he was having. But Thomas could see it.

He tried to remember at what moment he had become so knowledgeable in regards of Alastair’s emotions. Memories of Alastair as a stony, unreachable figure came to his head, yet Thomas felt as though those memories were not only about a different person, but they also belonged to someone else. He felt his own self dissimilar from who he was back then; perhaps Alastair had not been the only one who had changed.

The soft puffs of Alastair’s breath continued to hit Thomas’s lips, and he scooted closer enjoying the sensation. The warmth of the other boy’s skin overwhelmed him, and his mouth found Alastair’s in the middle of the darkness.

It could not be called a kiss, it was merely a touch. A taste of his lips. But after a moment of senseless bliss, Alastair’s mouth came for his again, his hand gliding and settling on Thomas’s chest.

This time, the kiss was real, gentle, and growing in intensity, just like Alastair’s speeding breathe and heartbeat.

He was fully awake now.

Thomas’s own heartrate increased almost painfully slowly the more thoroughly Alastair kissed him.

Alastair’s hand slid down Thomas’s torso until finally getting under his shirt, Thomas gasped at the soft, shapely long fingers drawing his hipbone and climbing through his stomach, pushing him to lay on his back. He could feel his pulse in his own throat as Alastair straddled his legs and his heat enveloped him, making him feel dizzy.

A consuming warmth built inside him, the same that would come if he had been drinking himself mindlessly drunk. His thoughts dissipated into a white blur only aware of Alastair’s throbbing lips.

Alastair…

#thomastairs #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #tlh #the last hours #angel writes 🖋️

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pallasperilous · 4 years

Text

Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash. It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp.

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. ��Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

“Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out. I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs. “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

#spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #profoundnet #prompt fic

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ad1thi · 4 years

Note

If your still doing fic recs, could u rec any soft stevetony ones?

absolutely!! this got pretty long so ive hidden most of it under a read-more so i don’t annoy people. a couple of authors feature more than once. ive tried to avoid that as much as possible, but if an author features more than once - take that as a sign that they have rly good stuff for soft stevetony

disclaimer: don’t forget to leave kudos and comments for every author!! (a disclaimer i regrettably forgot to add to previous fic rec lists but will be adding from now on)

soda pops: @starklysteve

If anybody asks, Steve would smile and say it was very romantic. Very Tony. Because if he went into any further detail, nobody would quite believe him.

Tony, on the other hand, would laugh and say that Steve’s in love with a man in a can. So, really, it wasn’t outside the natural progression of things.

me voy pa’l pueblo: @firebrands

two times steve walks away, and one time that tony walks with him.

/ or, my very fluffy take on my bingo card prompt "farewells." steve is on vacation when he meets tony.

fill for my stony bingo prompt: farewells; also for bookworminaslump on tumblr who asked for a tourist/knowledgeable local au!

Tumblr Ficlets: @omg-just-peachy (this is 115 chapters of stevetony being soft!!)

A collection of enough tooth-rotting fluff to last a year, all in one place.

tender offerings: @omg-just-peachy

Five times Steve carried Tony to bed.

the best thing (is that it’s happening to you and me): @captainstarkreportingforduty

Or, five times the team saw Steve Rogers and Tony Stark in love.

Sweet On You: @miniblackraven

It’s the 1940’s and Tony is working as a Donut Doll for the Red Cross. His job is to go around to various military bases and offer comfort food and conversation to homesick soldiers. He’s come to expect a lot of things in this job, but he doesn’t expect to fall in love with Captain America, the hottest most awkward soldier Tony has ever met.

Bespectacled Avengers Society (Membership of One): @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

Tony gets glasses. Glasses get a Tony. Steve loses his mind and walks into walls.

a flower crown for your love: @anthonyed

"There, there," Pepper cooed. "Tony likes flowers?" she said with a shred of doubt in her tone. But when Steve peered up, she's smiling her bright toothy smile. He squinted and she sighed, dropping her hand from his shoulder. "He does." she insisted. "Even more so than me."

if this was a movie: @omg-just-peachy

“One of our seniors is being generous with his time this year—by force of his own actions, but generous none the less—and he’d be happy to help you, I’m sure. Tony Stark? I’ll set something up for later this week. I think between the two of you you’ll be able to pull your average up enough to make it through to playoffs,” Coulson said, with that ever-hopeful lilt in his voice.

Or, Steve needs a calculus tutor, Tony is available, but how is Steve ever supposed to focus when he's been in love with Tony for ... his entire school life?

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

amore mio: @brucewaynery

Tony has had it with Steve being dumb and reckless out in the field, he has a family to think about now, Steve promises him that he'll be with him, kingdom come.

(initially based on that one headcanon about Italian Tony yelling and gesticulating at Steve but Peter thinks he's doing some weird dance and tries to copy him, but it got very fluffy very quickly)

Lost My Mind in a Coffee Shop: @betheflame

“Boyo,” Bucky muttered to his best friend. “I swear to God that if you don’t ask that man for his number soon, I will create a Grindr profile for you and you will not like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am here to finish grading, not hit on men.”

“Can you not do both?” Natasha smirked. “Nearly tenured, historical genius, feels like something you should be able to multitask.”

&&&

In which Steve is a history professor and Tony's an engineering one and Bucky owns the joint where they have their meet cute.

AU-gust Chapter 7: @iam93percentstardust

stevetony, childhood friends AU

Right Up The Road: @gottalovev

The day at the senate committee in Washington DC wasn't supposed to end with Tony and Steve transformed into animals by a baby witch. That said, the 350 miles trek back to the compound to get help promises to be quite an adventure too!

(or the adventures of Cat!Tony and Wolf!Steve - and how to readjust when you're back to human!)

i’ll take care of you: @elcorhamletlive

“Hi.”

Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise.

He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutely sodden state – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days.

“Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”

The Tally System: @betheflame

Everyone on the team knew about the tally system.

Whenever Steve would save Tony - whether from a monster or from his own stupidity - he’d say, “tag”. Whenever Tony do the same, he’d say, “your turn”. Thor thought it was adorable, Clint thought it was ridiculous, Bruce refused to register an opinion.

Natasha thought it was something she could work with.

what’s mine is yours: @robertdowneyjjr

5 times Tony stole Steve’s clothes, and 1 time Steve returned the favor.

For a billionaire, Tony Stark really doesn't pay for a lot of what he wears.

I like Shiny Things But I’d Marry You With Paper Rings: @betheflame

Rhodey: I just confirmed with Sam that he’s going to make sure he cooks tonight and that his entire team is briefed. I’m heading over now to strategically arrange a fuck ton of ficus trees to block them from gen pop.

Pepper: They’re not getting engaged in a prison, Jimmy.

Rhodey: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers show up to Circe on a Saturday night in May and you watch every person in that restaurant turn into someone I’d rather arrest than eat with.

****

In which Tony and Steve get engaged, but they're kind of extra about it, because they are always themselves

the road to the stars: @shell-heads

Tony is seven years old when he sees the ballet for the first time and meets his future pas de deux partner.

His father is invited to sweet-talk politicians into a new weapons deal and explain his latest idea for their program, and his mom goes to catch up with old friends she hasn't seen in years, but Tony goes because his mom had smiled down at him and told him he would love it.

His mom's never wrong.

In which boy genius Tony Stark meets girl wonder Natasha Romanoff at the ballet, and they fit their broken little pieces together to make something beautiful on the dance floor.

Steve? He's just a dumb, awful, chaotic, extremely supportive older brother that really should just shut up and admit he likes Tony a lot more than he pretends, because Natasha only has five people in the world she likes; it only makes sense her two favorites would fall in love with one another.

They always were a little slow, though.

A Second Chance To Take it Slow: @omg-just-peachy

Tony loves his adopted son, Peter, but that doesn't stop him from wishing he had someone to do this whole parenting thing with. After a failed one night stand, Tony's parent-teacher conference with Mr. Rogers comes with quite the surprise.

Wake Up!: @randomstufffromotherblogs

Tony came home from a business trip and is woken up by his husband and their three-year old.

pull me closer to love: @captainstakreportingforduty (part of a series)

“A Mother’s Day card? For... Tony?” Steve clarifies, and can’t help the smile on his face as six familiar little heads nod in response.

“But... guys, Tony’s not—“ he pauses and takes a breath, any explanation dying in his throat against the excited gleam in everyone’s eyes. “Why do you guys want to do that, hmm?"

compromises: @robertpattisons (when i looked up OP on tumblr, this is the blog i was directed to - but i sincerely apologise if ive gotten it wrong)

Steve should have expected it, he really should have.

There were regulations that came with dating Tony Stark. Things that were clear and things that they needed to work through.

Things like how Steve always got strawberry ice cream, while Tony got rocky road. Or when Steve needed to get his homework done before he was down to make out - even though Tony always got his way.

Things like that were clear

all that you are is all that i’ll ever need: @natasharxmanov

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers announced their engagement on Good Morning America through Tony Stark’s previous secretary now CEO, Pepper Potts. And over this past weekend, I got the chance to sit down with them both, to visit their home and attend their gala, all to write this article about the most powerful couple in the world.

(Or, the fic in which Tony and Steve get married.)

(i won’t ever) trade my mistakes: @brucewaynery

Toddler Peter, painting a masterpiece with his dad.

aka: a dumb amount of family fluff to help you power through the week

#adi's rec list #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #i did this instead of my exam #so i rly hope you enjoy it anon!!#there's a healthy amount of superfamily thrown in here #so apologies if that isn't your thing #anon ask #adi answers asks

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delta-roseblr · 4 years

Text

Ficlet for your reading pleasure

Look at me posting a prompt (that really wasn’t a direct prompt but lets not focus on that) in the first time in a while! I’m proud of me!

Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where is this place again?" Felix asked as he made what felt like his one-hundredth right turn. They were going in circles, not that Felix was going to admit that. All the streets just looked too similar, and Felix wasn't familiar enough with Nashville to have any idea where he was going.

"It's off Church," Kyle answered as he sat forward in the backseat of Felix's jeep so Felix could see him in his rearview mirror. He and pretty much nothing else. He kept fucking talking about Church Street like Felix knew where the fuck that was. If it was Burlington, Felix could have drawn a map of Church Street from god-damned memory, but he really knew next to fucking nothing about Nashville. He had told Kyle multiple times, but he still just kept talking about fucking Church Street. Kyle held his arm out in the space between the driver and front passenger seat and gestured at the darkened street in front of them as he added, "I think you go two more blocks and then take a left."

"It's three blocks, and you need to take a right if we want to find parking," Dean declared from the passenger's seat as he looked up from his phone. The fact that it had taken this long for Dean to chime in was surprising. Dean had actually pitched a fit when Felix had said he would be the one driving that night. Since Leonard thought Felix was studying at Kyle's and had no idea Dean was home from college yet, and he definitely didn't know they were going to a gay bar, it made the most sense. Also, Felix would never say it to Dean because he loved his car so much, but the old Honda was just filled with the weirdest mix of unpleasant smells, and even after the engine was rebuilt, it still made strange fucking noises like it was ready to fucking die. Felix appreciated Dean's car, especially when it was the only car they had access to, but now Felix had his jeep. His jeep was an old piece of shit, too, but it just wasn't quite as old or quite as shitty as Dean's POS.

From the corner of his eye, Felix saw Dean slip his phone into the pocket of his jeans before bringing his full attention to the road. "And I won't point out how much easier this would have been if you had just let me drive," he commented.

It was dark, but the streetlights lit up the inside of the cab, and Felix could see the little satisfied smirk playing on Dean's lips. He thought he had won something which should have been annoying, but it was just kind of cute. Dean had really been away for too long.

They came to a stop at a streetlight, and Felix took advantage of the moment. He turned to look at his boyfriend. He was all blond hair and warm skin as always. "Dean," he said his name sweetly but also with a warning, "Unless you've figured out how to suck your own dick, you should probably stop fucking talking."

"I retract my previous statement," Dean stated seriously. Of course, it was Dean, and he was just as bold as he always was, so he reached out and brought a hand to rest on Felix's thigh. It wasn't so high, but it was high enough to up Felix's heartbeat a little. "Your driving and understanding of the city of Nashville is amazing, and I really can't complain," he stated with a bright smile.

"You two are so cute," Kyle faked cooed from the backseat before adding (mockingly), "I think I'm going to puke."

Eventually, they found the bar, found a place to park, and then made their way to the bar. It might have just been because Felix was comparing it to Burlington but getting into the place was beyond easy.

