#just a slap dash work doodle but eh

[novantinuum]

forgot to post this smol @susoftjockau​ doodle i did a while back! someday i’ll actually make lined/colored art for it, y’all, i swear... 

[rogertaylors-lipgloss]

College AU! John Deacon x Reader: Roommates to Lovers Req. Pt. 1/?

A/N: obviously the timeline in this story does not quite match-up with reality, but this is a work of fiction. 

Original Request

@supersugarytea asked:

“Hey I was wondering if you could do a fanfiction where the reader lives with John Deacon and the reader meets Roger Taylor starts falling for him but when she confesses to him he turns her down. When you get home John senses there is something wrong with the reader and comforts her Roger goes to see her the next day only to find her sleeping with John and gets jealous.”

I am so so so so so so so sorry for how long this took me, please forgive me! BUT, I do finally have something for you, so I really hope you like it. I did tweak the prompt just a bit to where Reader already knows Rog but it follows essentially the same premise, I hope that’s okay! I also made this an AU where reader and the rest of Queen all go to the same school. I am in love with John Richard Deacon and since this will be my first fic with him, I really wanted it to be perfect and I liked this prompt so much that I’m turning it into a multi-shot (again, I hope that’s okay).

Warnings: Angst and Fluff. Smut to come (pun intended). 

Word Count: 3, 017 (Hence, why I made it a multi-shot). 

As always, I hope you guys like this and please please please reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this fic or my permanent taglist and send me an ask if you have a request!

Masterlist

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

*beep*beep*beep*

You rolled over and slapped the top of your alarm clock, silencing the menace. If I skip washing my hair, I can sleep another 30 minutes, you thought, and closed your eyes. But before you could drift back off, the door to your bedroom flew open and you felt the bed drop behind you under the weight of your roommate, John.

“No, no, no.” You buried your face into your pillow.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, Y/N.” His fingers brushed your hair out of your face while his other hand rubbed circles on your back. “You told me, and I quote, ‘Deacy, don’t let my lazy ass oversleep on the first day of classes.’”

You groaned. He was right. You sat up and threw your legs over the side of the bed. John laughed at your hideous bedhead, and you shot him a glare. It was so hard for you to be mad at him, though. Looking him up and down, you could tell that he had clearly be awake long enough to get dressed. His long, curly brown hair freshly blow-dried and brushed, hanging neatly past his shoulders. He was dressed in a long-sleeved, dark Navy button-up shirt tucked into brown corduroy bells, white clogs adorning his feet.  Handsome as ever, you thought to yourself.

“I showered last night so that you would have plenty of hot water. Go get ready and I’ll fix breakfast.” By breakfast, he meant cheese on toast for himself and just coffee for you.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?” He laughed, giving your shoulder a squeeze before leaving your room.

You relished the feeling of the hot water pouring over your skin. The scalding liquid left your skin red, but that was just how you liked it. John knew that. Only he could be so considerate. You had randomly picked up a roommate flyer on campus when you’d first moved to start at Imperial College and somehow ended up with the best friend you’d ever had in John. The two of you had hit it off immediately and you moved into his apartment the next day.

Once dressed, you met John in the kitchen, where he handed you a steaming mug. “Thanks, love.” You gave him a peck on the cheek and turned grab your backpack. John’s heart swelled, but he quickly suppressed the emotion. He’d come to the decision a long time ago to never act on his feelings for you. He would much rather pine from afar than risk losing you forever.

You felt the same way. Every small act of kindness John threw your way set your heart on fire. Sure that you were reading too much into it, you kept your true feelings under lock and key. Your life was better with him than without, and you worried that any confession on your part would send him running in the opposite direction.

Pulling himself out of his own thoughts, John cleared his throat and looked to you. “Are you ready?” Nodding, you grabbed the keys to John’s car and tossed them to him. You followed close behind as he led the two of you out the front door.

Your morning rides to campus were some of your favorite moments with John, as they were some of his with you. No talking, just singing along to whatever music you’d settled on that particular day. You pulled a cassette tape out of the glovebox and pushed it into the radio dash.  A smile played on the corners of John’s lips as the sounds of Elton John’s most recent album, Honky Chateau flooded the speakers. You fast-forwarded the tape to play “Rocketman,” which was no surprise to John. He knew it had been stuck in your head for a while, having heard it seeping through the wall your two bedrooms shared. He learned early on that you fell asleep listening to music, and if it had been anyone else he would have complained. He often found himself humming along to whatever tune you’d selected for the evening, sometimes even drifting off himself. If he couldn’t share your bed, this was the next best thing, he thought. It made him feel connected to you.

