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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

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Starker High School AU Pt. 6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

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tw: general howard stark warning

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There is a buzzing by his ear.

At first, Tony doesn’t really notice it, waking up in short increments before being pulled back under. But he keeps waking, unsure what keeps tugging him out of his dreams, hand flapping around his face as he tries to stop the incessant ringing.

“Blergh,” he mumbles into his pillow.

Batting his hand around to quell the source of annoyance, he comes to grip his phone, squinting as it lights up inches away from his face and vibrates against his palm. For a second he thinks it’s his alarm, but then he remembers that he didn’t set one. It’s a succession of text notifications cascading down his screen that alerts him out of the slope of slumber with a start.

The only time his phone goes off like this is an emergency. The first thing he registers is that it’s only eight-minutes after seven. He blinks, sight clearing from the sleep wedged in his eye as he reads the flurry of still-incoming texts.

> so thanks for last night > yknow > for the ride > i mean > you know what i mean > anyway > so that folder i gave you had my BIO notes, not econ > im such a doofus > i need them back > don’t bother looking at them lol > can we meet up?

Tony groans, eyelids heavy as anvils. Jesus christ. He didn’t get home until four after dropping this guy off and he’s already up and bothering him? What gives?

Exhausted and annoyed, he tucks his phone under his pillow and sets it on do-not-disturb for extra measure. There ain’t no way he’s getting up at seven on a Saturday for fucking class notes. Prick.

In his opinion, he’s filled his quote of good deeds for the month and he doesn’t need to be up for another few hours. Whatever it is, he thinks, snuggling into his pillow, he’s sure it can wait.

---

The next time he wakes it’s just after nine. There’s a gap in his curtains allowing a sharp shard of sunlight into the room where it directly pierces into his eyelids.

He groans tiredly into the drool patch on his pillow, willing sleep to come back to him, turning on his other side, gripping the edges of the quilt and tightening it around himself until he is firmly cocooned within it. It’s nice and warm, and sleep is such a rare commodity to him so it’s novel to bask in its dregs. But there isn’t any more sleep to come he’s quick to realize, giving up after a few minutes and blinking up at the ceiling.

Nine is practically six. It’s criminal to be up this early.

There’s an unusual flurry of texts on his phone, some from Rhodey, but most of them are from Parker, an endless ladder of increasing franticness.

Tony tosses his phone to the end of his bed carelessly.

It’s been literally less than twelve hours since he’s had to deal with the shithead. Surely whatever was lodged up his ass couldn’t possibly be as important as Tony ignoring him.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he stands and stretches his arms up high, fingers curling. The stretch feels good and he takes a quick sniff of his armpits to gauge if he can forego a shower for the third day in a row.

The stench is wicked. It’s possible that he’s overdue.

He strips off as he heads towards the adjacent bathroom, naked and nursing a semi.

He can’t help but shudder as his back meets the cold tiles, the intuitive shower head following his body with a mechanical whir, miscalculating its aim and spraying him in the face.

Ah. That will need to be recalibrated, he notes.

But, he can’t say he really minds, tolerating the spray, even as it hits his mouth like a fire hose. He ducks his head to wet his hair, reaching blindly for the touchpad to dial down the pressure. Once the water is to his liking he reaches down to take himself in hand, leisurely stroking himself.

It’s just a perfunctory part of his morning ritual; he doesn’t really have anyone in mind as he brings himself to full hardness, just the fleeting memory of lips around his cock, the next of a well rounded ass, not feeling particularly creative.

Okay, so maybe he pictures some big, brown eyes and dark hair he can run his fingers through. And maybe he goes off like a rocket. That’s his business.

Anyway, once he’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he inspects his appearance in the mirror. The bruises on his face are still pretty gruesome, deep purple and beginning to yellow around the edges. The cut on his lip seems to be well and truly scabby.

Turning to the side, Tony takes observation of his overall torso region; his stomach is not as defined as he’d like it to be - probably due to his affinity for carbs and sweets, if he’s honest. Between a few fingers he can pinch the skin and pull it a little -- and look, he’s a bit soft around the middle, but he lifts, alright. Maybe he isn’t exactly steel cut like the dudebros on the football team who have made being ripped their life mission, but he has musculature under the adipose.

Is he a little self-conscious about it? Sure. Is he worried about it enough to give up garlic bread and cronuts? No. Especially when he spots a new chest hair nestled comfortably between his pecs.

Probably a bit too proud of himself because of a singular piece of hair, Tony gets dressed in a pair of jeans that have seen better days, speckled with singe marks and thinning at the knees and a singlet, slinging on his leather jacket for the finishing touch.

He almost forgets the bot.

“Look at you,” he says, to the mangled mess of metal on his desk. Scooping the injured, beeping bot Tony stuffs it into his backpack. “Come here, darling. Shh, you’re okay.”

Peering both ways out of the hall to ensure the coast is clear, he quickly descends the stairs, shushing the bot the whole way.

On the ground floor, he pauses when he hears voices coming from his father’s office. It takes a second to recognise the voices, his father and Stane arguing over one another, loudly, then softly. He tries to listen in, catching somewhat audible hisses about the company finance officer.

Careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak he tiptoes to the kitchen to pocket a few muesli bars and a water bottle from the fridge.

The voices get progressively louder as he sneaks to the front door, silently saluting their maid as he passes. She waves back at him, offering a sympathetic smile as he goes out the door.

His heart pounds as he reaches his car, parked around the corner street.

“Alright, baby,” he grins, revving the engine. “Let’s go.”

---

“The fuck?”

It’s hard to be sure, but perhaps Rhodey doesn’t expect Tony’s unannounced arrival at his front door. Not if the furious scowl and bunny slippers on his feet are anything to go by.

Nonetheless, he slips past the front door, welcoming himself into his friends home, despite the exasperated outcry of for fucks sake Tony, it’s Saturday and it’s not even noon, can’t you call ahead?

No, he can’t call. Well, actually, he reconsiders, heading down the hall to the basement, his friends footsteps echoing behind him, he probably could, but it wouldn’t make anyone less mad at him, so what’s the point?

Besides, judging by the empty driveway and barren living room, Rhodey’s family is already out, he’s not sure what the issue is.

“The issue is I am tired, man,” his friend complains, following him down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Me too, honeybear, freakin’ exhausted,” Tony mutters, skipping down the stairs. “Go back to bed. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“Oh sure, and let you solder your fingers together again. Nah. Not taking the fall for that.”

“I’m not going to solder my fingers together. I’m a pro.”

“Unless you need me to remind you of last summer,” Rhodey takes a seat at the workbench, “I suggest you shut up.”

“You’re rude, you know that?” Tony asks, retrieving the bot from his backpack and setting it upon the bench. “I’ll have you know that I’ve learned since then.”

“And yet you still refuse to wear gloves,” his friend sighs, settling heavily upon the adjacent chair. There’s a comfortable quiet between them while Tony works, carefully settling all the pieces onto the table, moving each with care.

It’s hard to miss the weight of observation on the back of his neck, but he lets his friend drink his fill before he’s ready to speak.

“You fuck up something?” He points to the bot.

Tony shakes his head, pressing the solder into the circuit board. “No. Well, yes. The coding is perfect, as usual, but this idiot isn’t any smarter than a Roomba. He’s meant to be smarter.”

“So?

“He is smarter. I dunno, sometimes he messes up,” Tony mumbles, reaching blindly for the bent-nose pliers before Rhodey places it in his hand. “He’s not bad, just dumb. It’s not his fault.”

“And again, what happened? Did you run him over?”

“No, the old man got sick of me playing with ‘toys’. Dumb-dumb here met the wall in a very dramatic fashion. It was an Oscar-worthy performance.”

There’s a sigh from behind him.

“Does that explain your face?”

Tony glances behind him and smirks.

“You mean my dashing good looks?”

“Tony.”

“Honestly? I got into a fight with a feral racoon that ran off with some old lady’s purse. It nearly cost me an eye, but I saved the day. She called me a hero, gave me some stale crackers from her purse and then gave me her number.”

“Tony.”

“Fine. I was skateboarding. I was in the middle of executing a super complicated kickflip but lost control when an enlarged gutter rat scurried in front of me. I flew headfirst into the gravel. Very embarrassing. That work?”

“Tony.”

“Look, just leave it will ya? God, you’re like a nagging wife. Pick whichever story makes you feel all nice and fuzzy inside.”

Rhodey is suddenly before him, waving something in his face. “Your phone, jackass. Your better half is calling?”

Huh?

Tony blinks, gently setting down the pliers and the chip he’d removed, taking his phone. It vibrates, Your Better Half flashing across the screen.

“Parker, ugh.”

He really should have changed the contact name by now, he thinks, swiping to answer.

“Alcoholics Anonymous,” Tony answers by way of greeting. “How may I direct your call?”

“Ha ha, very funny, asshole. So you are awake. I’ve been trying to contact you all morning.”

“I know. I’m beginning to think you actually might have separation issues,” Tony says. “I just got rid of you like eight hours ago.”

“I’m calling about the folder. Didn’t you read my texts?“

“Oh, I read them,” Tony settles back on the stool and continues to work on the main circuit. “See, I was just ignoring you. Hoping you’d take the hint, but I forget subtlety is lost on you.”

“Look, I need my notes. Can we meet up?”

“Right, for Bio,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Can’t it wait until Monday?”

“No. I, uh -- I have a test first period. I need to study for it.”

“Uh-huh. Just remember, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. You’ll be fine.”

“I take AP Bio, asswipe, I’m aware of that. Can I just get it back, please?”

“You take AP Bio? Was that an admin error or something?” he asks, holding the chip he’d retrieved earlier up to the light to inspect for any damage.

It looks to be ok. The damage to the bot overall seems to be mostly cosmetic, couple of scratches, a few dents. Nothing that a few replacement panels wont fix. Whatever he hasn’t already got stored here Rhodey will surely have spare parts, it’ll be fine. God, what would he do if his friend didn’t lovingly tolerate Tony using his space for storage and barging in whenever he lucks. It’s lucky Rhode’s parents are so chill though, unlike his own. He may be a hot-head but he’s practically a saint compared to -

“ - hello? Are you still there? I can hear you breathing.”

Tony blinks. “Right. Your notes. Look, I’m kinda busy. I have a life outside of you and I don’t actually care about your academic integrity, so, you’re gonna have to wait.”

“For how long?”

“I’ll drop them off this evening, like six-ish. Hey, maybe we could do that interview with May if she’ll be around.”

“...I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“C’mon, I already told you I’m not actually hot for your aunt. I’ll be professional.”

Rhodey shoots him a bewildered look.

“That’s not what -- look, whatever. Just don’t be late okay. I have a life outside of you too.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’ll try and not get in the way of your weekend plans of crying while you masturbate.”

“I literally hate you.”

“And yet you aren’t denying the crying. Anyway, I have to go now, try to clean yourself up before I get there. See you at six, bubby,” he hangs up, cracking his neck before refocusing on his mangled creation. “Now where were we?”

“What the fuck.”

Tony pauses, pliers in hand. There is a particular expression on Rhodey’s face erring on the side of confused and haunted.

“What?”

“’Bubby’?”

“Don’t say it like that - it’s like an inside thing. Don’t repeat it to him, alright, he’ll get pissy. And then I’ll get pissy.”

“You know it’s just a project, right? You two aren’t actually married.”

“Thank god. Could you imagine being married to that guy?” Tony shudders. “Scary.”

“Two weeks ago you said he was the bane of your existence. Now you have ‘inside things’ with him? You saw him last night?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping. Yeah, he doesn’t really have a good explanation for any of that.

The thing about himself, Tony’s found over time and trial, is that he really, really likes to press buttons. He likes to test variables, wants to see what would happen if he did something he wasn’t supposed to, and map out the world as it occurs in motion around him. Curiosity means he likes to test the parameters, to see what can yield, what will bite back.

More often than not that kind of impulsive brand of curiosity has gotten him in some sort of trouble. Turns out not everything and everyone appreciates being tested - and many things like to lash out when pressed.

Parker, Tony has found, is somebody that doesn’t yield or bite. If Tony was a betting man he’d have placed his money on the boy being more of a yielding type - but what he does is he presses buttons just as much as Tony does, buttons he didn’t even know he had to be pressed.

And that very much interests Tony.

He just doesn’t know what to do with that information, except to keep pressing.

“I’ll explain later,” Tony promises, mentally crossing his fingers. “In the meantime, can we forget about Parker and focus on my broken baby here?”

Rhodey relents, but Tony knows that look in his eye. He’ll be hearing about it later and at the most inconvenient time. And he’s gonna tell Pepper.

Wonderful.

He really should change Peter’s contact name in his phone.

---

By the time he leaves the Rhodes residence and heads to his next destination, his robot is in somewhat in working order again. It remains fairly immobile though, just until Tony can replace the damaged infrared and touch sensor. It clicks its metal claws sadly towards Tony in the passenger seat as he drives.

It’s a Roy Orbison kind of day, so the music is loud and the guitar is heavy as he makes the drive to Harlem.

And if Tony frees a hand to pat the bot on its’ metal head every so often, that’s his business.

When he reaches the other side of the city he parks in his usual space at a nearby lot and contemplates whether or not he should leave the malfunctioning bot in his car for the sake of being professional. It clicks at his jacket, weakly grasping the material as if on a plea - and damn, Tony knows the thing isn’t actually sentient but what kind of asshole would he be if he left it here for the day.

Heart squeezing with sympathy, Tony delicately places him in the backpack, leaving the zip partially open for ‘air’.

Next, snacks.

While he’s retrieving a pack (or two) of Reeses, he comes across Parker’s folder that he’d stashed there last night. Their conversation from earlier returns to the forefront of his mind.

Look, Parker might not be the knuckle-dragging, monosyllabic dumbass Tony initially suspected that he was, and yeah he was savvy as demonstrated during their trip to the rental market - and yeah, definitely smarter than his social circle would suggest, and is absolutely and a source of constant surprise to Tony - but is he AP Bio - or AP anything material?

Time to find out.

The first thing that Tony notices is that the notes are definitely not for Bio. They’re for Econ, as initially prescribed.

The second thing he notices, as he flicks through the papers, skimming over the complicated graphs and annotated research, is that what he’s reading is actually good.

Well, I’ll be darned, Tony thinks, eyes getting progressively wider as he flicks through the pages. Not bad at all.

Makes him wonder why Parker thought he was missing his Bio notes though.

The answer to that becomes clear when a crumpled envelope falls out of the stack onto Tony’s lap. He picks it up, at first thinking it’s a part of the research, but pauses. It’s open and it’s addressed to May Parker.

“Um,” he says.

It’s from Queens Presbyterian Hospital, which should make him drop it as if it were burning. It doesn’t, though. Either it’s meant to be included in the folder, or it’s not and that’s why Parker has been acting like a crazy-ex all morning.

Hmm. Tony sits there, torn, debating whether or not to look into it, the overdue stamp standing out against the crisp paper like a warning sign. On one hand, he’s running kinda late and, y’know, privacy or whatever -- on the other, his fingers are already itching to know what’s in it.

Mind your own business, he can already hear Rhodey saying, mind your own business, Tony.

Curiosity and a distinct lack of a moral compass wins, as always. Just a quick peek, that should be okay, right? The envelope is already open anyway, so, it’s not like anyone will be able to tell.

God, this is none of my business, he tells himself, even as he’s retrieving the letter from within and starts reading it.

Oh.

Tony quickly stashes the letter back into the envelope and back into the folder. Yep, definitely none of his business.

Yeah, he really shouldn’t have done that. Big fucking yikes on his behalf. And yep, there’s the guilt -- or at least he thinks the stomach churning is guilt, it could be the stale muesli bar he ate on the way.

Nonetheless, it hangs over him like a dark cloud as he picks up his backpack and heads out to the garage across the road. What kind of asshole looks into someone’s mail because they can’t help themselves. This dick, that’s who.

Fixing a grin he doesn’t really feel, he heads to the back office. He knocks on the window, ducking his head into the open door.

“Yo,” he waves to the man sitting behind the desk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey kid,” the man looks up, smiling before his face drops. “Tony, your face. What happened?”

“This? It’s nothing --”

“-- is that why you couldn’t come to work yesterday? Not that I mind,” the man stands up. “Are you okay? Was it --”

“-- Was it nothing to worry about? Absolutely,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Just an unfortunate encounter with a wild, feral squirrel in Central Park. I tell you, they’re deceivingly cute, but they’re pests. Totally out of control.”

“Tony.”

“Jarvis,” he interrupts, gesturing to the cars in the garage behind him. “C’mon. Look, let’s get to work, okay? Save the violins for later.”

And by later he means never.

The man sighs, world-weary, looking at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. At first he’s certain his boss is going to push the issue, but it must be a day for dodging bullets because he relents.

“Alright, kid. I got a ninety-four Ford sedan back there with your name on it. Busted fan belt, overheated engine. Probably needs a new set of spark plugs while you’re at it.”

With a grateful nod, Tony heads back, locating the vehicle in question. It’s rusted to all hell and probably not worth the cost of repair, but he gets stuck into it anyway, keen for a distraction. He sets his bag and bot down near him while Jarvis blasts Alice Cooper’s Poison.

Tony might not have all the answers to life’s problems, but this is something he knows how to fix.

---

He probably distracts himself a little too well, because by the time he’s wrapped up with the Ford it’s already five-thirty and he’s a mess of engine oil and coolant.

It’s only when Jarvis squeezes his shoulder and points to the clock on the far wall does he realise that he’s lost his sense of time. How the fuck is he supposed to clean up and get all the way from Harlem to Queens at this time of night?

“Ah, crap,” Tony mutters, setting down his socket-wrench in his toolbox. “I’m late.”

“Late for what? You got a hot date or something?” Jarvis asks, stepping back to give him some room as he rushes to the staff bathroom.

“What, no,” He calls back, running the faucet and pumping soap over his hands. “I gotta go see about a guy.” He struggles to hear his boss over the running water but he doesn’t have time to stop and figure it out.

“From school?”

“Yes, and a prime pain in my ass,” Tony mutters, drying his hands on his jeans, walking back into the garage. “Anyway, see you Monday, chief?”

His boss nods, passing Tony his earnings for the week in cash. Tony should have known to dash and run because he starts hearing the proverbial violins when Jarvis clamps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a way that is more paternal than Tony is comfortable with.

“You know you can call me, you have my number. You come up and see me and the missus whenever you want.”

Tony fake snores.

“Jarvis.”

“We have a spare room,” he insists, shrugging sheepishly and stepping back. “It’s yours at any time.”

“I see you enough, okay, don’t push it. I’ll see you Monday,” Tony draws him into a one-armed hug and claps him on the back. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Don’t make me worry.”

“No promises,” Tony salutes, slinging his backpack on shoulder and walking backwards out of the garage to the street. “Hug the missus for me.”

Jarvis salutes back.

With that he sprints across the street when there’s a gap in traffic, bot snapping gently at his hair as he runs.

Sweaty and sore, he is full of energy, a sense of accomplishment coursing through his blood, like an afternoon of work can only provide. He should fire off a text, he thinks, as he starts the ignition and heads out onto the road, yeah. Let Parker know he will be late.

And he does genuinely mean to send a message at the next traffic stop, but then Queen starts playing on the radio and Tony isn’t a fool, okay, he turns that up loud.

Next traffic stop, he promises himself.

---

“I’m beginning to think you can’t read the time,” Parker opens the door with a scowl. “You said six.”

Wincing in the hallway, Tony looks at his phone. Six-fifty-nine. It’s not totally his fault, okay. There was a pile up along the way and traffic was a nightmare of ridiculous proportions. He swears he’s gonna be the first person to invent a commercially viable flying car just for the sake of personally avoiding road congestion.

“Yeah, so. Here’s the thing: I had things to do, okay, priorities --”

“You and your priorities, I swear to god --”

“Here,” Tony cuts him off, passing him his folder, letter neatly inside where it isn’t going to obviously slip out. “Your folder, dumbass.”

Peter grips it, holding it to his chest as he stares at Tony for a moment, before passing it to the nearest flat surface, a weathered and small table that holds their keys.

“Okay, thanks,” Peter nods, smiling grimly, looking behind his shoulder. “Appreciate it. You can go now.”

“So where are the Econ notes,” Tony blurts, wincing as he plays dumb. “I mean, if you had something prepared.”

Peter blinks, surprised. “Oh, uh. Um, It can wait until Monday, can’t it?”

“The assignment is due Wednesday.”

“Right. Um, just give me a sec --”

“Is that Tony?”

May appears behind Peter, smiling brightly. Tony waves, rocking back on his feet.

“Hey, Missus Parker.”

“Hey there, handsome,” she hip-checks her nephew, joining him in the doorway and glancing between the two. “You didn’t mention we were having company tonight, Pete.”

“He’s not handsome and he’s not staying --”

“-- I was just dropping something off,” he looks to Peter. “And excuse you, the lady has spoken and I have to agree. I am handsome. Some might even say that I’m debonair.”

“And some might say that you’re deplorable.”

“Hmm, I think you mean adorable.”

That prompts a smile out of Peter. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his chin up, all haughty.

“Tony Stark, you are many things, but adorable isn’t one of them.”

He leans in, pouting playfully. “Oh come on, Parker. I’m a little cute, aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Uh, let me check,” Peter pauses before smiling sardonically. “Verdicts in - jury says you’re one-hundred-percent despicable. Sorry.”

"I’m sure I could sway the jury.”

“I think you mean you could pay the jury.”

Tony nods, pretending to be serious. “Well, yeah. You know, for consensus.”

Peter licks his lips, shifting closer.

“Consensus is important...”

“...Well, if you two are done,” May says after an extended period of silence, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “We were just about to head out to a Thai place around the corner. Tony, you should join us.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I should go --”

The rest of his words are cut off by a truly monstrous growl of his stomach. He winces, scrunching up his nose sheepishly. He probably should have eaten more than Reeses all afternoon.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” May says, stepping out of the doorway and beckoning Tony in. “Come in. Sorry about the mess.”

It’s with Peter still staring at him that he reluctantly enters their apartment, brushing past the other boy. It looks the same as it did the other week, mostly tidy and smelling like incense. There’s a sizeable stack of unfolded laundry on the dining table, however, that wasn’t there before.

Tony’s distracted by a pair of dancing-bulbasaur boxers sticking out of the pile when May leans in close to sniff at his hair.

“You’ve got something in your hair, honey. Is that paint?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, palm coming back streaked with green. “Oh, uh, radiator fluid,” he explains, holding up his hand.

“Can I ask what you did to your face?”

“I saved a homeless guy and his beef-sandwich from a pack of rabid, angry dogs. No need to call me a hero.”

May looks at him oddly. “Oh, well, if you say so. Go get yourself washed up and we can head out.”

The burn of Peter’s stare follows him all the way to their bathroom.

---

The meal is less awkward than Tony thought it would be.

Well, for him at least.

Over larb and khao pad they’d gotten through an informal interview with May about her experience as a caregiver with a single income. Not only was it informative for his own future financial independence, but she has been generous enough to speckle in colorful anecdotes of her nephew’s upbringing. Parker’s face has been getting progressively redder all night and it has nothing to do with the spice in his food.

Tony has enjoyed the evening thoroughly.

“ - and of course, we were lucky we hadn’t decided to go cheap on the health insurance. Especially when Pete here broke his wrist at gymnastics when he was eight.”

Tony barely holds back a snort.

“You did gymnastics, Parker?”

Peter tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and sighs. The flush seems to be creeping down his neck too, Tony observes gleefully. He stuffs a large mouthful of rice in his mouth to mitigate the urge to tease.

"Yes, he was very good, weren’t you, Pete? So talented, you should see his medals.”

“Stop, please.”

“C’mon, no need to be embarrassed, Pete, you were amazing,” she says. “You’re still a flexible little bug, aren’t you?”

Tony chokes on his rice.

Peter has his eyes squeezed shut and looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“May, I’m literally begging you.”

“Uh,” he beats at his chest with his fist, swallowing roughly. “So how long did you do that for?”

“Until I was fourteen.”

“Why’d you quit?”

There’s a very deliberate, weighted pause. May and Peter share a look between them and Tony gets a deeply uncomfortable sense that he’s just stuck his foot in it. Retract, he thinks, already regretting opening his mouth.

“Well,” May clears her throat, her tone light. “After my husband, Pete’s uncle Ben died, we moved away and we had to make some... financial cuts at the time.”

The bite he’s just taken goes to ash in his mouth. God, he really is a big idiot isn’t he. He’d assumed that May never got married to the man in the photos or that they’d just divorced, he didn’t realise that he’d passed - and so recently, too. Welling up with shame, he can’t stop himself from glancing at Peter, who’s staring at the table, lips pursed.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” May waves her hand dismissively, but her smile is strained. “Anyway, what about you, Tony? You’re severely asthmatic, right? That must have been hard, growing up if you wanted to play sports.”

Tony’s eyes widen.

“Yes, um, so hard. Luckily I’m not really an exercise-y kinda guy. I personally prefer to keep a heart rate below eighty beats per minute.”

“Did you have any hobbies growing up?”

“Yeah, driving my parents crazy,” Tony says, glad for the shift from the somber topic. “Escaping from nannies, seeing how quickly I could get them to quit.”

“You like tinkering,” Peter says quietly, looking up. “You mentioned, before. Cars and stuff.”

He shrugs, starting to feel as if he’s under the microscope, especially when Peter looks at him, eyes glittering with thinly-veiled interest.

“I mean, I don’t know. I like - building stuff, I guess. Machines and robots, y’know, cars. It’s like, whatever.”

“You want to be the next Elon Musk or somethin’?” Peter asks, not unkindly, resting his chin on his hand.

“Nah, I wanna be the first Tony Stark,” he scratches his cheek, suddenly bashful. It’s an uncommon feeling for him. One hard to avoid, however, particularly when there is a boy who Tony doesn’t really hate who’s asking about his life like it might matter.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, mostly it was just me cataloguing all the ways I could make the vein in my fathers’ head pop. I’m still working on that.”

May looks between them, smiling.

“Sounds like you were a handful.”

“Sure was.”

Still is, apparently, no matter how much he tries to stay out of the way.

The silence that follows is punctuated by the sounds of cutlery scraping across plates, of shrinking ice cubes rattling against glass. It feels pensive at the same time as it does thorny, like Tony opened the door to let someone in but accidentally let out a few ghouls.

And despite knowing he’d stepped on a landmine with the Parkers, he can’t help but wonder what other pieces of the puzzle he’s missing. Why Peter doesn’t live with his parents. Not that Tony is invested in him or anything.

He just doesn’t like mysteries, that’s all.

May excuses herself after to head to the bathroom not long after. It’s during that time that the waiter brings the check, which Tony takes immediately, slipping in some of the cash he’d gotten earlier, despite Peter’s protests. He was gonna do it anyway, even if he didn’t have the letter in the back of his mind.

“Stop paying for me,” Peter says after he passes the check-book back to the waiter. “Your family is rich, I get it. I’ve told you, I don’t need your charity.”

Tony shakes his head. It’s not worth mentioning that the only money he spends doesn’t come from his family.

“It’s not charity. Do you really think I’m that nice, eh? C’mon. Maybe I like lording it over you.”

“Well, at some point I’m going to pay you back.”

“And when that time comes I’m not going to accept your money.”

“You will,” Peter smiles wryly down at his plate. “I have my ways.”

“As do I, sweetums. Now, do me a favour: shut up and finish your larb.”

Peter does, but something about him shifts. It seems more quiet and contemplative, his eyes staying longer on Tony than they normally would. He wants to tell him to take a picture, but for once, Tony thinks it’s probably best if he keeps his mouth shut.

---

Back at the apartment, Peter goes to retrieve his ‘Econ notes’, taking the folder from the table and retreating to his bedroom. In the interim, May offers to let Tony stay over, inviting him for what he’s sure would be a rousing game of Mario Kart.

He politely declines.

“You sure? Winner gets to choose a movie.”

“I should really get home,” he says. “Thanks though. And thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Thank you for paying, you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back.”

“No need. Think of it as payment for your services and letting us pick your brain tonight.”

She reluctantly accepts with a lot less pride than what her nephew displayed and that makes Tony feel a little sick, because it’s evident that she’s a proud and stubborn woman by nature. Her acceptance, albeit laboured, speaks volumes as to the reasoning behind it.

What takes him by surprise is when she hugs him goodbye and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a good egg, Anthony. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

It’s probably the most maternal touch he’s had since, well. Probably since he last went to stay with Jarvis and his wife. Fidgeting in the hold, he’s not sure if he wants to squirm or to sink into it.

May leaves when Peter comes back in, a familiar stack of notes in his hands that he passes to Tony.

“You gonna kiss me goodbye, too?”

“What?” Peter blinks.

"Uh, never mind,” Tony waves the papers at him. “Thanks for this.”

Peter looks around to make sure they’re alone before leaning in rather promptly.

“Wow, hold up on the proximity there,” Tony inches back, startled by their sudden closeness. “I was joking about the kiss --”

“You read the letter, didn’t you,” Peter whisper-hisses.

“What? Letter? What letter?” Tony says, voice strangled. “I don’t know of any letter.”

He gets a painful poke in his chest for his lies.

“Don’t play dumb. It wasn’t where I left it.”

“I’m not -- ow, quit poking me.”

“Then stop lying. You’re unbelievable -- don’t you know that opening someone else’s mail is a crime?”

Tony’s shoulders slump as he concedes.

“Look, it was an accident, it just slipped out. And also, it’s not technically a crime, if the envelope was already open.”

“Oh and the letter magically opened itself and forced you to read it.”

“That could be argued.”

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business?“

Sick of being poked, he shoves the papers between his arm and his ribs to hold them and takes Peter’s fingers in his hands, squeezing the digits when they struggle to break free of his hold.

“I should have, I admit it - I didn’t think, okay, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”

Peter stops struggling, looking over his shoulder again.

“I don’t know,” he leans in again to whisper, “I only found it yesterday, I haven’t spoken to her yet. Look, I know you hate me, but can you please not tell anyone about this?”