Once inside, they found a pretty thin crowd, but Felix didn't expect much more for the time of year. They had managed to hit that sweet spot where most of the younger people that came to the club were probably already tangled up in family holiday stuff, but most of the college kids hadn't returned home yet.

They were just a few feet into the place when they all collectively decided to stop and look around. To be honest, it was pretty much what Felix expected for a gay bar on the outskirts of Nashville, so it was pretty much par for the course, but other people clearly felt differently.

"This isn't….what I had been expecting," Kyle admitted sounding more disappointed with each word.

"What were you expecting?" Felix questioned. He sounded annoyed, which was because absolutely was, and yeah, he knew that made him an asshole, but this had been Kyle's idea. Not only had it been Kyle's idea, but Kyle had asked Dean after Felix had said no. He didn't go as far as to ask Dean behind Felix's back at least and asked Dean about it right in front of Felix. Much to Felix's surprise, his boyfriend that had also expressed a dislike of bars, immediately said yes. Felix was fucking shit at telling Dean no, so he was fucking stuck going, and both he and Kyle knew it. So Felix didn't care if the place was a little on the dingy side. He didn't care that the lighting managed to be both too bright and too dark at the same time. Felix didn't even care that the music playing overhead sounded more like static than anything else. He expected Kyle to be his typically overly excited self. "Pride flags and a rainbow-colored bar?"

"I was expecting to get ID'd at the door," Dean admitted. His voice was carefully neutral, and one look Felix found his expression matched his tone, but his eyes were scanning the room critically. Felix knew Dean well enough to know that this place was dive bar enough to bring up some daddy issues, not that Dean would say anything or suggest they leave. No, Dean would suffer silently.

"This is supposed to be an under 21 bar," Kyle informed quickly and matter-of-factly. Felix was half surprised Kyle didn't start reading the place's description from the website from memory. Felix was sure he could have because Kyle had been internet stalked the place for a while. Apparently, the website painted a different picture than what reality had to provide, and the shock was clear on Kyle's face. "And I don't know what I was expecting really," Kyle offered, and to his credit, he was obviously trying to hide his disappointment, and he mostly succeeded with his neutral tone. It was his face that gave him away. "I at least expected half the people here to be around our age."

"Yeah," Felix agreed with an unnecessary look around the place. "For a bar that is supposed to include people under 21, a lot of the people here look to be over forty," he pointed out. Really, it would have been impossible not to notice even if the place was hopping, but since it was moderately busy at the moment, so it stood out. Felix saw more guys that looked like they might hang out with his dad instead of kids around his age. He guessed divorced middle-aged men embracing the gayness they had been suppressing for years needed to get out too, but it was weird that they were choosing an under-21 bar when Nashville has several more traditional gay bars.

For the briefest of moments, Felix had a little bit of hope that the difference between Kyle's expectations and reality would be enough to make Kyle want to leave. They could get pizza or something. That hope died almost the moment it was born. It was almost like someone snapped their fingers, and Kyle got over his disappointment and shifted back to being excited, even if it was a bit more tempered now.

Kyle turned to him with a fucking smile on his face and asked, "Do we find a table?"

"I guess," Felix conceded with a sigh. He wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed that he wasn't going to get to escape. "Dean?" he questioned and got no reply. "Dean!?"

He looked to Dean just in time to see him looking up from his phone with a confused and bewildered expression. "Sorry, what?"

"We are going to find a table if you can look away from your phone," Felix informed with mostly fake annoyance.

"Yeah, sorry I was trying to translate this text message from Nico," Dean explained, which made sense even before he added, "For a guy that speaks several languages he can't spell in any of them" He shifted his phone so he was holding it in one hand and moved to put it in his back pocket before commenting, "But we should definitely find a table."

Felix would have fucking sworn he felt every ounce of positive drain from Kyle, so it wasn't a fucking surprise that when Felix looked at the guy, he looked tense, and his expression was carefully stony. "So Will is bringing the boyfriend?" he asked in a painfully neutral tone.

"Oh no," Felix exclaimed. He wasn't buying Kyle's attempts at neutrally, mainly because they were shitty attempts. If anyone could understand having an inconvenient, inappropriate crush, Felix liked Kyle too much to watch him continue to do this to himself. Felix had grown to think of Will in a somewhat positive way which was a journey, but he still didn't think of him as much in the way of dating material. Still, that wasn't why he was so bothered by the fact that Kyle couldn't let that crush go. It was never going to fucking happen, which was why it bothered Felix. Will was the most unavailable person on the fucking planet. He and Nico were practically fucking married, for fuck sake. Even if that wasn't the case, Will came with a load of baggage in the way of demigod shit. Kyle, of course, didn't know about that, but Felix fucking did, and he didn't think Kyle needed or would want any of that fucking drama. Fuck had Felix been trying to get Kyle to see the fucking light and shift his interest to someone more appropriate, even if at times it felt like he was banging his head against a wall. Felix didn't have any fucking desire to once again go through all that shit with Kyle, so he just shook his head insistently as he stated, "We're not doing that tonight."

"What!?!" Kyle questioned, but he sounded too outraged for Felix to believe for one second that he didn't know exactly what Felix was talking about, "I asked a question."

"No, you're starting to pine over a self-absorbed ass," Felix summarized indigently. In truth, Felix knew now that Will was pretty far from self-absorbed. Still, he did come with abandonment issues from like a dozen siblings dying in battles and a need for attention that came from having a fuck ton of siblings because Apollo is a fucking whore of a god. Calling Will self-absorbed was just easier, and maybe it was a little be of a reflex still. "Have some self-respect and standards."

Kyle huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. "A smart, funny, attractive, blond, soccer play," Kyle declared with a heavily sarcastic tone. "No way you could get that attraction," he made a show of looking pointed toward Felix before turning and smiling toward Dean, "Oh, hi Dean! I forgot you were right there."

"That is totally different, and I resent the comparison," Felix growled as he pointed his finger aggressively toward Kyle, "There are plenty of age-appropriate guys around here. We will find you a better one that is available." So plenty might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but the point remained valid. "Now, let's go find a fucking table, so I can see if this bartender won't look too hard at my fake ID."

Surprisingly, the argument or discussion or whatever ended there, at least for the moment. They made their way through the bar's crowd with ease and found a large table that wasn't so far away from the bar that getting drinks would be annoying but not so close that they had to be worried about being overheard by the bartender. They still had the leering older men wondering the place to deal with, but Felix got a general impression that there was no escaping that.

There was some discussion about not wanting to lose their table even though Felix thought the likelihood of that was slim. Kyle suggested waiting until Will arrived (and made no mention of Nico) so there would be someone to watch their table. Felix wasn't exactly sure what Kyle was thinking with that one, but in the end, it didn't matter because Dean reminded him that he didn't have a fake ID so he could stay at the table while Felix bought his drink. Dean suggesting Felix buy anything was a surprise but not a bad one.

"How don't you have a fake ID?" Kyle ended up asking Dean with bewilderment, "You're in college."

Felix had asked the same question the first time Dean mentioned he didn't have a fake ID, although Felix's shock had been he had been in high school without one. The general feel of the question was the same, though. Of course, when Felix had first brought it up, he and Dean weren't dating yet, so he didn't know the details of Dean's home life. Now that he had that knowledge, it all made sense, but at the time, it seemed absurd.

Dean's response to Kyle was almost identical to the reaction Felix had gotten almost two years earlier. He shrugged casually as he replied, "I've never needed one."

Kyle sputtered for a second before reiterating, "But you're in college."

Dean's only reply was to shrug again. Dean wasn't going to explain that he always had unfettered access to alcohol if he wanted it, so something like a fake ID didn't make sense to him. He certainly wasn't going to waste his money on one.

"All the people he hangs out with are older," Felix interjected so they could move on. He patted Dean on the shoulder, ignoring the fact that he had to get up on his toes a little to do it so and gave him a sarcastic smile, "Don't worry, I've got you covered, College Boy."

Dean smirked back at him as he replied dryly, "My hero."

One playful eye roll, and then Felix was off to the bar with Kyle in tow. Considering the place wasn't that crowded, the bar itself was pretty busy. Felix blamed all the old dudes for that. Whatever the reason, he and Kyle ended up standing at the bar waiting for the bartender to notice their existence for a while.

As they waited, Felix pulled on his wallet and dug through the variety of cards and other random shit he had shoved in there to find his fake ID slide behind a stack of used gift cards. It wasn't the most obvious spot to keep it, but it wasn't exactly well hidden either. He was surprised his dad hadn't found it by now. After Leonard had found out about Dean, he had search everything Felix own on more than one occasion.

"Won't the out-of-state ID draw more attention?" Kyle asked as he leaned over Felix's shoulder.

"Don't know," Felix admitted with a shrug as he looked down at the fake Vermont license, "But I guess we'll see." Honestly, if anything was going to be a problem, according to the ID, Felix was almost twenty-six years old. Hopefully, the bartender wasn't too good at mental math because there was no way Felix looked that old.

Felix actually got a little worried when the bartender finally made his way toward them because the guy looked annoyed, but then it became clear that some middle-aged dude was trying to hit on the guy from the other end of the bar. As soon as he was away from that, he cheered right up, took their drink orders, barely looked at their ID's and started on their drinks.

Felix had ordered two beers for himself and Dean while Kyle had ordered some mixed drink, so Felix was handed his beers first and headed back to the table while Kyle remained behind. When he got back to the table, he found that Will and Nico had arrived, and they had apparently brought a third.

"Hey, Cecil," Felix greeted as he deposited one beer in front of Dean before taking a seat. "Wasn't expecting to see you."

Felix liked Cecil, at least for the little he actually interacted with the guy when he was at camp. He was glad he was there if for no other reason then it made it so it wouldn't be two couples and Kyle the whole night. Still, the guy hanging out at a gay bar seemed at least slightly risky if he was still trying to keep quiet about actually being gay thing, not that Felix was going to mention that.

Cecil shrugged, and he might have even had something to say, but Dean interrupted him by tapping Felix's shoulder and catching his attention before Cecil got a chance. "Where's Kyle?" he asked as he looked over Felix's head as if he was still looking.

"Waiting for his drink."

"And you left him!?!" Will questioned with absolute shock.

That was the type of reaction that had made Felix not like Will at first. Okay, it was one of the many things that had made Felix not like Will at first. The guy could just be so dramatic and over the fucking top about small shit. And yeah, Felix now sort of got why but that didn't make it any less annoying at the moment.

"He's a big fucking boy," Felix assured dismissively, "He can take care of himself."

Felix picked up his beer and took a long sip before turning back to Cecil, "What brings you to boring as fuck Tennessee."

"Hey!" Dean protested.

Felix didn't bother to turn to look at Dean, but he did reach out and patted his cheek dismissively. "I love you, but I hate this boring as fuck state, accept it."

Cecil chuckled at their interaction. Felix guessed, even though that was pretty much par for the course for them. "Will and Nico invited me to Thanksgiving," he explained.

"Cool," Felix replied with a nod even though he wasn't sure about that. Camp Half-Blood had pretty good food, and Felix would imagine that they put out an impressive spread for the holidays. Maybe it was depressing to hang out when many campers were away for the school year to spend with their families. Everyone needed a change of scenery every once and a while. At least he wouldn't be missing out on some damn good food because Dean's aunt was a fucking incredible cook.

A surprisingly loud buzzing sound began coming from his pocket, and Felix pulled out his phone, half-convinced it would be a message from his dad saying he had to go home because that would be a very fucking Leonard thing to do. Luckily, it was just a text message from Kyle, even though Felix couldn't think of why Kyle would have to text him when they were literally in the same fucking place.

OMG, come to the bar, NOW!

Felix had no fucking clue what that was about, but he didn't see how he got out of it, so he guessed he was going to have to go back to the bar. "Um, alright," he declared with a heavy sigh as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. "I'll be right back," he informed before hopping off his seat.

He only had to walk about halfway back to the bar to find Kyle standing with his drink in hand, half-hidden behind a wall craning his neck as he stared in the direction of their table. Felix had to admit that wasn't what he had been expecting, and he had no fucking idea what it meant.

"Alright, you got a drink, so now I'm confused," He admitted as he pointed to the drink in Kyle's hand, "Why did I have to come over here?"