You sang out every word. John loved how raw your voice was, like honey. His heart sank when he saw campus come into view, knowing he’d have to wait until later to hear it again. You looked over at John as he maneuvered the car into a parking place, his long, brown hair creeping over his eyes. Without thinking, you reached over and tucked it behind his ears. Your touch made him blush and he turned his head so you couldn’t see.

“See you at home?” You asked, unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for your bag that you’d tossed in the back.

“Are you not riding back with me?” John looked at you, confused.

You shook your head. “I’ve got lab today, so Rog is going to give me a ride home.”

You’d moved in with John before he joined the group now known as Queen, so the boys considered you to be as much a part of the band as he was. You’d made fast friends with Brian, Freddie, and Roger, and it was Roger who’d convinced you to take biology this semester. You were absolute shit at science of any kind, but he hadn’t wanted to take the class alone and swore up and down that he wouldn’t let you fail. You had begrudgingly agreed, much to the chagrin of John. He had nothing against Roger, they were close friends, but he knew the affect the blonde drummer had on women.

“Right. Forgot about that,” he mumbled, turning the car off and fumbling with his own seatbelt.

You slid your arms through the straps of your backpack and waved at John as you headed in the opposite direction of his first class. “Later, Deacs!”

It had already been a long day by the time you trudged into the science building. The professor for your first class had greeted you with a pop quiz to “see what you remembered” from the previous semester (which was nothing), and the professor in the class after that had decided that the first day of class was the perfect time to assign your first essay of the semester. Lunch was your only reprieve. The caf had been serving pizza, the only thing it could make that didn’t taste like it’d been soaking in dirty grease for a week beforehand. You managed to find your class with Roger just in time for the professor to call roll.

You quickly slid into the seat Roger had saved for you, and he leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Cutting it a bit close, eh? I can only help you pass if you actually show up.” You elbowed him in the ribs and turned to deliver a snappy comeback when the professor cleared his throat.  

“Something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” The older man peered over the rim of his glasses at you and Roger, waiting for either of you to dare to make a move. The two of you went pale and shook your heads. “Didn’t think so.” As the professor moved on with roll, you pulled out your notebook and started doodling. Next to you, Roger bounced his leg.

The professor eventually finished going over the syllabus and instructed the class to get out their textbooks. “Um, Y/N?” Roger tapped on your shoulder and when you turned his blue eyes were looking up at you widely. “I haven’t gotten the book yet, think we could share?”

You smiled and scooted your chair a little closer to his, positioning the large biology textbook between you on the table. Your legs brushed against each other, and he winked as he leaned forward to scan the pages. Something was off. You watched Roger as he stared blankly at the page in front of him and you had the inkling that he wasn’t actually taking in any of the information.

Feeling your gaze on him, Roger squeezed his eyes shut before they fluttered open again, as if that would somehow suddenly restore his shitty vision to full-functionality. His eyesight had been steadily worsening over the past year despite his desperate pleas to whatever higher power he could think of. He hadn’t told Fred, Deacy, or Brian yet. Glasses weren’t exactly a part of the rock n’ roll image Queen was going for. Roger silently prayed that you would just let it go, but he knew you too well and the way you were looking at him indicated that you had figured it out. He sighed heavily as the professor dismissed the class, but you stayed glued to your seat, eyes still fixed on him. Roger waited for the room to clear out before finally turning to meet your stare. Your features softened as you took in the pained expression on his face.

“Rog,” you started, and he started to turn away but you reached out and took hold of his elbow, stopping him before he could escape. He spun to look at you, a look of distress hiding in his eyes. “Roger, are you okay?”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sigh. Regaining himself, he flashed you one of his dazzling, toothy smiles that you’d seen him use on countless groupies. “Course, Y/N. Why wouldn’t I be?”  

“Are you having trouble with your vision?”

His gaze shifted to the floor, head dropping in defeat. He nodded.

“Loads of people have to wear glasses, it’s not the end of the world.”

Roger’s head shot up. “It would be for me. Queen is just getting started, we haven’t even recorded an album yet. Record labels are looking for a certain image and glasses don’t really scream ‘I am a drummer in a rock n’ roll band.’”