“Why would I tell anyone?”

“I don’t know, because you’re the devil, and you get a kick out of seeing me suffer?”

“True, but I’m not going to tell anyone. Promise. That would make me look like an asshole and you like a martyr. Ergo, I shut my cake hole and continue looking better than you.”

“You’re a real prince charming,” the other boy huffs, but seems to take him at face value. “If I find out differently I’m going to come after you. You’re going to need dental work afterwards.”

Tony lets go of their joined hands, balling his fists and raising them to his face, mimicking what the other boy had done last night.

“You wanna tousle, huh?”

He gets a light shove out the doorway for his attitude.

“Alright, smartass. Get the fuck outta here already.”

“Going, going. Goodnight, princess.”

He mock bows, peering up under his eyelashes, momentarily arrested as he watches Parker roll his eyes and bite his bottom lip in an attempt to smother a smile.

His heart continues to beat a bit oddly all the way down to the car, where he sits in contemplative silence for a few moments until the sound of metal clicking shifts him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, hey you,” he coos, gently retrieving his bot from his bag and placing it in the passenger seat, instantly feeling bad. “I didn’t think I would take so long. I’m sorry.”

Placing a seatbelt over the bot and buckling him in, Tony begins to narrate his night to him as he pulls off the curb and begins driving.

“I guess that Parker isn’t so bad,” he tells the bot, who swivels its head in response to his voice. “I mean, he can’t dress for shit and has questionable tastes in friends - oh, and cannot hold his liquor - but I dunno, baby-bot. He’s okay. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though -- and oh my god, did I mention he did gymnastics, what a fucking dork...”

The thoughts churn and buoy him until he pulls up to his house nearly an hour later. From the driveway he can see his fathers office light still on.

The sight of it makes his stomach drop, all good cheer gone in an instant.

“Damn,” Tony whispers to himself, tapping his knuckles against the steering wheel. This time of night on a Saturday can only mean one thing and he is really not in the mood to be in the crosshairs of whatever his father and Stane are up to.

But before he can work himself into a worry his phone vibrates in his pocket.

> hey, look, thanks for not being a total dick tonight about everything > and last night as well, I guess > yknow what i mean < ur welcome < by the way, i’m proud of you > for what < not finishing off ur aunts beer tonight < takes strength < asking for help is the first step > omfg i take back what i said > ur the worst < and ur a pain in my ass > they have creams for that u know > anyway, g’nite, butthole > p.s. you’re still not adorable Tony smiles down at his phone. < goodnight bambi The bot clicks at him, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Don’t look at me like that. Let’s go in, but you gotta keep quiet, okay.”

He manages to avoid detection and attention from anyone, despite accidentally stepping on a squeaky floorboard. Maybe it had something to do with the record player and raucous laughter coming from the office.

In any case, Tony’s just happy to make it back to his bedroom. There, he toes off his sneakers and starts getting ready for bed, stashing the leftover cash into a drawer.

It makes him think about Peter’s reluctance for Tony to pay for over the last couple of instances, and how freaking annoying that is. And rude.

Honestly, the dude should count himself as one of the lucky guys - Tony is not that magnanimous. He doesn’t experience an impulsive, unthinking eagerness to provide for just anybody.

Oh.

Tony stills in the middle of his bedroom.

Oh no.

He knows what this is.

“This is bad.”

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny, @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers @starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen

#starker #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #high school au

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

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Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

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You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

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Part 6

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This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

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unityghost · 4 years

Text

Strangers

Here’s some new fanfiction for those of you who wanted to see some (and I know some of you did). Sorry for my cat delaying the writing process by shoving her chonky little body into my lap.

Have fun with the angst that occasionally makes me question my decision to refrain from anonymity.

Part 28 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels because I can’t stop myself. Find the full series here.

That Thursday afternoon, two days after they had left early in the morning for Missouri, Dean and Sam returned home.

Gabriel, who was aware of Sam’s impending return, had left his door open so that Sam could simply enter if he wanted.

Sam knocked on the doorframe anyway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” said Gabriel. “Nice gash on your knuckles there, soldier. You didn’t even try to clean yourself up, did you?”

Sam glanced down at the offending hand. “I was distracted, I guess. And I thought it wasn’t really important.”

“What the hell did that to you? Pennywise?”

“The witch had a familiar. Guess she’d trained it to go after anyone who might want to mess with her.” “Was her familiar a saber-toothed tiger?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“A wolf?”

“No. She had a, uh - ” Sam cleared his throat. “A gerbil she’d probably done some powerful spellwork on.”

“Perfect! There’s your story for any awkward silence at the next family reunion. Can I try and heal you? You got bitten like chum.”

“Definitely not. Don’t waste any of your grace on this.”

“Whether ‘this’ was from the Loch Ness monster or a jacked class pet doesn’t make any difference to me. Come on, get over here.”

Sam gave a sigh and stepped nearer so that he could offer his hand. Gabriel grabbed him by the wrist and examined the wound, which was no longer bleeding but evidently had not been properly sanitized.

He pressed his thumb into the jagged cut, waited a moment (I’m gonna look like a tool if this doesn’t work), and let a warm pulse of grace permeate the skin. Gabriel’s own human form crawled with gooseflesh as the surge of power rose up and then ebbed out of him. He pulled away once the damage was no longer visible.

“Look at that!” he declared, taken aback by the pride in his voice. “No big deal.”

Sam studied his hand and then grinned at Gabriel. “Thanks. Nice work.”

“Keep away from any and all furry fiends, Sam.” A wave of exhaustion overtook Gabriel on the tail end of the sentence. “Yeah, um … listen, I’m glad you’re safe and sound. And I guess maybe it’s been a long morning or something, so I’m gonna go ahead and kick back for a good half hour or so. That sound okay to you?”

“You’re tired because you just used up your grace.” Gabriel could see it: Sam was making a conspicuous effort not to appear perturbed. “Gabe, man, you really didn’t - ”

“It’s not that, it’s not that; I just … I just need …” Gabriel rubbed his forehead. “Whatever, I’m all right; I just want to lie down for a few minutes. You know me. I’m like Manhattan: sexy, psychotic, and eternally sleepless.”

Sam looked concerned, but nodded. “Sure. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

Once Sam had left, closing the door in his wake, Gabriel felt sleep overcome him in a way it typically didn’t when he tried to fall asleep at night. His entire body was worn down, as if he had forced it to its limits over a number of hours. He almost wished he hadn’t offered to heal Sam; what use would he be if something more serious came up?

But he had little time to dwell on the question, as exhaustion overwhelmed the ability to think.

He slept deeply, as he almost never did; and in the abyss of his own subconscious, he heard voices.

I can’t be alone with them, I can’t; I don’t know them!

Shut your mouth, you spoiled little weasel. They gon’ be good to you; ain’t that right, boys?

I don’t know them; I don’t know them!

Oh, well now, you’ll get to know them soon enough. And ain’t these fellas just so lucky to ignite a friendship with my favorite archangel? Sometimes I wish I could make your acquaintance all over again, boy. There ain’t nothin’ like the first time.

I don’t know them; I don’t know them! Please, no, wait! Why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you touch me? Stop it! Stop it! Look at me! Help me!

What happened in his dreams seemed to last hours; and indeed, when the door creaked open and a small voice called his name, the time was 5:00 P.M. - three and a half hours since Gabriel had told Sam he needed rest.

“Are you okay?” Jack called. “Sam told me to come check on you.”

With the flat, bitter taste of afternoon slumber in his mouth, Gabriel sat up. His face felt warm where it had pressed into the pillow. “Yeah. Yes. Apparently Sam went and got himself chewed up by a bloodthirsty hamster, and I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to try and fix it. Guess I had less in me than I thought.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. It was a gerbil, by the way. Not a hamster.”

“Whatever. Something in the category of small, furry, and unexpectedly lethal.”

“You know how witches are. Imagine what Rowena could do with a gerbil.”

Gabriel yawned. “Guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’re not shaking, are you?”

“Me? Nah.”

Jack stared at him. "I don't like seeing you like this."

"No refunds. Sorry, little guy.”

Jack watched him for a few moments, then strode over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Gabriel.

Jack pulled away, crestfallen. "Oh. I'm ... I'm sorry. I guess I thought I could help. If I had my powers, I ... maybe I could do more."

Gabriel shook his head. "Doubt it, bud. Don't feel bad, all right? This isn't about anything you're doing wrong. It's about me being too icky for you. Don't want you to get whatever disease it is I've turned into." Gabriel hadn’t anticipated this bitterness, especially not in front of Jack. The rush of self-loathing had seized him without warning.

Jack's expression creased into an odd mix of horror and puzzlement. Perhaps he sensed that these words were troubling, but didn’t fully understand them.

“You go ahead and tell Sam I’ll be right out,” Gabriel said, feeling as though he had just violated his nephew in some way. “Go on, let him know. I just need to stretch, all right?”

Slowly, Jack nodded. “Are you upset because I hugged you?”

“No! No, come on; I’m not upset over that, or over anything else. Don’t worry so much. I’m a grown-ass angel and can take care of my own damn self. And even if I couldn’t, the job isn’t yours.”

Jack seemed uncertain of what to say in response, so he simply nodded again, forced a smile, and exited the bedroom.

“Close the door,” Gabriel called. “I like to get my bearings in solitude.”

“Sure,” said Jack, although he sounded anything but sure.

Once the door was shut and Jack’s footsteps - lighter than Sam’s, more staccato - Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He would have liked to have been able to shake the dream off before heading into the hall, before seeing anyone else, but it stirred its way through his insides and refused to leave.

Once he had some semblance of composure, he dragged himself out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he found Jack and Sam sitting at the table in conversation.

Gabriel was disappointed but not surprised to hear Jack say, “And I think something might be wrong with him, but I don’t really know what” before both of them fell silent upon Gabriel’s entry.

“Oh, hey,” said Sam. There was a mug of coffee in front of him, still steaming. “You feeling okay? Were you asleep that whole time?”

“I …”

Sam glanced at Jack, who looked troubled. “Give us a minute.”

“I don’t think it’s true,” Jack said, not to Sam but to Gabriel. “It’s not true what you said about being able to take care of yourself.” He sounded bewildered.

No, Gabriel realized, He sounds hurt.

“I know when you’re not telling me the truth,” Jack said.

Before Gabriel could respond, Sam put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “For now, Jack. Okay?”

Jack looked back and forth between Sam and Gabriel, helpless, frustrated - and then jerked himself out of Sam’s grip and left the room.

Gabriel watched him leave. Once Jack was out of earshot, he said, “Kid’s messed up. My fault. He needs you more than I do.”

“No. No, he’s all right. He just wants to help and doesn’t know how.”

“Well, that’s not how things are supposed to be.”

“So, um …” Sam sat down. He was probably expecting Gabriel to do the same, but Gabriel felt more comfortable standing up. “What happened? Is something wrong? Jack said - ”

“I heard what Jack said.” Gabriel looked down, examining the floor.

“Are you okay?” Sam pressed.

“I’m fine.”

“You want me to ask Jack? See if he can confirm?”

Jack, who had been sent in place of Sam; who had been given the unfortunate duty of making sure that his uncle wasn’t in urgent need of help. Jack, who should have been too young to know anything of Gabriel’s pain. Jack, who was incapable of choosing for himself whether to opt in as caregiver or to step away from what he didn’t know - couldn’t know - was too heavy for such a naive spirit.

“No,” Gabriel said. “I would like to humbly request that you not ask him a single freakin’ thing.”

“Did you have bad dreams?”

The images floated into the present, still warm. He saw the face of a stranger (a demon whose presence had been background noise during Gabriel’s imprisonment, but who apparently had taken up space in his memory), bloated with derision and the definite appetite that only manifested in nightmares.

“Yeah,” Gabriel told Sam. “But - I mean, that’s, you know - ” Words hummed into static as he tried to think of just what to confess, and whether he ought to say anything at all. It wouldn’t necessarily do any good for either of them - and especially not for Sam, who had had only a few hours to recover from his encounter with a witch and her maniacal gerbil.

Sam gave him a moment to think before stepping in. “Look, Gabe, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I can tell when something’s the matter with you. Jack isn’t the only one.”

“Stop talking about Jack!” Gabriel snapped, and Sam blinked in surprise.

He asked, “Can I maybe do anything to help?”

Gabriel could tell that Sam feared pushing conversation, confession, or counsel. Sam wanted to know; Sam had every right to know. Gabriel owed him at least some piece of the truth. And so he said: “I’m sorry. Maybe I just missed you while you were away.”

Sam smiled at him. “You knew I was coming back, right?”

“Sure I did.” A pause, and then: “However, there is the minor possibility that the halfway point between ‘I’ll be right back’ and ‘I’ll head home once you’ve taken out the trash’ got lost in translation.”

Sam didn’t seem to immediately understand what Gabriel meant. When his look of puzzlement became one that Gabriel couldn’t quite identify - resigned, but also horrified - Sam got to his feet and took a few steps toward Gabriel and held out the hand that, just hours earlier, had sported an ugly wound.

“Oh please,” Gabriel said. “We don’t have to do this. You don’t need to suckle me. Maybe I’m just a little shaky after kicking my grace into gear. I mean, don’t think I’m not glad to have used it; your hand looks a hundred times - ”

“Gabriel,” Sam said, “I missed you too.”

The kitchen tilted and fogged. Sam jolted forward and caught him as Gabriel’s knees buckled, although he hadn’t felt particularly weak or faint up until that moment.

Like a punch to the jaw, he thought. Enough force at once and down you go.

Sam helped him to sit at the table.

“That was on purpose,” said Gabriel. “I was trying to do a cartwheel.”

“Can I get you some water? Some coffee? There’s still a lot left.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t need - I mean, there’s not much to be done when everything around me is fine.”

Sam squinted at him. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Yes. I’m all right.” He glanced away. “Or I thought I was.”

Sam hesitated for a few seconds. Then he asked: “Did you really think I wasn’t going to come back?”

“No, that’s not what I thought.”

“Honestly, Gabriel?”

Gabriel sagged in the chair. “What difference does it make? My intuition isn’t exactly razor-fine these days. I knew you were coming back. You’ve got family here. You’ve got every reason in the world to dust your rodent-bitten hands of whatever case, turn around, and head home.”

“You can come with me next time, if you want.”

“No, I - ” The idea of Sam being forced to tote him around like a needy child humiliated Gabriel. “I just see everything as a landmine, that’s all. You know what? You could tell me, ‘By the way, we’re thinking of retiling the bathroom’ and my first thought would be, ‘Have they been hinting that I’m supposed to retile the bathroom and I was too dense to pick up on it? Are they angry? Can I do something to make up for not retiling the bathroom? Did they run out of tasks to keep me around and are trying to think of some other use for me, or - ’”

“Okay,” Sam interrupted, “I get the picture. The important thing is I’m back now; I’m here, and you’re okay. It’s all okay.”

“Great. I can feel my troubles drifting away like spider silk on the summer breeze.”

“I know it’s easier said than believed, but that still doesn’t make it less true.”

Gabriel straightened up a little. The room was no longer spinning. “Sam, I know that you wouldn’t just, you know, completely disappear. I know that, okay? And even if you did go AWOL, I’ve got a whole team over here; it’s not like you’d be replaced with a stranger or - or anyone who wanted to hurt me. I know that,” he emphasized, and Sam, looking concerned, didn’t reply. “But,” Gabriel added, “I think I may have fallen into a little bit of an old pattern without realizing it. And I can’t really say why now, out of the blue. It isn’t as if you haven’t left for days at a time to do your job.”

“Is this the first time you ever felt that way when I left? Like I wasn’t going to come home? Like I was going to leave you to someone else?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, before he realized that that was actually wrong. In fact, he couldn’t remember an instance of Sam traveling when Gabriel hadn’t been, at the very least, nervous about being left without him. “I mean, no, but I haven’t had a nightmare about it. Not one this bad, not one this gruesome.” He swallowed. “I guess I was catching up on lost sleep, especially after using my grace.”

“What’d you dream about?”

“Oh, I dreamed about Asmodeus. And about some other demon I thought I’d maybe forgotten. One who watched over me once or twice when he - when Asmodeus - had other business to attend to. He would do to me everything Asmodeus did, only - only when he did it, it just felt different, because I didn’t even know his name. I used to plead with Asmodeus not to go, but sometimes he had to, I guess, and he left me. I look back on it, and I see that he couldn’t have stuck around for me all the time, but - ”

“Gabriel,” Sam interjected, “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it a less foreboding question than ‘can I ask you something’?”

“I want to know,” Sam said, “Why you end up trying to defend him.”

“What? I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, you do. He had no right to - ”

“I know, I know. He was in the wrong; I was the unwitting beaten animal. I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I just don’t want you to - ”

“In any case, when he left I felt exposed. When it was him, I mostly knew what to expect, even if it was just a familiar face. I remember screaming and begging with him not to leave me by myself, either with no one or with someone I didn’t really know. I remember him laughing at me whenever I did that, or just pretending like he couldn’t hear me.” Gabriel shivered.

Sam took his hand. “It’s okay. That won’t happen to you again.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Good.”

“What are we gonna do about Jack?”

“Jack? I told you, Jack’s fine.”

“No, he’s confused. He thinks he wants to help me, and he doesn’t know that he can’t. Of everything that’s eaten away at his innocence, I think I might be the biggest culprit.”

“What? Jeez, Gabriel, that really couldn’t be farther from the truth. And anyway, I thought you didn’t want to talk about Jack anymore.”

“I want to be better for him. Or I at least want him to see something that isn’t this. Something that isn’t me the way I am now.”

“Don’t twist yourself in knots over Jack. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Why did you send him in?”

Sam frowned. “When? To check on you?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know, I was making coffee and I thought he might like to see you.” Sam suddenly looked troubled. “That’s really all it was. I wasn’t trying to stay away from you.”

“Yeah. I, uh … I know.” Gabriel focused on breathing steadily - not too shallow, not too deep - and on the weight of Sam’s hand. “You get it, right? That I trust the others, I do; but I don’t trust them the same way, exactly. You know? I can’t help that. I try, and I can’t. They care a lot; they show that they care and I like that. But it still - it feels different with you. I wish I could get everyone on the same level, Sam; it’d only be fair to you, and to them, if I could learn not to be afraid of anybody. I just don’t know how to be as okay with them as I am with you. I keep trying to fight that - I keep trying to remind myself that nobody here is dangerous. And that maybe I can ask them for the same things I would come to you for. You know, after a nightmare, or when my mind goes dark. It just feels different when you’re gone, Sam.”

Sam squeezed his hand. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t - ” Gabriel’s throat was tight. “I’m not - I still find Castiel sometimes, when I need help in the middle of the night. Wanna give you a break. He helps. Next to you, he’s the one who feels least like Asmodeus. I mean, there’s Jack, of course, but he’s a different ballgame. I can’t tell my brother the truth, though. I can’t tell him that I don’t really want him. He tries so hard and he’s a superstar. Even when I’m awake, with him, and - and crying, or sick, I can never bring myself to tell him what I’m really thinking. I can’t explain to him that a part of why I can’t really calm myself down is that I feel like I need you there.”

Sam seemed at a loss. “I don’t think that would bother Cas.”

“It’s difficult; it’s confusing to need the things that I do. It’s confusing to be this lost and out of control and dependent. I don’t think I’m handling it right.”

“There’s no right way. No wrong way, either.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Sam, but that’s just plain not true. There is a whole world of wrong ways to move through this experience. Someone with more sense would know that the aftermath of something like what happened to me isn’t as bad as being in the thick of it. But me, I can’t seem to get the one stubborn foot out of Hell no matter how hard I pull at it.” Gabriel felt his heartbeat entwine with the knot in his throat, making it hard to breathe. “I’m not supposed to need this.”

“To need what?”

“Not supposed to need to cry, I guess. I don’t think that’s the right way to get through this. What good’s crying gonna do, you know? It’s not helpful and it’s degrading.”

“It’s pretty normal, I think.”

“I don’t want it to become so frequent that - that you - ” As if his body was in a state of defiance, he felt tears slip down the edges of his nose. “That you see it so much it becomes background noise. That you don’t think - that you don’t take it seriously. I think that was part of why he started to just turn away from me. He’d seen me upset too many times to think anything of it.”

“Jesus, Gabriel, you keep trying to make this into your fault.”

“I want you to know that when I can’t - can’t hold myself together, it means nothing.”

“That’s not what I think when you cry, Gabriel.”

“After a while, though - ”

“No. And besides, you know how I feel about trying to keep it all inside.”

“Can we, uh - ” Gabriel dragged a shaking hand across his cheeks. “Can we maybe go somewhere else? I don’t want Jack to walk in and see this.”

“I can take you to my room. Can you get to your feet okay?”

Gabriel nodded and stood up, although the task proved more of a challenge than he had anticipated. Something in him was desperate not to move: he wanted to hide, to seek shelter in his own smallness.

“Come on.” Sam took his shoulder and steered him down the hall. Gabriel trained his eyes on the floor; if Jack was nearby, Gabriel wouldn’t have known.

Sam shut the door behind them as they entered the bedroom. Gabriel immediately curled up on the bed, face in his knees, hands gripping his hair.

He felt Sam sit next to him. “Hey, buddy, deep breaths.”

Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to look up. He hated himself for what he wanted just then: more than anything, he hoped that Sam would put an arm around him, or that Sam would hold him. But Sam was probably using caution, afraid that Gabriel would recoil from touch.

I don’t need that anyway, Gabriel told himself. I don’t need it. I don’t. I don’t need that.

“Not sure if this makes any difference,” Sam said after a while, “But try not to forget that I - that all of us - we understand what it feels like, you know. At least in some way. We all know what it’s like to want to look good for each other. All of us have been hurt pretty bad at some point. We don’t need each other any less than you need me. And we know how it feels to not want to tell the truth about that.”

Gabriel turned his head so that it rested sideways on his knees and he could look at Sam, who went on: “I just want you to keep in mind that however much you don’t like how things are right now, this isn’t you having a weird reaction to Amsodeus. I know it feels gross, but it isn’t wrong, Gabriel.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” Gabriel whispered. “I feel like I’m wrong just because of whatever it is he made me into. I’m disgusting.”

“You’re really not.”

“I can feel it, Sam. The feeling of just being something wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam told him, and Gabriel’s chest tightened at the realization that Sam knew precisely the feeling he was talking about.

“I wonder what he thought when he saw me like this,” Gabriel said hoarsely. “Sometimes he wasn’t exactly upfront about what was going on in his mind. What did he think when he saw this diseased little rodent clawing for a split second’s attention?”

Sam looked vaguely ill at these words. “It doesn’t matter what he thought of you.”

“It does matter, because I want to know that you aren’t thinking the same thing about me.”

“Well, I certainly don’t see you as a … a ‘diseased rodent.’ Where’d you come up with that? Gerbil still on your mind, huh?”

Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to return Sam’s half-hearted smile.

“I don’t see that at all,” Sam insisted. “I just see you.”

“Ugh. That’s worse.”

“You’re different. I see that. And I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to you being so … different. Not because it’s bad; not because it’s wrong. Just because it’s, you know …”

“Different,” Gabriel muttered.

“Right. Because ‘different’ is what happens when you’ve had everything taken from you.”

Gabriel was silent.

“You’re still Gabriel, though,” Sam reminded him.

Gabriel closed his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s what I want to be.”

“You have a choice now. You can be Gabriel any way you like.”

Gabriel hid his face again.

So Sam saw him. He saw Gabriel. And when Sam saw this terrified, sobbing phantom of what Gabriel had once been, did he really think he was seeing the true Gabriel?

And why? Gabriel thought. Why won’t he touch me?

Sam’s voice broke through once more. “Asmodeus didn’t leave you with anything good, Gabriel. All he gave you was violence and fear and shame. And look - I don’t know about you, but I think it makes sense that it’d take some work to get back any of the good things he kept out of reach.”

Gabriel raised his head, showcasing what he felt was probably a grotesquely tear-stained visage. “Sure it does. Except that if he kept all that for so long, he must have had a reason. I don’t know that I want to put up a fight for happiness I don’t even deserve.”

“You do deserve it, and you should put up a fight.”

“I don’t know if I - ”

“Then I’ll put up a fight,” Sam said. “Okay?”

Almost involuntarily, as if seizing, Gabriel jerked sideways and used both hands to grab onto Sam’s arm. He squeezed tightly, not sure exactly what he was doing or why. It felt primitive and desperate.

Sam’s features softened. “Hey, hey …”

“Is it okay?” Gabriel asked hoarsely. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

“Of course it’s okay.”

The bewilderment in Sam’s voice served as a reminder that Gabriel was being stupid and overly cautious, that Sam definitely didn’t mind touching him, ever; but the fear was present no matter how irrational Gabriel understood it to be.

In fact, he realized, it wasn’t fear that plagued him as he worried about Sam’s potential aversion: it was something nearer shame.

Yes, he thought, of course he was ashamed - he wasn’t afraid of Sam not wanting to touch him; he was guilty that he wanted Sam to touch him when he knew that nobody should have to.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam, seeing that Gabriel hadn’t moved and was still clutching Sam’s arm.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel mumbled. “I think I might just be stupid.”

“No! You’re not stupid; you’re stressed.”

“I thought - you know, if you wanted to keep your hands to yourself, it’d be justified.”

“What? Listen, if you need something from me, Gabriel - some time to talk, or a hug - ”

“I can ask, I know. But I - ”

“But you don’t.”

“Well yeah, because what if you don’t want me around?”

“Come on, Gabriel, I do want you around.” Sam put a hand on Gabriel’s arm and pulled him in for an embrace. “God, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy.”

“Oh, that ship left the dock a long time ago.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. Sam held onto him, and Gabriel didn’t try to hug back. He just let himself lean against Sam, not speaking, not crying.

“Sam,” he said finally.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t get it into your head that you can’t leave to do your job. Don’t ever feel guilty about not being in my immediate vicinity just because I’m scared of my own reflection. Okay?”

“Sure, Gabriel. Okay.”

“I really mean it. Don’t let this change the way you operate. I came into your life by accident and you don’t need to take maternity leave for something that shouldn’t have thrown your life into chaos.”

Sam laughed. “I wasn’t working nine to five before you showed up, Gabriel.”

“You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do. I get it. You don’t have to worry about that; I’m glad you’re here. I like having you around. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t being honest.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure how to explain that, in some ways, it would have been easier to accept the notion that Sam was lying.

Instead, he said: “I was so afraid of him, Sam.”

“I know.”

“He … but I was afraid of being left alone, too. Sometimes. I was afraid of the other demons, the ones I didn’t know. I never knew what to expect from them. They had weapons, and tricks, and insults, and - even the stupid ones were terrible; any simpleton can learn what violence is. And they watched him; they knew how to hurt me. They’d seen what he did to me. I was his toy and they were just happy to get a turn.”

Sam stiffened.

“So when you’re gone,” Gabriel whispered into his shoulder, “And I’m here with someone else, anyone else, a little of that just creeps on in. That’s all. I knew you were coming back, but I felt differently. I know Dean doesn’t want to hurt me. Or Cas, or Jack. When it was just me and those two, I didn’t - I knew I wasn’t threatened. None of this crew have ever given me any reason to believe I’m in danger around them. It’s just a dumb feeling.”

Sam sighed. “No, it’s not dumb. But you’re right: they’re not going to do anything to you.”

“When he’d come back,” Gabriel added, “He would brutalize me all over again. Taking my grace whenever there was enough to go around. Beating me until I couldn’t remember my own name. Just tearing me apart in any way he could.” Gabriel shook his head. “Didn’t matter how much I cried. He thought it was funny. ‘What a whiner,’ he’d say. ‘It’s almost like you think you didn’t deserve it.’”

“Gabriel, god!”

“Yeah, and then he’d - you know - off he’d go, leaving me sobbing like a baby. I kept hoping he’d hear me from wherever he was; I thought maybe he’d at least pay me some attention. Even if it was just to yell at me. No one wants to be wailing into their own blood and vomit solo.

“But it was my fault, always my fault. It was always me. I was the one who’d said something out of bounds; I was the one who asked for something I wasn’t supposed to want; I was the one who - who - ” Gabriel pressed himself against Sam. “And if he did show up, he’d ignore me. Turn his back, go about his business. I may as well have been any soul in Hell, just radio static.

“And when he did notice me, when he decided to stop shutting me out, he’d just say to shut up; or sometimes, for whatever reason, he would switch things up and give me a little spoonful of comfort before finding some other reason to grab me off the floor and slam me into the wall and then hold me down so he could play.”

Sam took a shivery breath. “I - yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay.”

“So when you’re gone, Sam, I can’t always think rationally. It’s as if maybe you want nothing to do with me, and the others - well, Sam’s not here to protect this nuisance who’s taken over our lives, so let’s get in what we can. And then it’s - it’s - if you don’t come back, what am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to trust?”

There was a pause. When Sam replied, he sounded restrained. “I really didn’t think about that.”

“Because there’s no reason to! Because you’ve got a brain that operates according to fact! Whereas mine leaps in any direction it sees fit in response to any threat, any hazard. And Sam, everything is a threat. Everything is a hazard. Compared to you, the others are strangers to me, and I don’t like strangers; I don’t trust them; I don’t know them.”

“I would never leave you with strangers.”

“And you shouldn’t have to leave me with anyone, Sam! I’m supposed to be able to watch over myself like a damn grown-up! But I can’t, not anymore; and who knows if the day will ever come when I’ll be able to take care of myself again? The important thing is I know you aren’t leaving me with strangers. What little remains of my rational mind finds that obvious. But these old ways of thinking, they just - they’re next to impossible for me to shake off.”

“I know.”

“That’s all this is. Old habits. Old ways of looking at what’s around me. Or what’s not.”

“I guess I’m glad you know that.” By now, Sam sounded almost as shaken as Gabriel did.