Kyle looked at Felix for maybe a second before glancing first at his drink, and then he was back to trying to see their table through the crowd. "Who's the mysterious handsome with Will?" he asked instead of acknowledging Felix's question at all.

Felix looked back toward their table with confusion. He seriously didn't know who the fuck Kyle was talking about. "You've met Nico before," he reminded because that was the only thing that made sense even though it only barely did.

Kyle turned and glared at Felix like he was an absolute idiot. "You are such a fucking ass," he responded with more contempt than Felix had ever heard from Kyle before. "I have zero interest in Will's punk rock underwear model boyfriend, thank you very much."

Every once in and while, Kyle would insist that he wasn't bothered by the fact that Will was dating someone and that he was totally over his crush, and then there were moments like this where it was painfully apparent that neither of those things was true. Felix felt bad for Kyle and was impressed that he managed to make "underwear model" sound like an insult.

Kyle didn't want Felix's sympathy, and he wouldn't appreciate him pointing out that Will and Nico were a great couple either. So Felix just rolled his eyes as he commented sarcastically, "And you're not bitter at all."

Kyle just ignored him and huffed, "The cute guy with the curls."

"Who?" Felix questioned before looking back toward the table again. There was only one person there with curls, but Kyle couldn't have been talking about him, right? "Cecil?"

"That's even a cute name!" Kyle cooed.

What the fuck was happening? Felix thought to himself.

"No, it fucking isn't," Felix replied with absolute bewilderment. Felix liked Cecil but considering the guy wasn't a ninety-year-old man. His name didn't fit him at all. And since when did anyone comment on another person's name being cute?

Kyle glared at him again, which was really starting to feel like a weird turnaround in their friendship. "Who is he?" Kyle questioned. He didn't wait for Felix to answer. Instead, Kyle turned, so he looked back at the table again as he continued to ask questions. "Is he single? Is he gay?" Kyle's eyes lit up, and he turned to look at Felix again, "Please tell me he's gay!"

Of all the things Felix had expected to happen that night, he could honestly say Kyle finding a new crush, at first sight, wasn't one of them. He didn't know how he felt about it either. He was all for Kyle moving on from the idea of Will because that was never going to happen, and Kyle was a cool enough guy and deserved to be happy, but another fucking demigod, really? That was not something Kyle wanted to get dragged into. The guy was fucking attracted to trouble, and he didn't even fucking know it. The worse thing about it, Felix knew exactly why Kyle shouldn't get his hopes up, but he couldn't say shit about it.

"Oh my god," Felix groaned and rolled his eyes, "You are fucking hopeless." Hopefully, Kyle would take that statement to mean that Cecil was straight and would just let it go. "Come on, I'll introduce you," he stated and waved for him to follow.

They walked back to the table. At some point, Kyle ended up a few steps behind him like he was fucking hiding or something, which was especially dumb because Kyle was the same height as Dean, so he was at least a head taller than Felix.

"Hey, what did we miss?" Felix questioned as he went right back to his seat next to Dean. That, of course, was the moment he realized that the only empty chair left was between himself and Cecil. That was inconvenient but not nearly as annoying as Kyle sharply poking him in the back the moment Felix had sat down. The point was taken, so Felix gestured to Kyle to do the whole introduction thing. "Oh yeah, this is Kyle," Felix then gestured around the table without much enthusiasm as he continued, "You've met Nico and know Will, and that's Will's friend Cecil."

"Hey," Kyle greeted with a bit of wave and a smile. Of course, he seemed to look at Will and Cecil and completely ignored Nico's very existence. Baby steps, Felix guessed.

There were waves and a few greetings. Nico might have seemed a little less enthused, which was kind of funny. Felix remembered hearing some vague story about Nico putting a skeleton in some guy's bed because he showed an interest in Will. Maybe that was what Kyle needed.

"Again, sorry we took so long," Will offered, apparently unaware of Nico's subtle disapproval of Kyle's presence. "We had kind of a hard time finding a place to park."

"They were arguing about Will's driving and kept driving past parking spots," Cecil informed with a smirk.

It was an amusing thought. Felix had never really seen the two bicker before. Usually, they were too busy being all over each other to do things like that. Felix didn't get to enjoy his amusement long because Kyle had to chime in. "These two did that too!" he exclaimed with far too much excitement as he pointed at Dean and Felix. The pointing especially seemed unnecessary, considering it was obvious who he was talking about.

Nico smirked slightly in a way Felix guessed was sort of mysterious. He didn't see it personally, but that didn't really matter. "That doesn't surprise me," he commented knowingly.

"We don't bicker…like….at all," Felix defended, and it was the truth. He and Dean could easily break into lively debates over absolutely meaningless shit, and Felix was pretty sure most of the time they both dug down on their side to drag it out, but that wasn't bickering. Hell, at times, that was practically fucking foreplay. Felix couldn't see how it could be mistaken for actual fighting.

"Oh, I know," Nico admitted, "It's just in my limited experience Dean's driving is…interesting."

"Bad," Will interjected, "Dean's driving is bad."

"You didn't complain when I drove you to school every day," Dean commented even though he didn't have the heat behind his words for them to have any real impact.

Nico seemed to ignore Dean and Will's little exchange and focused his attention on Felix as he continued, "And you have a tendency to be….vocal."

Felix really didn't know how to take that. If it were anyone else, he would have probably taken offense, but with Nico, he just couldn't. Nico wasn't the type to sling insults, or at least that Felix was aware. So he was at a complete loss, and if it had been a year earlier, Felix would have covered his bewilderment with some comment that would have come out way more hostile than he meant it to be, but Felix was really fucking trying to be better than that. Instead, he tried to make a joke out of it by turning to Dean with a fake look of outrage and questioning, "Did your cousin just call me a screamer?"

"I don't think so," Dean replied, although he didn't sound as certain as he probably should have, "But I could see how it could sound that way."

"Well, are you?" Kyle questioned with a laugh in his voice and a smirk on his face before Felix could even think of something else to say.

Felix wasn't overly loud in bed. Of that, Felix was sure. Actually, Dean was louder, at least when he bottomed, and even then, Felix wouldn't call Dean a screamer. There was no way Felix was explaining any of that to Kyle, and Kyle knew it. That was probably why he asked, to get a bit of a rise out of him.

Felix responded with a glare that, in reality, didn't have as much heat behind it as it would have it was anyone else that asked.

Dean missed the memo about not answering questions about their sex life because he gave it a moment's thought before answering, "Not normally."

Felix actually wouldn't have cared if he could have been classified as a screamer. All that would mean was he was vocal while enjoying sex. Sex was amazing, so why shouldn't he be vocal about it? Also, he knew he loved it when Dean got loud during sex because it usually meant he was losing his damn mind from the fucking pleasure, and that was sexy as fuck. That didn't stop him from giving Dean a 'What the hell man?' look. If nothing else, it gave Felix something to tease Dean about later, which was always fun.

Nico chuckled, and it was hard to tell if it was from amusement or nerves. It could have been both. "I just meant you don't seem to be shy about giving your opinion," he offered.

It was really fucking hard to take anything Nico said as offensive, but Felix was pretty sure if anyone else said that to him, he would have been bothered. "I guess," he muttered in reluctant agreement.

"Yeah, that's very true," Dean agreed, maybe a little more enthusiastically than was really warranted, at least in Felix's opinion, "Also, irrelevant because I wasn't the one driving."

"Oh," Nico exclaimed with obvious surprise, "I retract my previous statement then. What were you arguing about then?"

"Parking," Felix answered.

Kyle hissed like he had something to say about that, but Felix shot him a look because he really didn't need Kyle offering his opinion on the matter. That was enough for Kyle to think better of it. "Well, parking was definitely part of it."

Dean was smart enough to remain silent on the topic, and Kyle already seemed to be distracted by making eyes at Cecil (and Cecil seemed more into that than Felix would have liked). Felix guessed it was better than Kyle just spending the night openly ogling Will, so he let it go for the moment being.

Nico was quick to offer a change of topic. "Is someone going to come to take our order?" he asked as he looked around expectant.

Considering what Nico looked like and what he did for a living, Felix imagined he usually didn't even have to order a drink at a bar. People probably just brought him drinks in hopes that he would acknowledge their existence. Nico did seem like a down-to-earth guy, so Felix figured he wouldn't expect something like that, but he was probably just used to that sort of thing.

"This isn't Gladiators," Will reminded, "I think we have to go to the bar."

Not entirely surprising, Nico looked confused by the idea, which confirmed what Felix had suspected. He was a smart guy, so Felix was pretty sure he would figure it out. Besides, there was still a chance someone would present him with a drink in the hopes of getting a chance to bang an underwear model before he ever made it to the bar.

"The bartender barely looks at your ID, so it isn't a big deal," Kyle assured.

Good for him, Felix thought. He could tell Kyle was trying to be nice even though he disliked Nico at least a little for the simple fact that Will and Nico were dating.

"Perfect," Cecil declared as he pulled a wallet out of his pocket and dropped it on the table before moving to another pocket and producing another wallet. Cecil made at least half a dozen wallets from various places on his person appear in a matter of thirty seconds. "Let's see what I have to work with."

Cecil started flipping through the wallets in front of them in a way that made it very clear that he had some experience with that sort of thing. That reminded Felix that Cecil was the child of Hermes, and Hermes is the god of thieves. He wasn't sure if he should be horrified or amused by what he was seeing.

The look on Kyle's face was definitely tipping it more into the amusing category. He was clearly fluctuating between absolute shock and confusion, and his expressions were so extremely exaggerated it reminded Felix of a cartoon.

To Kyle's credit, he didn't stay silent, but that wasn't surprising. Kyle usually didn't have a problem speaking his mind. "Um…." Kyle hummed and then pointed toward the pile of wallets on the table, "Are all of those your wallets?"

Kyle continued to flip through the wallets, pulling out IDs and credit cards as he did. "Well, I mean, they are in my possession now," he offered. Pausing briefly after tossing one of the IDs aside, and looked up just a little in Kyle's direction. Felix thought he saw the smallest of flirtatious smiles spread across Cecil's face directed toward Kyle, but that couldn't have the case. "And you know what they say about that," he offered.

So stolen. That was pretty much what Felix had figured. Even if he didn't know Cecil was the demigod child of the god of thieves, it was more than evident. Will apparently wasn't so quick on the uptake because he sounded genuinely outraged when he shouted disapprovingly, "Cecil!"

"You know I can pay for everything, right?" Nico offered without clearly as much shock and outrage in his voice.

"That isn't the point," Cecil returned as he tossed the last of the wallets aside. He looked up and seemed to talk more to Will than anyone else even though he had a captive audience in Kyle from its looks. "It's about the challenge, and the guys around here are not much of a challenge."

"It's a gay bar," Felix reminded as he tried to contain a laugh, "Most guys are expecting a little fucking groping." That wasn't true for Felix, at least not in the sense of a stranger. Now Dean was another fucking story, and hopefully, that was how the night would end. But there were plenty of guys in the bar, and Felix had his money on the vast majority looking to hook up.

Next to him, Felix heard Dean laugh. "He isn't wrong," he admitted.

Cecil just shrugged unapologetically, "That doesn't mean they shouldn't mind their wallets."

Felix was fucking flashing forward to when Will and Nico had kids because the look of disappointment and disapproval on Will's face reminded Felix of disapproving parent. "That isn't a valid excuse for pickpocketing strangers," Will reprimanded.

"Don't worry, no one noticed," Cecil assured like that was the problem, the getting caught part and not the actual pickpocketing part. Felix almost laughed at Cecil's bravado. The thing was, Felix's dad thought he was studying at Kyle's, and if he found out Felix was really at a gay bar with Dean, Felix would be grounded for a fucking eternity. So if Cecil got caught pickpocketing people, that could present some problems. Cecil clearly didn't see the issue as he smiled brightly. "I'm very good," he stated with confidence.

Will's brain had apparently broke at some point because his only response was to stare at Cecil slack-jawed. Felix would think since Will and Cecil had been friends for a while, Will wouldn't have been so surprised. He got the feeling this was pretty standard for Cecil. Nico at least didn't seem overly surprised or worried about it. If anything, he seemed sort of amused by the whole thing, but it could be hard to tell with Nico.

"I'm going to get a drink," Nico declared as he hopped down from his chair. He looked between Will and Cecil briefly before asking, "Do you both just want a beer?"

"Sure," Cecil replied as he started to tuck away the various wallets he had collected into his pockets, "Thanks, Nico."