It surprised you how seriously he took this. “Have you tried going to the optometrist? At the very least, you need to know if this is something that could get worse. I’ll even drive you, if you like.”  

His eyebrows shot up. “You would really do that for me?”

You nodded and he responded by wrapping you up into a bear hug. After releasing you, he said, “Thank you, Y/N. Uh, please don’t tell anyone else about this. I know it sounds silly, but I don’t want the guys making fun of me.” You nodded. “I guess I better take you home now, yeah?”

“That would be great, but I think I’d feel a little better if you let me drive.” You both laughed at that and he tossed you the keys as the two of you made your way out of the classroom and towards the parking lot.

-------

John was sitting in the windowsill of his bedroom, staring out the window and practicing on his bass as he waited for you to come home. His heart skipped a beat when Roger’s car finally pulled up to the curb, but then sank when he saw you get out of the driver’s side of the car. His brow furrowed in confusion. Roger never let anyone drive his car, that is unless… he was trying to impress a girl. John’s blood pressure increased as Roger climbed out of the passenger side and walked over to you, his arms pulling you into a tight hug before waving goodbye. John was furious. He had confided in Roger about his feelings for you a while back, how could he do something like this? 

He didn’t have long to dwell on the supposed betrayal as he heard your keys jangling in the front door lock. John picked up his bass and moved to the bed so it wouldn’t look like he’d been waiting for you.

When your keys finally clicked in the lock, you opened the door and shrugged your backpack off, leaving it on the floor as you searched for your roommate. Following the soft strums of his bass guitar, you found him perched upon his bed. He was certainly a sight for sore eyes.  

He pretended not to have heard you come in, only looking up from his guitar to acknowledge your presence when he felt you belly-flop onto the mattress.

You sat up to sit next to him, leaning your head against his shoulder as he continued to pick at the bass strings. Looking down at you, he knew he couldn’t stay mad, at least not at you. He set the guitar to the side and wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders before bending down to press a kiss to the top of your hair. Just friends, you had to remind yourself again. “Long first day?” he asked, and you nodded against his shoulder. “Me too.”

He sighed and rested his chin on top of your head. John wanted to ask you about Roger, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the moment. The two of you sat like that for a few more moments when you disentangled yourself from his embrace and stood in front of him. Locking your eyes with his hazel ones, you smiled. “Cheese toast?” Your question brought a smile to his face as he nodded, getting up to follow you into the kitchen.

Just as you’d finished the toast and were about to sit down next to John on the couch, the phone rang. You started to stand, but John beat you to the phone. “Hullo?”

John immediately recognized the voice on the other end as Roger’s. “Uh, hey Deacs, is uh Y/N there?”

John scowled. “Yes, why?”

“I need to talk to her about, uh, biology stuff. Yeah, biology stuff.”

You noticed the curious look on John’s face and called out to him. “Is everything alright, love?”

John resisted the urge to lie and say it was a telemarketer, instead opting to hold out the phone for you. “S’for you. It’s Roger.”

Strange, you thought. Why would Deacy be upset about Roger calling for me? But you didn’t have time to decipher his strange behavior at the moment and walked across the living room and into the kitchen to take the phone from him. John returned to the couch and pretended to be channel surfing while he attempted to listen in on your conversation.

You sidled up to the wall and pressed the plastic phone to your ear, finger twisting the chord. “Rog?”

“Y/N! Hey, so I was able to make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon around 4:30. You don’t have any classes then, do you? Shit I probably should have asked first.”

You laughed. “I get out of class at 3:30. Meet me in the library at 4?”

John went rigid on the couch. Based only on what he could hear from you, it sounded as if you and Roger were planning a date.

“Sounds good, Y/N. See you tomorrow, and thanks again.”

The line went dead and you replaced the phone on the hook. John frowned, but quickly settled on a channel to avoid suspicion as you made your way back over to the couch.

As you sat down, John attempted nonchalance, casually glancing at you as he said, “So, what did he want?”

Your cheeks flushed a light pink color as you scrambled to think of an excuse. “Oh, uh, he just had a couple of study questions. Y’know, for biology.”

One of John’s eyebrows shot up. “Studying already? Today was only the first day back.”

You gulped and stared at the television, desperate to avoid eye contact. All you could muster up was a quiet “yep.” He knew you better than anyone and could always tell when you were lying because you’d always grit your teeth, just like you were doing right now. He decided not to press the matter any further, just nodding slightly before settling deeper into the back of the couch.