“If I could just balance out the knowing and the feeling, everything would be a whole lot easier for every single one of us. And one thing I don’t understand is …” But he trailed off, afraid of saying something the wrong way, or of being misunderstood, or - worst of all - overstepping a boundary.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it, Gabe?”

Gabriel shook his head.

Sam sighed. “Okay. All right.”

“No, it’s … all I was gonna say is that …” Gabriel was glad that Sam couldn’t see his face. “Maybe it’s because you were the only one who really tried, the only one who really showed a lot of concern for this deflated ragdoll of an angel that somehow ended up in your custody like a doorstep newborn. Maybe it’s just something about you, I don’t know. Something you have that the others don’t. I’m not sure, Sam. All I know is I have this - this gut-based terror about losing you. Not necessarily because you’ll get sick of me, but because - because - see, I don’t know. I feel it when you hold me like you are right now; the idea of letting go scares me more than Asmodeus ever did.”

He was afraid to look up, but he did; and Gabriel was horrified to see that Sam’s eyes were glossy with tears.

Gabriel wrenched himself away. “Don’t, don’t do that! I’m not trying to make anyone more upset. It’s not anything you’re doing wrong. It’s not that you could be doing anything different, Sam; you’re better at handling me than anyone has any right or reason to be.”

“Well …” Sam closed his eyes, gathered his composure. “Right.”

“I’m putting so much pressure on you with those words, aren’t I?” Gabriel was shivering now. “I’m making you think you have to be perfect, that you have to be next to me a hundred percent of the time.”

Sam swallowed and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I just wish you didn’t feel that way, is all. I wish you weren’t so … that he hadn’t made you feel like …”

“Right?” said Gabriel. “It’s hard to articulate, isn’t it? I can’t figure it out, and I don’t know what to do with it. Wanting the - needing to be taken care of the way I do lately, and needing it to be you, and being so scared to death that you might be there one second and gone the next. I don’t understand that feeling.

“There’s time to figure it out. Stop trying to force yourself to understand everything, Gabriel. You don’t have to, and it’ll probably come with time.” Sam looked flushed, but his eyes were dry now.

There was a sound from the hallway: a door opening, and small, tentative footsteps. They paused outside the door, and then moved on until neither Gabriel nor Sam could hear them.

“Jack came in and hugged me,” Gabriel told Sam.

“Oh. Sorry about that. I did say - ”

“No, it’s all right. I’m only bringing it up so you know you don’t have to warn him not to touch me. He can touch me. If he wants to.”

“What about what you want?”

“I … no, I just mean that maybe I’m not … not good for …” Gabriel gave a frustrated sigh, still speaking into Sam’s shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“I know you still worry about that.”

“About what?”

“I know that you worry about corrupting Jack.”

“I don’t know that I ever used the word ‘corrupt.’”

“But Gabriel, he cares about you. He looks up to you. And I know you think that’s a bad thing, but he likes you just the way you are now. He knows you’ve been through more than your fair share of trauma. He’s seen you when you’re not feeling your best. And he still wants to be around you. Listen, I’m not here to tell you what to do, but I really don’t think you should push him away.”

“I let him hug me! I’m not pushing him away. I’m trying to protect him.”

“But why? What good do you think is going to come of him seeing that you’re hurt, and walking away without any understanding of what’s going on? It’s better for him if he can learn how to help. Otherwise he’s going to feel like you don’t trust him.”

Gabriel froze. “Has … has he said that to you?”

“Not in so many words, no. He doesn’t always know how to articulate himself, or what’s frustrating him. You’re right: in a lot of ways, he’s just a kid. And I think instead of trying to stop him seeing you like this, you might teach him that wanting to help isn’t a bad thing. I just - I don’t want him to get the idea that he should try not to act the way he does. Loving you, caring about you. If you tell him no, if you keep trying to make him stay away from you when you most need somebody … he might get it into his head that he’s wrong to have those instincts.”

“Wait, what? What does that mean? So I’m - am I corrupting him by making it seem like it’s bad to be compassionate? That’s a whole new kind of crisis.”

“Not corrupting him. Just maybe sending a message that he finds confusing, since it goes against his nature.”

Gabriel considered this for a few moments.

Sam waited.

Then, finally Gabriel asked: “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know. Back to the kitchen, maybe.”

“I guess I should talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have to. Not right now. Just let him in when he wants to give you what you need.”

“No, I - let me go find him.” Gabriel started to rise from the bed, but Sam gently pulled him back down.

“What?” Gabriel demanded. “You think I shouldn’t talk to him?”

“It’s not that,” Sam replied. “I just want to make sure you’re not mad at yourself.”

“Not any more than usual.”

“If you go to him and say you hate yourself for ‘corrupting’ him any which way, you’re both gonna miss my point.”

“Please,” Gabriel said. “I just - I really - will you please let me talk to him?”

Sam looked pained. “I’m not going to keep you from talking to him. It’s up to you. I just want to make sure you feel okay.”

Gabriel stood up again. “I never feel okay.”

“Why don’t I go get him for you?” Sam suggested.

“You can do that as long as you don’t give him a contract to sign about when it’s okay to touch me.” Gabriel wasn’t sure why this was such a sticking point for him, but Sam’s words about Jack’s natural character, and about his impulses to express affection, made it seem more logical.

“I’ll get him for you,” Sam repeated. “Gabriel - ”

“Please, Sam. Either you can grab the kid or I can, but I really want to talk to him.”

Sam nodded, studying him, making sure. Then he patted Gabriel on the shoulder and left the room.

Jack came in a couple of minutes later, looking nervous.

“Hey, bud,” said Gabriel.

Jack raised a hand in a silent, tentative greeting.

“Wanted to have a word. Sit?”

Jack sat beside him. “Am I in trouble?”

“Oh, please. You sound like your uncle.”

“Listen, if this is about me hugging you …”

“No, come on, kid; you didn’t do anything wrong.” Gabriel worried that Jack was picking up on some of his more neurotic interpersonal habits. “I wanted to thank you. And before you ask for what, you should know that you’re … you’re good, you’re a good bean; and I’m the one who isn’t doing what I should be. I’m not - Jack, I don’t mean to tell you to bug off when I know you only mean to help.”

“I know you think I’m too - ”

“I don’t think you’re too anything. I think I’m too - too me to let you get past a whole lot of nonsense. Look, I don’t wanna make this more complicated than it has to be; what I’m trying to say is that I’m not proud of myself for swatting at you like a fly when, in a perfect world, everybody would be like you.”

“Oh.” Jack looked down at his knees, thoughtful and perplexed.

“Don’t try to change yourself on account of my orneriness,” Gabriel clarified. “Be nice. Be good. Be you. You’ll just have to be patient with your stubborn old uncle. Sam can tell you that I’m difficult.”

Jack looked back up at him.

“Do you get what I’m saying?” Gabriel asked. “I don’t know how to explain it any more eloquently than that.”

Jack nodded. “I think I do.” Gabriel waited for him to explain the concept, to paraphrase what he had just been told; but Jack said nothing, and Gabriel could only assume that the message had gotten through.

Finally, Jack replied, “I’m sorry too.”

“No - kid - I’m trying to say you have nothing - ”

“I mean I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’m sorry you got hurt. That’s all.”

Gabriel clamped his lips shut. He could only nod.

Jack stared at him, studying him, reading him like a map.

Gabriel gave a hoarse laugh. “Is there something in my teeth?”

“Do you want me to go get Sam?” Jack asked.

“No.”

“You looked like - ”

“I always look like that. Anyway, Jack, I hope you understand - at least a teensy bit - what it is I’m trying to explain to you. I’m sorry that I can’t wrangle a single thought into words.”

“I think I understand.” Jack hesitated, then asked: “So how can I help? What can I do?”

“Ah, I don’t know; you’ve already been doing everything right. I’m the one who’s trying to fight you on it. So just … just keep doing what you’re doing.” It pained Gabriel to say it. He agreed with Sam, but he could hardly stomach the instant guilt that came with implicitly encouraging Jack to watch Gabriel struggle.

Jack smiled, and Gabriel thought he saw relief in his eyes. “Okay. Sure. Thanks.”

“Oh, please. Thank you.” Gabriel felt that he ought to try and touch Jack and was ashamed that he couldn’t bring himself to initiate contact.

Someday, he told himself.

Jack stood up to go. “I hope you feel better later.”

“I already do.”

“You look - ”

Gabriel held up a hand. “Again: I always look like that.”

Sam reentered immediately after Jack made his exit. He looked tense and wide-eyed and was evidently trying to conceal his agitation. “Hey.”

“I’m fine,” said Gabriel.

“Did it - ”

“Everyone’s fine, Sam.”

“Listen,” Sam said, stepping over to the bed, “I really didn’t mean to make you think you were doing something wrong.”

“Except that I was doing something wrong, and I’m old enough to learn from my mistakes, so don’t apologize for straightening me out.”

“I’m not trying to make you do anything. I’m not trying to put pressure on you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes. It seemed that those hours of sleep had been anything but restful. “If you don’t drag my attention to where it really belongs, nothing’s ever gonna get set right. I told you, there is a wrong way to do this. Sometimes I see it, and sometimes I don’t. And if you’re going to fight me on that, if you wanna say there’s no 'wrong' way, then how about this? There’s a better way.”

“Well, Jack looked calmer for sure. How about you? You feeling better?”

Gabriel considered, and then shook his head. The lopsidedness of an afternoon cleaved by turbulent slumber had left a stinging headache, and the nightmare had nested in the pit of his stomach, souring his whole body.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have used your grace on me,” Sam lamented. “Don’t try again for a while, okay?”

“It’s not that. I can feel that that’s not what’s wrong with me. It’s what I said to you earlier; it’s me being afraid of everything.”

Sam retook his place on the bed. Although there was no way to see outdoors, Gabriel could feel the afternoon darkening into evening. Neither of them spoke.

He was painfully aware that Sam felt familiar to him. Sam was safe; he wasn’t going to try and harm Gabriel. Somehow that knowledge made everything much more complicated - in part, Gabriel realized, because there seemed no way to explain the feeling without coming off as saccharine, puerile, or both.

Although he was no longer crying (however much he wanted to), Gabriel hoped Sam would touch him. He thought about asking and couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

After several minutes of complete silence, Gabriel spoke. “Did you fight back?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“The hamster, the gerbil, whatever it was. Did you fight back, or was it too precious to hurt?”

“There wasn’t much I could do. It was vicious.”

“Was it? Or are you just tender-hearted?”

“Gabriel, you saw what it did to my hand.”

Gabriel glanced down at the hand that had been injured. “Yeah. I don’t know, I feel like maybe you didn’t want to hurt the little thing.”

Sam seemed amused. “Why would you say that?”

Gabriel reached out and took Sam’s hand. Sam seemed surprised, but held on firmly.

“Just because I know you,” Gabriel told him. “I know you too well.”

#supernatural #spn #fanfiction #sam winchester #gabriel #jack kline #sabriel #platonic #friendship #hurt/comfort #asmodeus #season 13 #gabriel lives #ptsd #pasf #post-asmodeus sabriel feels

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years

Text

Loving You Is A Losing Game - chapter eight

i suck at updating. i also remembered that i have another book i’m working on, so i’m trying to write all of that before i publish the first chapter. so its been fun.

this chapter is written like an eleven year old girl wrote it, and for that i apologize. i’m tired. hope you like it though... and also, i know that teddy doesn't come until after the merger, but i'm changing that because otherwise there is no one for cardio

~*~

"oh, oh, all i know, all i know, loving you is a losing game"

~*~

alex karev was having a good day. a really good day actually. izzie wasn't as determined to go back to work as he thought she would be, and didn't try to argue with him when he told her that she needed to stay home. he hadn't seen any bears that morning (those things are freakin terrifying), and he had a small texting session with jo, which inevitably made him laugh as she rambled on about absolutely nothing. yeah, it was a good day, and he just hoped that it would stay that way.

he walked into the hospital leisurely since he —for once in his life— wasn't late. he stopped by the coffee cart and ordered a straight black coffee, giving the cashier a half hearted attempt at a smile before making his way to the resident's lounge and changing into his scrubs. he felt a sense of calm in him. he knew that something was probably bound to happen at some point, but right now he was going to enjoy the silence of the lounge (a major rare) before the storm hit. because it always did right? that's how it had been his whole life. happy kid, bam, dad starts using. dad starts using, mom's conditions gets worse. mom's conditions get worse, she had more kids.

he knew it wasn't fair of him to call his little siblings a storm, but in a way they were. it made him have to grow up a hell of a lot younger than other kids his age. so bam, siblings. then he starts his surgical internship, which leads to a crazy amount of drama. he gets married, then cheats on his wife. if you ask him, that was a whole lot of storms. but right at this moment, there was no storm. there was just a guy lying down on a bench as people chattered in the halls. a guy with his eyes closed as he lets his mind go completely blank, not thinking about anything at all except the white noise he seemed to hear.

it was peaceful, he couldn't remember the last time he wasn't worried about his wife or his friends. right now it was just him, not worrying about anybody or anything, not even himself. he just relaxed and let the white noise take over.

but of course, moments of calm must come to an end. his pager breaks him out of his state, rubbing his eyes before finding doctor robbins, who was paging him to the PICU.

"what happened?" he asks a nurse, pulling on a pair of gloves as he entered the room of jeremy thomas, a six year old who came in a few days ago after he had fallen out of the tree he was climbing, a not so rare occurrence in peds. he had some internal bleeding that they were able repair and a minor concussion, but otherwise seemed to be doing fine. until now that is, his monitors seeming to be beeping out of control in the otherwise quietness of the sterile four walls, nurses rushing in to help.

he watches as arizona brings two different ultrasound machines into the room, immediately paging cardio as alex tries to consult the crying parents, leading them out into the hall and onto chairs, giving them reassuring words as he makes his way back in, robbins looking up at him immediately. "his appendix burst." the blonde says, not having time to say more as doctor altman enters the room, performing a cardiac ultrasound, pursing her lips as she analyzes the screen.

"we missed it before, but he tore his aorta. it was too small to see when he first came in, but we need to get him up to the OR right now." she states, already unlatching the wheels of the bed as she shouts orders to nurses, letting them know that an operation room needed to be prepped and ready for them. they roll jeremy up to surgery, scrubbing in as quickly as they could before beginning the operation. he watches as the two women stick out their hands, taking a deep breath before they begin.

"ten blade."

____

"suction! i need suction!" altman says frantically to her resident, trying to stop the bleeder as quickly as she could. alex feels his heart drop at the sight of the kid in front of him. there was so much blood pooling in his chest, and no matter how much suction he knew the scrawny resident applied, the kid was too far gone. he was hands deep in the boys abdomen, helping robbins suture as she looked for any more damage done to the boy.

when the monitors begin to draw out in a straight line and he hears the cardio surgeon yell clear! he knows that it was a lost cause. they shock the boy three times, teddy letting out a loud sigh as she shakes her head defeatedly.

"call it karev" arizona says to him.

alex gulps, this was his least favorite part about being a surgeon, not only calling time of death, but doing it to a kid. and this child was only six years old. he'd never grow up. never go to a high school formal or experience his first love. his life ended because he fell out of a tree. how freaking screwed up was that?

"time of death, 10:13 am." he sighs, immediately ripping off his gown and gloves, thrusting them into the bin, the attendings not far behind him. he tears his light blue scrub cap off, leaning into the scrub sink as he watches the younger resident close up the patient, nurses cleaning up the blood and lap pads on the ground. alex shakes his head and lets a slow breath escape his lips. he always had to calm himself down after losing a kid, and he's lost a fair amount of them in his nearly four years at seattle grace. it made him mad. mad that the universe could take something, no, someone so innocent from this world while there were people like his dad who were running around free. well, he was free when alex was a kid. maybe jimmy was dead now, who knew. but that didn't change the fact that a kid was dead and awful people were out there, living their best life.

arizona gives his shoulder a small rub, silently telling him that he did good in there, it just wasn't enough. the three scrub out alongside each other, alex taking in the attending's appearances, arizona looked exhausted and like she hadn't slept in days, while altman, who he didn't know very well, looked stressed. seems like he'd be talking to the parents.

"i'll tell the thomas's" he says, already beginning to jog down the hall before he sees the taller blonde catch up to him, saying something about how they both needed to be there, big guns and all. when he tells the parents the news he feels the overwhelming urge to just quit again. it happened every time. those cries haunted him. it hurt him when he lost patients, but this was someone these parents loved more than life itself. their own flesh and blood, a product of their love for each other. but he wouldn't quit. he never did. instead, he would work in the skills lab to improve his technique and save more kids. that's what he would do.

there goes his good day. he didn't think it could get any worse, because let's be realistic, what was worse than losing a kid? nothing could make a day more crappy than that. that was until, when he passed by the chief's office to see his wife in a chair, talking to richard webber urgently, almost as if she was pleading.

he lets out a frustrated sigh, having the urge to punch a wall. of course it wouldn't have been that easy, how stupid of him to think otherwise. he should've known izzie would pull something like this. he knew how much this job meant to her. this was her home, just like him. but he was still pissed. she needed to be resting, she was still too weak to come back to work.

before he knew it he was barging into the chief's office, startling the blonde, but not so much the chief. he knew alex would turn up sooner or later.

"what the hell iz!" alex says angrily, glaring at his wife.

izzie lets out a frustrated sigh. "alex i need to be here." she says adamantly, standing up from her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. she was wearing a long sleeved beige sweater, even though it was hot inside of the office. that wasn't what alex would call being well enough to go back to work.

"no izzie, you need to go home and rest. you'll be fine." he says, running a hand through his hair as he watches the fire burn in her eyes. crap. he was trying to civil. he even used a softer voice, but yet she just got more angry.

"how the hell can you say that alex!" she yells, richard leaning back in his chair uncomfortably. he wasn't one who liked to be in the middle of drama. "i'm at that goddamn trailer all day while you're here!"

he lets out a slow breath, trying to calm his anger. if he didn't, he would snap. and if he snapped, izzie would ban him from the tin can the called their home and he would be forced to spend the night at mer's place, and he definitely didn't want to hear her and shepherd going at it. they were like bunnies, screwing each other everywhere at any time.

"iz, please. just go home and rest." he pleads with her. he couldn't deal with her getting sick again. he almost lost her last time. she died in his freaking arms. he couldn't go through that again... the helplessness, the pain. he loved her, but she died in his arms. he couldn't lose her. her loved her. he couldn't go through the hurt again, the heartache almost losing her brought on. it was gut wrenching and terrifying, it ate him up inside and loomed in his nightmares. he couldn't lose her, not to this cancer, not again.

the blonde was about to say something when the chief steps in, leaning over his desk and clasping his hands in front of him, giving the woman sympathetic eyes. "karev's right stevens. go home and rest."

izzie swallows the lump growing in her throat. she wanted to argue. she wanted to say that she felt fine, that she was ready to go back to work, but she knew defying the chief would only get her in trouble. she sighs in defeat and nods her head, turning to glare at her husband. she was pissed. maybe she could've gotten richard to agree to letting her come back if he hadn't come in. now she would never know (she knew that realistically that wasn't the case, webber had been denying her requests since the moment she stepped though his office doors.)

she brushes by alex without looking at him, making him sigh as he watches her walk down the catwalk and disappear around a corner. he turns back to the man and gives him a small, appreciative nod. he was too tired to manage a smile. the chief nods back, understanding how he felt.

he just wanted to go to joe's and have a beer, his crappy day taking a toll on him quickly. arguing with his wife always took a toll on him. it was exhausting. it seemed to drain him inside and out, making his brain lose it's function until he got to state of peace, which only occurred when he had a beer in his hand and was sipping it leisurely, or when he was able to lie down and sleep.

the beer sounded much more appealing, but he still had six more hours of his shift. normally, with the upcoming merger he would make sure to stay overtime, logging extra hours in the pit, scrounging for surgeries, but today he just didn't have the energy.

he makes it into the nearest on call room and crawls into one of the bottom bunks, setting his pager directly beside him so it would have no trouble waking him up when it went off. he lets out a yawn as he wraps the thin, uncomfortable blanket tightly around him as he drifts off the sleep, hoping to forget about the day he's had so far, even if it's just for a few minutes.

____

when she woke up that morning nothing was out of the ordinary. She could hear the birds chirping their delightful songs, she could feel the duvet pulled up to her neck, and she could tell that paul wasn't in the bed with her. she was used to waking up like this, it was her idea of normal.

it wasn't until she tried to open her eyes she realized what was wrong. she couldn't open her left one. she was confused at first, until she felt the pain shoot through her body, traveling from her eye to the rest of her body, feeling like how it did when she first received the punch. the memory of last night was a bit iffy. all she remembered was coming home from the party, getting punched, her husband saying he was sorry, and talking to alex.

that thought brings a small smile on her face, recalling the teasing that had happened the night before. she knew that their... whatever they had escalated quickly. in just a few days of knowing each other, they had learned so much about one another that it seemed like they had been best of friends since they were kids, but hey, if cheating on your spouse doesn't bring you together, what does?

she lets out a groan of pain, wincing as she finally pries her eye open, getting up slowly before making her way to the bathroom, frowning at the sight she saw in the mirror. a dark purple bruise covered her left eye and the area surrounding it. she splashes some cold water on her face, gently patting it with a wet towel once she was done. last night changed a lot of things. something had been in paul's eyes when he hit her, something she hadn't seen before. it was like a billion fires were raging inside of him, and when he hit her, it was the burn.

but... he seemed so sorry after he had done it. at least she knew better now, he was just a bit jealous. he didn't want to lose her, he loved her. and if that meant he got a bit mad over her talking to his colleagues too much, then she wouldn't make the same mistake again.

she walks out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a pack of frozen peas from the fridge and wraps it in a towel, pressing it gently to her swollen bruise. the cold stings a bit at first, but she sucks it up as she leans against the marble island's counter, watching as the minute hand ticks by on the clock above the random painting her husband had hung on a wall. today she had nothing to do. it was a saturday, so she didn't have any classes, and she didn't have any work to do. no papers, essays, labs... the ultimate rare and what most would call the greatest blessing for a college student, but for her it just meant she had to sit around and watch TV until her husband got home.

she wanted to feel angry at paul, but how could she? she didn't have the right to be mad at him, she cheated on him. wouldn't that make her a hypocrite, being mad at her husband when she had done something worse?

she sighs as she sets herself down on the couch, turning on the TV and flipping it to some random channel, settling on a soap opera she had seen a few times play on the screen. her life felt a bit like a soap opera right now to be honest. actually, her whole life had.

welcome to 'the life of jo, (who's name isn't actually jo, its brooke)'. catchy title right? she thought so too.

last night, the feeling of paul holding her in his arms no longer made her feel safe. it felt wrong. she just wanted to feel safe again, that was all she really wanted. for him to hold her like a porcelain doll and place kisses on the top of her head. she had always felt safe then. why couldn't she feel that now?

she just wanted to feel safe again.

____

alex walks out of the hospital, head hung low with his hands buried deep in his pockets, letting out a deep exhale as he watches his feet move beneath him like they were the greatest movie he'd ever seen. anyone who passed by him on the street could probably take one look at him and tell that he had a crappy day.

he sighs as he contemplates the day he had so far. it was only seven thirty-three, yet it felt like he'd been up for forty eight hours. his quick nap in the on-call room only lasted a mere ten minutes before he was paged to the pit, only to find out that the kid he would be assisting on was a four year boy old with abusive parents. it took everything in him not to beat the shit out of the assholes.

add that to losing jeremy and izzie drama, he was exhausted. he didn't want to do anything. he wanted to feel at peace. he just wanted a little bit of normalcy, something he knew wasn't even close to possible, especially with his job.

alex leans against the brick wall in the ally way of joe's bar, pulling out his phone and clicking on the familiar contact.

jo pulls out her ringing phone, a sigh a relief escaping her lips as she sees the name pop up on her screen. they speak it at the same time, words breathy and tired.

she says it because she wants to feel safe.

he says it because he wants to feel normal.

"when can i see you again?"

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels

Part 1: Crying In The Club

Member: Juyeon (ft. Hyunjae/changmin????)

Genre: idk man. angst/chill/slice of life/fluff????? irdk

A/N: this was requested. no, i’m not like, posting/asking openly for requests BUT if you happen to see this, then you’re in luck. the only reason why i haven’t opened for requests is because i don’t have a large pool of followers, so if you like my style of writing and you have faith in me (because i’m not the greatest writer out there), feel free to drop me a dm/ask. i’m currently writing for tbz/nct/ateez/maybe txt idk, if you’re really interested, we can work something out :D

A/N part 2: i’m a very emotional (?) person when it comes to writing (otherwise i’m a stone cold bitch lol), so when i was asked if i could write a part 2 to this juyeon piece, i was quite surprised. the first reason being: i didn’t think the request would be for this particular piece of work for juyeon, because it got like 8 notes at the point of time i got the ask. the second reason is that i wrote the first part for me to release my feelings. whatever i wrote in the first part mirrors my feelings/situation in real life (yeah, i may or may not be worried about an ex-boyfriend stalking me welp, and yeah i may or may not have caught feelings for someone i know who stays in my dorm. unfortunately, it’s only in my imagination that he comes to my rescue, ha.). i just found it very mysterious (?) and strange about all these coincidences and it also made me really happy that people enjoy reading what i write :D

to the person who requested this, i hope you won’t be disappointed!

“what?” your friend nearly screams in your face. thank god the drinking crowd doesn’t come in until around 10pm, else the whole bar would be looking at the both of you. “like-- the lee juyeon? the one that’s got a fucking billion girls on his tail? and he kissed you?”

you look up over the rim of your spectacles and the edge of your laptop screen, and your friend completely loses it at the sight of your face that was void of emotion.

“the hell’s wrong with you?! didn’t you confess to the man like, a month ago? now, he’s god done kissed you, stayed over in your room when your crazy, psycho ex-boyfriend’s following you, and you have no feelings or opinion to account for that?”

your eyes were half-hooded from the cider, though not nearly enough to even make you tipsy, it was enough to make your eyelids droop a little lower than if you were wide awake.

“just because i liked him, doesn’t mean i need to warrant him any more attention. i’m too tired of this stuff anyway, especially with what happened to the relationship with my crazy, psycho ex-boyfriend,” you say with a lack of affection, only looking back to your laptop screen and resuming your furious typing. your friend has her hands on both sides of her face, nearly squishing all her features while she stares wide-eyed at you.

it felt so long ago that juyeon kissed you for the sake of scaring your stalker away, when it was merely a week ago. since then, you prayed every day not to run into juyeon or your stalker.

thank god you’ve seen neither. your prayers have been heard.

“whatever happened with your crazy ex-boyfriend shouldn’t have anything to do with whatever you want to do with your feelings now. are you really going to let him ruin your chances of being with freakin’ lee juyeon?”

“easy for you to say, you weren’t the one being threatened and stalked,” you retorted, not even bothering to look at her. you were lucky your friend knew the whole story, because any other person would’ve shut you down for being so rude and blunt. truth was, she knew you were emotionally exhausted, to the point where you were emotionally unavailable. even if lee juyeon really had a thing for you, it was going to take a lot of effort to encourage you to try building something out of a relationship with one of the school’s most popular boys.

you hear her sigh before finishing her own bottle of cider.

“i just want my feelings for juyeon to go away. i don’t want anything to do with the man, not when he’s got so many girls after him, not when i obviously don’t stand a chance at winning him over even if i was interested.”

your friend glares at you, with the words “really?” printed into her forehead.

“i’m not even gonna bother anymore. you do what you want with juyeon,” you smile at her final announcement to leave the case. you watch with softer eyes, your arms perched on the table and your chin resting on your clasped hands while she packed her stuff. “but mark my words, if it’s anything i know, lee juyeon doesn’t go around kissing people.”

you roll your eyes, pulling away from the table as she picks up her bag.

“haven’t we established that he only did it because i was being followed--”

“my girl, you don’t get a say in this. you’re too emotionally occupied... or shut down, to see what’s really happening. but from what my cousin tells me, juyeon’s not the kind to offer such intimate acts to people he doesn’t know well. that, you can trust my cousin.”

you bare your teeth in disgust at her final blow. if she hadn’t reminded you, you would’ve forgotten that changmin, who was part of juyeon’s popular boy clique, was a cousin of hers.

“i gotta bolt, you have fun and please don’t go back too late. i doubt juyeon’s going to magically appear again at one thirty in the morning to save your ass,” she looks back over her shoulder and raises a brow at you. nodding your head gently, you wave her off.

you mirror your friend’s actions from before and press your hands to the sides of your face, your fingers pressing against your temple. you shut your eyes gently, listening to the soft ‘clink clanks’ from the counter near the kitchen, and the soft shuffle and distant talking from other students in the bar.

“lee juyeon doesn’t go around kissing people”

you shake yourself out of it, drinking some water before resuming your work on your laptop. whatever your friend said about you being emotionally unavailable was true, but you had no clue how to get over it, and frankly, even if you did know how, it was going to take a lot of courage and a lot of patience.

you work on your stuff for about an hour, making a deal with yourself to head back to your room before midnight while the bar would be at its busiest. you thank the student staff who recognised you from the previous week, pulling out your phone from your pocket and empty-mindedly scrolling through your social media.

then, someone calls out to you.

instantly, all the blood rushes from every part of your body and into your chest. that voice... there was no way you were ever going to forget it.

your grip on your phone gets tighter, and your heart begins to race. your mind screams ‘run’ but your body reacts exactly like how every dumb white girl acts in a horror movie.

“i was wondering where you’ve been. i didn’t think you’d be back here after... well, last week,” you hear him scoff, and the sound of his shoes against the floor translates into a smaller gap between the two of you. “smart move, i must say. big reverse-psyche move right there.”

your breathing gets heavier, and your eyes were no longer tired from the alcohol. the fact that he was standing right behind you was making you feel trapped, and even though you could’ve taken off in any direction, the memory of what he did completely rendered your ability to move, useless.