"Um, I guess," Will muttered uncertainly. Felix was pretty sure Will was just still too distracted by Cecil's kleptomania because it was seriously out of his character for him not to jump up to follow Nico around immediately.

You would think that Will simply refraining from following Nico around like a lovesick puppy would have been enough for Kyle but not. At least some part of his horny teenage brain viewed Nico as competition or at the very least as something close to an advisory which was just incredibly stupid, to say the least. Kyle decided that was the moment to get what seemed like it was meant as a dig. "Do you even have a fake ID?" Kyle asked Nico with almost a disgusting amount of doubt.

"No," Nico replied, "But I don't foresee that being a problem."

No one in their right fucking mind would look at Nico and believe he was twenty-one; of that, Felix was fucking sure. That didn't mean he didn't think Nico was probably right about his lack of an ID not being a problem. Not only was Nico good-looking, which seemed to go a pretty far way, but he also had a 'Don't fuck with me or else' vibe that was pretty fucking hard to argue with. Felix would bet the bartender wouldn't even bother to ask Nico for an ID.

Kyle at least had the common sense not to push the topic further, which satisfied Nico greatly if the glint in his eye and the slight grin that spread across his face was any indication. It wasn't an over-the-top expression by any means because it was fucking Nico. Felix was pretty sure the guy didn't know how to do over the top, or at least that kind of over the top. Even subtle, it was noticeable enough

It probably didn't help that after giving Kyle a few seconds of his victory face, Will decided to jump into the conversation in full lovesick puppy mode. Felix got that Will was oblivious to Kyle's lingering crush on him even though he had been told on multiple occasions, but how he missed the little exchange between Kyle and Nico, Felix didn't fucking understand. He had most definitely missed it never the less.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Will asked Nico.

"I'm sure I can handle it on my own," Nico replied with a shrug, "But if you want to, I could use the extra pair of hands."

That was all Will needed to hear. He hopped out of his chair like a tiger from Winnie the Pooh or some shit. "Be right back," he declared quickly before trotting after Nico as he headed toward the bar.

They watched the two walk-offs for a few seconds before they were lost to the crowd. "Oh, codependence," Felix commented dryly in hopes of cutting off any of Kyle's potential pouting. "I'm so glad that isn't a family trait because I'm pretty sure I would murder you," he added with a humorless smile directed at Dean.

Felix wasn't actually all that worried about that sort of thing. He and Dean were pretty independent, so neither would take on the relationship's lost puppy role. Sure, between texting and phone calls, they probably talked for hours most days, and Dean had been trying to talk Felix into applying to Berkeley so they could be at the same school, but that was just….different.

Next to him, Felix heard Kyle snicker at that comment. He was fucking loud about it, so Felix wouldn't have been surprised if half the fucking bar heard. Felix couldn't help but turn to look at him, and the amused fucking grin on his face was just even more fucking confusion.

What the fuck did I miss?

Felix probably should have just let it go but hated feeling like everyone knew something he didn't. "What?" he asked as he stared at Kyle critically.

"Nothing," Kyle assured, but he sounded far too amused to be even remotely believed. Before Felix could push any further, Kyle had already turned his attention to Cecil and changed the subject. "Um, so Cecil, what brings you to Tennessee?" Kyle asked with a smile. He was clearly trying to be friendly, but it was over the top, so Felix found it awkward. It was also pretty out of character for Kyle. It was an interesting development, to say the least.

"Oh, Will invited me to Thanksgiving," Cecil answered with a bit of a shrug, "And Nico insisted. Saying no to Nico seems kind of …."

"Dangerous?" Felix offered without even thinking about it. Nico was actually really nice, but he was also scary as fuck. Felix wouldn't want to tell him no either.

Dean was less than a second behind with an equally valid suggestion, "Terrifying?"

"Yeah," Cecil agreed with a laugh, "Pretty much."

"So, you had no choice," Felix summed up. He paused to sip at his beer before adding, "Only legitimate reason to come to Tennessee."

"Hey!" Dean immediately protested, "I honestly don't know how to take that."

Felix looked at Dean to find him staring back, looking genuinely outraged. Maybe that should have made Felix feel at least a little guilty because of that, but honestly, he found it a little funny. He didn't actually laugh, but it was a close call. "You should be fine with it," he retorted. "I can hate the state I met you in and still love you," Felix explained matter-of-factly before taking another sip of his beer.

Dean's reaction was precisely what Felix had hoped for. He grinned from ear to ear. "You love me? Really?" Dean leaned over and made a real fucking show of kissing Felix on the cheek, "Because I definitely love you."

It wasn't like Felix wasn't used to Dean being affectionate. He wasn't used to Dean being so openly affectionate in such a large crowd, but around friends was normal enough. He still blushed at it, which officially killed any chance he had to even try to play it cool. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try, but it did mean he knew going in it wouldn't work.

"God, you've had like two sips of beer," Felix grumbled under his breath even as his cheeks continued to burn, "You can't be like this already."

"So," Cecil point at them while looking at Kyle, "They are just as bad as Will and Nico?"

"Um," Kyle hummed, still being a bit awkward about the whole thing, "I'm more used to these two, but yeah, they're pretty cutesy."

Felix swallowed down the urge to argue that by taking a large sip of his drink. Dean got kind of cutesy when he had a few drinks in him, but otherwise, they weren't like that at all. Besides the few affectionate gestures, they acted just like they did when they were just friends. He even got Kyle to admit that he claimed that didn't mean they weren't cutesy a few times. It wasn't worth arguing about, Felix was sure, so once he swallowed his drink, he went to change the topic. "Alright, Cee," Felix declared, "Why did Will drag to this great state for the great food holiday?" The state of Tennessee might have sucked by Will's mom was a fucking fantastic cook. In Felix's opinion, her cooking rivaled the food at Camp Half-Blood, so at least Cecil was in for a treat.

"Sympathy, I guess," Cecil replied with a shrug, "He's making a bigger deal over the breakup than either me or Lou are."

Felix opened his mouth to say without even thinking about the fact that he would be outing Cecil. Luckily Dean saved him from accidentally spilling the beans before Felix got a chance. "You guys broke up?" Dean questioned with great disappointment in his voice, "Sorry to hear that."

"It's cool," Cecil assured a little awkwardly before adding, "We are better friends."

Felix guessed that was one way to put it, considering that Cecil was gay. He guessed Cecil had finally worked up the nerve to end his fake relationship but not enough to tell people he was gay. Felix wasn't judging, but he figured pretending to be upset about a breakup would get old fucking fast.

"That's a positive attitude to have," Kyle chimed in, and suddenly the awkward energy he had just a few moments before was gone, and Kyle seemed way too excited to hear about Cecil's break.

Felix liked Kyle, but the boy was beyond fucking obvious. How anyone thought he was straight, Felix would never fucking understand. He also had horrible taste in guys. First, he spends years drooling over Will, and now he was getting hot and bothered over Cecil. Sure, Cecil was an improvement but still.

Cecil sort of smiled at Kyle, and it struck Felix that this might be a problem. Luckily Nico and Will decided that was the moment to reappear, drinks in hand, and they interrupted the whole thing before either Kyle or Cecil could attempt any awkward flirting that Felix would have to stop.

"We are back," Nico declared as he placed his drink on the table before pushing himself up into his chair.

"And we have drinks," Will declared from half a step behind Nico, holding up the two beers he was carrying as proof. He placed one beer in front of his seat before placing the other squarely in front of Cecil. "There was actually a guy about to send you a drink," Will told Cecil as he took his seat. He waved his hand in what Felix was sure was met to be a reassuring gesture as he added, "Don't worry, I told him you were straight."

Felix had to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from calling Will a cock block which made him wonder if this was going to be a problem. They were in a fucking gay bar, and Cecil wasn't a horrible-looking guy. If Will was going to keep help his friend out by explaining Cecil was straight, Felix didn't know if he would be able to take it. He was going to slip up and say something he shouldn't and outing Cecil like a fucking asshole.

Maybe he just had a lot of practice because he had to lie about all the demigod stuff, but Cecil did an impressive job of hiding any disappointment or frustration he might have been feeling. "Thanks," he replied. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but he didn't sound annoyed either.

"Um…..," Kyle hummed, which matched the confused look he was wearing quite well. His one finger in the air to signal he had a question was a bit much but to each their own.

"Lou is short for Lou Ellen," Dean offered quickly.

Kyle, unlike Cecil, did not school his emotions at all. The guy visibly deflated as he tried to cover (poorly) by saying, "Oh, that's an interesting name."

Felix had to admit that he did feel a little bad. Kyle was a cool enough guy, and he really shouldn't have to wait until college to date. But, at the same time, it really was for the best. Kyle did not need all that crazy demigod shit in his life. It was better for him just to think Cecil was straight than for Felix to have to play interference all night.

#Delix #Solangelo #other OCs

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tenroseforeverandever · 4 years

Text

A Bottle of Bubbly

Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler

Tags: Human AU; New Year’s; meet-cute; fluff; hurt/comfort;mentions of cheating; non-graphic mentions of war; drinking; strong language

Notes: Well, here I am again… fashionably late, as usual, an entry for the 31 Days of Ficmas. I wrote just two stories for Ficmas this year, and while I used multiple prompts for each, ironically, the Day 1 prompt, Snowed In, and the Day 31 prompt, New Beginnings, were the forces chiefly driving the muse for my first and second (last!) story, respectively.

The inspiration for this story was a random prompt I found online somewhere (I don’t even remember the exact wording…) The @doctorroseprompts prompt from the 31 Days of Ficmas, New Beginnings, was also inspiration for both main characters, although the words aren’t specifically stated in the text. But the spirit of them is strong and a guiding theme throughout the story. I also used the Ficmas prompts shopping and countdown, and the Winter Fic Bingo prompt night.

As always, my love and gratitude to my wonderful betas, @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci. Thank-you for making me better. I’m an eternal fiddler, so I fiddled with this since they saw it… but all mistakes are mine anyway!

Summary: Rose made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly. The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night’s graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.

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A Bottle of Bubbly

Rose Tyler staggered out into the night. The pub door swung shut behind her, silencing the raucous shouts and cheers and endless chatter. As she stood on the doorstep, the bubble of silence clung around her like a hug, before dissipating into the city, replaced by the steady rumble of traffic. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs and clear the spinning of her head.

She was alone.

New Years-fucking-Eve and she was alone. Not exactly how she had planned her evening to go, but she swore to herself, it was the last bloody time, Jimmy Stone, her cheating ex-boyfriend, would ever get another chance to ruin her life.

But Rose didn’t want to think about him right now. He was now officially part of her past and could rot in hell for all she cared. What she did want to think about was enjoying the rest of the night and bringing in the New Year properly plastered. She’d already made a decent start of it with a couple glasses of wine and a few shots. She supposed she could try out a few different spots (far away from Jimmy-the-Wanker), and do a regular old pub crawl, solo-style. Dressed to kill, she reckoned she’d never be without a drink in hand and would probably have no trouble finding a bloke to pull.

A car whizzed by, drunken twats hanging out the passenger windows, catcalling at her, spouting some shite about having her “seeing fireworks all night long.” She tugged her coat tighter around herself and sighed. On second thought, shagging complete strangers wasn’t really her thing. Maybe she could meet up with Mickey, instead, at the local near the Estate. With a little coaxing, he might take her home for a cheeky shag to bring in the New Year. It wouldn’t exactly be fireworks, but it would be safe and familiar. And she wouldn’t be alone. Mickey had never been able to say no to her.

But then – she sighed, and her shoulders sagged – she’d have to explain herself, answer all his nosy questions, admit things she’d rather keep to herself for now. Everyone would know, soon enough. No doubt the Estate would be rife with the gossip of her falling-out with Jimmy by daybreak. Besides, she’d be taking Mickey away from Trisha Delaney. That wasn’t fair, doing to Trisha exactly what had just been done to her.

“For fuck’s sake,” she snorted as she stumbled onto the pavement, her head woozy with drink, “I’m worried about hurting Trisha Delaney’s feelings. The stupid cow! Clearly, I’m thinkin’ too bloody hard about this. More to the point, I’m able to think too bloody hard about this. And I’m talking to myself… Blimey, I need another drink.”