Why didn’t you want him to know you were dating Roger? It doesn’t make any sense, he thought. You’d told him when some guy in one of your classes felt you up in the bathroom at the local pub. John’s jealousy had flared when you had, but he kept it to himself as usual (if only he’d known that the only reason you’d let Greg Leyland touch you because if you blurred your eyes he looked-vaguely-like John). What if you’d found out about his feelings for you? What if you weren’t telling him about Roger because you felt bad for him? John started to feel angry, he didn’t want to be pitied.  

Trying to move past the conversation, you picked up the remote that sat between you and John on the couch and turned the volume up on the TV. You set it back down on the other side of you and scooched closer to John, laying your head on his shoulder. He tensed up underneath you and you wished you could just tell him; you didn’t even understand why Roger was so worried. Freddie and Brian might make a few jokes at first, but they weren’t total arseholes. You hated lying to John. Even if he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was still your best friend.

John tried desperately to harden his resolve seeing your head on his shoulder made him melt all over again, however begrudgingly. Sighing, he wrapped his arm around you and let your head fall to rest on his chest. God, how you wished you had the courage to just reach up and pull his lips down to yours.

John longed to pull you tight against his chest and kiss you but restrained himself. Surely if you had reciprocated his feelings, you would have said so by now? In not saying anything, he thought, perhaps you were sending a silent message to let him down gently. The two of you just sat there both lost in thoughts of the other, unbeknownst to either party, silently watching the telly until you both fell asleep.

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Fic Taglist: @supersugarytea

Permanent Taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @disasterdeacy

[devintrinidad]

Immune Response

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13012260/1/Immune-Response

There was nothing U-2001 liked more than cutting open a couple of bacterium straight after he had drank some green tea. The rush and exhilaration that came from annihilating bacteria was an enjoyment unto itself. 2001 couldn't imagine a life where he wasn't a white blood cell. If he had chosen to differentiate from a myelocyte to an eosinophil, or god forbid, a basophil, he didn't think that he would have loved his job as much. However, philosophical discussions were more like U-1146's thing, or perhaps U-2048.

What mattered was the here and now.

And phagocytizing the bacterium.

Good grief, they tasted horrible, but it was for a good cause.

As 2001 continued to feast, a young and irritating voice popped up behind him.

"2001! I've been looking for you," U-4989 announced brightly as he stepped over the leftover carcasses of scattered bacteria. "Geeze, are you leaving some for the macrophages? I've seen a few of them congregating to this area, but they're taking their sweet time."

2001 shrugged but offered his neutrophil colleague a bite of his kill. To his utter surprise, 4989 waved away his gesture of goodwill—that wasn't too weird, but the look of utter exasperation and curiosity was. As he swallowed the last of the bacterium as he could, 2001 stood up and wiped the cytosol that was on his face onto the back of his hand. As he pulled his hand away, he noticed that came back bright red.

Hmm, looks like he would have to freshen up at a neutrophil cleaning station.

"Yo, did you need anything, 4989? If not, I'll be heading to the nearest cleaning station."

"Yeah! Have you noticed anything different about 1146?"

That definitely caught 2001's attention. Although he thoroughly appreciated his fellow neutrophil brethren and the rest of the immune cells, he was a little perturbed that 1146 liked to associate with other cells. It wasn't like it was a bad idea to hang out with the locale—heck, 2001 liked to play with the platelets every once in a while—but wasn't it bad for their reputation? They were killers through and through. No amount of sweet sugary conversations with the normal populace—and one particular red blood cell—could change their main aspects: that of a seasoned killing machine.

Regardless, why did 4989 care?

"He isn't infected with anything, right?" 2001 mused rhetorically. It was nigh impossible for immune cells to become compromised—in his own humble terms, of course—but that didn't mean that there wasn't some kind of virus out there hellbent on infecting the immune system.

"Ah, no...nothing like that." The young white blood cell looked away in an abashed manner. Honestly, 4989 knew that he shouldn't pry into business that wasn't his own, but frankly, he was curious about certain developments. "It's just that...um, 1146 seems to be stuck in his head more often than not. Haven't you noticed?"

2001 hadn't.

To be fair, 2001 didn't really pay attention to much unless there was a bacterium with his name on it. As for 1146 having his nuclei stuck in the clouds, well, 1146 was always the more reserved of their makeshift group. Even when he was a young myelocyte, 2001 observed that he usually kept to himself, but was he was more than willing to play tag and hide-and-seek with the rest of them. Still, though, if 4989 was concerned, maybe there was something interesting to learn in this odd little scenario.