“i don’t want to see you again, please. i stand by what i said last year, i’ll ruin your fucking life if i see you again.”

you take a step forward, but he grabs your arm from behind, harshly pulling you around so you were facing him.

nothing about him changed. his facial features, his height, his hair might’ve grown a little longer, but the look that you stole your will to love was still in his eyes. you wince as you try to pull away, but he doesn’t budge.

“ruin my life?” he smirks, and it makes you want to slap him across the face. “sure, but not after i ruin yours too.”

you felt your gut twisting like crazy inside of you, and your legs were losing their energy to even let you stand. you wince at his tightening grip on your forearm, and all you wanted to do was to kick him in the nuts, but you just couldn’t move.

“you’ve already ruined mine...” you quietly inform, remembering the feeling of being completely worthless, completely destroyed by him. “why are you doing this? you’ve already ruined my life, what benefit do you get from it?”

“oh?” his eyes widen, and a smug look pulls up on his face. “what about that kiss in the lift last week? didn’t he sleep over as well? i was there till four am, and he never left the building. i thought you’ve already moved on.”

you grit your teeth as both anger and fear runs through your blood.

you open your mouth, ready to hurl a string of vulgarities at him and protest against him being the world’s worst person, but someone beats you to it.

“pretty sure she already did, man.”

the psycho looks up from you and looks over your head, the smug smile completely wiped away and was replaced with a look of despise and anger.

you shut your eyes tightly, sucking your lips in between your teeth as you tilt your head like you were in pain.

it was hyunjae’s voice, and there was an almost close to zero possibility that he wasn’t with juyeon.

“mind letting my girl go?”

there it was.

you frown to yourself at juyeon’s words, still being held in an awkward position while you faced the psycho’s chest, and his eyes still glued to the two boys behind you.

“are you deaf or do you not understand simple instructions?” you finally see hyunjae reach your footing, and hyunjae lays a hand on the psycho’s grip on you. the psycho only lets go because he couldn’t read hyunjae.

you shift away quickly, rubbing your arm where his grip on you was marked with reddening lines. you back away and bump into juyeon, who only stretched out his arm in front of you, pushing you backwards behind him.

“did he hurt you?” juyeon turns to the side, only showing you his side profile.

“no...” you trail off, still rubbing your arm. the lines turn into light bruises, and you can only tell yourself that you were going to wear long-sleeved tops until they healed.

juyeon turns back to hyunjae, who now had his arm pressed against the psycho’s chest. for a moment, the psycho looked like he was ready to eat you like a lion hunting its prey, and the only things in his way were hyunjae and juyeon.

“go back to the dorms. i’ll come check up on you afterwards,” juyeon instructs. you watch as he takes large steps towards hyunjae and the psycho. you were already backing off, but his eyes never leave you while juyeon and hyunjae try to talk him out of being crazy.

your view of the psycho was almost completely obstructed by juyeon, and hyunjae was talking to him by his side. all of a sudden, the psycho lunges forward, pushing past juyeon and towards you. the sight causes you to jerk backwards and stumble to turn and run.

hyunjae grabs him by the arm while juyeon’s first instinct was to run back to your side, and before you knew it, juyeon has fingers intertwined with the collar of the psycho’s shirt, his fists balled up and their faces inches away from one another.

hyunjae watches on from a short distance away, hands on his hips as he scans the situation.

“does she look like she still belongs to you? does she look like she’s got your name plastered to her forehead? last i checked, i was the one who kissed her and spent the night with her, not you,” juyeon’s voice was low, and strangely calm. you wonder if he’s truly ever lost his temper at anybody. “oh, i forgot. you know, right?”

you were backed up enough to see the look on your stalker’s face, which was now contorted into an ugly mess of distaste, anger and disgust.

“after all we went through, you take one year to get over it? so quickly?” your stalker scoffs, loud enough for you to hear, loud enough to push all the wrong buttons.

juyeon shoves him backwards and pushes him so hard that he falls to the floor. before he could get up, juyeon has his foot on his chest, weighing him down.

“you really need to think twice about what you do around here. not only did you choose to be a crazy, psychotic stalker in a public area, but you just had to choose the one corner with a fully functioning CCTV.”

your stalker, who was on the ground, looks up and around the area, and you could see the intensity of panic that filled him the moment he saw the blinking red dot on the camera mounted to the corner where the ceiling met the wall.

“and unlike you, i’m not dumb enough to pick a fight with you,” juyeon retracts his legs and exchanged quick glances with hyunjae. “you can wait for your letter of expulsion to come in your letter box wherever you’re staying in school. and you better believe that if i see you anywhere near her, i’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life locked up behind bars.”

hyunjae turns and looks at you, allowing juyeon to finish his statement. he pats him on the shoulder, telling him to leave him alone. after a few moments of intense glaring between the psycho and juyeon, he finally backs away and follows behind hyunjae as they approach you.

you were back in your room, rocking back and forth with your rear mounted to the floor. hyunjae was on the phone telling the other boys that he and juyeon were sitting out from tonight’s drink session because ‘juyeon wasn’t feeling well’, while juyeon was sitting opposite you, watching you spiral into your own hole of thoughts and despair.

“they’re not gonna buy the excuse, but they let us off the hook,” hyunjae locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket, crossing his arms across his chest. juyeon nods at hyunjae, and the older boy takes his leave.

he shuffles nearer to you upon the door shutting, his legs on either sides of your hips and his feet under your bed. you were nearly leaning on it, with your knees hugged tightly against your chest. you were stuck between him and your bed, but who even cared anymore?

your vision was zoning out, but you feel him trying to take your arm when he notices the light bruises on your skin.

“i’m fine,” you muttered sharply, hiding your hand between your stomach and your thighs.

“why do you stay out so late? and alone?” he lowers his head, matching his eye level with yours. “i thought you would’ve learnt your lesson from last week.”

“i didn’t think he was going to circle back and find me at the bar again. i thought he’d scour the whole school looking for me, then give up once he realises i’m hiding from him.”

juyeon pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and runs a hand through his blue hair. “but he knows where you stay.”

“and i thought he’d back off after seeing us--” you straighten yourself to finish the sentence, frustrated that juyeon was interrogating you and speaking the obvious. but then you realise you couldn’t say it without feeling butterflies in your stomach.

damn these feelings.

juyeon raises a cocky brow, though not obvious, but it was easy to notice. a soft smile creeps up on the corners of his lips.

“so you were riding on the hope that he’d buy our skit?” juyeon shuffles forward again, now that you were sitting up straight and that movement created extra space between the two of you. you crane your neck backwards, the lack of distance between his nose and your eyes becoming painfully difficult to ignore.

“i mean...” you look away, annoyed at his ability to turn such a horrible night into one of his little talking games. “if hyunjae or changmin saw it, maybe they’d buy it. i know i would, especially if i didn’t know the situation.”

“changmin?” juyeon was now grinning, his eyes halving into crescents. “all of a sudden, why changmin?”

“i was with a friend earlier tonight at the bar. she’s changmin’s cousin and i know the both of you are close.”

juyeon hums in acknowledgement, now scratching a spot on his cheek.

there was an awkward silence in the air, and you couldn’t hear much besides your heavy breathing, split second flashes of whatever happened just about half an hour ago still running on repeat in your head.

“do you want to know something?”

you look up at him through the corners of your eyes, slightly afraid to look at him all too directly. there was something in his voice that was so alluring, like he was about to tell you a world-class secret.

“do i want to know?” you cautiously returned a question. juyeon chuckles and stretches both his arms forwards, resting his hands on the mattress behind your shoulders. your eyes widen as the change in position further narrows whatever distance you previously had, and if you weren’t already dying at the fact that you were caged between his arms, you were combusting at how close he was to you.

so close, that you could feel his breath on your forehead.

“changmin and hyunjae would totally buy it.”

huh?

“do you want to know why? or are you capable of deciphering ‘why’ yourself?”

oh, god, no. please, no.

“if i said no, could you spare me the information?” you ask, still refusing to look at him. juyeon chuckles again.

time seemed to pass extremely slowly as you fail to react to him removing one of his hands from the bed, now reaching up to your chin and pulling it to face him.

your heart picks up its pace again, and instead of fear that ran through you previously, you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that were filling your stomach.

“if you’re about to confess, i’m begging you not to.”

juyeon’s smile disappears, and an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability and pity washes over you. your eyes don’t falter despite looking straight into juyeon’s. your words came out almost like a whisper, and if he wasn’t this close to you, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“why?” he asks quietly.

you feel your eye brow twitch, and your nose turn slightly sour.

oh, no, why do you choose to cry now?

“i can’t afford another heartbreak. i can’t afford feeling like i’m nothing again. not after i chose to give him my time, my heart... my body. only for him to use it against me, only for him to say that nobody will love me because of how depressed i am all the damn time...”

you shake your chin out of juyeon’s fingers, looking away as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes again.

you feel your tears dribble down over your cheeks, and before you could reach up to your face to wipe them away, juyeon beats you to it. but instead of wiping your tears, you found yourself stuck in another kiss.

this time, it wasn’t for show.

there was nobody else around for him to ‘scare off’.

you shut your eyes upon the contact, allowing all the cooped up tears to wash out from the crevices of your lids. juyeon has your cheeks cupped in his large hands that were probably the size of your face.

the touch reminds you of when you first kissed your ex-boyfriend. the feeling of melting chocolate fondue, the feeling of coming home to a warm cup of tea on a cold day--

you hurriedly pull away, panic slowly filling your heart again. “juyeon--”

“you begged me not to confess, but i hope that was enough to show you what i wanted to say.” juyeon interrupts, his thumbs now wiping away the droplets of tears hanging from your jawline and the trails left on your cheeks.

“but i’m never going to be able to act like i’m in a normal relationshi--”

“so be it,” he holds up your face so you had no choice but to look at him. “whoever said i wanted a ‘normal relationship’? it was my choice to choose you, and so it’s my choice to be with you as you are.”

you feel the panic slowly wear away, and his words warm your heart.

“give me time and i’ll prove that you’re the one i want to be with. i know it’s not easy to believe that with all the... girls chasing us around all the time... but i hope you’ll still give me a chance. one month ago, you told me you didn’t want an answer and all you wanted to do was to get it off your chest and get over me. i hope you haven’t succeeded.”

you feel your facial muscles relax at his confession, and the warmth radiating from his hands on your face made you feel so safe, so protected, in a long, long time.

“i haven’t,” you gently shake your head, reaching up to pull his hand away from your face and draw circles on the back of his hand.

juyeon gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen on him. he pulls you into his chest as you exhale all the worries from your heart.

it was definitely going to take a lot of courage and patience, but if juyeon was going to do whatever he said he would, then you couldn’t be any more happier to try.

#timetohajima #timetohajima playlist feels #juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #angst #drama #tw abuse #tw depression #juyeon fanfic #juyeon imagine #juyeon scenario #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenario #argh #my hearteu dieded

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haikyuu-sickfics · 3 years

Text

The sick post time skip Hoshiumi ft his and Hirugamis dog that no one asked for but I wrote anyway

Vomit warning

A distinct uncomfort coated Kourai as his eyes creaked open. Darkness engulfed the room, it's inky blackness swirling as his eyes adjusted to the night. Confusion poked at the back of his mind, his alarm had yet to go off and there wasn't anything going on, even their large brown dog Oso was sound asleep- so why did he awaken?

Prompted by his internal dialogue, a sharp cramp alerted him of the precarious situation he was suddenly launched into.

It made sense, half the team was out due to an illness and Kourai had been quick to offer support to those in need- his car was in great need of a wash after numerous horrid carpools. Though, his immune system was usually hard as steel, a result of growing up in such a large family. In fact, Kourai had grown very accustomed, and happy with being the caretaker when anyone he knew fell ill.

Well, it was only a matter of time. He was lucky to have remained healthy for this long- memory couldn't reveal the last time he had succombed to any type of sickness.

While he was dwelling on the logistics of contagion, his stomach turned sharply reminding him of the situation at hand. Cursing, he pulled himself out of bed, vertigo rushing to his head as his legs wobbled under a bent torso. Oso woke up with a startle, jumping from the bed and rubbing against Kourai's legs in a show of support. It was a cute guesture, but did nothing to help. Kourai slapped a hand over his mouth, nausea coming to a sudden and very urgent spike. He gagged quietly before stumbing towards the ensuite.

"Hmn? What's going on, why'd you take the blanket," Sachirou mumbled, his voice tired from sleep.

Words failed to come, Kourai's mouth instead filling with a hot mixture of earliers dinner. Before he even had a chance to crouch down infont of the toilet, the vomit forced it's way out with a loud retch, splashing loudly into the toilets water. Due to the height, water and sick splashed onto the toilet seat and splattered the surrounding areas. During the short break between waves, Kourai dropped to the knees and ducked his head into the procelain bowl, his hands gripping the seat next to his head.

Another loud gag crawled its way out, echoing off the dirty water as tears sprang to the corners of his eyes. More vomit fell between his lips, some forcing its way out through his nose. The sour smell attacked his nostrils, eliciting another gag. Nothing came up though, his stomach, though roiling, seemed to be done for the time being. He coughed a couple of times and blew air out of his nose in an attempt to clear his mouth of the sour taste.

"Aw, shit, are you sick?" Sachirou asked, tying the robe he had slipped on.

He didn't make his way over to provide comfort, just watched from the doorway, mindlessly patting Oso's head.

"I think so," Kourai confirmed, blowing his nose into a square of toilet paper.

At this, Sachirou disappeared from the room and into the darkness of the house. Oso remained, staring at Kourai with wide, concerned eyes.

In the meantime, Kourai pulled himself to his feet, flushing the toilet and grimacing at the swirling concoction. Walking over to the sink, he turned the faucet and allowed cool water to pool in his cupped hands, waiting until it was overflowing before splashing it onto his warm face. The temperature change offered immense relief, cleaning his face from the sticky sweat and residue sick. Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his face, he ran his hands through his short hair.

"Water?" Sachirou offered, reappearing in the door way with a glass filled with water.

"Thanks," Kourai muttered, taking the cup and gulping down half of it.

"Woah, not so much at once!" Sachirou cautioned, Oso whining in harmony.

The sudden intake of water didn't rest well in Kourai's stomach, but it also didn't move- which was a win in his book.

"Mnn, what time is it?" Kourai groaned, rubbing his eyes once more.

"Two," Sachirou informed, "do you want to sleep in the bed or on the couch?"

Kourai weighed his options, the bed was too stuffy for him at this time, it's fluffy cushions enveloping any enity which applies weight to it. The couch, however, was normally cold and comfortably firm. It was also relatively close to the ground- perfect for a sick person.

"Couch," Kourai decided, walking out of the bathroom and towards where the couch was set up.

Sachirou lagged behind, stopping at the hall closet to grab two blankets and a mop bucket, Oso, on the other hand, galloped next to Kourai, slowing his pace as to not go ahead. Kourai smiled down at their pet, reaching down to ruffle the thick fur around his head which earned him the name Oso.

They walked to the couch without incident, Kourai all but collapsing onto the surface. Oso, who knew this was one piece of funerature he was restricted from nesting on, placed his two front paws on the cushion and rested his head on Kourai's bare leg.

Just as Kourai was nodding off, Sachirou reappeared, placing the bucket next to Kourai's head before planting a kiss on both his and Oso's foreheads.

"Call me if you need anything, I'll be down the hall. Try to get some sleep, kay?" He spread a blanket over Kourai, tucking it in along the back.

"Mnhm."

And with that, the sweet embrace of sleep overtook him.

Until it didn't

Before Kourai had fully woken up, vomit poured out of his mouth, pooling on his lap and waking him up. It was bright outside now, but the look of the light which burned the back of his eyes, ten o'clock or so. Still fighting off tendrils of sleep, Kourai retched loudly once more, bringing up another wave of sick onto his lap. The dog, who had lifted himself off the floor during the commotion, ran off and down the hall. Kourai didn't even notice the disappearance as he scrambled for the bucket with had been placed near him earlier in the day. Not that it mattered, his stomach seemed to be finished expelling itself for the time being, leaving him spitting in the bucket to try and get the acidic coating off his mouth.

"Awh shit," Sachirou walked over to the couch, Oso leading the way.

From the looks of it, the dog had woken him up to aide Kourai.

"Ugh!" Kourai let out an exagheratted groan, "this freakin' sucks."

"I know, I know. Let's get you cleaned up," Sachirou carefully lifted up the blanket, touching the corners together to minimize the mess.

Kourai set the bucket down before pulling himself to his feet.

"'M gonna go change," he informed with a yawn, walking out of the room.

Sachirou nodded, taking the blanket outside and leaving it to be dealt with later.

Once both of their missions had been completed, they met back up by the couch.

"I'm hungry," Kourai informed, plopping himself onto the couch.

"Really? You can really think about eating right now?" Sachirou gaped

With a shrug, Kourai grabbed the remote and began channel surfing. Sachirou shook his head before stepping into the kitchen and searching for suitable food. He ended up settling on white rice and leftover cod, it was what he recommended pet owners give to their dogs when they were sick.

Once he put the reheated fish on top of the freshly cooked rice, Sachirou grabbed a pair of chopsticks from a nearby drawer, using them to break up the fish into smaller pieces.

"Bon ape'ttite," he handing the bowl and utensils to Kourai before walking away once more to retrieve a cup of water.

By the time he returned Hoshiumi had scarfed down the whole meal.

"Was that really the smartest thing to do right now?"

"I said I was hungry, now get over here I wanna watch a movie." Kourai scooched over to make room for Sachirou on the couch.

Grabbing the water, Kourai took deep gulps to wash down his meal before setting the crockery onto the coffee table. Kourai nestled into Sachirou's side- his fever warming up the pair. Oso whined from where he sat on the floor until Sachirou gave in and pat the couch. Ecstatic, the dog jumped up and cuddle into Kourai. With the hand not wrapped around Kourai, Sachirou turned on the movie and nestled against the couch cushion.

No one was paying attention to the movie, sleep deprivation had pulled them into a deep sleep less than half an hour through. Even Oso was snoring lightly, his head burrowed into Kourai's legs.

It wasn't until the movie ended that the peace was broken. Kourai had woken up with a start, startling Oso into sitting upright. Eyes wide and mouth closed into a tight line, Kourai bent over the couch and over the bucket. By this point Sachirou had woke up. Noticing the uncomfortable position Kourai was in, he grapped the bucket and brought it closer to Kourai, following him into an upright position on the couch.

Kourai coughed and heaved, the fish and rice he had consumed earlier fighting it's way up his esophogus. With one final retch, a thick, foul smelling wave splashed into the bucket. Using one hand to keep the bucket upright, Sachirou rubbed his free hand in circles on Kourai's quavering back.

Five more waves of sick relentlessly forced their way out, only stopping once Kourai was coughing up nothing but bile. Exhausted from the spell, Kourai leaned into Oso, burying his face into the dogs soft fur. Confused-and a bit scared- the dog just sat there, supporitng Kourai's body weight.

"You're a good boy," Sachirou cooed, rubbing Oso's head before taking the bucket outside.

When he returned with a freshly cleaned bin, Sachirou was warmed to see his two favorite things fast asleep on the couch. Snapping a picture, he placed the bucket down and prepared himself breakfast/lunch.

He needed energy if the rest of the day was going to be anything like the morning.

#tw: vomit #sick hoshiumi kourai #haikyuu sickfic

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purge-that-urge-rhackathon · 3 years

Text

So my epilogue document for All Sales Final is lost and i’ve been trying to locate it in vain for well over a week. So far failing in that, I’ve been attempting to remember what was it in and rewrite it. It’s just like 1k words or so but adhd makes life hard sooo that’ll be up when i can xD i really dont like saying i’d do something by a certain time, and i massively dropped the ball on that so i wanted to be accountable hahahah but it’ll be up and then freakin DONE as soon as i can manage :D im gonna feel sooo much stress relief when that happens like trust me we’re all looking forward to it BAHAHHA XD

I’ve also been massively depressed (which took a hot minute to recognize cuz it is NOT the same kind of depression ive felt in the past), and also went through a crisis of not being able to get my increased-dose adhd meds anymore (they’re like $500 a month apparently, and i’m below poverty level for yearly income so the state of california usually takes care of it in total but they wouldn’t authorize my higher dosage, then the generic with a manufacturer’s coupon was still $103 a month, and i had a total meltdown cuz my meds help my brain a LOT and not being able to get it like im ready to die now lololol but THEN after not responding since the 20th of august, my psychiatrist got back to me and got mediCal to authorize my meds soooo im still reeling on that and a lot of other stuff). I’ve sold my plasma a little over a week ago and im waiting for my veins to fully heal before trying again (there were complications they deemed unsafe so they only got a quarter of a liter before they sent me home) and im really hoping there aren’t complications next time I go in, cuz THEN my name goes on a national registry of individuals who can’t donate plasma, and the money is GOOD even if it really hurt for days afterwards, soooo im also stressing about that. The silver lining though is that regardless of the amount they’re able to harvest, I’ll still get the $185, and that’s like half a paycheck for me so im really excited by that :D It’s gotten really busy lately at my job too so I’ve actually got normal part time hours this week, so i’ve been more tired and playing catch-up with everything and its affected my writing time D:<

im just exhausted with life; with the pandemic and the fucking morons prolonging it; with my worst nightmare come true in Roe v. Wade being destroyed; with living in a super toxic, invalidating environment I have to be at the mercy of; with my fuckhead father whose life i dont give a fucking shit about anymore like hooo don’t even get me started; and also recognizing the decades of childhood trauma/abuse i’ve lived with and thought was normal until very recently. I still haven’t made the phone call to find a therapist that specializes in childhood trauma and ptsd (and that also stresses me out like mad crazy cuz i have a LOT of healing that needs to be done but goddamn i dont enjoy finally comprehending the level of abuse and trauma and toxicity in my life like that shit breaks you guys) soooooo i’ve been goin through some stuff recently and still trying to have a good attitude about it xD i definitely cry on the way home from work every day cuz i dont want to have to come back home, but my cats are there and i look forward to petting them every day sooo we keep on with that HAHA

....on the plus, my younger sister and her husband are actively looking to buy their first home with land connected to it, and she said i can come live with them when that happens, sooooo something to maybe look forward to in the next year. We keep making jokes about a commune, but she wants to live totally off-grid, and i know how to grow weed and enough food to supplement a pantry so like... that would actually be so cool if it happened but for now its just another fun thing to dream about while living the nightmare LOL at least im saving money on fun things xD

#poisonjack jabbers #if youre at all feeling down then dont bother clicking the Read More xD it'll just depress you and i dont wana do that to anyone haha :D #im trying to light a fire under my butt to get this epilogue out because the dopamine im gonna get from it being DONE will be incomparable #also im doing more physical projects back here and might rebrand my shop but those things have to remain secret for now xD #anyways im surprisingly hanging on and i entirely credit my cats xD even a neighborhood cat came and visited me yesterday :D

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occult-castiel · 4 years

Text

A thread with no end

Cool metal lighter in hand, he finally takes a glance at the reason for all of this.

It's small, swallowed whole by the thick yellow clothes Sam has it in. It yawns, puppy-like, and fixes his wide eyes on Dean.

Blue. Big and impossibly blue. Its shades too light, closer to ice than ocean, but it pulls something loose in him. It's — it's almost like —

When Jack is born, he doesn't come out fully grown.

[Part One]

[Ao3]

Chapter 2

When the sharp edges of adrenaline settle, the last couple of days are a blur to think about. The absence of it is always its own kind of tired — aches become apparent again. His temples sting. All thoughts are filtered through sludge. His stomach gurgles out loud groans. The reminder is a desperate attempt to make bodily functions matter again, but the desire for food is numb. If anything it makes him sick.

He shakes his head, uses his free hand to blanket his face, pinch the bridge. Trapped under the rough pressure, his tear ducts throb. But it’s all right. It’s fine.

Fucking peachy.

Sloppy and mechanical, as Dean pulls the two of them off the ground. He doesn't look at the embers. The ash. His joins cry against all movement, each jagged step a chore. What should be solid ground slips loose under his boots. He has to catch himself with each half-stumble towards the house. Little snivels turn to full body whines, and Dean doesn't blame the kid. It can't be fun to get jerked around by some idiot that forgot how to walk right.

The door juts open with a creak, and whatever course of action he might've tried to take vanishes.

Unfiltered sunlight glimmers in through the curtainless window. Dust particles dance in yellow above the table where it's — it’s just empty now. His last pitstop. The last place Dean would ever get to look. To touch. Legs on autopilot, he trudges over.

Light glistens off the table's glossy finish. Glints against the discarded keyring Sam somehow remembered to salvage. Carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers over the cool surface, and dread sits like a rock in his stomach. It was warm, right after. But the air has long since leeched any heat Cas left behind.

Throat tense, he cups the keyring under his palm. Tightens his fist around it until the metal digs in and his arm trembles.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. They used to have more allies. Friends. Something they could fall back on after so long of having nothing, but none of it even lasts. Like the universe has decided The Sam and Dean Adventure just ain't multiplayer.

"Dean?"

He shoves the keys in his pocket. "Yeah. Down here."

Sam clunks down the steps and gives Dean a tight smile. Grey bags under his eyes highlight the bloodshot tendrils. His whole body slumped in on itself, the exhaustion of the last however-the-fuck long hitting him like a brick. Maybe he looks that bad too.

Over one shoulder Sam has the world's largest baby bag — lime green and burgeoning with diapers. The zippers stuck halfway around. It thunks when it hits the floor, and Sam shakes a bottle. "Made some formula. There's an extra in the side pocket."

"Thanks." Dean takes it. "Gonna have to toss the other one. Stuff can only sit out an hour."

Sam doesn't say anything to that, just scrapes a chair to the table, plops down, and buries his face in his hands. That's okay. Silence suits Dean just fine.

He repositions the baby in his arms, cradles the head against his shoulder so he's more upright. The kid latches on to the plastic nipple with ease.

The last time he fee a baby was a lifetime ago in some stranger’s home, babysitting with an ex-angel post attempted-murder. He and Cas had straightened out his not-dates house, and the baby started fussing. The bottle was already made. He didn’t think about it when he started feeding the kid. When Cas saw him, he gave Dean a pleased smile and said you're good at this.

It jolted his pulse. Compliments had a way of hitting him funny, but right then? In the low light of a picture-perfect suburban home? Right from the very human Cas who has sex and goes on dates and looks at Dean like he’s worth something?

Neck warm and mind blank, he offered to help Cas do it right without thinking.

And it was good, the light touches, soft adjustments that weren't necessary. But Cas never dressed down that much, so it was better than good. Dean spent the whole time thinking about how thin his cotton shirt was. Cas was smaller without the layers, and the warmth of him unfiltered. He tried to peel his hands away, but it was like he couldn't stop. Angel or mud-monkey, Cas felt strong and whole.

The comfort of the words stuck with him for days. The feel of Cas underneath him never left.

God, he should be here now.

The baby’s pudgy face grimaces, and Dean moves the bottle back until it evens out again.

"We need to figure out what we're doing." Sam's palms muffle his voice.

"We're going home. Welcome to the joys of parenthood. Here’s to hoping it doesn't kill us during puberty."

"It has a name." Sam drops his arms to his sides. "Jack. Kelly made videos on her laptop for him."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well ain't that just lovely?"

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean."

He's two steps away from being the spitting image of some scandalized Victorian chick, and it crawls under Dean's skin.

"What? Jack here is the son of Satan, Sam. Fucking pardon me for not caring about mommy’s little home videos," Dean says. The baby — Jack, whatever — whimpers. Body tense, Dean slowly slides the bottle from his mouth.

"He's a baby, not a monster. And I'm just saying we don't have to — to tuck our tails and go home."

White spit-like liquid dribbles from Jack's mouth. Dean sighs.

"Fan-freakin'-tastic. I forgot babies did this crap." Dean sighs, storms over to the table, and places the bottle down with a hard clank. "I'm not seeing an array of options here. We can't exactly put a Nephilim up for adoption. Or hire a babysitter." Carefully, he brushes off Jack's mouth with the color of his onesie. It’s probably the cleanest thing they have to do it with.

"There's Mom. If the portal was opened once, there's gotta be a way to do it again. Maybe the Book of the Damned, or the Demon Tablet..." Sam perks up. "We could try and get Donatello to help —”

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." Dean lays Jack flat against his shoulder and pats his back. "First of all, you really want a soulless dude and Lucifer's kid bumping shoulders? Don't think they could be, I dunno, a bad influence on each other?" Jack releases a puff of air and Dean adjusts him back down. He levels a hard stare at Sam. "Second of all: Moms dead. Nothings gonna help that."

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "You don't know that."

Buzzing vibrates from Dean's pocket. He yanks it from his pocket for it. "Pretty sure I do. Lucifer ganked her the minute the portal closed."

"You can't —"

Unknown. He sends the asshole to voicemail.

Sam shakes his head. Sighs. "Whatever. Who was that?"

"Not Donatello." Well, it could've been. But whatever. He grabs the baby bag, then slings the lime green wrecking ball of a bag over his shoulder. "You've got Baby's keys. I'm taking the truck."

The coach squeaks. Before Dean can make it out the door, Sam grabs the strap. The force yanks him in place. Dean swivels around and glares. Sam drops his hand and gives Dean a weary look.

"Can we just talk about this?"

Dean swivels around. "I don't know what you want from me. Crowley's dead. Kelly's dead. Cas is —" Pain pangs his chest, a little twinge that sends pin-pricks through his torso, down his arms. His eyes dart away and land on the table. The discarded, half-finished bottle sits just outside of the sunlight’s path. "Mom’s gone. We even lost Rowena. So I'm gonna take the kid, find a motel the next state over, and put up whatever sigils I can to let the dick brigade know they aren't welcome. Rinse and repeat until we’re back home."

Sam scoffs, but whatever energy he had left is burned out. "Whatever. We'll talk later."

"Unlikely."

By the time Dean walks over to the table and grabs the bottle, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Dean pushes past Sam and grabs the bottle. By the time he walks through the door, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Ash has blown around the yard, smeared it in grey. Eyes downcast, pointedly away from the remnants, he beeline for the truck. Wind whistles by and smears ash across the lawn. Dean stares at the mustard-colored wet spots on Jack's clothes instead.