Setting out on her quest for another pub (just for drinks, no pulling, she reminded herself), she tottered down the street, swaying precariously on her too-high heels, tugging down her too-short dress as the bitter wind bit through the too-sheer fabric of her tights. This was rubbish, hopping from pub to pub. All she really wanted was something strong to drink, her warm flat, and her telly. She’d be alone, but she’d be warm and, with any luck, thoroughly pissed long before midnight.

Decision made, she hopped on the nearest bus, and half an hour later, with the effects of her earlier drinks lamentably wearing off, she trotted into the 24-hour Tesco, close to the Estate. She made directly for the liquor aisle, determined that what she really wanted to bring in the New Year was a bottle of bubbly.

The shop was nearly deserted, except for the unlucky few employees who had drawn the short straw for the night’s graveyard shift, so she was shocked to find another customer in the liquor aisle, standing in front of the wine shelves, his hand around the neck of the very last bottle of sparkling wine.

“Oi! That’s my bottle, mate!”

The man turned to her, his brow knit quizzically above his aquiline nose. “Excuse me?” he challenged in a strong Manc accent.

“That’s my bottle,” she reiterated.

“No,” he placed the bottle into his shopping basket with a tight-lipped smile, “it’s not.” Without another word, he turned his back to her and walked away up the aisle with long strides.

“Fuck,” Rose muttered through gritted teeth and rushed after his receding form. “Oi, Mister! Mister!” She caught up with him just as he reached the end of the aisle and she tugged on the battered leather sleeve of his jacket.

He swung around, rolling his eyes at the sight of her. “Oh, it’s you again!”

“Yup, jus’ me. Hello! The owner of that bottle of fizz.” She sidled up to him and flashed him what she hoped was a winning smile. She even poked her tongue between her teeth. That always had blokes dribbling on their shirts.

Much to Rose’s disappointment, the man remained unmoved, stony-faced as ever. Then with a snort, he turned and walked away from her once more.

“Oi! Mister!” she yelped, scurrying to catch up to him again. “You can’t jus’ go swannin’ off like that…”

He didn’t even break his stride. “Yes, I can. ‘Ere I am. This is me, swannin’ off.” He gave the shopping basket a defiant little shake.

Rose knew she should just give it up at this point, go back to the liquor aisle and find something different to drink, but she was determined to have that wine. After having had her night ruined, she reckoned she deserved to have something special. “Hey, Mister! C’mon! You can’t just walk away. That’s not fair. Mister! Mist– Oooph!” She nearly crashed into him when he suddenly stopped in front of her.

He spun around and glared at her. “Seems fair enough to me. W’at isn’ fair is you not lettin’ me do my shoppin’ in peace. Now, scram!”

Rose held her ground, meeting his gaze. He was a striking figure, quite a bit older than she, dark and brooding, his features unconventionally handsome below his military haircut. She should have been intimidated, but instead she found herself getting lost in the blue of his eyes as they flashed down at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I could call security, ya know! Tell them you took it from me. So, it’s your choice. Hand it over, or I’ll start screamin’ for help.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to sound tough?”

“Sort of.”

He called her bluff, “Doesn’t work,” and started walking again, but this time she tripped along by his side. She wasn’t going to let him go, not while he still had that bottle.

“Mister… I need that wine! If you knew what I’ve been through tonight…”

“You need to leave me alone. Looks to me like you’ve ‘ad quite enough to drink already.”

“C’mon, Mister. Please.”

“No! An’ it’s Doctor.”

Rose quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You keep calling me ‘Mister’. If you’re so set on using honorifics, you’d better use the right one. I go by Doctor.”

“Doctor? Is that supposed to sound impressive?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“If you’re a doctor, how comes you’re shoppin’ at a 24-hour Tesco… in Peckham?”

“I live ‘ere. Jus’ ‘round the corner.” He stopped at the deli counter and tossed some packages of sandwich meats and some cheese into his basket.

“What? On the estate? You must be new. I haven’ seen you ‘round ‘ere before.”

“That’s ‘cause I jus’ moved in this afternoon, me, and I’m having this champagne (or whatever the hell it is) to celebrate.”

“Blimey, don’t think we’ve ever had a doctor livin’ on the estate, before.” Rose narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him, curious. “W’at’s a doctor doin’ livin’ ‘ere anyway?”

He didn’t speak, just stared at her with eyes cold as ice, and his jaw set and tense, and Rose bit her lip, wishing she could take back her brazen words. It was none of her business why anyone might need council housing.

“Erm... Doctor, you’re gonna need some bread to go with that other stuff,” she ventured, attempting to make up for her thoughtlessness, “an’ some milk and tea, maybe some eggs. And a couple cans of beans. Ya can’t go wrong wi’ beans-on-toast.” She linked her arm with his and proceeded to lead him through the shop.

As Rose nattered away to him, he maintained a detached silence, except to offer bewildered grunts to her various queries about the items she heaped into his basket. Finally, as she placed a box of tea on top of the mound, he smirked down at her, and spoke: “I hope you’re not attempting to curry favour so I’ll give up the bubbly.”

“Never gave it a second thought,” she fibbed with a cheeky grin. Honestly, she just wanted to make it up to him for being rude, but she had hoped, maybe…

He pulled the bottle out of the basket to peer at it. “It’s proper British Fizz, you know.”

“Oooh, lovely! Somethin’ a bit posh. Don’t know w’at it’s doin’ here, in a Tesco on the flippin’ estate. Guess they reckoned people wouldn’t be thinkin’ about the cost so much when they’re bringin’ in the New Year.”

“Yeah, gonna cost me an arm and a leg, this is.”

“The price don’t matter to me. Not tonight. I’d be happy to take it off your hands if you’re having second thoughts…”

“Ahem… nope.” He placed it back into the shopping basket. “Worth every penny, this. I have plans for this fizz.”

“Yeah,” Rose muttered, rolling her eyes, “so did I.”

They headed toward the checkout each lost in their own thoughts. “So, what’s your story, then?” he asked after a few moments. “Tell me, what makes you so deserving of this posh beverage on New Year’s Eve?”

Rose shrugged, her problems seeming rather small and distant, now.

“C’mon then. You said earlier, you’d had a rough night of it. So?”

“You sure you wanna hear me rattle on? It’s pathetic, really.”

“I’ve been listenin’ to you rattle on non-stop for the las’ twenty minutes, anyway. So, I’m all ears… and no jokes about these silly things hangin’ off the side of me head.”

“I would never! ‘Sides, there’s nothin’ wrong wi’ them. They suit you.”

He looked unconvinced by her compliment. “Well… out with it then,” he insisted, changing the subject back to Rose as he began to load his groceries onto the checkout counter. “I’m waitin’ on this great tale of woe.”

“Alright, you asked for it.”

“Yes, I did!”

“Okay, so, earlier tonight, I found my tosser of a boyfriend (ex-boyfriend now, by the way, and good bloody riddance!) out back of the pub, gettin’ a leg-over with one of the servers. It was humiliatin’. And you better believe I told him what he could do with his bloody– Well anyway, I ended up slappin’ him (and fuck that felt good!) and walked out. Thought about goin’ to a few other pubs, but I decided I really just wanted to go home, watch the countdown on the New Year’s Eve Fireworks programme, an’ get hammered in peace. I s’pose I jus’ wanted the wine to make me feel a bit more… special.

“And that’s about it. See? Pathetic. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She wagged her finger at him.

“Oi, not pathetic at all, Miss, erm… Blimey, I don’t even know your name.”

“Since we’re neighbors now, I s’pose I should probably tell ya, yeah? It’s Rose… Rose Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m John Smith,” he returned.

“John Smith? That’s it? Pull the other one! John Smith?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Well, if you don’t like it, you can jus’–”

“Nah, nah, nah, it’s fine. It’s nice and, erm… straightforward.” Rose couldn’t help the smile that blossomed over her face at his sudden offence. “It’s jus’ I think from now on you’ll always be the Doctor to me.”

“Fine...” he huffed, shaking his head at her as he paid for his order and gathered his bags. “Anyroad, gettin’ back to your tale: it sounds to me like you’re well shot of that stupid ape boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend. And yeah, Jimmy’s a right arsehole. To be honest, I don’t really feel all that upset about it. Thought I’d be gutted, yeah? But all I can think is that it’s no great loss. Reckon it was a long time comin’; shoulda dumped him ages ago.”

They walked out the doors of the Tesco and headed in the direction of Powell Estate.

She shrugged, adding, “I’m mostly just pissed off that he ruined my plans for New Year’s.”

“Yeah, rightly so!”

They walked in slightly awkward silence for a short time before Rose braved asking the enigmatic Doctor more about himself. “So… you’re a medical doctor, then?”

“Yup. Was a doctor in the military for years. Resigned my commission ‘bout a year back. Figured I’d seen enough…”

Rose glanced up at him, frowning concern at the tenson etched on his face again. “What are your plans now?” she asked, hoping to take him out of whatever unspoken horrors lingered in his past.

“I’ve always planned to start my own practice, me. Thought I could open one right here on the Estate.”

“Blimey, mate, it’s a war zone here too, sometimes.”

He grunted. “All the more reason you need a doctor.”

“Can’t argue wi’ that. We haven’t had a doctor ‘ere for years. The old one jus’ cleared off one day, no notice. He was just gone. His clinic is still there, though, between the chemist and the launderette. No one’s let it. Bet it’s a bargain!”

“You think?” He offered her a smug smile. “Already made arrangements, me.”

“But that’s brilliant!” Rose cheered, grabbing his arm and bouncing up and down. “When do you take possession?”

“Beginnin’ o’ next week,” he said as they strolled into the Powell Estate quad. “But it’ll be a bit before I can get everything set up properly. Plus, I have my flat to sort out. Boxes everywhere.”

“Don’t ya have some mates to help ya out?”

“Nope. There’s no one else. Jus’ me.” His words were blunt, his voice rough with emotion.

Rose watched his Adam’s apple bob heavily and grabbed onto his hand. “W’at happened? Doctor?”

He swallowed again and looked down at their joined hands.

Rose gripped a little tighter, but he wriggled his hand free of hers, leaving behind an aching emptiness deep in her heart. She ducked her head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. I jus’… Oh, never mind.”

The strained silence returned for another minute or so as they walked, then he sighed. “Rose, war changes a person. I came back a very different man. I had plans, me. Was goin’ to start a practice as soon as I resigned my commission. Even had a place all set to go in my hometown. But I couldn’t make a go of it. Too much baggage. I haven’t been able to keep a steady job, all this time. And I lost people, good people, because they couldn’t take any more of my shit. My mates, my fiancée. One way or another, they’re all gone, and I can’t say I blame ‘em. That’s who I am, now. I drive everyone away from me.”

Rose’s heart swelled with compassion. “There’s me…”

They paused as they approached the entranceway to Rose’s building, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at her and offering a guarded smile. “Yeah, you I can’t seem to get rid of.”

“I’m just too good.” She beamed at him, poking her tongue between her teeth again. This time, she noted, his eyes drifted to her mouth.

“No, you’re jus’ too drunk.”

“Uggghh,” she groaned, “I wish. I never got a bottle from the shop, after all.”

Grumbling deep in his throat, he dug in his shopping bag and extracted the bottle of sparkling wine. “There you go. Happy New Year. Take this and go home and celebrate your freedom from that twat. Now, go on, forget me, Rose Tyler.” He pressed the bottle into her hand and turned away, striding off toward the building opposite hers.

Rose watched him go, feeling rather lost. Numbly, she headed toward the staircase of her building, the bottle dangling from her fingers. She had her prize, but somehow it seemed a hollow victory.

She stopped and turned back. The Doctor was halfway across the quad, his figure illuminated by the dim sparkle of fairy lights strung from the balconies above. “Wait, Doctor,” she blurted. When he paused, she wasted no time rushing forward to meet him.

“Thought I told you to forget me,” he growled.

She was undeterred. “I’m not havin’ you sittin’ up in that empty flat by yourself.” Impulsively, she perched up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Come to mine. Mum won’t be home ‘til tomorrow anyway, and I think we both deserve this bottle of bubbly, wouldn’t ya say? Better with two, yeah.”

“Erm…” He gazed down at her, his gruffness replaced with a sad, gentle smile that teased at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not on the pull or anything,” she insisted… a little too forcefully. “Blimey!” she laughed, her cheeks burning. “I mean we jus’ met…”

He chuckled too. “And you were trying to steal my bubbly. You’re weren’t off to the best start, anyway, to be honest.”

“Oi!” She grabbed him by his sleeve and tugged him toward her building. “Wait! Hold on,” she paused a few seconds later, sniffing the air, “do you smell chips?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Morrison’s must still be open! I want chips!”

“Me too.”

“And since you brought the bottle, the chips are on me! You’re in for a treat! Best chips on the planet, Morrison’s, an’ they’re right here on the estate. C’mon!”

“All right! Chips it is! And if we’re still hungry later, you can’t go wrong wi’ beans-on-toast.” They both laughed as he held up his bag of shopping. Then he clasped Rose’s hand in his, the gesture warming her to the core. “Lead the way!”

As they walked towards the chippy, Rose leaned her head against John Smith’s shoulder and gave his hand a little squeeze. Her evening, which had started out quite wretched, had completely turned around, and was now looking more promising than she could ever have imagined. Despite his wine-hogging tendencies, she rather thought she was going to enjoy being the Doctor’s neighbor.

“You know what, Doctor,” she grinned up at him, “I bet we’re going to have a really great year!”

#doctorroseprompts #nine x rose #human au #31 days of ficmas #winterficbingo #meet cute #fluff #hurt/comfort #strong language #new year #drinking #cheating #non-graphic mentions of war #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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yewfallen · 3 years

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a collection of drabbles under the cut about febail and his different potential fathers from various timelines. goes a lil into tiny hcs for each in varying ways. i only went for predestined fathers as well as some popular choices because i don't have the steam to go for every single possibility LMAO as intriguing as some of the unexplored ones can be.

[ALEC]

Febail remembers very little about his father and mother, but when he tries his hardest to recall his youngest days from before Patty had been born, he notices how the scenery always seems to change each time. At times, the world is blanketed in white and lovers huddle close for warmth. A man he presumes to be his father sneaks a little dollop of snow onto his little cheek, telling him to see the world and brave it, li'l guy. His father has a way of making the most mundane things sound so fantastical, like this world was a wonderful thing to wake up to each day.

And one day, his father would never wake up to meet tomorrow ever again.

But before that, the change from castle to castle, battlefield to battlefield, and country to country seems to suit him and his lady love just fine. Two souls, roaming the world with their son in tow, daring to find treasures and loving people alike.

Their son will grow to be the type to fall too easily in love just like his father before him. Their son will grow to be fearless too, just as if the ghost of his father had taught him that no enemy could find a weakness in him.

Their son will grow to barely know either of them once the flames of Belhalla claim them both, and it will be up to a family friend to drop him and his newborn sister off at an orphanage in Conote, none the wiser.

___

[FINN]

Febail had known the snows of Silesse and the fires of Belhalla long before he had known the man that was his father.

After the fallout of Sigurd's army, Brigid had taken her son east towards the Munster Region, traveling only at night. In hindsight, it was to escape any watchful eyes, but as young as he was, he was none the wiser. When he had asked his mother where they were going, she would tell him it was to see his old man, and that was all he needed to know to be excited.

Leonster was a pretty place where flowers bloomed for as far as the eye could see and the weather was always temperate. There was never a day where there was not enough food to eat, and neither was there a day where his mother went by unloved. Soon enough, that love manifested into another child.

However, beauty is fleeting, and the day after Febail's younger sister was born, the dream-like state of that year in Leonster fades away in a blink of an eye. They hadn't even said goodbye to his father, coming into his life and receding just as quickly as the ocean's waves.

By the time Febail meets his father again, he can't remember him at all and his father can't recognize him in turn. They walk past one another like strangers, a son grown up to live on his own and a father grown to realize the things he loves will all leave him before he is ready to let go.

___

[MIDIR]

When Febail tries to remember his parents, it's always his mother that comes to mind first. She was striking and bold from what he can recall. From where he sat as a little baby, it was always her that he was pointed to look at, like she was someone whose presence was something to bask in every time she walked into the room.

When Patty prompts him to say what he remembers of their mother, the first thing Febail can think to say was that she is beautiful. Her memories of her visage are nothing more than a haze, least of all the kind of thing a boy can rely on to say one way or another on the topic, and yet he knows it.

She's beautiful, a voice had murmured from behind him often. He had heard it so often, it had become something like a mantra for the man who had said it to him. His father had held him, taking the role of his constant caregiver but he had lined himself in shadow always. Every day was a day lived in disbelief, one that framed his mother as something holy, something somehow untouchable, and the only thing worth looking at until Febail realized he hardly knew a thing about his father at all.

The only thing he did know in the end was that his father revered his mother in some sort of way, and it had stuck with him long after any memories of what the man looked or sounded like had long since turned murky.

___

[DEW]

A youthful man takes his infant son to the market one day. The shopkeepers joke around, not believing the little scrap of a thief they had known would really grow up to get a child of his own even as the thief himself claims the bundle as his, and he brags to the world of his courageous and badass wife, to which the pawnbroker and blacksmith both roll their eyes and simply give a good-natured laugh.

The thief takes his son to the market many more times after that, teaching him the ins-and-outs of every shop in every town and later how to haggle and find a good deal just about anywhere he goes. The vendors rib him, asking if it isn't a bit too early to teach a young thing like that all this stuff, to which the thief replies, “It's the early bird that gets the worm!”

When Febail grows up, that little saying sticks in him, and he makes it a habit to go to the markets early, browsing the merchandise and expertly talking down even the coldest of merchants to let him get his wares for cheap. Every gold coin counts when you've got a whole house of mouths to feed, and the less he can spend on himself, the more he can send back to the little ones in Conote waiting for him, he thinks.

The blacksmith looks at Febail, at first unwilling, but when he sees the boy's green eyes that speak of an upbeat day in a bleak, cold world as theirs, the blacksmith remembers that thief from two decades ago and finds it in him to melt his heart, even if it is at the cost of his own pockets.

He wonders where that thief went, and where his little lad went with him.

___

[JAMKE]

Today, Verdane has a new prince.

Lady Edain of Yngvi sits next to her sister who's in bed with her newborn son, exhausted for the effort of pushing him out it looks. Jamke knows not at first whether to disturb the sisters until the two invite him in, to which he pardons himself and comes in on unsure footsteps still.

The reality of everything hasn't come to sink in quite yet. Seeing this, Brigid rolls her eyes and beckons him even closer — closer — closer — and that's when she tells that husband of hers to hold their son in his arms and make everything feel real already. Her sister laughs watching the two of them before nodding and gently encouraging Jamke to take Febail from Brigid's arms, being the final push the man needs to nod and go along with it as awkward as he might be about the whole thing.

That's his son in his arms. That's another life in Verdane's royal family, a bloodline not destined to end with him after all. The weight of this baby feels all the more heavy with that knowledge, and even after a few minutes have passed with the young Febail in his hold, he still doesn't know what to say or how to react, gaping and gawking at his child like he's not even his.

Congratulations are given all around, carrying through the rest of the day as the various people in Sigurd's army come to visit the couple, and there's a few light-hearted jokes at how stoic Verdane's older prince is being, but Jamke takes that matter more to heart.

Why does he not know how to react? Brigid's going to get worried, but Jamke passes through that day further, still reacting to it like it's not his and her day to revel in.

It's not until later when they need to change Febail that he spots Ulir's brand faintly glowing on the baby's back, and Jamke's stony face breaks, erupting into a silent stream of tears.

For as long as Verdane has existed, it has been known as the land of savages by the other Jugdrali powers. Any peace his kingdom has ever been able to find has been recent but peace does not necessarily mean respect. After all, the moment their treaty had been broken, the Grannvalians and the rest of Jugdral had all been too quick to proclaim their disdain upon them again, voicing what they had merely kept quiet about all these years. Verdane would never be seen as their equal, devoid of the divine blessings they had all been given via their Crusader founders.

This would have been the truth forevermore, but when Jamke spots Febail's brand, he realizes that this truth has now shattered. With his son, he can see a happier future for his beloved fatherland and at last, Jamke finds he can express what exactly he feels about this new chapter in his life.

___

[CHULAINN]

It has been some time since the arena's most prized gladiator had left his days of coliseum hopping, trailing after a stronger fighter than him. He still remembers that day fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Lord Sigurd's sword moved both gracefully and mightily, blade seemingly an extension of him and his ideals. Chulainn lived each day looking to die and his sword carried the weight of that baggage with it; meanwhile, Sigurd lived brighter than that, living to make a new life, and the way he fought was breathtaking. When Chulainn tasted defeat, he realized he really did want to live but not just any life.

He saw Sigurd's way and decided he wanted a piece of that too. His life hadn't been the same since.

The ride since has been a hell of one, and each bout and battle was another test for Chulainn's will to live. Did he want to see tomorrow? Did he see the future as having a place for him? Just what did he live for exactly?

Though he had joined Sir Sigurd's company to find out, he can't say he's answered any of these questions just yet. He's lived, he's loved, and one day, he's gained a son to call his own.

He asks Brigid what their son's name is, to which she answers Febail. Febail, he repeats, marveling at the sound of it before he says it again and again.

Brigid laughs, wondering what's got into him all of a sudden. It's just a name, after all.

But to Chulainn, it's more than a name. It's the thing to cement that their life together is real, and now he knows what to say when someone asks him what he lives for.

He's found his answer, he discovers, and his life finally feels complete.

And now he has something to lose.

#// will fully confess some of these pairings i don't like actually MAKRGMRGMMK but hopefully my biases don't come out too much in these??#// ofc none of these are like. set in stone for febail in toa. i'll let potential other muses help me figure that out later haha #+. / drabbles.

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

His Reason to Smile

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Steve looks back at the five years since he and Tony got married and is once again reminded of his husband’s mortality. Tony comes to save the day.

length: 1 495 words

a/n: this fic is a part of my 8th Stony Anniversary and is based on this prompt! hope you enjoy the fic, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated and needed!

—————

His Reason to Smile

Steve collapsed on the bed, smiling big. It was a great day. He and Tony had celebrated their 5th wedding anniversary and just came back from an anniversary dinner in a restaurant. All of their friends were present, handing them small gifts and cards, the food was delicious and they all shared memories of Captain America and Iron Man's wedding. It was all very special.

Hearing Tony busying in the bathroom, Steve remembered that there was one present he didn't have time to look properly through. He turned around on his belly and took out from the gift bag an album. It was a heavy album with a varnished wood front and back cover, titled 'Five years of memories' written in a curly font. Perfect for the Wood Anniversary.

Gently, Steve turned pages, reliving the memories. The photos of his and Tony's wedding, him in his old army uniform, Tony, elegant as always in a timeless black suit. He smiled at the photos taken on a sunny beach, where both had wet hair and big smiles, remembering their honeymoon on one of Tony's private islands. The rest of the photos was selected more randomly and coming from different sources, like Christmas parties or taken by surprise by one of the Avengers team members or even coming from team debriefings. Steve's favorites were the surprise photos, the ones showing him and Tony in different situations when they didn't know they were being photographed. Tony nodding off on the couch, his head in Steve's lap, while Steve was reading a book and keeping one arm around his husband, Tony clutching to it. Both in pajamas, Steve preparing breakfast and smiling at his sleepy and ruffled husband who was sitting on the counter, his feet dangling down and sipping coffee. Somehow, someone even managed to snap a photo of an elevator closing, the gap getting smaller and showing the moment Tony and Steve kissed in the elevator, leaning closer and locking their lips. A lot of care and preparation came into preparing this album and Steve could feel the love on every page.

Just... The further he looked through the album the more he noticed. Looking at the span of five years, he didn't change much. Maybe his hair became darker, eyes had a more serious look, but he looked basically the same. But Tony... Of course, his husband was still incredibly gorgeous. Just seeing how Tony looked five years ago and how he looked currently, Steve saw some things he didn't notice before. The way Tony's eyes crinkled when he laughed showed more lines on his face. The strands of silver hair appeared more frequently among the brown ones. Even his goatee, something Tony took pride in, once dark and full, seemed to be thinning out. Tony was aging. Steve always knew that, was aware of what the flow of time would do, but never before he was aware of it to such an extent. And it wasn't like that, that he thought about how he was aging slower and ultimately would be forced to live his long life without Tony in it. He came to terms with it a long time ago, not imagining Tony leaving him in any other way than of old age, after years of shared, good life. It was the first time, he thought that Tony deserved better - someone who would age the same way he did, not stay the same, and remind him of passing time. Tony often joked that Steve would be hot forever and always said it with a laugh, but what if one day it became a problem. What if instead of being an advantage it becomes a flaw and a painful reminder of Tony's age. What if instead of keeping them close, it would drive them apart. What if Tony would start to resent Steve.