Cars are like a testament to the owner. The truck is immaculate. The burgundy shines — there’s not a spec of dirt marring the strips of pearl-white.

Dean doesn't bat an eye at the car seat. It’s green. Of course it’s green. His breath doesn't catch at the stupid cartoon bee sticker smiling at him on the car seat’s side. And he doesn't think about Cas.

Not him stumbling through a Walmart visit to buy the thing. God, he bets the nerdy little guy compared brands, sifted through online reviews in the middle of the aisle. He doesn’t picture how pleased Cas must've been at finding a pack of sticks, of all things. How the rest of them are most likely sitting in the glovebox. How it was probably the last enjoyable moment he had. Dean doesn't think — he doesn't. Merely shrugs the baby bag off onto the floorboard, buckles Jack in, and clicks the door closed.

Sweat slick forehead pressed against the doorframe, Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

The last conversation he had with Cas is a blur. An actual conversation, not stress-filled bickering over the newest pile of shit dumped on their doorstep.

Dean tries to swallow, but the motion stops halfway through, and there’s nothing there to force down.

The last movie night he'd managed to drag Cas into was over a month ago. It might’ve been the last time where either of them were reasonably happy. The last time his lips would tilt up in that small way that knots Dean's stomach. It isn’t fair. It's all wrong, and there’s no way to fix it. No magic is strong enough to bring an angel back, The only witch that could’ve tried is dead too. And any power Heaven could spare wouldn’t be used to help him. There’s only one shot to take, and it's the same useless one everyone’s thought of trying at some point.

Dean grabs the side of the truck bed and turns his head towards the sky. He sighs. Here goes nothing. "Okay, Chuck. Or God, whatever. We need your help. You said — you said the world would be fine with us. It isn't. We've lost everything."

He takes a deep breath, rocks his head to the ground. "You left. And I've never asked you for anything. Never begged. But now you're gonna bring him back. Cas. Mom. Hell, even Crowley." His hand tightens. "You owe us, you son of a bitch."

"Please." It's begging. He knows it is and doesn't care. He’d beg for weeks straight if it wasn’t useless. "Please help us."

A beat passes. Nothing happens. He didn’t expect it to work. God's never really gave a shit before, has he?

It's fine. All fine.

Jack cries when Dean slams the door. He strangles the steering wheel between his hands, hands that itch to inflict. Hit. Destroy. Sure as fuck not to nurture, not to quell the newborn screams, because Cas was wrong. Dean isn’t good at this.

A handful of deep breaths later, he leans down and fishes out a pink pacifier from the bag. Jack latches onto it, his pudgy face relaxed. Blue eyes float up to Dean. Innocent, full. It stings, and Dean turns away before his body uses whatever scraps of water it has left to make him cry again.

When he brings the engine to life, Zeppelin creeps through the speakers, one track after the next in an order he memorized long before Cas got the chance.

He plays it front to back on repeat until hunger and exhaustion win out, and he finds a motel.

#destiel #deancas #not sure if ill post eevery chapter on here #cause i have the feeling this us gunna be longer than i originally anticipated #and having a 30+ series on tumbkr seems messy #but ill at least out this one up here too #destiel fanfic #a thread with no end

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judylicious · 4 years

Text

“I’m glad we both have found back to you.”

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader (chapter two)

Word Count: 1.850

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies.

Warnings: mentions of violence, abuse, death, murder, angst, swearing, age gap, fluff and slight smut

Summary: You met a handsome musician and his band, including a surprise form your past.

chapter 1

chapter 3

chapter 4

A couple days later Alan was meeting Kelsey for lunch at a cozy bistro at Blue Island Avenue. “So you’re not gonna ask me?”, she remarked before taking a big sip of her coffee and gave him a curious look over the rim of her cup. “About what precisely?” “My parents.” “It seemed like I blindsided you with that question before, didn’t want to push you…” “Still just as taken back as before I see.” She took a deep breath.

“Mum’s dead, she passed away when I was 17, around Christmas.” “I’m… so sorry. What happened?”, he replied in a soft tone. “She fell down the stairs… You remember we had those big stairs made out of marble in the hall? Yep. She.. fell… according to the Police.” Alan raised an eyebrow. “Well, I saw my dad pushing her. Cops said he was trying to get a hold of her arm as she lost her balance but.. I saw it, you know? He often was violent with us, if he was home at all.” “I had no idea, I never noticed how troubled you were”, he admitted rather guilty. Without thinking he grabbed her hand that lied between her plate and the empty bread basket made from raffia, starting to softly caress the back of her hand with his thumb. “Oh it’s okay, really. You were hired for teaching me how play the horn, no more, no less.”, she gave him a reassuring smile. “C’mon don’t act like it was just that. We did get along pretty well. I remember one time you begged me for weeks to take you with me to that Miles Davis concert and although you had promised me to keep me awake during the ride back, as soon as your head hit the passengers seat you were knocked flat out.”, he shook his head but grinned widely. “I’m sorry but I had to prepare myself for sneaking back into the house at - what was it? 4am?” They both laughed and exchanged a look of familiarity. “Believe me, I fought desperately to stay awake. Kicked myself for missing out on a 3 hour ride alone with you in the car at night.” Kelsey suddenly blushed. “You didn't have the slightest idea how much I was into you, didn’t you?” Hold on what am I doing? Shut your big bazoo “Well…” Alan felt caught off guard and tried to ease the tension. “You were a teenager, don’t teenager have a crush on everything and everyone?” Kelsey put on a smile “Yeah, I guess so.” She took heart “But not me… I-“ “Can I get you anything else?” She was interrupted by the waitress. “Think we’re fine, thanks!”, the trumpet player gave her a nod. Kelsey checked her watch. “Damn, I’m late for the backshift, I’m so sorry Alan I totally lost track of time.” “No harm done, girl.”, he explained as he put some money on the table.” “Thanks for taking over the bill.” He smiled “Next time is on you then.”

When they stood outside the small bistro Kelsey couldn’t help herself but gave Alan a big tight hug. He seemed utterly surprised about this gesture but quickly put his arms around her. “Thanks.”, she murmured, squeezing her eyes. The slightly older man had his eyes closed as well, inhaling her scent, feeling more secure than he had in a long time. Starting to feel embarrassed she got off of him and looked around for the nearest bus station, realising the next bus was already in sight. “I gotta catch that one!” “Is practise still on for Thursday? Your place?”, he called after her. “Sure! 5pm, bring your horn.”, she waved at him and got onto the bus.

In preparation for Thursday Kelsey practised extra hard - on the other hand though she knew she shouldn’t take a heavy toll on her lip, that would only make things worse. I have to play decent tomorrow, at all costs. And even as her tones got real crappy, even more crappy than usual, she kept on playing, wanted to go over everything and every scale she had learned so far. However after 3 hours she was physically exhausted from trying to catch those high notes and her mouth piece left a dark, red circle around her lips.

And then finally - it was Thursday, just before 5pm. She checked herself in the mirror one last time before she changed her outfit for the 4th time that day. Perhaps I should go with the dress I wore first. But before she could get undressed another time there was a knock at the door. So she had no choice but to stay in her pleated skirt and red blouse. Alright, keep your head, relax, you got this. “Hi Alan, please come in.” The tensed girl was greeted by a big smile. “Nice to see ya.” The trumpet player stepped in and went into the living room, where everything was already set up. “How about we get right to it, hm?”

They both took a seat and she flipped one of the exercise books open. “So last I’ve practised these eighth notes in 3/4 - time.” “Did you warm up before?”, Alan tried to test her. “Yes I have.”, she responded quickly. “Good, then give it a try, I’m curious!” Oooh boy, here we go. Kelsey started to play the étude but already messed up the first few notes. Nervously she put her instrument down and glanced at Alan who wasn’t showing any reaction. And so she tried again. She played the whole piece but some of the notes didn’t come out at first try, so she messed up with the beat as well. When she had finished, she sighed in annoyance and didn’t even give Alan a glance. “Alright, how about you listen to what it’s supposed to sound like, to give you an idea.” And with that the grabbed his own horn, cleared his throat and played the little practise piece. Needless to say he did a perfect job on it. Kelsey couldn’t help herself but watch the man at her side while he was playing and it made her smile. He makes it look so easy. I mean it is, it’s freakin easy and I’m nothing but a failure. “Now it’s your turn again. Perhaps using the metronome will help you.” He grabbed the little gadget and set the right beat and speed. Listening to the soft “tick tick tick” sound Kelsey tried started from the beginning. Again a few notes simply didn’t come out at first try but just an airy sound, so halfway through she stopped. “No, no, come on keep going!”, the professional bolstered her. And so she did. “Heck! This is a waste of time, I’m sorry.”, the girl snapped and got up, taking a few steps away from her chair. “C’mon it is not. It will take some time, that’s all. I know you probably don’t wanna hear this but you haven’t played for over 5 years, meaning you HAVE to consider yourself as beginner and that’s okay.” Alan tried to calm her. “Look that’s not it. I suck, okay? I. SUCK. S-U-C-K!”. She was fuming. Putting extra emphasis on every letter as she spelled it out when tears began to run down her cheek. Alan jumped to his feet. “Hey, hey, don’t cry hun! I know it’s tough but you will get there. Believe me, I didn’t sound any better when I started.” “I’m so fucking dumb…” Kelsey murmured under her breath and turned away from the man who placed his hand on her shoulder. “Why are you saying this?” She turned around but didn’t look at him. “Dumb. I mean for walking away from it in the first place. I could be playing so well by now if I hadn’t quit.” The musician gave her a sympathetic look. “You had just started college. It’s okay to think about other things than playing the horn at that age.” “You didn’t.”, she countered and felt the need to look at him. Alan chuckled “Yeah but I attended Juilliard School of Music at the age of just 17 to become a professional. You chose a different path and you keep telling me how much you love your job.” Kelsey turn her head away from the man, who softly grabbed her chin and lifted her head up forcing her to look at him. He carefully wiped away one of her tears on her cheek. “Listen. The most important thing is that you have found your way back to it and the trumpet its way to you… To be honest I’m glad both of us have found back to you.” He cupped her face gently in his hands, staring into her green eyes. Her breath hitched as he leaned in to drop a soft kiss on her lips. As he slowly pulled away, she crushed her lips on his again. Eagerly and desiring for more, she forced him to stumble a few steps back until he hit the wall. The kiss deepened, his big hands wandered to the back of her thighs, exploring her skin while going all the way up to her ass. Realising she wore a thong he gave her bare butt cheeks a determinant squeeze. Thank God she skipped on her tights today. Uncontrolled she ran her hands through his dark, slightly wavy hair, which he thankfully hadn’t slicked back today, caressing the shorter hair at his neck with one hand. The kiss became sloppy when both started to explore the other one’s mouth with their tongue. He lifted her right leg, bringing her knee up to his hip, which allowed him to pull her in even closer. As she grabbed a big fistful of his gorgeous hair, a deep moan left his mouth which brought her back to reality, so all of the sudden she pulled away. “I’m - so sorry.”, she stammered, trying to catch her breath. Alan cleared his throat “No need to apologise.” He awkwardly looked around the room. And then there was this weird silence, neither of them knew what to say or do next, so they just stood there, avoiding the gaze of the other until Alan screw up his courage.” Soo.. tomorrow night we play at ‘The Hideout’. Perhaps you’d like to come by.” Tomorrow?! “Sounds good, I’ll try to make it.”, Kelsey smiled. “Nice” he said nervously while grabbing his jacket and horn. He looked at her once more, wondering if he should kiss her goodbye. He took half a step towards her but his alarm bells went off reminding him that the situation was already embarrassing enough. “Guess I’ll see you around then.” And with a few quick steps he reached the door of her flat and left, feeling like a fool. Not only like a fool but like a goofy teenager. Kelsey closed the door behind him. Tomorrow!? I agreed on meeting Elwood after the gig. We made plans to see the Sonny Boy Williamson act starting at midnight.

#blues brothers #blues brothers fandom #Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Alan Rubin x Reader #blues brothers fanfiction #fan fiction #Mr. Fabulous #Elwood Blues

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enigmasalad · 4 years

Text

Weddings Are Great And All But My Mom Wants You Over For Dinner Tonight

It has been a boring day so far. Deceit was currently typing away on his fifth laptop (his personal one cause the other four are for his “business”). Remus had gotten a last-minute contract from a rather entitled older man who wanted one of his nephews or something killed. So here Deceit was, alone, bored and totally enjoying his day off. And even though he had just planned a “vacation” for them, he couldn’t get rid of the sappy loneliness in his chest. He groaned and shut his laptop because he needed a nap.

He went to their bedroom, a relaxed form of exhaustion seeping into his limbs once he entered the room. He turned his head to where Jekyll and Hyde were. The twin-headed snake was taking a nap after a rather indulgent lunch. Deceit smiled softly at the sweet creature before falling back onto the bed with his arms spread out. As he shut his eyes, he let his mind become passive, letting each thought come and go. With each thought he slowly drifted to that state between consciousness and sleep.

He didn’t know how long he was in this state, but he did know that he was now more on the conscious side. A soft, fond smile graced his lips before he even thought about it. “Hello Remus. How was the hunt today?” he asked.

Just as he thought, an uneven pitched giggle revealed that the crazed man was indeed there. Deceit opened his eyes to meet wide green eyes that were filled with a mischievous joy, the kind of joy a child who stole a toy from a person they didn’t like had. “Boo! I thought I could surprise you this time!” Remus laughed.

“Were you about to jump on me or something?” Deceit asked, raising a brow.

“Yep! You looked so peaceful I thought it would be funny to startle you!”

Remus crawled into bed, still in his lightly bloodied clothes and curled up by Deceit’s side. Deceit moved one of his gloved hands to Remus’s hair and gently scratched the man’s head. Remus let out a low, relaxed noise and snuggled closer.

“Turns out the whole family was in on the kill. They gave me a large tip for not getting the floors bloody!”

Remus paused before laughing.

“Heh! Large tip! Heh heh!”

Deceit rolled his eyes but smiled none the less at the crude joke. He gave a kiss to Remus’s head. Remus perked up and went to go kiss Deceit. Deceit moved his free had to Remus’s mouth to block the kiss.

“Did you dispose of the body?” Deceit asked.

Remus huffed and pouted.

“I did!” “Remus.”

Remus sighed and slumped a little.

“I did not eat the body this time.”

Silence.

“Or anything else from the crime scene.”

“Good boy.” Deceit softly praised.

Remus grinned as Deceit removed his hand and kissed him. Remus immediately and eagerly kissed back. And as usual Remus had to make the kiss filthy the second his lips met Deceit’s. They kissed for a while, enjoying each other’s presence. When they split Deceit decided to tell Remus the news.

“I arranged our little vacation.” Remus grinned and wiggled excitedly, moving Dee with him a little.

“Oh fun! Oh, we can use the blood money to get some things for the trip! Like toys! You know I love take two Ds at once!”

“Damn it Remus.”

——-

“Roman get out of the kitchen.” “What? I just wanted to see what you’re doing! It smells good in here!” “Roman get out of the fucking kitchen I swear to go-don’t touch that!”

“Ow!”

Roman huffed and held the hand Virgil whacked with a wooden spoon. Virgil glared at him and pointed the spoon at him. “Fine, fine! I’ll just go to Patton’s side of the kitchen!” Roman pouted and quickly moved over to where Patton was mixing batter.

Patton giggled as Roman hugged him from behind and peppered his neck and cheek in quick kisses. Roman smiled and looked at where Virgil was making fresh pasta dough.

“You could have this too, but you whacked me with a spoon! Also why are you making fresh pasta when we bought the quick pasta?” Roman had to ask.

Virgil looked at Roman with a deadpan look, stopping the pasta dough making process.

“I’m half Italian Roman. You fucking know this.” He said

“Well sorry for asking. Just figured with the time constraint you put on

Patton laughed again, interrupting

“Your mom makes the best pasta so I’m glad we’re having her recipe!” he praised.

Roman grinned as Virgil blushed and ducked his head down. The argumentative tension instantly vanished. Patton had that kind of amazing power.

“Anyways dear heart, what are you making?” Roman asked Patton, swaying them both gently.

“I asked Imaj what we should have for dessert this time and he asked if we could have brownies tonight so Im making brownies!” Patton replied before tasting the batter.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Virgil said while smiling a little.

The Petrovs love pasta and brownies more than life itself.

Patton and Roman chatted, Virgil putting his input every now and then. They talked about how Ginerva and Rosita were at the store, wondering what they were getting there. Patton brought up how excited his boss, Adam, accepted to come as Patton’s father to the wedding. Adam was Patton’s boss, but the southern man from the Lone Star State was the closest thing to an actual father Patton had. Plus, he paid for Patton’s top surgery out of his own pocket without asking for anything back, so the definitely liked him.

Plus he threatened to shoot them if they ever hurt Patton so..

“Is there anything I can help with?” Roman asked, mainly because he was bored

“No.” “Not really but I’ll let you know!”

Roman placed a kiss on Patton’s cheek before rushing to Virgil and kissing his cheek. He ran out of the kitchen with a laugh as he heard Virgil sputter and went into the living room where Logan was sitting on the couch talking to Missy while Imaj sat near the corner with his ukulele and sheet music.

“-used the blood eagle torture method to sacrifice to Odin and also get rid of people who have no honor in their lives.” Missy was rambling, probably about Vikings.

“You are very knowledgeable about Vikings in..many aspects Missy.” Logan attempted to praise.

It was a little awkward on how it came out but it made the irritable girl grin widely with pride. She pushed her Viking helmet up so it wouldn’t slide over her eyes.

“Well duh.” Is all Missy had to say.

“Hello Tiny! Teaching Logan about Vikings again?” Roman greeted.

Just like that, her smile turned back to her usual irritated frowny face.

“Don’t call me tiny! Im going to rule the freakin world one day! Im not small!” She said, which only made Roman laugh fondly.

He remembered when he had given Missy the nickname. She leapt off the couch and headbutted him in the gut so hard he curled up on the ground. Good..weird...good times.

“And how are you right now Imaj? Still practicing?” Roman asked.

Imaj startled upon hearing his name but he looked at Roman with a soft smile.

“Mhm. I think I got it this time.” He answered quietly.

“Good! Will you be playing it for us sometime soon?”

Just like that, the young teen squeaked with embarrassment and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head.

“Nooooo..” he quietly whined.

“Alright, alright don’t disappear on me. I’ll leave you alone.”

Roman sat down next to Logan and wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders, pulling the nerd closer.

“And how are you my pocket protector?” Roman asked. “I am well as I can be.” Logan replied.

Ah, Logan was nervous cause this was his first actual family dinner (and the first family dinner they’ve had since all four of them got together). It’s taken him a while to work up to this moment, but they were so proud of him.

Still didn’t mean Logan wasn’t nervous about it.

“You’ll be fine mi amor. You know mama and Mrs. Ginerva love you.” Roman reassured.

“I know this, they’ve made it very apparent.” Logan said with a faint hint of a smile.

Roman smiled and leaned in to give Logan a kiss. Logan huffed a laugh and met Roman the rest of the way.

“VIRGIL YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE BEING GROSS.”

The two men were startled by Missy’s loud shouting.

“I can’t help you right now! Cooking food!” Virgil called back.

“BUT ITS GROSS.” “You’re gross!” “NO YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE GROSS.”

Patton came in, apron gone, and hands washed which meant the brownies were probably in the oven.

“What’s this about being gross kiddo?” he asked. “They’re kissing!” Missy huffed.

“Kissing!” Patton faked a gasp.

Missy nodded and crossed her arms grumpily. Roman watched as Patton came over and put his hands on his hips and gave a disappointed look.

“Boys Im shocked at your behavior. How dare you be kissing-“ Patton then grinned widely. “Without me!” With that Roman’s arms were full of his bubby, kind boyfriend and Logan’s lips were being kissed by said boyfriend. Roman laughed as Missy let out a shriek and stomped to the kitchen. Soon Patton was kissing all over his face to, each kiss slightly ticklish and with an audible “mwah!” sound. They could hear Virgil chuckle from the kitchen. Logan was smiling softly, more relaxed with the ones he cares about near. Patton got up and sat next to the other side of Logan and held his hand tightly.

“I’m happy we’re doing this. I’ve had family dinners before but..they lacked warmth.” Patton admitted.

“That’s one thing our family doesn’t lack is warmth.” Roman said with a grin. “Indeed. You and Virgil have…exceptional mothers.” Logan agreed.

Roman grinned and wrapped around Logan’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t just meaning them my iridescent nebula. You both are part of this family too now.”

“Awwww Roman!!!” Patton squealed.

The sound of the front door opening interrupted anything else that could have been said.

“Booooooys! Missy! We’re hoooome!” Roman’s mother, Rosita sing-songed

“Hi Miss Rosita! Hi Miss Ginerva!” Patton called back.

Rosita giggled and came into the living room.

“Dawww I hope you weren’t mentally scarring poor little Imaj over there.” She said.

Oh shit Imaj has just been sitting there quietly. The thing about that kid besides having almost crippling anxiety is he could disappear from people’s view despite being there.

“Don’t worry Rosita. I don’t mind.” Imaj softly said with a smile. “This is why you’re my favorite.” Roman said.

Immediately there was a loud, high pitched angry “WHAT?” from the kitchen.

Rosita grinned and bent down to kiss Patton’s cheeks, the usual greeting she gives loved ones. Patton giggled and held onto her arms as she went “Mwah!” with the two kisses. She then bent down and did the same to Logan. His face went red as Roman’s varsity jacket, but he sat still and allowed her to do so, because he honestly didn’t hate it. He’s never had any form of parental love and he once admitted he liked the affection the mothers gave him.

“I’m so glad you both are here today. Our first dinner as a whole family!” Rosita cheerily said.

Roman grinned at his loves. They looked happy. Things were normal. This family was normal.

“Well hello my dears. Patton, thank you for making dessert.” Virgil’s mother, Ginerva said as she too entered the living room, holding two rather thick books in her hands.

“It’s no problem! I love baking! Plus, a meal isn’t complete without a sweet!” Patton said.

Ginerva smiled. Then she held up the book with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Would you like to see some baby pictures after dinner?” she asked.

“Oh my gosh YES!” Patton squealed.

“Absolutely.” Logan agreed, his own grin on his face.

Roman gulped.

Maybe this was a horrible idea.

———-

“Going to the sex store~ We’re going to the sex store~” Remus sang, unashamed as they walked through the mall.

People glared at them as Remus walked next to Deceit, arms swinging back and forth happily. Deceit has once thought maybe he should stop Remus. Here’s the thing though.

He didn’t give a fuck.

These poor bastards can deal with Remus happily singing the lewdest things for a small portion of their lives, even if they weren’t going to the sex store.

A mother gasped, offended and covered her child’s ears.

“Shame on you!” she shrilled.

Deceit flipped her off with both of his hands while Remus held his index finger and middle finger in a V formation in front of his mouth, wiggling his tongue in between the fingers with a wicked grin. The mother shrieked in horror.

Deceit laughed as they left her. However, Remus grabbed his wrist and yanked him back to where Remus was.

“I want that.” Remus said, pointing into an arcade.

Inside the arcade was a claw machine with many stuffed animals. On top of the animal pile was a plush green octopus with tiny black eyes.

“I’m not wasting my money on a rigged game,” Deceit said.

“But Deeeeeeee!” Remus whined.

“that’s why I’m not going to.” Deceit continued, holding up a wallet that totally was his.

Remus grinned widely and held Deceit’s hand as they planned to spend every pound of an asshole’s money.

————

Dinner was good, as usual. Virgil was a phenomenal cook and every dish he made was some of the best Roman’s had (he wont tell mama that though). He blushed as they complimented him.

“This is yummy! What is this called again?” Patton asked.

“Bucatini all’Amatriciana. It’s nothing.” Virgil replied, eyes averted and blush on cheeks.

“I have no idea how to pronounce that but I love it! Logan loves it! Roman does too!”

Roman will deny he was shoveling the pasta into his mouth messily ‘til the day he dies. It never happened. No way. Thankfully he wasn’t the only messy eater in the family, for Missy was doing the same thing, but messier.

“You did good. I’m proud of you.” Ginerva praised with a soft smile.

“Whatever.” Virgil said, faint smile on his face at his mother’s praise.

“So how is the wedding coming along?” Rosita asked with a smile. “We found a venue. It has a garden area that looked rather appealing to us so we’re planning the ceremony will be there. The reception will be inside.” Logan found himself effortlessly saying to Rosita.

Roman was so proud of him and judging by Virgil and Patton’s smiles they felt the same.

Imaj smiled, looking a bit excited at all this wedding talk.

“I like gardens. They’re quiet and yet they’re lively.” He said, his approval and delight making the four men internally sigh in relief.

“Fuck gardens.” Missy grumbled as she stuffed pasta in her mouth.

“Marietta Ursa Petrov, you will not swear at this table. Do it again and you’ll be grounded.” Ginerva warned sternly

Missy huffed but nodded, shoving more pasta to get everyone’s eyes off her. Ginerva turned to Virgil with stern eyes as well.

“You too Mister. I know what a mouth you have.” “Yes mom.”

Roman snickered at the scolding.

“Oh! Remy got us measured for our wedding outfits a few weeks ago!” Patton cheerily said, changing the topic.

“Im so jealous of you boys. Friends with a famous fashion designer and won’t even get me a dress.” Rosita teased.

Roman chuckled.

“Mama he’d freak if he got to make you something. He’s our very own Edna Mode.” He said.

“Good to know! He better not hit me with a rolled-up newspaper or have heavy security in his studio.”

Yeah dinner was nice, but afterwards was downright embarrassing. You see, Roman was convinced Miss Ginerva forgot about the baby pictures. He was so wrong.

Logan and Patton sat on both sides of Ginerva as she pointed to pictures. “-on that Halloween I tried to get Virgil to be a cat or a witch or even Wednesday Addams. Whenever I’d propose an idea, he’d pout. He insisted he wanted to be Elton John for that Halloween, specifically Elton in the Im Still Standing video.”

And for sure there was a picture of a small Virgil standing next to Roman, who was dressed as Hercules from Disney’s Hercules in Elton’s iconic outfit. On the other side of Virgil was a kid dressed as a garbage can who looked almost exactly like Roman.

As embarrassed as he was, Roman smiled to see the picture of Remus, back when the three of them were the best of friends. Innocent.

“Oh, and this picture didn’t turn out the way we wanted it. Rosita sneezed so the boys started crying.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry at least once a year since then Ginerva! Get over it!” Patton giggled at the picture of Virgil in the middle of Roman and Remus in a purple onesie crying. Roman was in a red striped overalls outfit sitting up and crying just as hard. Remus was in the same outfit but green and he fell back as he cried. It was adorable.

“Mom please stop.” Virgil weakly pleaded, hood pulled over his face.

“Hush. They need to see these.” Ginerva said with a laugh.

They avoided pictures of Virgil’s father, who just up and left one day to go back home to Russia without a word. A slightly angry aura surrounded her, but she pushed on.

“Oh, this is Rosita’s favorite!” Ginerva pointed out.

“Is it the play time one? Oh my goodness I love that one so much! Their chubby cheeks and tiny hands aaah!” Rosita squealed with a grin, getting up from the armchair and hurrying over.

“Mama stoooop.” Roman groaned.

Logan gave Roman a look that suggested yes, this was indeed blackmail material. Roman flipped him off, only to be whapped lightly from his mother.

Damn you Logan.

The photo had a “castle” made from cardboard boxes. Inside the castle was a grumpy, if not bored looking Virgil with a plastic princess tiara on his head and a bright pink princess dress over his black sweater. Roman had a plastic crown and pointed a foam sword at Remus, who had devil horns and fairy wings on. That was the closest they could get to a dragon.

Rosita smiled wide, but it held a small bit of sadness. Roman knows, cause he feels the same way.

“Ugh this one?” Virgil grumbled, looking over.

“You guys are adorable! I love your princess costume!” Patton cooed. “It was Roman’s.”

Roman laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“CUUUUUTE!”

Rosita was telling the story about that day, but Roman found he wasn’t listening. He just stared at Remus in the photo, his grin wide and his hands bared like claws. His eyes filled with his usual mischief. He always wanted to be the villain or the monster. He remembered a time when Remus built a city out of blocks and toy cars and proceeded to stomp through it and making monster sounds, making Roman laugh at his brother’s silliness as he altered between making noises or pretending to be the shrill voice citizens of the town either being afraid or just saying the weirdest thing like “Dang it I left my pudding at home and now my pants are on fire!”.

Memories came rushing. The times they tried to do a secret handshake but could never remember the steps. The times they slept over at Virgil’s home with red and green matching pajamas and sleeping bags. The times they’d fight over the last homemade churro and forced to split it and apologize. When Remus would come to him when he had horrible nightmares of terrible actions his mind told him to do and he’d cry while hugging Roman tightly, who would cry cause his twin was sad. The gap-toothed grin Remus would give him as they planned to do some mischief and even sometimes dragging Virgil into it. Their red and green “brothership” bracelets they wore until they broke.

“Im going to the bathroom. Don’t start dessert without me!” Roman suddenly blurted out, leaving the room and rushing quickly up the steps to the upstairs bathroom farthest away from the stairs.

He locked the door and turned the fan on. He let out a shuddered gasp and pressed his back against the wall.

“You’re fine Roman. You’re fine. You’re with your family, your loves are enjoying themselves. Don’t ruin this for them. You’re fine.”

Suddenly a sob escaped his lips. He couldn’t stop it. Oh god he was a horrible person. A fraud.

He was the one that abandoned the other two members of their little musketeer group just for some ill-deserved attention by horrible people.

He was the one who pushed his brother away, insulting him and ignoring him when Remus didn’t understand what he did wrong.

He was the reason Remus was gone, never able to attend his wedding, to see his loves or be part of their growing family and instead out there doing who knows what. Was he even still alive?

His loves had poor choice in men, since they were marrying him.