The bed creaked, and Steve was brought back before he could spiral into a full panic attack.

"Whatcha looking at?" Tony asked, bumping his head into Steve's shoulder and looking at the pages. His head was a bit wet and he smelled like the coconut body soap and was warmed up from the water. A truly exotic snack.

"Oh, is that the album Pepper gave us?" Tony smiled, and Steve nodded. The album was a gift from the whole team, but one person had to be in charge and Pepper was great at organizing stuff and keeping charge. Tony settled better next to Steve, and flipped through the pages, looking at the photos, a soft smile staying on his lips. As more pages were turned, Tony's smile changed, his eyebrows creasing and lips thining. There it was. That look of disappointment and realization. Steve felt his body ache, unaware how fast that moment would creep on them.

"Huh," Tony mused out thoughtfully, "huh," he turned more pages and Steve didn't dare to speak. "I don't like this, Steve."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked because he couldn't keep quiet any longer. Not when Tony was waiting for an answer.

"Just look at this," Tony said, pointing to one photo, and then flipping some pages forward pointing to another one, "and this. And this."

Steve watched, following Tony's finger. All the photos Tony pointed to, were of Steve. Standing in the corridor, talking to someone on the phone, getting ready for a jog, and putting his headphones on. Nothing special.

"And look at those!" Tony kept going, pointing to the photos they both were included. Sleepy and cuddled on the couch, Tony fixing Steve's tie before entering a limo or sharing a pizza in Tony's lab.

Steve dropped his head down. He waited for Tony to say it, but all he heard was rustling of the pages.

"Dammit, Steve. How I didn't notice it before?"

Steve's stomach got tied in a knot. Just a few more seconds and his world would crumble.

"You look so somber on half of these photos."

Wait, what? Steve raised his head up and look in confusion at his husband.

"Yeah, see?" Tony smiled, having Steve's attention back, and pointed to more photos. "Grim," he tapped on the photo of Steve alone in his studio, "smiling," tapped on the photo opposite to that one, of Tony and Steve being in the same frame, Tony on the front, working on a holographic screen, while Steve was in the background, probably passing by, his posture softer and a warm smile on his lips.

Steve blinked, slowly seeing a pattern. On each photo he was with Tony, he was smiling. More or less apparent, but his eyes looked more lively and lips were curled up. He was smiling at Tony. Tony was his reason to keep smiling.

Before he could share his thoughts with his husband, Tony took the matters into his own hands.

"Even now you look like brooding! Which, I totally can't have on our wedding anniversary," Tony said, and reached his hand over Steve's back and jabbed four fingers under Steve's arm, wriggling them into the hollow.

"ACK!" Steve yelped, pressing his arm closer, a small laugh escaping. When he crossed eyes with Tony's, he already recognized that look. "Tony, don't!" Steve laughed, rolling away, his husband following.

"This actually makes it a lot easier," Tony beamed, straddling Steve's waist at the right moment, trapping him in and gently scratching over his husband's chest and stomach. "No sad faces during our anniversary!"

"Hahahaha! Tohohony, come on!" Steve protested, trying to catch the tickling hands and failing. Tony was grinning adorably, going for all the good spots he had found on his husband's body during the shared years, keeping the pattern random and irregular, not easy to follow. Maybe Steve was an expert in strategy, but he couldn't fight with Iron Man's tickle attack.

"Hahahaha! Get off!"

"Nah."

Steve tried to be nice. When nice didn't work, he had other ways.

"GAH!" Tony yelped, when Steve strongly rolled his body, making him lose his focus and then pushed him to the side, causing Tony to fall on the soft covers. In a flash, the roles got reversed and it was Steve who was pinning Tony down.

"Wait wait wait!" Tony panicked, seeing Steve's smug smile hovering above him. The rest of the protest was gone, when Steve moved in closer, pressing his lips against Tony's in a kiss. Long and sweet and breathtaking.

"I love you," Steve whispered when the kiss ended, looking with all the love he had at Tony. His reason to smile.

"I love you back," Tony whispered back, eyes and nose crinkling with the smile. The moment was sweet and intimate and could lead to something hot and good, but Tony decided that Steve didn't smile enough for today and when ten fingers jabbed back into soldier's armpits, Steve shrieked with laughter, not remaining idle and commenced his own attack. After all, he had more than five years of experience in making his husband smile.

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goindownshipping · 4 years

Note

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.” for whoever you'd like!

Hold me closer, please?

Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers (Stony)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: GAH! I loved this prompt, and my brain just ran with it. Thank you for being lovely and enabling me constantly, @ohwereusingourmadeupnames <3

Word count: ~4k

Summary:

Tony can’t sleep and he hasn’t been able to for years. As much as he longs for the closeness of a relationship, he’s resigned himself to flings and one night stands, knowing they won’t want to put up with his screaming and tear-filled nights. That all changes when Steve Rogers enters the picture. Pure fluff ensues with these two softies.

Tony startled awake, finding his throat dry and eyes damp in the darkness of his room. Rolling to face his nightstand, his alarm clock notified him that it was still too early to be awake - 4am was certainly not a humane hour. Tilting his head to glance at the other side of his bed, he was grateful to find it empty, with little to no evidence of whoever he’d come home with just a few hours prior. For Tony, it was a relief to find his bed empty. After all these years, he still couldn’t sleep through the night and he dreaded the conversation that inevitably followed one of his terror stricken nights.

Tony’s anxiety-riddled mind often disturbed his sleep, making it nearly impossible for him to share a bed in any of his previous relationships. Pepper had stuck it out with him for as long as she could, but after too many nights waking up to Tony on the couch, they both decided they needed to move on from their relationship. His casual flings and one night stands made his inability to sleep with another human irrelevant; he could always count on them ducking out before the waking hours. His reputation was known in enough social circles that he didn’t have to worry about people sticking around or trying to get more from him than he was willing to give.

Falling asleep and waking up together were intimate parts of a relationship that Tony had never been able to partake in. He yearned for that closeness, the soft, rumpled moments in those seconds you crossed over from sleeping into consciousness. He could imagine the warmth of another body next to him, holding him through his darkest moments. No matter how much he desired that closeness, his mind betrayed him too many times for him to believe it was possible.

Accepting the fact that his mind was far too awake to let him get any more rest, Tony rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen, deciding he may as well get his day started. As the comforting scent of coffee began to fill his apartment, he felt the sleepy fog start to drift away. The quiet, emptiness of his apartment typically offered comfort after a sleepless night, but this morning it only emphasized the loneliness he tried to bury deep beneath layers of charm and overconfidence. Deciding he couldn’t stick around his home office today, Tony decided to make a rare appearance at his favorite coffee shop down the street.

Just over an hour later, Tony was out the door and pulling out of the parking garage into the early morning traffic in the city. The sun was just coming up and Tony was happy to be among the other early risers. He wondered how many people were also escaping their own minds or sleepless nights. He enjoyed these peaceful moments, watching the sky soften as the sun rose, casting shadows around the skyscrapers that filled the city.

When Tony arrived at the coffee shop, he was happy to see that there weren’t many patrons inside yet. He entered with his work bag, prepared to settle in for a few hours. The staff smiled at him, recognizing him despite his infrequent visits. With a mug of hot coffee and a fresh muffin in hand, Tony settled into a booth in the back corner of the shop, spreading out his materials for the morning.

Time passed around him as he worked through the shop’s morning rush. By the time he finished his coffee and pastry, he had made considerable progress on the blueprints in front of him. He hit a snag in one of his calculations and took that as his cue to stretch his legs and acquire more caffeine; he knew he drank too much of the stuff but he couldn't be bothered to care. He grabbed his phone as he headed to the front of the shop, scrolling through his emails quickly.

The shop had quieted down since the morning rush, so Tony didn’t anticipate the person waiting to order at the counter. He stopped short, nearly colliding with the man directly in front of him. He was facing the register, his back to Tony. Tony couldn’t help but admire the man’s broad shoulders, highlighted nicely by the navy suit jacket he was wearing. Tony could stop his eyes from wandering further down, noticing the man’s narrow waist and how his slim cut pants fit nicely.

Tony shook his head to clear it as the man stepped aside, clearing a path for Tony to order his refill. He was grateful for the fact that the woman behind the counter already knew his order, as he completely lost his train of thought at the sight of the man’s face. He was tall enough that Tony had to tilt his head up to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face. His dark blond hair was long and slightly floppy, but styled enough to be kept off his face. Tony’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the man’s face, which was covered in a thick beard, only highlighting his strong cheekbones.

Tony caught himself staring, but not before the stranger did, smirking in Tony’s direction. Tony barely had the decency to blush before grabbing his coffee and running back to his table, effectively hiding away from the handsome man. A moment later, he heard the bell on the door jingle and he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the man leaving the small shop. Instead, he saw a new customer entering and the attractive man settled at a table not far from Tony’s makeshift workstation. The man smiled in Tony’s direction and Tony whipped his head back around rather than acknowledging the gesture.

Tony was acting as if he’d never seen an attractive man before, which was certainly not the case. Usually, he was smooth and well-spoken, charming the pants off anyone he wanted, literally and figuratively. Tony wasn’t sure what it was about this man that rendered Tony incapable of anything but gawking at him. Lost in thought, Tony didn’t hear the man moving behind him, and before he could do anything to stop it, he was sliding into the seat opposite Tony.

The stranger smiled and stuck his hand out in greeting. Tony just stared, yet again incapable of anything else.

“I’m Steve,” the man said curiously, keeping his hand extended toward Tony.

Tony’s brain rapidly sprung into action, remembering how to interact with another human. He reached out to shake the stranger- Steve’s hand. His hand was large and warm, nearly swallowing Tony’s smaller one in a firm grip.

“I’m Tony, and I swear I’m not usually like this,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Like what, throwing heart eyes at a random stranger in a coffee shop?” Steve teased.

“Well, there’s only so much I can do when the random stranger has your shoulders and a beard like that,” Tony flirted shamelessly.

The next couple hours passed in a similar fashion, both men apparently forgetting the work they planned to accomplish that day. They chatted, equal parts learning about each other flirting. Tony learned that Steve was a columnist at a smaller paper in the city and taught journalism classes on the side. When he wasn’t researching, writing, or teaching, Steve spent too much time with his dog, who was very cute according to the several photos he proudly showed to Tony. Steve learned that Tony was indeed Tony Stark of Stark Industries, an up and coming robotics firm in the city. The blueprints littering the table were a glimpse into his next big project and Tony rambled on about technology that Steve only pretended to understand.

A while later, Steve’s phone rang, snapping both of them out of their little bubble. Steve smiled apologetically while standing to answer the call. Taking advantage of his privacy, Tony shook his head and ran a hand down his face. He hadn’t enjoyed a stranger’s company like this in years. His mind told him to run; he knew his track record and it would be safer to end this before anything could happen. In that moment, Steve returned to the table looking like a bashful puppy and any thoughts Tony had about disappearing flew out the window.

“That was work,” Steve said, his voice dripping with regret. “I’ve gotta run to the office”.

Tony only nodded at that, not wanting to give away his desire to see Steve again. Luckily Steve saved him from embarrassment.

“I’d really like to see you again though. Maybe without all this work in the way,” Steve gestured to the blueprints between them.

Tony grinned and nodded. “I’d like that a lot”.

They exchanged numbers and Tony watched Steve head out the door and turn down the street. He was about to round the corner, but before he disappeared from view, Steve looked back, grinning when he saw Tony watching him. Tony smiled back before returning to his work.

About a month later, Tony and Steve had gone out to dinner several times, grabbed coffee in the afternoons, and taken Steve’s unfairly cute dog for a few strolls around Central Park. If Tony thought Steve was cuter than his dog, nobody had to know. Tony knew that what they were doing undoubtedly counted as dating, but Tony wasn’t willing to call it that yet. They held hands when they walked and Steve kissed him on the cheek in greeting and when they said goodbye every time they saw each other.

Tony told Rhodey about Steve when his best friend pressed him on why he was so happy all of a sudden. It went unsaid that Tony hadn’t had any houseguests recently either.

“You like him, then?” Rhodey questioned.

“Yeah, honeybear, I like him. I can’t decide if I want to tear his clothes off or bundle him up on the couch”.