His mother was a fool to love him because he was a horrible son.

His fault.

His fault!

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Hijo I know you’re in there.”

It was his mom.

“I’m fi-“

“Open the door Roman.” She said, usual sass or warmth in her voice gone.

Roman gulped and unlocked the door. He opened it for his mother to come in. She stepped inside and locked the door behind her.

“Roman, my sweet baby.” She cooed comfortingly and cupped his face, which was wet with tears. “Lo siento mama. Lo siento!” he sobbed, burying his face in her shoulder.’

She stroked his hair as he sobbed and shushed him softly. He gripped her white blouse and sobbed, feeling like a child again, guilty for doing something wrong.

“Lo siento. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for turning those pictures into sad memories!” he cried.

It felt like a million eyes were glaring at him, a phantom hand was gripping his throat. Harsh voices whispered his guilt over and over and over until he was dizzy.

“Hijo it’s not your fault.” She whispered.

“But mama it is! I’m the reason he’s gone! I’m the reason family dinners feel so empty! I’m the reason I split our family apart!”

“Roman.”

Rosita’s stern voice made him push back to look at her. Her green eyes stared into his blue ones, filled with tears, but held a strong determination and a love he could never comprehend.

“Roman, it’s not your fault. Yes, you’ve made some mistakes, but it’s not your fault.” She said firmly, wiping his tears away with her thumbs.

She sighed shakily and frowned, which was never a good look on his usually happy mother.

“It’s mine.” “Mama how could y-“ “It’s mine because I didn’t do anything. I didn’t guide you to make better decisions back then, like a mother should.”

Roman’s lip wobbled, god he was an ugly crier.

“It’s my fault that I was so focused on fixing Remus because I was scared for him that I didn’t even think about how he felt or wanted. Yes, your brother’s actions were troubling, deeply so, but I did nothing to help him. I did nothing to understand or support him. And now, its my fault for having you endure so much guilt.”

It was quiet for a bit. Too quiet.

“You may never stop feeling that guilt, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry you carried this with you for so long. But honey, I’m so proud of you!” Rosita said with a wobbly grin.

“What?” Roman shakily asked.

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and making a change. I’m proud of you for making things right with Virgil. I’m proud of you for being such a hard worker, and an amazing dreamer. I’m so proud of you for being a kind and determined man who puts everything into what he does.”

“And honey, I’m proud of you for being a good lover. For being true to yourself even though its scary. I’m proud of you for saving Patton from those god-awful people and supporting Logan during this dinner cause I know he was nervous. I’m proud that you and Virgil and Patton and Logan love each other so much. That despite polyamorous marriage not being legal here, you all said fuck it, cause love conquers everything.”

Roman whimpered before sobbing again. He may never get over the guilt, but with time he can move on. He was so fortunate to have people who he loves with all his heart, and they love him with theirs. He had the best family and the best friends, even if it was hard to see that at times.

He had the best mother.

————

“Why don’t we break it?” “Remus we need to remain as anonymous as we can.” “Boo!” “Do you want this octopus or not?”

It was their last dollar out of like, three hundred. They took a break ‘cause they got hungry, but they came right back. Remus watched, eyes looking between the claw of the machine game and his love’s concentrated and yet frustrated face. He looked like he was about to scream “YOU LOSE! Good DAY SIR!” in a shrill tone. The claw once again picked up the green octopus. Its floppy tentacles hang limp as the claw started to slowly move over to the little dispenser chute. It suddenly slipped through the claw’s metal arms.

“NO!” they both almost screamed.

Ah, but a miracle has happened! One of the octopus’s tentacles was caught on the claw! The claw moved over the chute and dropped the plushie down into it. “YEAH!” Remus cheered, hearing a startled yelp from someone.

—————

Roman came down with his mom, face clean and no longer blotchy. He smiled as he saw his family still sitting downstairs. They turned to him and Patton grinned, looking relieved. Logan and Virgil just stared at him like he had done something stupid.

“Dude I can’t believe you got your hand stuck in the faucet drain. What were you doing?” Virgil asked.

Roman turned to Rosita, who grinned. Oh, his mom made up an excuse to check on him, which was nice, but still that’s embarrassing. He came up with a lie to not seem like too much of an idiot.

“I was washing my hands when one of mama’s earrings she left by the sink went down the drain! I had to rescue it! It was her favorite pair!”

“Well now that you rescued the earring, we were gonna have brownies and watch Frozen 2! Interested?” Patton proposed.

“Definitely!”

Roman felt so much better. He sat down on the couch with Virgil pressed against his side and Logan’s head on his shoulder. Patton came back with brownies for everyone and gave Roman a peck on the lips as he gave Roman his treat. Rosita and Ginerva argued over how Disney Plus worked, only for Logan to instruct them carefully. As Ginerva got the movie set up, Imaj sat down on the floor with his knees drawn up in between Patton and Virgil, happily nibbling on his brownie. Missy walked over and crawled into Roman’s lap, still looking irritated, but there was a shy plush on her face. He decided not to say anything and just ruffled her hair. She smiled a bit at that. Then, she grinned a mischievous grin that reminded him of when Virgil jump scared them as a vampire last Christmas and..someone he used to know.

“I hope Olaf dies.” She said.

Patton and Rosita gasped in horror as Virgil laughed loudly.

———-

“What are you going to name it?” Deceit asked Remus.

Remus looked at the cute octopus in his hands.

“Can Mr. Squishyboo join your tea party Roman?”

“Yeah, but he can’t poison the tea this time! Ms. Fluffybottom got sick last time!” “Fiiine. Then you can’t call him a squid. He’s an octopus!”

Remus smiled softly down at the octopus’s happy little face.

“Squishyboo jr.” he said.

“Oh thank god. I thought you were going to name it hentai.” Deceit sighed.

“Oh! His full name is Squishyboo jr Hentai Lokir!” Remus laughed loudly.

“Do not use my last name for your stuffed animal.” Deceit huffed.

Remus giggled and kissed his love’s forehead. They walked hand in hand out of the arcade, past Pac-man games and children giggling and playing ski-ball. They were near the entrance when a man with a pink Sailor Moon T-shirt stopped them for a moment.

“Oh my stars I love your Invader Zim crop top sir!” he said, Irish accent prominent.

“Thank you! I love your anime titty lady!” Remus greeted back as they left, Deceit snickering and squeezing his hand with affection.

——-

The man just blinked for a moment before noticing his phone was ringing. He smiled and answered it.

“Heeeey babe! How’s your like, family reunion going?” a voice spoke from the other end.

“ ‘ello Remy. Its going fine! Mum, Mama and Dad want you to come next year!”

“Maybe I will go. Like, making wedding stuff is okay, but like, when its for your friends, it sucks. Like, I know im the best bitch in this business, but it has to be so perfect they cry.”

“You are the best Remy. They wouldn’t ask you if you weren’t”

A laugh on the other end.

“This is why I love you Emile, my little piece of Picani pie.”

Emile Picani giggled.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“I’m about to set a high score on the DDR machine. I saw they had some Miku songs and I wanted to try them!”

“Fuck yeah Miku. Hey, face time me so I can see you like, totally shame on everyone’s scores.”

94 notes · View notes

thehopefuldandelion · 5 years

Text

Not Him

part 2

part 1 is here on ao3. here on fanfiction.net

thanks to all who supported me in part 1 specifically @lovely-tothe-bone and @tindomrl

everlark.

I do not own any of these characters:)

***

A day later and I still hadn’t process the fact that just yesterday, Gale and his “intern”, Madge, were in my bed. Gale cheated on me. So what, maybe I had some erotic thoughts about Peeta. I hadn’t actually gone through with them. He’s my boss anyway. I can’t think like that.

Shaking that thought away, I focus on getting ready for the day. Another day ignoring Peeta, another day without Gale. I get dressed quickly in a pencil skirt and button up shirt with a black suit jacket. The more conservative today, the better.

The apartment seems, empty, without another soul here. The tv which used to drown out the blaring noise of honking cars is silent, no dents in the couch to be seen. I don’t have to cook breakfast for two people, instead just for me. One singular person. I suck in a breath and release it. In all honesty, the apartment might seem empty, lonely even, but I don’t miss Gale. As our relationship dwindled and tottered over the edge, we became more like roommates. I can’t even remember the last time he touched me romantically. Pass by pecks and simple questions with simple answers is the only interaction we really had near the end. No wonder he cheated on me.

I should probably be making a bigger deal out of this but I’m too exhausted to care. Gale seemed done with me so why should I still keep rekindling the tiny fire we had? I push all these thoughts that have haunted me since last night far back into my overwhelmed brain and hope that today goes smoothly.

Shit. There goes the milk spilling all over the floor. Yeah today is not gonna be smooth. I don’t have time for this. Shit. Shit. Shit. I hear the toaster pop! meaning the toast is done, burnt, of course. And as I spread butter a chunk slides down my freshly ironed shirt. Fuck. On my way to the bedroom, pretty much jogging, I bump my hip into the chair, hard, (that will leave a bruise) causing me to stub my toe on the door post.

“Aghhhhhhhhh,” I scream in pain and frustration.

I guess this is the world punishing me for some odd reason. Dang. I’m late. I mean I do need this job, but I won’t have to see Peeta anymore so it’s kinda a win-win. Not really, in the end it would be a hard loss and a joyful win. Stop thinking, Katniss. You need to get to work. Yikes. This day sucks.

***

“Good Morning, Katniss,” Peeta greets me while sipping a cup of coffee. Black.

“Hello, Peeta. How was your night?”

“Wonderful. Isn’t it such a lovely day?” He says looking straight at me. I noticed he didn’t even glance out the clear windows. “And how are you on this beautiful day?”

“Uh, it’s great...I’m great,”I respond while gritting my teeth. I can’t stand his kindness. He peered at me, his face in disbelief, turning his head slightly.

He almost scoffs and then says, “Ok, Katniss. Whatever you say.”

What is he? A psychopath? Telekinetic? Wouldn't be surprised.

“Oh, and Katniss? You have a stain on your shirt.”

Fuck.

Over the past week of working at this hell-hole, I observed Peeta giving me looks, unsettling but not in a vicious way. I almost want to relish in the tingling feeling they bring from head to toe. What is wrong with me. My brain and heart are sending two very different signals to my body. I need to throw all thoughts of Peeta in the sudden absent trashcan in my baffled brain. Can anyone find that missing trashcan?

“Katniss?” I hear someone call from behind me.

My chair swivels around and I see a jubilantly smiling Peeta fixated on me, or more particularly the stain. Ugh, that freakin stain. He pulls a hand from behind his back and I see he’s holding a shirt. I give him a befuddled look and he quickly stammers to explain what it’s for.

“Uh, I always have an extra button up with me and was wondering if...well if...if you wanted to wear it until tomorrow. I mean, obviously, you can change when you get home. You don’t actually have to wear it until tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and blushes a deep shade of red. “So, if you’d be interested, I uh-”

I save him the embarrassment by grabbing the shirt out of his hands and running to the bathroom. He gives me a bewildered look and I almost want to laugh. But I don’t. Because I hate him. Right? Right. Lie. And me borrowing his shirt is just because I have no other option. Right. Lie.

Slowly unbuttoning my shirt, I imagine what this would feel like if it was a different situation with Peeta unbuttoning it for me. Oh god. A shoot of pleasure settles in my lower half. What is this man doing to me?

The white button up smells of dill and almost, if I’m not mistaken, cinnamon. The sweet smell wafts into my nose making me hungry. As expected, I am engulfed in the shirt, enveloping me in warmth and...love? That’s bizarre. I never associated Peeta and love. Those two never intermingled in my mind. With the shirt tucked into my skirt and having splashed frigid water on my face, I walk, no, speed-walk towards my desk.

Peeta pops his head out from his office and is about to say something when he looks at me. His mouth opens a few times but no words form. Ok then. “K...Katniss, uh, um, I, uh, can you-

The phone rings distracting me momentarily from his stammering.

“This is she.”

“Yes, he is here.”

“I’ll transfer you now.”

I turn to Peeta, seeing him still utterly flabbergasted, and say, “Katie’s Cakes on line 1, Mr. Mellark.”

Recovered, he answers, “Thank...Thanks, Katniss.” In a blink of an eye he is back in his office with the door safely closed.

I snort to myself and wonder where else the day will lead.

***

My head is throbbing. Countless phone calls and a trip to the coffee shop down the street later and its 6pm, and I’m still at work. Honestly, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix are calling my name. Ugh, I can’t wait to go home. I should've brought some Advil. Mentally adding that reminder for next time.

A quick glance around the office assures me I’m the only one here. Hallelujah. I’m starving. Maybe there's something in the break room. As I open the fridge and bend down to reach some leftover cookies form a party, I hear a gasp and someone run out of the room. Huh. That’s odd. My head hurts and I’m hungry so I guess I’m hallucinating. Eh, it happens.

Oh my God. These cookies are heaven on earth. I moan as I take a bite. Another gasp. What the hell. It can't be me...can it? I start to investigate. My thought process is that if it is a demon or ghost, at least I can die and never have to come here again. The only lights on are from my cubicle and...wait that's weird, why are Peeta’s office lights on. Hmm.

As I turn the corner to get to his office, I bump into a something hard.

“Oof.”

“Are you ok, I’m so sorry Katniss.”

It takes me a second to regain my bearings. “Peeta? What the fuck?”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he says with a slight blush on his cheeks. He then offers his hand for me to take and helps me up. I brush the dust from the ground of my skirt.

Ok, then.

“It’s fine Peeta. I’ll survive.”

“CanIbuyyoudinner?”

“What?”

“Uh, can I take you out?” he says.

“As a date?” I inquire him. There is no way in hell I would go on a date with Peeta Mellark. Right?

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, then neck. “I guess. I was thinking more of an apology. For bumping into you, that is.”

“Ok,” I say slowly, reminding myself this is not a date. Yes, definitely not a date. “When?”

“Now?”

“Uh, um, sure. Yes, now is fine.” I say quickly trying to cover up my stammering.

I walk over to grab my purse and put on my jacket. “So where, were you thinking?”

“I have something in mind,” he tells me with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

***

We end up at a bakery about 2 miles outside of city limits. I was confused at first, until Peeta told me he grew up around here and worked at this bakery until taking over Mellark Enterprises from his dad. The bakery is small and homey, wood tables slightly worn down from years of use. The counters are stained, each stain telling a story. It seemed like a nice place to grow up, full of love and laughter, something I never understood.

Peeta lets me try a variety of pastries, all delicious and mouth watering.

“I actually own this bakery.” Peeta tells me.

“So that’s why we are in here safe and sound and not arrested for breaking and entering.” I tease him.

He laughs and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t come here often enough, being CEO of a company and all,” he says while stabbing his fork into a muffin. “It’s peaceful out here. Almost like, everyone has taken time to reflect on their lives and go about their days how they want too.”

“So, what I’m picking up on is you didn't want to be a CEO of a multi-million dollar company.”

“Honestly, no.” He breathes out. “I wanted to be a famous painter and if that didn't work out I’d just stay here, spending the rest of my days baking.”

“Makes, sense. Painter you say? Just how good are you?” I laugh.

Peeta shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not terrible.” One of his curls has fallen over his eyes and it takes all my restraint to not reach my hand over and brush it back.

Hours later we were still talking and laughing. I was having a great time.

“No, way. You actually said you were the doctor and flew around in the TARDIS. I can’t believe she considered that that was true.”

“Oh, yeah. She was mortified. Best blind date I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, I wouldn't have run off,” I blush.

“Good to know,” Peeta says in return, giving me a look of hope.

We both just peer at each other, lost in thoughts of our own. The silence isn't awkward per se, it’s almost satiated.

“Well, I should get home. I do have work after all.”

“Of course, Katniss. Thanks for joining me. I hope this evening was apology enough,” he says kindly.

“It will suffice,” I tease.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, almost sad to see me go.

“Tomorrow. Good Night, Peeta.”

“’Night, Katniss.”

I drive away feeling strange. Do I like my boss? More importantly, do I like Peeta Mellark?

***

After hanging up my coat and setting down my purse, I shimmy of my skirt, keeping Peeta’s button up on, I jump into bed and spread out like a starfish. This day is over. Finally. As my eyes become heavy and I drift off into a deep slumber, my phone pings!

From: Unknown 11:46

Hey Katniss, this is Peeta. I just wanted to know if you got home safe.

From: Katniss 11:47

Hi Peeta. I did thank you for your concern. Sleep Well.

From: Peeta Mellark 11:49

Sweet Dreams, Katniss.

I turn off my phone, not even considering what the message implies. It’s been a long day and the last thing I need to worry about is Peeta and I’s relationship.

I remembered to set my alarm last night, luckily, so I won't be late for work. I am still wearing Peeta’s button up. Slowly, but surely, I get out of bed, shower, and eat breakfast. I turn on the tv, because I need some distraction. Opening the window next to the fire exit, allows for some much needed air into the apartment. A familiar voice draws me out of my mental to do list for today.

Holy Shit.

Peeta is on tv. Why didn't I know about this? I’m his secretary for god’s sake. Caesar Flickerman who hosts Good Morning Panem is asking him questions about everything, from his favorite food to his love life.

“So, Peeta. What's it like being the CEO if such a profitable company?”

“Uh, it’s great. Hard work, but it’s good,” Peeta says with a somber look on his face. I think back to our conversations last night. He never asked to be CEO, but it was thrust upon him like a teacher giving homework.

“That’s awesome, Peeta.” Caesar leans back in his chair preparing to ask the next question. “Tell me, you were just added on “Forbes Top 10″ and given the title of “Panem’s Most Eligible Bachelor”. Anyone out there who catches your eye?”

Peeta has a slight hesitation in his voice before looking the camera in the eye and saying, “No, not really anyone at the moment.”

“Aw, c’mon Peeta. There must be one special someone. You can tell us.” Caesar inquires.

I see Peeta gulp nervously and blink a couple times. “Well, there is this one girl. I’ve loved her since forever, really.”

The audience, including Caesar, perk up at this. “Here’s what you do, buy her some flowers and chocolates and win her heart.”

“She’s not really that type of girl, plus I think she hates me.”

“Ah, well that's too bad,” Caesar shrugs. “Her loss. Am I right folks?”

The audience abounds in laughter and claps. Who is this mystery girl? I mean I hate Peeta, or used too, but it can't be me. Can it? Shaking those thoughts away, I turn off the tv, and grab my jacket and purse. Time to start the day.

***

Peeta’s office is still locked. I’m assuming he is still at Good Morning Panem. These past few days have been, strange. From breaking up with Gale, realizing I don't hate Peeta, and finding out he loves this mystery girl, I just don't know what to expect from this job anymore. My mind can’t process this abundance of, in a way, drama. Hey, I’m anti-social. What can I say?

Sticky notes with phone numbers and lists can be found on almost every surface of my workspace. I try to eliminate the countless number of them as the day drags on. No sign of Peeta. It’s boring without his tacky humor and clever remarks.

I decide to call Annie to get me out of this slump.

“Hey Katniss! What’s up?” Annie asks. “Peeta likes, no, loves someone and I think it's me. What do I do?” I say shakily, unsure of what to think of all these conflicting emotions.

I hear Annie giggle and then regain her composure. “Hi to you too. And I don’t know, Katniss. Just ask him on a date and if he says yes then he likes you.”

“But, every time I even consider doing something like that with him, I’m brought back to all the times in our childhood when he was just rude and infuriating.”

“Sounds to me that you might like him back, Katniss. You do know, that when a guy teases you it usually means he likes you. That could explain why he was how he was in middle school and high school,” Annie explains.

It makes sense, but I can’t justify that for his true feelings. The only way to figure this out is to confront him. Crap.

“You have a lot of thinking to do Everdeen. I’ll see you tomorrow for zen, yeah?”

“Yup, thanks Annie for the much needed clarification,” I say gratefully.

“Of course. Anytime, my friend. See ya.”

“Bye,” I hang up.

I go to the closest cafe for my lunch break, needing to get out of the office, and forgo an afternoon pick me up for a sandwich. It’s not as delicious as the sandwiches at Peeta’s bakery, but it does the job of filling my stomach. The bread isn't fresh and the meat was probably cut a week ago, then frozen, and don't even get me started- wait, when did I become a food connoisseur?

I throw away the trash and walk back to Mellark Enterprises, hit the elevator button for the 8th floor, and continue in my secretary duties. I see Peeta’s office door open and something compels me to talk to him.

“Hey, so I saw you on tv this morning,” I say to a slightly surprised Peeta.

“Uh, yeah,” There he goes rubbing the back of his neck again. “What did you think?”

“You did great, I mean, you always do,” he blushes at this. “Mystery girl, eh? Caesar Flickerman had to bite tooth and nail to get that out of you.”

“She’s something special, indeed. I don’t think she knows I like her,” At this, Peeta gives me puppy dog eyes.

Clearing my throat, I respond, “I was wondering if you were free, possibly tonight? There’s this movie that came out that I’ve been dying to see and wanted to go with a friend.”

“Yeah, I would love to, Katniss.”

“O-Ok cool,” I say as I shoot finger guns at him. Finger guns...really Katniss?

Flustered and slightly embarrassed, I leave the office and sit down at my desk.

***

We meet up at the theatre and head straight for concessions. My stomach grumbles at the savory smell of popcorn and melted butter, salty pretzels and bubbly soda.

“What do you like Peeta?” I ask him curiously.

“Oh, I myself love a classic bucket of buttered popcorn and M&Ms,” he says confidently.

“Mmm, sound delicious.”

“Do-Do you want to share Katniss?” Peeta inquires me nervously.

“It is a large bucket of popcorn; I don't think I could finish it on my own. Sure, we can share.” I have to remind myself this is not a date. I kinda wish it was though.

Before I even have a chance to get my credit card out, Peeta is already paying for our snacks.

“Peeta!” I scold while hitting his arm jokingly. “I should pay. I invited you, after all.”

“Too late, Katniss,” He says as he taps my nose.

We both look away nervously, embarrassed by our intimate actions.

About halfway through the movie, we stop passing the popcorn bucket and I feel drowsy. I wake up by someone softly calling my name.

“Katniss, Katniss. Time to wake up.”

Quickly, I realize my head is on Peeta’s shoulder and my arms are wrapped around his. How did that happen.

“I didn't want to wake you. Your slumber looked peaceful, sleeping beauty.”

“I’m so sorry, Peeta. I swear I didn't mean to fall asleep on your arm,” I apologize.

“It’s ok. You can fall asleep on me any time you need to,” He tells me smiling without a care in the world.

I gasp. “U-Uh, o-ok Peeta. Thank you for the offer.”

On our way out, I turn to him and give him a peck on the cheek. Then, like a cheetah, I dash to my car, leaving Peeta speechless. What is happening to me?!

***

3249 words later and this is the product. Hope you enjoyed!

#nothim #everlark #The Hunger Games #au #fic #thehopefuldandelion

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calliecat93 · 5 years

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(Part Two)

Another volume, done. God, I feel like I just survived a whirlwind. To say that this has been a very eventful volume of RWBY would be a /huge/ understatement. We had so, so much happen. New characters, uncovered truths, political battles, murder and chaos at every turn, just… a lot. But we once again made it to this point folks. We made it to the end and we can take it easy as we await Volume 8. But with the volume now over, how did it fare? Was it a success? A failure? Or somewhere in between? And how does it measure compared to the previous six?

We have a lot to go over folks. So much that I had no choice but to make this a two-parter. Yeah, that long folks. The last two-parter I did was twelve pages long, so… yeah. In this section, we will cover Animation/Visuals, Audio, and the first half of the Character section (mainly the Atlas characters and villains). Part Two will cover the rest of the Characters (RWBYJNRQO), Story, Volume Stats, and my Final Thoughts. Everyone got all that? Good! With that said, let’s conclude this year’s RWBY Reviews with the biggest one of all: the full Volume Seven Review.

Animation/Visuals

Perfect as always. The design work once again proves perfect. CRWBY described Mantle and Atlas as based on different industrial ages, and it shows. Mantle is a big, but worn down city. It has some major New York vibes. Heck, maybe even some Gotham City with how bleak it is. The people are down-trodden and the place just looks dirty. It is a relic of the past, while Atlas represents the future. Clean, shades of blue and white to show how pristine it is, fancy locations like Atlas Academy or the Schnee Manor. Atlas is the future. A representation of the greatness that humanity can achieve… at least it looks that way. The two cities contrast so much, and it’s just so well done. When you compare to how we sadly saw so little of Mistral in comparison seeing this much with Atlas was a real treat.

Character stuff continues to be great. All of the new outfits of the heroes look fantastic. Even Jaune’s dumb hair ended up better in actual animation than it did in the still they showed at NYCC. Every character looks fantastic. Expressions are once more on point. One of the best cases is Ironwood. You can see how worn down the man is at every single turn, but also the steely determination. You can just look at him and you get the sense of strong authority, yet plain exhaustion all at the same time. In Chapter 11 when he goes from exhausted relief to full-blown horror, you feel it. Oh God do you feel it. You feel what all of these characters are feeling. Ruby’s despair in Chapter 11, Blake and Yang’s confliction in Chapter 7, Nora’s growing rage about Mantle all throughout the volume. How broken Ren feels in Chapter 13. The pure coldness from James form the same chapter when he shoots Oscar. The character animation was just on point.

The effects are also well done. I mean the Salem apparition in Chapter 11? Horrifying. Fria’s Maiden-charged blizzard was the best though. Powerful, yet somehow haunting beautiful. There have been some updates as well, like Neon’s rainbow trail and Neo’s Semblance look a lot better. Some new Grimm designs like the Saybers and the pterodactyl thing. There’s kind of a dinosaur/Ice Age theme with the Grimm, which fits with the Antarctica-esque environment of Solitas. The fight scenes were very well done, especially in the final chapters. The Ironwood vs Watts fight was freakin’ excellent and we finally got to see the Anti-Gravity biome! RWBY vs Ace-Ops was amazing on all fronts, both with the choreography and on a symbolic level. The best fight imo though is Cinder vs Penny and Winter, especially when it gets taken out into the open air. Pure epicness. Seriously, every fight was freakin’ fantastic, even minor ones like JNRO vs FNKI or the Bees vs Robyn. Even some that I wasn’t into, like Tyrian vs Qrow, CLover, and Robyn were fun to watch~

Overall, the animation and visuals were excellent~ Five starts!

Audio

If I went over every voice acting performance, we’d be here all day. Every actor was excellent. The regulars were excellent. The newbies were excellent. Everyone was excellent. We get people that we haven’t heard in a long while, like Taylor McNee (Penny), Elizabeth Maxwell (Winter), and Jason Rose (Ironwood). None of them have lost their touch. Taylor still captures Penny’s innocent charm beautifully, and her performance when Penny is just broken after being framed was heartbreaking. Jason was /especially/ good. He still carries the General’s strong authority while adding more weight, but when he becomes utterly unhinged? He did a masterful job with the performance. We also let Chris Sabat and Josh Grelle do more with their characters and it’s wonderful. Josh as Tyrian has always been great, but getting to hear Chris do more Watts? Excellent. I’m so used to him being the brute guy, like Vegeta in DBZ or Zoro in One Piece. But he does the calculated egomaniac very well and you can tell that he’s enjoying every single scene. Excellent job sir~ Jessica Nigri ended up stealing the show though, giving by far her most insane performance as Cinder yet and she 100% killed it.

We got some new people as well, and they were all great. I was so happy to see Cristina Vee getting cast and she does such a good job as Robyn. Playful but also determined. The Ace-Ops cast was good with Chris Wehkamp (Clover), Anaris Quinones (Harriet), and Mick Lauer (Marrow) being the stand-outs. Caitlin Glass got one episode as Willow, but she did an excellent job portraying how broken she is but also has just a spark of fight in her. She only got like… three minutes, and she did it perfectly. David Fennoy was a surprise to hear considering he was already in Grimm Eclipse, but it was a wonderful surprise. He perfectly portrays Pietro as this Gepetto-esque father figure who I fell in love with immediately. Then, of course, we have Jason Liebrecht as Qrow. To say that the guy was put into the not so flattering task of taking over due to the circumstances with Vic’s firing is putting it mildly. But he pulled it off. By the second chapter alone, I was already sold. He did an excellent job portraying Qrow and imo, already surpassed Vic. Like everything in Chapter 12? Jason /nailed/ every single emotion right on the head. I’m greatly looking forward to hearing more of him in the future~

The main cast as I said, were excellent. Some got it a bit easier this year, like Miles, Arryn, and Barbara. They still did great, but they took a bit more of a back seat and we’ll go more into that in Character. Neath and Aaron, while their characters stuff is more subdued, did an excellent job with their respective character’s viewpoints. Sam Ireland /finally/ got to do more with Nora outside ‘bubble and energetic’ with Nora’s anger about Mantle and her conflictions about Ren. She did it beautifully. Kara got much more with Weiss compared to last year, and she portrays all of Weiss’ worries and conflict perfectly. Especially in Chapter 4 when she tells her father off. I cheered so much. Lindsay with Ruby was perfect. She got a lot more serious moments with hr compared to the past, but she handled them all excellently. She goes through so many emotions in Chapter 11 alone and she hits every single one right in the head. She and Sam are tied for the standout among the mains, but all of them did an excellent job as always.

Then what’s RWBY without its soundtrack? Once more, perfect work. The scores were all excellent. Penny’s letimotif, instrumentals of songs like The Path to Isolation and Trust Love, the haunting violins at the end of Chapter 9, even the three-second bit of Indomitable in Chapter 10. Alex Abraham once more does an amazing job. I still remember the kickass guitar during the first fight in Chapter 1 and I was immediately pumped. Every score added to every scene and added so much more to them. But they also knew when to just let scenes be quiet, and it added so much weight. Once more, quality sound work.

But then we have Jeff Williams. What do you want me to say that I haven’t been saying since Volume 1? The man is a genius. He did amazing. Casey did amazing. I got nothing new to add. The songs this volume were freakin’ excellent. The opening, while kind of a tone contrast to the volume, was an excellent song and perfectly expresses the themes of the volume. Then we have things like the uplifting rock ballad Brand New Day, the badassness of Hero featuring Caleb Hyles, and the credits song as per usual. Speaking of Caleb though, it was nice to hear some new vocalists with him, Santi C, and the quartet in War, though of course, Casey remains flawless as ever. I loved all of the songs. IDK if it tops V6’s soundtrack yet, but it’s up there. Now, of course, my favorites will likely change when the full tracks are out, but here is the current ranking:

War (Chapter 12)

Hero (Chapter 11)

Fear (Chapter 13 Credits)

Trust Love (Opening Theme)

Brand New Day (Chapter 5)

Until the End (Chapter 13)

Touch the Sky (Chapter 3)

Let’s Get Real (Chapter 6)

Celebrate (Chapter 6)

Audio-wise, the volume was great. Great voice acting. Great sound effects. Great music. Just great all around~

Characters, Part One (Villains and Atlas)

There are… so many characters this volume. So, so many. Hence why I had to divide it up. We’ll cover the villains and Atlas characters here, and we’ll focus on the mains in Part 2 of the review. Since the villains won’t take too long we’ll start with them and go from there.

Not too much to say about Tyrian. He’s as terrifying and crazy as ever, and even moreso after Chapter 12, but it was nice to get some more details on his history before Salem. Him being a serial killer makes sense, as is his undying worship of Salem since she both saved him and she’s the manifestation of every twisted thing that he believes in. I think Chapter 12 also helped re-ignite his threat level with his brutal murder of Qrow, which reminded me even more than Chapter 6 of how terrifying the man is. Still, he was just there to be cray and murderous, and he did so. Watts thought was more interesting. We got some more background, like how he was a former Atlesian scientist who created Mantle’s security network and he joined Salem essentially because he felt like Ironwood put him down and he got jealous that Pietro’s project was chosen over his. It’s petty, but all the villains are petty. It helps him stand out though and he’s certainly one of the more interesting of Salem’s cult due to it. We also see that he does have some combat still, which is nice. No idea what happens with him now, but he served his role in this volume very well.

But then we have Cinder and Neo. Neither of which I was expecting anything major from this volume. Well, guess I was wrong. Cinder as of late has attracted a lot of hate… I mean yeah we /are/ supposed to hate her, but people just hate her as a character. The main thing seems to be how we don’t know Cinder’s motivations, and I get that. But really? I think that she was excellent here. Unlike in Mistral, she is once more in control and thus her smug personality is back in full. She’s only in four episodes, and she uses that time masterfully to turn everything on its head. The way she broke Ironwood alone with just a glass chess piece. She clearly learned from Salem well. I mean the way that Salem broke Ruby by just mentioning Summer’s fate? That is some master class psychological warfare. Something that Cinder has clearly mastered and when she isn’t running off rage she can pull it off excellently. But of course, at the end, she again failed to get the Maiden powers. With how she became more and more insane throughout the fight, I fear that she’s going to become even more callous than ever before.

I’m also really starting to grow fond of Neo. She started off as an overhyped character (imo) that was brought back for mere fanservice, but they are clearly trying to use her as best as possible. And I think that they’re doing a great job. Neo has an agenda against Ruby and knows that Cinder can easily obliterate her, which is the only reason why Neo is dealing with this. You can tell that unlike Emerald and Mercury, she is not happy following Cinder’s orders. She’s only following her to both get at her target and to live, not out of gratitude or feeling like it’s all that she has due to her upbringing. It’s nice to see someone who Cinder has no control over, yet Cinder can still over-power her so she has to go with it for now. But it helps give Neo a character and compared to before where I just didn’t get why she existed, I’m legit excited to see what happens with her next.

Now we can cover the Atlesian Military. They are… a complex bunch. Fitting, considering who their general is. James Ironwood has always been a very complicated character. On the one hand, we’ve seen through volumes 2-4 that he is genuinely a good person who wants to protect the people and do what’s right. But the problem with him has always been that he makes all the wrong choices. He didn’t heed Ozpin warnings in Beacon about showing off his military might, and it leads to the Fall and Atlas being made out as the villains. He hasn’t gotten any better. If anything, he’s gotten worse. He’s still well-intentioned, but as the old saying goes “The pathway to Hell is paved with good intentions.”, and Jame is the living embodiment of it.

We see that James did genuinely want to trust the heroes. He gives them the Lamp back, he gives them their license, he has them train with his best. He was sincere and he just wants to protect people. But his own paranoia and flaws as a person have overwhelmed him. His TSD has deteriorated his mind and since he isn’t getting proper help, it’s making him lose it. He’s terrified of Salem, so much that once he saw that Black Queen chess piece and doubt was placed into his mind, he snapped. He went from taking RWBY’s secret-keeping well and keeping focused on what was important, to turning on them and leaving a city that he is just as responsible for as Atlas to die. It’s a truly tragic tale. You /want/ James to do the right thing. He’s not a bad person, and you can see the logic with all of his decisions. But they are the wrong decisions not just on a logical level when you really think about it, but especially on a moral level. You can see that he knows what he’s doing is wrong and that he isn’t happy about it, but he still does it and now hundreds will die because of it. He has gone from a flawed but heroic man, to no better than Salem herself which he seals by shooting Oscar with no hesitation. It is a sad tale, but it is a well-done arc and just shows how excellent of a character James is. I am very pleased with his character here.

The Ace-Ops are decent additions. We don’t know a lot about them, but they have personality. Clover is the nice guy leader, Harriet is the confident and competitive second-in-command, Marrow is the out-going rookie, Elm is the out-going bruiser, and VIne is the calm, logical one. On the surface, they are heroic people… but like with James, it’s more complex. None of them are bad people, Marrow especially considering his Faunus status and he is fully aware of Atlas’ bigotry/messed up class system. But they were trained to not care about emotions or relationships. Priority Number One is obeying the general’s orders without question, and if they do, to go against those urges. It’s harsh because you can see that the five are good and friendly people, but once Ironwood lost it, that conditioning came into full effect.

You can tell that RWBY’s ‘betrayal’ hurt them. Harriet, despite saying that none of them are friends, clearly felt hurt and enraged. Same with Elm, though unlike Harriet who was practically going for the kill, Elm seemed to be trying to force herself to do so. Vine tried to solve it peacefully, clearly not wanting to fight, but no one else was willing to follow. Marrow was the biggest example. His heart was not in the fight, and I think he honestly did agree with RWBY. He tried to push himself otherwise, but it failed. Then Clover, who has stood by James’ side throughout even if he seemed unhappy with it, tried to arrest Qrow on the spot even when Tyrian re-entered the fray. That blind devotion sadly cost him his life… and I wonder how this is going to affect Ace-Ops. Despite what Harriet said, they were still all allies and I can see this messing them up. It either makes them want payback or see the light. Regardless, they were a good bunch of side-characters and I look forward to seeing what happens next.

A bigger, and much sadder, example of this Atlas conditioning is Winter. She is loyal to James because due to him and the military, she got out of her abusive home and a shot at a better life. But the sad reality is that she's really in no better position than she would have been otherwise. She’s been groomed to become the Winter Maiden and despite her choosing it to make it her own, it's still pretty much someone deciding her life for her. She internalizes her feelings and continues to obey James, despite knowing and feeling that it is wrong. Just like she was trained to do. The only person that she makes an exception for is Weiss, which seeing how much she cares and is proud of her sister and even taking her to the Winter Maiden facility was super sweet. But even then not only does she still keep a composed demeanor around Weiss, but she still stood by James even after Weiss became wanted. But hopefully, with the Maiden destiny not off the table and Weiss a fugitive, this will give Winter the chance to accept her own emotions and begin to carve her own destiny. One not chosen by anyone but herself.

But of course, the one we can blame for Winter’s state, along with James, is Jaques Schnee. I didn’t think I could hate him anymore than I already did, but I got proven wrong. The man is ambitious, willing to do anything to keep his business (well… the business he stole) running and himself in power. He runs for Council pretty much just to get rid of the embargo and takedown James. He’s despicable and I hate him and I hope he rots behind jail. Whitley doesn't really have anything new, just a bit more hammering down that he is the way he is due to the abuse and his sister’s leaving him behind. Willow though? She gets one episode, and I feel horrible for this woman. While her shutting down pretty much ruined her kids' lives, you can see why and feel sympathy for her. His is a woman worn down, and while the smallest spark of fight is in her as she gives Weiss the key to burying her father, it’s so clear that she’s broken. It’s going to take a very long time for her to recover if she does. As for Whitley, his father may be gone. But the control he had over his son is likely still firm. Which can only mean bad things for Weiss.

Opposing Atlas is Robyn Hill, Mantle’s Hometown Hero. She is very much the anti-Ironwood. She’s devoted to Mantle and wants to do what’s best for them, even if it means breaking the law. But she’s not unreasonable either. She was very friendly to Clover and Marrow, only becoming antagonistic after Penny got framed for murdering her supporters. And even then, she listened to Blake and Yang and was willing to give Ironwood a chance. One that he blew sky high. But Robyn comes off as a good person who sees the injustices with Mantle and once making a change the legal way became impossible, she resorted to the illegal route. And even then, she and her Happy Huntresses never hurt anyone and were trying to help the people that James was making suffer. Just as her inspiration of Robin Hood. She’s a very likable, inspiring character though I do wish we got some more backstory for her. But hey, she’s a good person who didn’t fall into Atlas’ conditioning trying to help those who need it, and you don’t need a motivation to do the right thing.

This brings us to Penny Polendina and her father Pietro. I’m so, soooo happy to have Penny back. I have some issues with her return, mainly in that she and Ruby never talk about what happened, But that’s more for when I get to Ruby. But aside from that, Penny was excellent. She’s still the same quirky, sweet girl that we met back early on, but we get much more of her this time. She’s been made Mante’s protector, and it is a duty that he is full-heartedly devoted to. She wants to understand feelings more, like how to balance the things she wants to do with her duties and is confused about how Winter can shove her emotions aside to do what is clearly wrong. Penny may be a robot, but she is by far the most human of the Atlesian cast. It made how broken she was when framed by Tyrian and Watts hurt so much, as well as Ironwood’s comments about how she’s under his control. He talks as though she’s just another robot soldier, and you can see how much that hurts her. But at the very end, she proved how goodhearted she is when she calms/comforts Fria in her final moments, and due to it, Fria chooses her to be the next Winter Maiden. A title that she absolutely deserves.

We can probably thank Pietro for Penny being a good person. He’s just as lively as she is and clearly loves her with all of his heart. I mean he’s given up chunks of his Aura in order to bring her back. That is love, people. While I wish he had more of him (and Maria for that matter), Pietro was so much fun and a welcome addition to the supporting cast. He’s a genius responsible for much of Atlas’ technological achievements, but he also takes time to help those in Mantle. He wanted to create a savior with a soul, which I think says a lot about him as a person. While I wish he and Penny had more interaction, that loving father/daughter bond is there and it helps them both stand out among a cast slowly losing their humanity. I worry for them, especially with Salem having Grimm Monstro on her side, but doesn’t change how happy I was with them here.

Then we, of course, have our main cast… but that is something that we shall cover in Part Two. Stay tuned~

#rwby #rwby7 #rwby reviews #callie reviews

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asterythm · 5 years

Text

A is for Amour || One Small Voice in the Universe (9)

Pairings: Slow burn Logicality, eventual Prinxiety Word Count: 4.7k Chapter Summary: Some days were worse than others, but this had to have been one of Virgil's worst ones yet. Thank goodness for Patton, right? Chapter Warnings: food mentions

<< First Chapter || < Previous Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3

***

With a heavy exhale, Virgil Xia collapsed backwards into his cushy desk chair, allowing himself to deflate at last. A quiet groan escaped as he massaged closed eyes, wishing the tension building in his shoulders could melt away just as easily.

Today was not shaping up to be a good day.

From the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning, he knew from the silence in his dorm room that something was wrong: he’d slept in past his alarm. A lot. Though he hadn’t even stopped to entertain the notion of breakfast before leaving, Virgil ended up almost forty-five minutes late to his morning class (which of course just had to be all the way on the other side of campus) -- which would have been a bad enough start to the day on its own, but things only had only gone downhill from there.

After finally showing up to said morning class, huffing and puffing all the way, Virgil realized that in his rush he’d forgotten to pack his textbooks and pencil case into his bag. With no options left, he was forced to ask the moody-looking girl sitting next to him if he could borrow a pencil and share textbooks for the day. The girl let him have the supplies without any argument, but after burning under the heat of her glare for the rest of class, Virgil almost wished he hadn’t asked.

Virgil figured that things should start turning around for him after lunch, though. After all, if there was one thing he could rely on to never let him down, it was food.

Right?

For lunch, Virgil bought a sandwich as usual from the sketchy-but-cheap on-campus kitchen that he and many other JMSC students got most, if not all, of their meals from. He barely got a single bite in before his teeth hit something hard. Wanting to know what he’d nearly chipped his tooth on, Virgil peeled apart the sandwich to see a long fake nail that definitely didn’t belong to him.

“Agh!” Virgil dropped the sandwich with a yelp. “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew…” He was hungry, but not that hungry.

Still, he had already paid for the sandwich, and the last thing he wanted was to have to buy another — he was already living on a very fragile budget as it was. He briefly debated taking the sandwich up to the kitchen and asking for another one, or at least for his money back, but the thought of marching right into a possible confrontation made his stomach turn even more than the sandwich had.

Instead, Virgil dug around until he found some dusty candy in the bottom of his bag, probably left over from one of those overcrowded college fair things that he had been unfortunate enough to get caught up in during his first month back at school. He sighed. Better than nothing. Those tacky hard candies ended up the closest thing resembling lunch that Virgil ate that day.

Things went from “bad” to “just freakin’ awful” during his afternoon commute to work. All the running around without having had anything to eat but a handful of candy all day had taken its toll; Virgil was exhausted. So much so that, when he boarded the bus at last, he immediately sat down on the first and only empty seat he saw… without stopping to wonder why, in a bus as packed as the one he was currently on, there were even any empty seats in the first place.

He recognized his mistake the moment the seat of his pants touched the chair: it was soaking wet. Virgil jumped up immediately, praying that the dirty liquid he had just sat in was only melted snow and nothing worse than that.

When Virgil finally arrived at the library, his pants had at least dried, but his dignity wasn’t quite so easily fixed. And then came the last straw — as soon as he got to the kids’ section, which he always spent the beginning of his shift tidying up, he was greeted with the sight of many, many picture books that had been ripped off of the shelves and scattered carelessly all over the floor. A few loose pages pulled free from book bindings had been crumpled up and thrown into the mix as well. It looked like a miniature tornado had raged its way through the area, and worst of all, there was nary a parent nor a child in sight to take responsibility.

Now Virgil, at last finished cleaning up the section and painstakingly taping pages back into books where they belonged, wanted nothing more than to sink straight through his cushy desk chair and into a thousand-year-long sleep. Heck, a light nap would do.

No way was he going to add “get fired” to the ever-growing series of unfortunate events that kept coming at him, though, so instead he settled for the knowledge that he ought to be catching a bit of a break now. Around this time of day, Virgil usually didn’t have much to do; most patrons had either already left for lunch or would just now be coming in — thank goodness. Cheering up a little at the thought, Virgil began rummaging through his black tote bag to find his knitting needles, ready to unwind both his yarn and his thoughts at last.

Ten seconds later, he realized that he’d forgotten his needles at home.

Virgil’s head dropped to his desk perhaps just a little too hard. Why does the entire universe hate me?

To be fair, this was probably for the better anyway. With all of the rotten luck he’d been having today, he would probably have ended up dropping a full row of stitches, or stabbing himself through the finger with one of the thin metal needles, or something equally as ridiculous and outlandish and exactly the kind of thing that he might do. At least this way he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself with his own stupidity any further, right?

Dropping his tote back down onto the ground, Virgil sighed as he resigned himself to three or four hours of boredom. The tips of his fingers tapped out an aimless rhythm against the smoothly polished surface of the library desk he sat behind. There wasn’t much else to do, besides listen to his stomach’s occasional rumbling complaints as he tried not to fall asleep where he was (whether from hunger or boredom, he wasn’t quite sure).

Maybe the library computers have Minesweeper or something installed on them. Probably not — Virgil was half-convinced the monitor on his desk could be dated back to the prehistoric era — but it couldn’t hurt to check, right?

***

“No! Argh!” Virgil whisper-yelled, collapsing back in his chair with finality. Pixelated letters blinked on the screen in front of him, their red colour so needlessly bright it was almost insulting: Game Over — Try again? In response, Virgil moved his mouse to click the x in the upper-right corner of the window where he’d just had Minesweeper open for the past hour or so. “Okay — I’m done. Get out! Don’t you make me play your stupid game, or see your stupid face, ever again ,” the frustrated young man threatened, jabbing an accusatory finger at his dinosaur computer.

Virgil was very aware that what he was saying didn’t make an ounce of sense, since it was hardly like he had anything else to do until someone came to ask a question or check a book out… but at this point, he was so beyond caring about making sense anymore. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to hear him —

“Um, Virgil?”

“Ah!” exclaimed Virgil, starting in his seat. He looked away from the computer to see Patton Foley standing in front of him, eyes widened in concern. “Ah,” he said again, much quieter this time. Virgil must have gotten so engrossed in his game that he hadn’t heard the tell-tale whoosh of the doors opening and closing when Patton entered. “Patton. I, uh, didn’t see you there. How’re you doing?” he greeted the boy, mentally crossing his fingers in hopes that by some miracle, Patton hadn’t heard him talking to his own computer just now.

No such luck. “Virgil, what’s wrong?” Patton wanted to know, ignoring Virgil’s question in favour of asking one of his own. “You seem really upset. Are you feeling okay?”

Virgil nodded, began to give an awkward thumbs-up over the desk, thought better of it, and brought his hand back down. “Oh, yeah, totally okay. The okay-est. I was just... getting heated over something dumb, is all.” Desperate to end the conversation as soon as possible, he made a show of squinting at his wristwatch, accompanied by an exaggerated gasp as he flapped a hand at Patton to shoo the boy into the next room. “Oh no, you’re going to be late to your session! You’d better hurry, Pat!”

“Wait, what? I could have sworn that I was, like, twenty minutes early, last time I checked.” Patton glanced up at the analog clock mounted on the wall behind him and studied it for quite some time before giving up and admitting, “I can’t read that thing. Still,” he continued, putting his hands on his hips with an unimpressed stare, “I don’t believe you.”

“Wh — about the time?”

“No. Well, I guess that too. I mean, you’re not even wearing a watch —” Patton gestured at Virgil’s wrist, which Virgil, cheeks aflame, only now recognized was indeed bare — “but that’s not what I meant and you know it. You look like, um… just like a raging...” His hands gestured vaguely. “How do I put this in a way that doesn’t make me sound mean?”

“Gee, thanks,” mumbled Virgil. “That bad?”

“Sorry. But, uh, yeah. It just seems like you’ve had a rough day, you know? Like, obviously you’re tired ’cause of how you’re all slumped over, and frustrated ‘cause you keep trying to keep your fists from clenching, and —”

A loud, unhappy growl suddenly interrupted Patton’s list of concerns. Either a) someone was about to be mauled by a bear, or b) after having barely eaten a thing all day, Virgil’s stomach had decided to bite back.

Both Virgil and Patton knew perfectly well which of those two options was the correct one.

Without another word, Patton reached into his backpack and pulled out a sealed zip-lock bag filled with assorted nuts — cashews, almonds, peanuts, and more, plus what looked to be a few semi-sweet chocolate chips and raisins thrown into the mix. After looking Virgil sternly in the eye, he tossed the bag onto Virgil’s desk. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing,” said the boy as he did so.

A moment passed while Virgil processed, staring blankly at the trail mix. Okay, thanks for showing me your food, I guess, he almost said — then all of a sudden the tired man was fully awake as he realized that Patton wasn’t showing, but rather giving.

“Wait — hang on, no no no no no! Patton, I can’t take your stuff,” protested Virgil. He grabbed the bag of trail mix and thrust it back in the general direction of where Patton had been, but when he looked up again he saw that Patton was not standing where he had been at all. The oddly paternal boy had apparently anticipated that Virgil would argue and was already walking towards the next room.

Without missing a beat, Patton argued, “Why not? You obviously need it way more than I do.” He tilted his head with a curious stare. “You’re not allergic to nuts or anything like that, right?”

“Well, no, but —”

“But nothing. Come on, Virgil, eat. You’ll feel way better after, I promise.” Satisfied, Patton turned to walk away.

“Patton!” Virgil stood up, still holding out the plastic zip-lock bag. “Come back, Patton!”

“Uh-oh, no can do,” chirped Patton with a shrug, widening his eyes. “I’m going to be late to my tutoring session, remember? You told me so yourself.” His expression of mock-innocence melted into a mischievous grin. “Talk to you later, Virgil!”

Pretending not to hear Virgil’s spluttered protests, Patton rounded the bend and disappeared from sight. It quickly grew apparent that he wouldn’t be coming back, at which point the librarian was left with no other option but to sit back down, assorted nuts in hand.

Still, Virgil wasn’t admitting defeat yet. It didn’t matter how much the boy insisted; as far as he was concerned, the contents of this little bag still belonged wholly to Patton, and to Patton they would return at the end of the boy’s tutoring session. He wasn’t that hungry, anyway.

Rather unceremoniously, Virgil dropped the plastic bag on his desk next to the computer monitor, then tried his best to turn his focus elsewhere. It wasn’t long before he found himself eyeing the Minesweeper shortcut —

Nope, never again, Virgil reminded himself.

Perhaps he would just… go re-shelve some books. Yes, that was a good idea. There were self-checkout terminals for a reason, anyway; Virgil didn’t always have to be sitting behind his desk. And when he’d finished shelving, he could go check to ensure all the books were aligned properly, fix up some of the displays, clean out his desk drawers…

Hastily, Virgil set up a little card on his desk to read Back Soon. Once that was done, he got to his feet, for once in his life glad for the busywork. At least it’d be a nice distraction from, well, everything else.

All too soon, though, the chores were finished and Virgil was sent firmly back to square one. Not to mention, after his trip through the library’s several floors, Virgil was even more hungry than before, and suddenly the meager portion of trail mix seemed a much more tempting treat. He could almost hear the semisweet chocolate chips calling his name.

Perhaps he’d been a little hasty in rejecting this delicious donation that Patton had so freely insisted on giving him. Besides, wasn’t it rude to turn down a gift?

Maybe, Virgil pondered, I could just have an almond or two…

***

True to his word, Virgil had only had two almonds. At first.

Then he’d had two more.

Then some cashews, a couple of pecans, a handful of raisins, some chocolate chips…

Before Virgil knew it, the plastic bag was empty — but his stomach was full, or at least full- er . And though he did feel a little guilty for having finished the entire bag, there was definitely a notable decrease in crankiness as well. Patton hadn’t been kidding, it seemed.

The clock now read 6:11; Virgil was sitting up straight, comparatively attentive, watching carefully to see when (if?) Patton would be coming back to retrieve the bag he had left behind. His and Logan’s session should have ended just over ten minutes ago, assuming that Logan was still as precise with his schedules as Virgil had always known him to be, so Virgil expected to be seeing the cheerful boy any moment now…

Aha — there he is. The first thing Virgil saw was the tip of a familiar scuffed sneaker, untied shoelace flopping forward. The rest of the shoe’s owner soon followed, the boy’s face breaking out into a goofy grin the second that he saw Virgil. “So? Did you eat?”

In response, Virgil held up the empty bag, sheepish. “Couldn’t help myself. Turns out, you were right; I feel way better now. Thanks so much, Patton.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “Seriously though — you didn’t have to give that to me. My well-being is none of your responsibility. You know that, right?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course I do! But just because I don’t have to do something doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t , you know? And there was no way I’d have been able to stomach the thing anyway, after seeing how hungry you were and knowing that I could have done something to help. It’d be like that time I was on the swings in second grade and...” As Patton chattered on, he quickly began to veer off-topic, moving from peanuts to playgrounds to everything in between. The conversation jumped around so quickly that Virgil found himself mentally backtracking in the conversation more than a few times to try and figure out how they’d gotten there.

And yet, all the while, the ever-present smile on Patton’s face never wavered for a second — and before long, Virgil caught himself smiling back. In spite of (or perhaps because of) the lack of substance the boy’s sentences held, the carefree jumps from topic to topic were a more than welcome distraction after such a long day.

It was so much better than the typical small talk Virgil was accustomed to having to deal with, too: instead of constantly stressing over saying the right thing, all Virgil needed to do was nod along with an occasional “mhm” or “I see”. Patton could handle the rest. The boy didn’t seem likely to run out of things to talk about anytime soon.

And thank goodness for that, because Patton’s voice, chipper and energetic though it was, was... oddly relaxing, too. A round, rich, mellow sort of warmth lingered behind the boy’s every word, and Virgil could almost feel himself sinking into it. (He’d describe the tone as “fatherly” if he’d ever experienced that kind of fondness from his own father before, but alas.)

As Virgil’s focus shifted from Patton’s words to the strange warmth, a feeling he could only describe as a sort of golden glow began to collect in a swirling haze at his core before spreading outwards to fill his entire body, from the tallest hair on his head to the very tip of his littlest toe. As it spread, the dark, angry tension from a rough day’s work simply melted away, replaced with this delicate brightness that left his whole body feeling several pounds lighter, but for one little bit:

As the rest of Virgil’s muscles relaxed, his eyelids began to grow awfully heavy.

***

“…gil! Virgil, wake up!”

Virgil’s head lifted with a jolt, blinking blearily as a fearful face swam into view. Still half-asleep, he watched as its expression changed from concern to relief the instant its owner saw that Virgil was coming to.

“I’m sorry!” the wide-eyed boy was exclaiming. “I know you’re tired, and I totally would have let you keep sleeping, except you’re still at work and I don’t want you getting fired!”

At that, Virgil’s mind quite suddenly cleared. The world seemed to come into focus as his dark eyes darted around to take in his surroundings, only then realizing where it was that he’d found himself.

Suffice it to say, this was not Virgil’s dorm room.

“Oh, sh—”

Virgil hastily pushed himself off his desk, silently praying that he hadn’t drooled on the fancy wood. This was unbelievable — he had fallen asleep at work, before it was even seven, in the middle of a conversation. What must poor Patton be thinking? Virgil opened his mouth to apologise. Couldn’t think of a good way to start. Closed it again, deciding that all the words in the entire library wouldn’t be enough to describe the shame and humiliation he was feeling right now.

Instead, he settled for thanking Patton profusely for waking him up before someone else had noticed and told his boss. First the snacks, now this — the List of Ways that Patton Foley Has Saved Virgil’s Skin would only continue to grow, it seemed.

Patton acknowledged Virgil’s gratitude with a tight nod and an uncharacteristically mirthless laugh. “Jeez, I can’t believe it,” he said, echoing Virgil’s own sentiments at first, but catching the librarian off guard with his next sentence: “I actually managed to bore you to sleep, huh?”

“Hang on, what?” If Virgil hadn’t been fully awake before, he definitely was after hearing that.

“I mean, my parents always told me it was bound to happen someday, but I always figured they were joking, you know? I never thought it was actually possible.” Patton gazed ponderously at the wall behind Virgil’s head. “Wow.”

“Wait — come on, Pat, that’s not —” Virgil shook his head as he struggled to get the words out. “Don’t you even think about blaming yourself for this. You weren’t boring me at all, I promise! I’ve just — I’ve had a really long day. Nothing against you.”

The words were true, but Patton still seemed doubtful. “You sure?”

“Positive.” Virgil explained how the combination of the quiet library, the stress of the day, and Virgil’s own lack of nourishment was what had caused him to fall asleep just now — not, as Patton had apparently assumed, a lack of interest in their conversation. “To be honest, the trail mix you gave me was just about the first thing I’ve eaten all day, so —”

Patton’s brows shot up at that. “The first thing?” the boy interrupted, seeming incredulous. “Virgil, I knew you weren’t taking care of yourself, but I didn’t realize it was that bad! No wonder you fell asleep — I don’t think I’d have been able to make it past noon running on an empty stomach like you!”

“Yeah, well,” shrugged an unconcerned Virgil, “it’s not like I make a habit of it or anything. Today’s just not my day, I guess.” He glanced away as he finished speaking, pretending not to feel Patton’s intense gaze on him. A brief pause.

Of course, Patton was the one to break the silence. “Virgil.” Voice equal parts gentle and firm, he continued: “What exactly happened to you today? Besides not eating breakfast or lunch or dinner, obviously.”

“Um. Well. It was just... one of those days, I doubt you really want to hear —”

“Gonna stop you right there.” Patton’s hands were back on his hips. “I’m asking ‘cause I care. Just tell me what’s wrong, okay? Get everything off your chest and you’ll feel way better.”

Had it been any other day, Virgil probably would have resisted much more. The whole getting-everything-off-his-chest thing didn’t come naturally to him; doing so always felt uncomfortably like he was dumping his problems onto other people to solve, which (at least in his mind) only increased the amount of stress in the world.

On this particular evening, however, Virgil was simply too tired to put up a fight — and the truth was, the over-worked, under-loved young man really did need someone to vent to.

A treacherous, albeit not entirely unwelcome, thought: Maybe just this once?

Patton remained insistent. A handful of halfhearted protests later, Virgil caved.

Well… to some degree.

The truth: although his mental health had always had perhaps more than its fair share of highs and lows, he seemed to be seeing less and less “highs” lately. That wasn’t to say they weren’t there — it wouldn’t be fair for Virgil to claim his entire month had been terrible — but they were definitely starting to seem fewer and farther between.

It seemed likely that all of this frustration had been building up inside of him for a while, then. At the root of it all? Virgil wasn’t sure, but he suspected it had something to do with the event that had occurred around the same time as his mental health had first begun deteriorating again: he had been on his way home from work one day when he was hit with a sudden, inescapable, unspeakably intense sense of loneliness.