Rhodey threw his head back in a loud laugh. “Wow Tones, you’ve got it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Tony pouted at that. He knew Rhodey was right and he didn’t know what to do about it. It was always at this point in relationships when things started to go off the rails. Just last night he had another terror-filled sleep, resulting in sweat drenched sheets and tear soaked pillows.

Rhodey’s gaze softened, knowing exactly what was running through Tony’s head.

“Just talk to him Tony. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s just as gone for you as you are for him”.

“You’re right”.

“I’m sorry, can I get that in writing? How about a recording?”

Tony laughed at that and shooed Rhodey out of his apartment. If he was going to have this conversation with Steve, it needed to happen soon.

Tony pulled his phone out to call Steve.

On the other side of the city, Steve sat at home working through the column he owed his editor the following week. He’d made some solid progress when his phone buzzed on his desk. Seeing Tony’s name (and silly face he managed to capture on a walk) made him smile.

“Hey Tones”.

Tony could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, causing him to melt just a bit.

“Hi Steve. I uh, I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tonight?”

“No plans pal, want to grab a bite somewhere?”

“Um actually, I was wondering if you might want to come over here for dinner?”

Tony had been to Steve’s apartment briefly on the days that they’d taken his dog for a walk, but otherwise, they hadn’t visited each other’s homes. Tony was especially protective of his space, and Steve knew this. The gravity of Tony’s invitation was not lost on him.

“That sounds really nice, Tony. What time should I be there?”

“How’s six?”

“Perfect, I’ll bring wine”.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve”.

“See you soon, Tones”.

Steve ended the call and just stared at his phone for a moment. He knew Tony didn’t trust people easily. He and Tony had been seeing each other for a little over a month now and had yet to have a conversation about taking any next steps in their relationship. Tony had told Steve little bits about past relationships and hinted that he isn’t typically the relationship type. Steve didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but the more time he spent with Tony, the more he learned about him. Steve assumed it wasn’t that Tony didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that he'd been broken too many times to believe in them again. Steve hoped that tonight would open the door to something more, even if it was just a crack.

Determined to make more progress on his column, Steve directed his attention back to his computer as best he could. His mind was swirling with thoughts about Tony and all the things he wanted with him. Steve knew he was steadily falling for the man. Tony was brilliant, challenging, hilarious, and had a bigger heart than anyone gave him credit for. Steve only hoped that Tony could see himself that way, too.

A few hours later, Steve was grabbing a couple of bottles of wine and heading out the door to make it to Tony’s apartment by six. Tony had texted him his address and Steve was pleasantly surprised at their proximity to each other. When Steve arrived at Tony's building, he was surprised to see Tony himself waiting at the entrance.

Steve beamed at Tony; he was never one for subtlety. As he approached Tony, he could see the man practically vibrating with nervous energy. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, Steve reached for Tony and pulled him in for a hug. Tony’s arms wrapped around his waist and his face squeezed into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Steve could feel the harsh breath Tony let out as soon as he held him close.

“Hey you,” Steve whispered.

“Hi Stevie”.

“As much as I love holding you like this, do you think we should maybe head inside?” Steve asked softly, reluctant to let go of the man in his arms.

Tony pulled back with a blush, but Steve kept a hand on the small of Tony’s back, attempting to keep as much contact as he could. Tony nodded and turned toward the front door without a word.

They were silent as they moved through the lobby and came to a stop in front of the elevators. Once they were inside the car and Tony pressed the “PH” button, he finally spoke.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said in a rush, as if he had forced the words out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy I’m here too, Tony”.

Eventually, the elevator doors opened directly into an expansive foyer, with exposed beams and rustic chandeliers above them. Steve stepped out, taking in the vast apartment surrounding him. Tony started down the hallway and Steve followed, taking in the many paintings and photos lining the hallway. They entered a kitchen half the size of Steve’s entire apartment to find several dishes littered across the stove.

“I might not know how to make much, but what I can make is damn good,” Tony said as he checked a sauce of some sort on the stove.

Steve set the bottles of wine on the massive island in the center of the kitchen and followed Tony to the stove. Tony was surprised to feel Steve’s chest pressed against his back, his arms around his waist, and his nose pressed against the top of his head.

“This smells delicious Tony. Anything I can help with?”

Tony reluctantly pointed out the cabinets that held his dishes as well where his wine glasses were hanging. Steve gave him one last squeeze and a soft kiss to his hair before stepping away. Steve found his way around Tony’s kitchen easily, and Tony felt his heart squeeze at the comfortability of it all.

Before long, they were serving themselves heaping plates of pasta and veggies and Steve poured them each a generous glass of red wine. Tony grabbed the food and led them through to the dining room, while Steve followed with their wine and what was left in the bottle.

Tony watched nervously as Steve took the first bite of food and smiled with relief when Steve groaned at the taste.

“Tony, you’ve been holding out on me. This is delicious,” Steve grinned across the table.

Tony only smiled shyly before digging in himself.

Dinner was a quiet affair, both men devouring their food and enjoying their wine. They exchanged quiet words about the projects they were working on and Steve rambled about some new toy he’d gotten for his dog.

When they’d both cleaned their plates and finished the bottle of wine, Steve paused. Tony seemed to sense his confidence wavering, which was uncommon for Steve.

“I saw that second bottle of wine, don’t think I’m kicking you out without sharing it first,” Tony admitted.

“Ha, my plan worked,” Steve teased.

Tony only shook his head. “Come on, we can dump these in the sink and watch a movie”.

Steve nodded gratefully and headed back into the kitchen with Tony, happy to spend more time with the man that was quickly stealing his heart and occupying the majority of his thoughts. They set their plates and silverware in the sink before grabbing the second bottle of wine and heading into the living room. Both men stood in the entryway to the room, Steve waiting for Tony’s lead to see how the man wanted to proceed. Tony eventually stepped down onto the soft carpet and made his way to the large plush sofa in the center of the room. He situated himself near the center of the couch and patted the cushion next to him, making it clear where he expected Steve to settle.

Steve stepped into the room, wine in hand, and made his way toward Tony. As soon as he settled on the couch he opened the bottle of wine, refilling each of their glasses. He was grateful for the distraction, not trusting his hands so close to Tony. Once the glasses were full, he grabbed them both and settled back into the couch. He lifted one toward Tony who took it happily before settling into Steve’s side. Steve wrapped his arm firmly around Tony, reveling in the closeness and willing the other man to melt into his side the way he’d been desperate for for weeks.

Tony was stiff for a brief moment, but as soon as Steve squeezed his shoulder, urging him to come in closer, Tony gave in. His head came to rest on Steve’s shoulder and his entire form curled around Steve’s firm body. Steve hummed with pleasure, finally having this man closer than ever before.

Reaching to the side, Steve set his glass down on the table next to the couch; he wanted both arms available to wrap Tony up. When Tony noticed, he glanced up at Steve, and the bearded man’s resolve broke in an instant.

Both of Steve’s hands came to rest on Tony’s cheeks, angling his face further up so Steve could take in all of his features. His hair was soft and unstyled, natural curls falling on his forehead. His eyes were wide and curious taking in Steve’s every move. His lips were slightly parted, tongue sneaking out to wet them the moment Steve’s eyes dipped down to them. At that, Steve lunged forward, pressing his lips against Tony’s before either man could think long enough to question the action.

Tony immediately reciprocated and reached forward to weave his free hand through the long strands of hair on top of Steve’s head. Steve moaned at that, and Tony took the opportunity to softly explore Steve’s mouth with his tongue. Steve tasted like wine and tomatoes, an admittedly odd combination, but Tony couldn’t stop. Their lips and tongues continued to explore each other until Steve had to pull back for a deep breath. He kept Tony close, pressing their foreheads together as they each panted against each other.

“Tones,” Steve groaned.

“I know Stevie. I’m sorry that took so long,” Tony apologized.

Steve leaned in to press a quick kiss to Tony’s lips. “Never apologize for that, babe”. Steve couldn’t help the endearment as it slipped from his lips, but Tony only seemed to preen in response.

“Let’s find something to watch,” Tony said softly. As much as he wanted to continue down the path they started, he knew he wasn’t ready for much more.

Steve resettled himself with his arm around Tony’s shoulders, keeping the smaller man as close as he could manage. Tony grabbed the remote and pulled up Netflix before deciding on the newest original movie they’d released. Before either man could settle any further, Steve detached himself from Tony and laid down along the couch, his back pressed against the back cushions. He left plenty of space in front of him and looked at Tony expectantly.

“Can I just hold you for a bit, please?” He asked shyly.

Tony blushed bright red, feeling the warmth spread from his cheeks down past the collar of his shirt. He nodded quickly and settled down with his back pressed to Steve’s front. Steve’s left arm came to rest over his waist while his right arm settled under Tony’s cheek as if it were a pillow. Tony had never enjoyed the feeling of being held as he did in that moment.

Steve loved the feeling of having Tony in his arms. His entire body was pressed into his own, not an inch of space left between them. He nuzzled into Tony’s neck, unable to get enough of the man’s scent. Tony shivered while he pressed play on the movie, hoping to distract them both for at least a few minutes.

Less than halfway through the movie, Steve could hear Tony snuffling softly into his arm, clearly fast asleep. In an attempt not to wake him, Steve reached for the remote and shut the television off. Tony shifted in his sleep, and awoke enough at the sudden silence in the room.

“Mm Stevie, what time is it”

“It’s late sugar. Let me get you to bed”.

Tony froze at that. Suddenly he was wide awake and terrified at the prospect of Steve entering his bedroom. Before he could think better of it, he was stammering out words that hardly made any sense.

“I, I can’t sleep with you. I can’t sleep with anyone,” Tony rushed out.

Steve paused, not wanting to startle the man in his arms.

“Okay Tony, we don’t have to do anything. Just let me help you to your room”.

Tony’s mind cleared momentarily. Steve was still here after all the truths he’d shared over the past several weeks. Steve knew some of his deepest insecurities and Tony was sure Steve could sense the amount of hurt he’d been through over the years. Despite his inability to communicate and commit, Steve was still here, willing to take care of him and care for him.

“No,” Tony argued. “I want you here. I just can’t sleep with anyone here. Haven’t been able to for years”. Tony let out a deep breath, grateful that Steve hadn’t tried to interrupt. “I get these nightmares sometimes, I don’t wanna wake you”.

“Oh, honey. You think a nightmare could keep me away from you? Come on, let’s get comfy and we’ll take it one step at a time”.

To Steve’s surprise, Tony agreed, nodding and getting to his feet. Steve stood and followed Tony down the hall to the master bedroom. As Tony entered his room, he stripped down to his boxers without much thought and crawled straight into bed. Steve stood in the doorway, unsure of what Tony wanted him to do. As much as he wanted to crawl right in next to Tony, Steve knew this was a slippery slope for the two of them.

Cracking an eye open, Tony looked up at Steve.

“Why are you still standing there baby?”

Steve’s heart absolutely stopped at that. Tony’s soft sleepy voice combined with the sweet pet name absolutely ruined him. Without much thought, Steve followed Tony’s lead and stripped down to his boxers before slipping under the covers.

Tony turned to face him and settled a hand on Steve’s cheek.

“I might wake up screaming. Or crying. Or both usually, if I’m being honest”.

“What do you want me to do if that happens?”

“Just hold me when I wake up. Please don’t leave if you wake up before I do. I hate waking up alone after a nightmare and you’re the only one I wanna wake up next to”.

“Oh sweetheart, I promise I’ll be right here”.

Tony pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before whispering a soft goodnight. He rolled over, pressing the backline of his body to Steve’s front, revelling in the feeling of Steve’s arms holding him close.

When he inevitably woke up with a scratchy throat and tear stained face, he was grateful for the warm, steady arms around him. He rolled over in Steve’s embrace, pressing his face into Steve’s chest, attempting to burrow himself even closer. Steve mumbled soft words into his ear, easing him back to sleep.

“I’m here baby, I’ve got you. You’ll always be safe with me, I promise, love. Go back to sleep sweet thing”.

Tony hummed in reply. As he drifted back to sleep he realized that he’d never been incapable of this closeness with another human. Despite the fact that all his previous relationships convinced him otherwise, all he needed was the right person to hold him close and keep him safe.

Steve’s strong arms and soft words were enough to lull him back to sleep, but not before he whispered softly, “please never let go”.

Tony was fast asleep when Steve replied, “I’m never letting go baby”.

#stony #stony fics #stevetony #stevetony fics #mine

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