He had been living independently for almost two years, but that day must have been the first time it registered in Virgil’s mind just how on-his-own he truly was now. Having moved out of his hometown to pursue a degree while almost everyone else in his graduating class had settled into the trades, working at the library and attending his classes were pretty much the closest thing to a social life Virgil had. Around campus, he barely had ahold of anyone’s name, let alone their friendship, and spending time with his parents for fun was a laughable notion.

He supposed he should consider himself lucky — at least he got plenty of time to unwind by himself, right? Still, even the shyest, most introverted person of them all would wither without the company of other people from time to time, and Virgil was no exception. And although the brief time spent chatting with Patton last week had been nice, the boy was so much younger than he was and there was only so much that the two could talk about sitting in a library for thirty minutes at the end of the day.

The fact was, Virgil craved a real friend. Just one. Was that so much to ask?

All this and more was going through Virgil’s head, but fortunately, he was just awake enough to exercise a little self-control and keep those particular thoughts to himself. Patton had invited him to rant, yes, but the poor boy had already done more than enough for Virgil that day without having to put up with deep-rooted insecurities and desires suddenly coming out of left field to boot.

So instead, Virgil absently relayed the day’s misfortunes, laying the blame on that which seemed like the most immediately obvious source of distress. Did it help? A little bit. But in the silence that followed, the weight of words unsaid pressed heavy.

Finally, Patton broke the hollow silence with a “Wow.” Despite Virgil’s efforts to water down the stress of the day, he seemed stunned. “That is… a lot. All that bad luck in one day? Sheesh, I can’t imagine...”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, well. You know. At least the world seems to be done throwing things at me for now,” he said, making an effort to sound much more unconcerned than he actually felt; the waves of pity he could feel emanating from Patton were starting to smother. Sensing Patton wasn’t convinced, he kept going: “Plus, you came along to give me chocolate chips and have a chat… and didn’t even ditch me when I accidentally crashed in the middle of it all. If that’s not a sign that things are going to get better, then I don’t know what is.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, though. There must be something else I can do,” mumbled Patton.

“Hey, forget it.” Virgil waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Really. You don’t control what happens to me, right? This was never your mess to fix in the first place.”

“I guess…” Patton’s expression remained pensive; his eyebrows knit together, his mouth puckered loosely, his nose slightly scrunched so that its many freckles were drawn into a tight formation. He was thinking hard — but what about? Virgil opened his mouth to ask.

Before he had the chance, though, Patton’s eyes flitted to the window as the boy caught sight of something. “Oh,” he said, breaking out of his thoughtful trance in an instant, “I think that’s my mom’s car.” Patton shifted the backpack straps on his shoulders. “Sorry, Virgil, I gotta go. It was really nice talking to you again!”

“See you around, then,” replied Virgil, waving a two-fingered salute as he watched Patton begin strolling to the glass doors. “Don’t forget to — uh — wear your seat belt, or… whatever.” That was a thing that responsible adult figures said, right?

Patton, to his credit, went along with it. “Don’t worry, I will. I mean, I won’t. Or… gah, words can be tough! ” He gave a good-natured laugh before clarifying: “ What I mean is, I’ll wear the seat belt. Thanks, Virgil!”

As sudden as that, the boy was gone, and with him went almost the very last scrap of Virgil’s leftover energy for the day; the doors having swung shut, Virgil’s eyelids were threatening to follow suit.

But — no, no, he couldn’t fall asleep again. After all, he wouldn’t have Patton to wake him up this time. There must be some other distraction Virgil could leverage, at least for a little bit…

Out of the corner of his eye, a weary librarian caught sight of a tempting-looking Minesweeper icon, vivid and bright on his dusty computer screen.

***

[next chapter]

General: @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker @kazykazu @theres-no-winning-on-christmas

AAmour: @romanticsanders @thatrandomautist @mirror2thespirit @pokii-jonas @basicmillennial @starlitparfait @littleladynightshade @insert--self--hatred @psychixx

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #spectral scribbles #spec made something #food mention tw #food tw #aamour #a is for amour #scheduled post

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

A King For Tonight’s Fentertainment - Chap. 7: The In-between, Finally, Gets His Caffeine - End.

Summary: Danny has a heart to hearts.

“Well that was exhausting”, Danny grumbles as he closed the house door. Turning around and being confused for a second as to why the house is bright even though the lights are off. Chuckling, “oh yeah, duh”, before blinking his crown and cape out of visible range once more, “fire makes light, duh”.

But this action seems to startle Maddie, “oh! Um, is it weird that I’ve become slightly used to that, um, stuff, on you”.

Danny can’t help beaming a little over that, “good! That’s great, I think. It is, sorta, part of me. Always here, just not visible or touchable”.

“So they’re always on you?”.

“Yup”, Danny shrugs, “kind of like having bullshit anime enchanted clothing or like how ghosts don’t ever really change their clothing. How their clothing is part of their form, their bodies, beings, selves. Being royal, being king, is an enchanted thing really. So it only makes sense, I think”.

Maddie goes and sits down on the couch, bunching up the jumpsuit fabric on her knees. Danny sighs, officially just begging for this day to end, before sitting down. “Look, I get that this is all kinds of screwy and backwards to you, to everything you know and believe. But, like, you don’t have to understand, do you? Like, can’t you just accept my thing? Me? I’m a lot of crazy and a lot of things. King? Yeah. Teenager? For now. Weird? Definitely. Powerful? Technically. But I’m also your son, Danny. That should matter most”.

“It does sweetie, it does. But it’s just all so ghostly. Though, admittedly, it does seem like it suits you. The clothing, not the ghostliness”.

Danny chuckles, “the clothing is ghostliness, but yeah ghost stuff’s kinda like that. When something’s yours, yours by right, it’s literally made for you. Heck! It’d be insulting if it didn’t fit me. If it didn’t improve the way I look. That’s half the point of things like capes and crowns. Symbols of power but also elegance, all that shit. If it looked out of place, silly or cheap then it would not be doing its job”, looking to Maddie, “just like I’m not doing my job if I don’t protect and aid them. If I don’t get their respect and sometimes fear”, muttering, “everything’s gotta be fearsome with tha ghosties”.

Maddie looks her son up and down, not really buying that he could be scary even with the threatening air he had earlier. Danny squints at her, “tsk, don’t look at me all disbelievingly. I’m perfectly fearsome, enough anyway. When I wanna be. Try to be”, shrugging, “guess it depends who you ask”. Maddie giggles and Danny’s sure she misunderstood that. But that’s fine, he doesn’t exactly want her to see him as scary; even if some ghosts always considered him scary. The price of power and being known to be a fighter.

Danny rubs his neck and looks around a bit awkwardly as he gets up, “soooo. I’m guessing I don’t have to worry about you calling me your highness or referring to me as a king, all the time? Cause as much as that’s true, I could do without being constantly called as such or having it pointed out perpetually”, groaning slightly, “I get enough of that from Mr. Big dark and frightening”.

Maddie puts on a smile, though laughs genuinely if only a little. Getting up and patting his shoulder, mentally picturing the cape that she now knows is there, “that’s one thing you don’t have to worry yourself about. Just hearing someone call you that is strange enough”.

“Well, for potential future reference...I prefer king over the long list of other things I get called”, Danny shakes his head, genuinely wondering if the Fright Knight straight up searched for newer and grander ways to refer to his kingliness. “Though I guess ‘your majesty’ is fine too. Little weird to get from humans, but Tuck has no mercy”.

“Tucker calls you that?”.

“Jokingly yeah. We all make jokes about it. About ghosties too. About my ghostliness and utter lack of it. I’m kinda like the most ghostly alive thing, but also sorta the least ghost ghostly thing. Which, ironically, scares some ghosts. Cause it’s like, fuck this fucker looks so freakin lively and then bam! freakish amount of ghostly power. Ghosties with power usually look it and me, well...”, Danny trials off chuckling and exaggeratedly motioning to himself.

Maddie can’t help but look him over, searching for anything even kind of implying power, utterly failing. Which she’s not sure if she’s should be happy about or not, the clothing was pretty well all the showed who he was, “all your ghostliness is just a job and some clothing...though you’ve shown power too”, Maddie shakes her head, smiling slightly, “and I guess you do look rather unassuming without it all being visible. Considering how no one really thought you could even be any kind of king”.

Danny wiggles his fingers, thickening latent ectoplasm into globs to twirl between his fingers, laughing, “I noticed! Like do I really seem like that much of a simple plain little fuck? Sure Tuck and Sam are damn weird, and very noticeably so; making me look more normal by association. Especially when I actively hid this shit for obvious reasons. Cause, like, Ancients is shit gonna be some absurdist bullshit now. I’mma get peppered about the job, the title, my position, my duty, the purpose to my messed existence”.

Maddie pats him on the back, “you’re probably right sweetie, school’s going to be a bit weird for a while. Though I hope you don’t get harassed too much. Though I definitely do not like the behaviour I saw from that Baxter kid”.

Danny grins wide at that, “most kids don’t like him. Guys a twat jerk. Chances are, I’ll go all royal ghostliness bullshit on his ass at one point...again. He’ll just know it’s me this time, which might be awful or freaking great. So more ghostly shit at school I guess”, blinking some and looking to Maddie, “and more ghostly here? I mean I, like, go out of my way to not with that shit. But y’all freaking know now so?”. Even if he hasn’t explicitly talked to his dad about this but there’s no way the guy wasn’t going to know. Hell! The whole town was going to know about his kingly ass AND the lair thing.

Maddie frowns a bit, looking at the ectoplasmic residue on Danny’s fingers, “sweetie, that might be a bit much right now. King, ghost king at that. It’s going to take some time to let that settle in first”, Maddie smiles slightly, “though I’m certain your father will pester you over your abilities”.

Danny chuckles, “I’ll make a list. Or not, cause us teens are lazy by nature; and I rarely get to do that shit. No nap naps for me, nope. The wonders of being part of two societies. Though fuck, in a way I’m more part of and active in ghost society than human society. Here I hang and school shit, the family fun time. But there it’s, like, gots ta do shit, big shit, all the shit. I’m legit needed and have things only I can pull. Here’s still home though, so don’t, like, worry about me fucking off to the Zone or something”.

Maddie yanks Danny into a strong hug, “good! If you ran off, especially there, I’d have to chase you down and drag you back. You’re no ghost. Your subjects or not, you’re not one of of them”.

Danny returns the hug and pats her back, though a bit put off at the blatant distaste for ghosts; even if he’s rather used to it. Looking away from her anyway, “heh, in a sense I am one of them. Ectoplasmic power’s enough of a qualifier to them”, opting to take out his mild insulted annoyance on his favourite misplaced aggression, even if only verbally, “and that’s why Boxy gets so much shit, like really, how much of a ghost would anyone consider Boxy? Not much of one”.

Danny taking a bit of a piss on the Box Ghost gets Maddie to chuckle and nod, “point. I think us ghost hunters are more ghostly than that one”, shuffling a bit, “I guess being a ghost hunter really isn’t your future, huh? Jack kind of always hoped you would become one, I always wanted you to do something that made you happy...but also safe. But a ghost-like life? I can’t like that. Can’t want that for you, whether you like it or not. And it’s definitely not safe”.

Both of them sit back down on the couch, Maddie leaning against the couch. While Danny groans quietly while leaning sideways in an overacted show of exasperation, “you just gotta make this difficult”, righting himself and shaking his head, “well, it is what it is. My shits ghost shit. Ghostly or whatever. My place in life is with death. With the dead, even if my deadness is lacking. Which may just be dandy, might improve the relation between the races. Eh, prob not. If anyone knows just how straight-up different we all are, it’s my arse”, Danny snorts, “and me plus safety? Yeah that’s a pipe dream too. I’d probably be really bored with safe, actually. That’s not bad though. Cause, like, ‘not safe’ isn’t the same as ‘in danger’. Neither of us really live safe but we’re not in danger either. So yeah”. Danny bumps his shoulder into hers, “and you don’t have to support or like what I do. Just don’t try to stop me or punish me for it. Tolerance is just fine”.

Maddie leans her head against his shoulder, “I do want to stop you, stop this. I don’t want you ghostly. But I won’t stop you. Pretty sure I can’t”, tilting her head to look at Danny’s face, “and no way I’m going to even consider punishing you for this. Though I don’t like that you must have used our stuff to help ghosts at some point”.

Danny rubs his neck, of course he did but it was more so that he made it so their stuff couldn’t do harm, or too much harm. Sighing, “heh, yeah. Our jobs get in each other’s way. You hunt and thus harm ghosts. I lead and protect ghosts, well sorta. Would seem like it’d be hard to have those two things coexist. But they perfectly can, if the hunting is less destroy every single ghost ever and the whole Zone, and more protect the Human Realm from ghostly threats and dangers. Hunting and fighting ghosts is perfectly fine, good even. Wiping out the whole freaking species or damaging the Ghost Realm, not so much. As for the stopping me thing, thanks and all but yeah, you really can’t. Aim to be happy that I’m proud and doing what I want to”.

Maddie’s not sure what to make of that, “you...as this ghost king...aren’t against ghost hunting? Ghosts are okay with being hunted? And I am glad you’re proud, just not glad over why you’re proud”.

Danny chuckles, patting Maddie on the back, “yup! It’s expected actually. Hell, some come here because they get hunted. They want to fight, to get attacked, to see others get attacked. Ghosts are weird fucks that way. Getting destroyed is the only aspect they avoid. Some hunters even work, knowingly or unknowingly, for ghosties. So no reason for me to be against ghost hunting in general. Plus I want humans to have defences against ghosts, some are really dangerous pieces of shit”. Danny chuckles into his hand, “on the other hand, I’m pretty sure Boxy has some level of masochism and he’s definitely got some power delusions”. Danny knows bringing that ghost up a lot makes everything funnier and lighter.

Maddie laughs lightly, before standing back up, “well didn’t see that coming. Ghosts that like being hunted! But I’m firm on wanting ghosts destroyed, maybe...maybe not all of them. I’ll admit it’s obvious now, that I don’t know everything about ghosts. So I guess saying they’re evil might be a stretch. Even still, we both do or want things the other can’t really accept”.

Danny nods, deciding against getting his hopes up over changing his moms' opinions. Getting up himself and walking to lean against the staircase, staring at the lab door, “yeah, and in that sense, I’ll have to stop you, get in the way. Which makes this shit way more awkward, cause I know you’ll hide what your shit does from me now. And that none of us will mention or acknowledge that I’m obviously making a point to know what your shit does, and that you’re obviously trying to avoid me knowing. Since we’ve got goals that butt heads. Two aggressive ass bulls, based in protecting respective species, dancing around each other and both playing the roles of matador”, chuckling, “then having supper together”. Looking to his mom as she frowns, obviously realising Danny’s right, “still family though, right?”.

Maddie straight up walks up to Danny and ruffles his hair, “of course, always. Even if we’re on opposing sides of a battlefield. I’ll always love you, sweetie”.

Danny rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. Responding with a loose smirk, “you say battlefield, I say sparing rings. People throwing hands at each other, making new shit, testing new shit. Both sides actively growing and learning by the acts of fucking with each other. With referees and captains watchin shit to make sure it doesn’t get too fucked”. Maddie laughs into her hand, “that is so not how it’s viewed on the human side!”, shaking her head, still smiling, “most of us hunters want elimination, we’re not just ‘having fun’ and testing our capabilities”.

Danny can’t help but chuckle, was kind of hard to not know that when basically all the hunters he’s met practically, and sometimes literally, scream ecstatically about it. Chuckling again, “oh I know, but...ya really think the ghosties that human ghost hunters actually deal with in the Human Realm are really the worst, most vile, ghosts? Naw, fuck no. The real nasties are captured by ghosts. Are punished by ghosts. Like humans, ghosties deal with their bad eggs. The ghostly ideas of bad eggs are just more scrambled”, chuckling and leaning back, hands behind his head, “laws are a bit more fucky too. Especially if those Eyeballs get up in it. And if I get, like, officially called to deal with shit. Like Ghost King style. Then shit’s gonna get straight weird”. Danny snickers and mutters to himself, “I’m someone who makes creativity scary. My sight for it is straight whacky. Green is the colour of creativity, bitch. Fuckers see a boring wall, my ass sees making a bastard paint it all...with their own ectoplasm”, Danny taps his chin and snickers, “eh, ok that was a little dark”.

Maddie ruffles his hair again, jarring Danny from his thoughts and mutterings. Flicking his eyes up to Maddie’s slightly concerned and worried ones, as she speaks, “something tells me I don’t want to know. I don’t want to dislike the things you do, or worry about what you’ve gotten yourself into”.

Danny snorts, “yeah that’s for the best. A ton of my shit is a mess and messes are just painful to try to make order or sense out of. Let’s just leave it at the fact that we really are an inventive family and y’all aren’t the only ones flipping the bird to normal mindsets. Our enterprises are mutually strange”, patting her shoulder, “and please don’t worry about my shit. I’m good, it’s good. Just fine. Screwy but fine”,

Danny looks around, “soooo. Bed? Move on with life and just accept, tolerate, or whatever; the Spaghetti our existences, mainly mine, throws at the walls? Make art out of the pasta sauce stains?”. Maddie can’t help but laugh, “don’t assault supper!”, before hugging Danny. Danny snorts, “if anything will be doing the assaulting, it’ll be the food”.

Danny watches her walk off into the kitchen, likely grabbing coffee. Which immediately makes him want some, because this has been a triple quadruple espresso worthy day. But he would like to actually maybe sleep, not just vibrate in his bed. The coffee aroma changes his mind though. Easily sneaking around his mom, snatching the pot for himself and throwing back the whole thing. While Maddie sputters and accidentally inhales the coffee that she, being a slightly more normal and civilised person, actually poured into a cup for herself. Danny just winks as he wipes off his chin and heads upstairs. All the while hearing her nuking her coffee cup, muttering about it being ice cold. He doesn’t even need to see her face to know she’s grimacing about him downing a near full pot of cold coffee.

Danny shrugs as he opens his room's door, muttering, “it’ll be ice cold by the time it’s down my gullet anyway”.

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

Danny sighs knowingly, before chucking as he closes his bedroom door. Speaking as soon as he hears it click shut, “you can come out now”. Red slips in through the window that she was standing outside of, “guess you’ve gotta have self-awareness to deal with ghosts constantly. Even if you do it different”.

Danny nods, sitting on his bed and patting for her to sit down as well. De-suiting, Valerie flops down, laying instead of sitting, “so, how long?”. Danny looks up to his ceiling, “just over two years now. So no, you weren’t dating a freaking king. Buuuuut, I was a prince at that time, didn’t know that myself though. Hooray for mutual blindness to ghost craziness”. Valerie snorts, “dating a prince huh? Dated the guy who’d come to lead the things I swore to destroy”.

“Ya still gonna do that shit? Cause again, that’s kinda not cool. Rather not have your cute ass as my enemy”.

“Enemies? Ha! Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Personally, I’d still like to see them blasted out of existence. But I can’t strive for that if you’re gonna be all crazy fucking ghost king. Like, I’ll say it again, what the fuck Danny? So no, I’m not gonna off all your subjects or try to off you. I could kick your ass though, just for the record”, Valerie pokes him hard, for emphasis.

Danny laughs, “you go ahead and think that. Good as you are, somethings are beyond you; my royal ass being one of them”, turning to look at Valerie’s face, attracting her attention enough to look back at him. Danny speaks up again, “but thanks. I know you hate ghosts and have your reasons, reasons better than just personal beliefs. You’re probably gonna keep that hate with you for a long time. Hates fine though, not, like, desirable, but fine”, chuckling, “and just a whole lotta fucks, like all the fucks, an absolute ton of fucks...heh, a kingdom of fucks”.

Valerie snorts, turning her head back to the ceiling, “I could so kick your ass”.

“Nope”.

“Yup”.

“Naw”.

“Yes”.

“No”.

“Yeah”.

“Nu-uh”.

“Yuppers”.

Danny pokes Valerie, “‘yuppers’ doesn’t count, you’re out”, Valerie huffs while Danny shuffles, “though you really can’t. I’m not like Pariah, I’m not a mad king. I have full access”.

“The fucks that mean?”.

“Powerful. It means powerful. Fully empowered. Power infinite. So long as I retain my complete sanity, I can not be truly beaten. My voice alone could completely disarm you, wipe your memories, scramble your DNA, etcetera”.

“Danny...what the fuck”.

Danny shifts a bit awkwardly, his power level was stupid strong. He’s sure even he didn’t really grasp it, which was a bit of a mind fuck. Chuckling, “heh, yeah”, sighing, “power’s, like, a focal point for ghosts. One of the biggest things they care about. Powerful means getting to continue existing, powerful means being better able to carry out obsessions, powerful means respect, powerful means fear. Power is practically a need for ghosts. So power is a given and a requirement for any ghostly leader or high up ghostly position, job, responsibility, duty, guide, yada yada. And my ass is the top of the food chain, I have to be stronger. I have to be the definition or embodiment or whatever the fuck, of ghostly power. My power has to be absolute and I have to be able to handle that shit, else I’m kingy no more. Not worthy of the position so to speak. So power resolute is my thing. An OP little shit. I don’t, or more so didn’t, mention my power shit cause, like, fuck. That’s shit’s not viewed the same by humans. Shows of power are fucking terrifying and worrying to humans. But ghosties? Gotta flaunt that shit actually, be a flashy powerhouse for no real reason sometimes. Not flaunting makes them worried and pissy. Just me pretending to be a weak shit, even in the human world, at school and shit; makes some pissy”.

Valerie flops her arm over and smacks him, “you’re rambling. Rambling about power of all things. Fuck that’s ghostly”.

“Hey now. I gots ta be a little power focused. Did you not just hear my little spiel? Powerful gotta be powerful, cause powers damn near everything to ghostly asses”.

“Oh I fucking heard it. And you just said ‘power’ four freaking times, you fucking weird-ass. And so what? You have to literally be power? Like a fucking living weapon? That’s fucked. How does your anything handle that shit?”.

Danny blinks, for all accounts, he practically was a weapon. That was rather funny though, “HA!...fuck if I know. Though I tell ya, all that shit up inside me...fucking painful, yet alluring. My innards are like a damn pressure cooker, combined with an almost boiling over cauldron, and a balloon that’s constantly getting filled no matter how much air it releases thus only growing and is constantly taught to the point of exploding yet never able to. But all of that with a flash freeze of cold. Tolerating it is kinda like getting stabbed all over your body but having to not show it or flinch. But using the power is like burning yourself alive and liking it. Cause fuck does it burn so good, better than scratching any itch. And all that’s why Kings Madness is a thing, a thing with an official name. But I can tolerate a lot of bullshit, obviously. So can you”.

“Wow, fuck your life”.

“Yup. Everything seems to agree with fucking my life”.

Valerie just snorts in response.

The two sit quietly for a bit while Valerie chews on her lip. Eventually speaking up, “so, um, you know why I broke up with you?”. Danny nods, “protect me from your ghost hunter shit. Well, pretty sure it was more so protect me from ghost shit in general”, Danny barks out a laugh, “and now here’s the irony! I’ve got twenty thousand more buckets of ghost shit than you. And I run around dumping it on myself, loving about seventy percent of it and hoping I literally drown in the shit, twenty percent of the time”.

Valerie cringes, “ok first, ew. Second, what about the other ten percent?”.

“Five percent is wanting to make shit burn and the other five percent, well that’s just wanting to be wiped out of existence. Like just fucking off into the void of nothingness. Absolute emptiness. Just poof! Gone!”.

Valerie’s almost tempted to be worried about Danny’s mental state, but of course his brain’s bound to be fucked. Ghost shit does that and his ghost shit is a major what the fuck. Plus, he’s a complete goof. So there’s a joking aspect to goddamn everything with him. “So, wanting to stay as you are, wanting to become a ghost, wanting to destroy the fucking world, and wanting to straight-up destroy yourself? That’s a whole lotta ways to say you want to suffer”.

“Well I am the king of suffering, ring says so”, Danny points at her, “but I am no masochist”.

Valerie snorts, “I’d hope not, otherwise I did something wrong while macking lips with ya...but you really weren’t kidding about the Ring of Suffering thing?”.

Oh how Danny wishes he damn well was. But, he’ll take himself suffering over anyone else having the bear it, “Haha...no, fuck no. Suffering is my defining feature, I just don’t show it. That’s kinda the point of ‘must bear it and overcome it’. If people could easily tell I’d be fucking that up. Also, Tuck would say this is getting kinky”.

“Fuck Tuck”.

“Tuck Fuck”.

“Ew”.

Danny snorts but gives a humoured grimace, “I don’t recommend checking that kid’s dreams out. And I extra don’t recommend actually going inside them”, Danny grumbles, “I will never be anyone’s damn maid to their fucking harem”.

“I don’t wanna know. But I’m not surprised”, Valerie scrunches up her face some before sitting up and staring down at Danny. Danny quirks an eyebrow, “what?”.

“It’s just, I just realised that it’s best you got this power problem. You’re too damn good to abuse it or even use it half the time. And you’re, like, actually respecting it and shit. Not too mention the pain and overflowing power tolerance crap. Pretty well everyone would just go on fucking powertrips, eliminate one species or another, show off, or the madness thing”, Danny nods as she flops back down and starts speaking again, “ignoring all the ghosts. Tucker just no. Sam would powertrip and control. I’d destroy shit. Your parents would probably destroy themselves. And imagine the nightmare of Dash? But you? You just go on with life like you’re not some kind of fucking god. Overseer of an entire freaking world and all in it. Like, what the fuck Danny”.

“You have no idea just how bad Tuck is with power. Like, no idea. He makes people scrub his feet and tries to murder me. Add in enslavement, world domination, gladiator fights, pissing on everyone beneath him, I could go on. And Sam? Oh man, world domination and enslavement route for that one. Dash is, arguably, not that horrible. Still with the trying to murder me though. Well, and everyone else. Dad also always goes the murder me route......come to think of it, everyone always goes the murder me route”, Danny blinks and goes slightly wide-eyed and laughs, “fuck! I went the murder me route...once...ok, twice...no, thrice. I guess I’m just really killable. Well, if I was killable anyway”, Valerie is mildly choking while Danny shrugs, “but me? As a whole? Eh whatever. I’m no god. My body can do weird shit, doesn’t stop me from falling asleep in class or forgetting my comb in my hair. I’m a fucking mess actually. My power bullshit is all that’s kept me from collapsing in on myself really. I go to eat some salad, swallow the spork. I try to go to bed, there’s a bomb under it for some reason. I actually remember to brush my teeth for once, it turns my teeth black. I actually go to class, the whole town gets fucked into another realm. I tell Dash to fuck off, get trapped inside a mirror. I pass a test, get teleported to an apocalyptic future. I am a mess. My power just exemplifies that, my power is a mess inside me and my life is a mess outside me. Oh yeah, my mind is clearly a fucked mess too, in case that wasn’t obvious”.

Danny shoots his arms and legs into the air, “I’m the trifecta of mess!”, before descending into caffeine-fuelled giggles.

Valerie’s electing to just disregard Danny claiming he’s murdered himself, multiple times, as that makes zero sense. But as for the rest, “uh, I’m still hung up on the ‘if I was killable’ thing. But, uh, yeah you really are just kinda fucked up. Aren’t you?”.

“Heh...yeah. But fucked up is able to handle fucked up. So I guess that’s why I’m not all screwy with power-hunger and Kings Madness. And yeah, can’t really, like, die. Destroyed, annihilated, decimated, obliterated. Not options for me. Welcome to my stupid kingly bullshit of an existence. That’s um, why Frightmare said ‘you, mortal humans’ when talking to the lot of you. I’m, technically, not mortal”.

“Again, what the fuck. But I guess that only makes sense. You literally have all power right? Which is still fucky, but even you called it that. So I guess that would include the power to transcend life, death and whatever ghosts have”.

Danny chuckles, “humans have life, ghosts have death. But there are also terms like: unlife, re-life, eon over cross, shade. Then of course, there are the unlived ghosts but that’s a whole basket of confusing. Really there’s a lot of terms. But, um, the word for ones like me, is deathless and unfade(s). Immortal isn’t really used cause technically all ghosts are immortal, in a way, but destroyable. Deathless for the living who can not die. Unfade for the dead who can never be destroyed”. Danny’s not even going to get into the number of terms that have been made for him, living unfade, dead deathless, fadeless, frayed. He usually went with deathless unfade, but ‘undead’ was the term he found funniest.

Danny sits up and puts his chin in his hand, prompting Valerie to sit up next to him. Valerie can’t help but find immortality kinda fucked up, “that’s actually pretty shit. Kinda-”, Valerie gets cut off by Danny, “I make a joke of it. Comedy! The perfect sprinkles for the vomit blueberry muffin that is my existence, perpetually getting ass fucked by the latest and greatest bullshit!”, finger gunning at her, “I can not die for your sins, so please, stop sinning”.

Valerie snorts, “you’re awful”, shaking her head as she gets up and hugs Danny, “well stay awful and messed up, not insane or mad or whatever. Not gonna start calling you highness or anything but thanks for not being a screwed up power-hungry king”.

Danny shrugs, “don’t really gotta thank me for not being stupid and for handling my shit. It is my shit after all. I’m guessing you’re going though? Meaning I can sleep?”.

Valerie slams her hands onto her hips, “ass! But yes. Also fuck that’s weird that your first thought is sleep, after everything”.

“Well, I’d rather be less dead on my feet, not more”. Both of them chuckle as Valerie summons her suit and flies out the window.

Danny, spreading his limbs out all over the bed, “well I probably said something stupid. No scratch that, I definitely said something stupid. But whatever, just more bullshit onto the pile. More mess for this mess”. Danny chuckles himself to sleep, tangled in his sheets and drooling grotesquely.

How...kingly.

End.

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #phandom #fanfic #Phan Phic #Maddie Fenton #valerie gray #Ghost King! Danny #ghost king danny #phantomphangphucker #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #amity park #amity is dannys lair

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