"You think we should look into it, 2001?" 4989 continued to press on.

"Meh, I have nothing better to do...aside from getting all of this germ's cytosol off my uniform."

And so, both neutrophils found themselves in a washroom. 4989 had taken it upon himself to scrub the stains from 2001's arms while the other neutrophil focused on his legs. In record timing, 2001 found himself fresh enough to start patrolling the body once again—with 4989 tagging alongside him. As they walked, both neutrophils exchanged a few circumstances in which a particular red blood cell happened along their neutrophil brother.

"Remember that time where 1146 saved that red blood cell from a Pneumococcus bacterium? He looked suave and dashing, right?"

"Hmm?" 2001 hummed in disinterest. "It's our job to save the rest of the cells from attacks. How we look while doing that shouldn't affect how we work."

"Ah, er, of course! But like—"

"2001! 4989!" U-2626 called out. Although his bangs covered most of his eyesight, he could still see that two of his favorite colleagues were heading in his direction. Having migrated from a vent to the regular side of a blood vessel, he was quite shocked that he had bumped into his colleagues. It was more likely for all of them to meet up when there was an emergency that called for neutrophil backup. "What brings you around this region of the body?"

"Still sporting that haircut, 2626? You know that's against regulation."

"And I have yet to have a formal complaint lodged against me, eh?" 2626 cheekily smiled before he looked curiously at the strange pair. "I didn't know you were patrolling together, why didn't you invite me?"

"Ah," 4989 scratched the back of his head, the skin under his collar heating up a little. "We're not patrolling, per se—"

"I'm patrolling. He's yammering his head off with business that doesn't concern him." 2001 corrected.

"—but we were discussing 1146 and his little red blood cell friend."

2626 cocked his head to the side.

"4989, I hate to reprimand you since you're still fairly new to the neutrophil business, but we neutrophils make it a point not to associate with other's business unless faced with a virus or bacteria."

Looking properly chastised, 4989 made as if to retract his statement, but 2626 carried forward with another phrase.

"Now with that said, what gossip have you got for me!"

Although 4989 looked pleased, albeit a little flabbergasted at the change in tone at his senior's voice, 2001 merely shook his head.

"Since you got yourself a new partner, can I leave and properly patrol?"

2048 felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up mere nanoseconds before the receptor on his hat began to ping with rapid intensity. With a start, he jumped up from his resting position before he grabbed a knife from one of his legs. As he ran in the direction of a disturbance nearby, he pushed through a throng of red blood cells—wait, that one screaming her head off, was that 1146's friend?—and came across a rod shaped bacterium. Even without tasting the germ's flesh did 2048 instantly know what it was.

"Shigella dysenteriae! The cause of shigellosis, prepare to die!" With a running start, the white blood cell launched himself to the air and bore his knife down straight into the bacterium's gaping maw. With a horrible roar, the bacterium shuddered before blanketing the surrounding area with a sticky layer of cytosol.

As 2048 dusted off his pants and smeared the cytosol, he noticed that there were even more Shigella bacteria scampering off into different directions. Knowing that he was outnumbered, he grabbed his transceiver and requested for backup.

"Number 2001 reporting along with Numbers 4989 and 2626."

"Roger."

At that moment, he jumped back into the fray again, the sound of his brethren's yelling sounding like a sweet symphony in his ears.

"Geeze, are you guys getting old? I swear, I could finish all of these bacterium in the time it took you to get here."

"Hush up, 2048," 2001 ordered as he punched a bacterium into submission. "Neutrophils aren't meant to boast or brag, we're here to finish off these invaders."

"So serious," 2048 grimaced as he pierced the membrane of another Shigella bacterium. "Anyway, I gotta ask, I didn't expect you three to be together."

At his unasked question, 2001 rolled his eyes and grit out a stressed, "If you ask me, it's all 4989's fault and 2626's meddling. I've nothing to do with it."

"Okay...remind me to pursue this conversation later."

They nodded and separated.

"DIE GERMS!"

2001 thought that this was getting tedious and predictable.

2048 didn't know what 2001 was talking about.

2626 and 4948 whispered between themselves, a look of mischief getting passed between them.

"Hey, listen up, you two! 4948 and I want to test out a theory of ours." 2626 held up a little notepad that he retrieved from the pocket of his uniform (which pocket, none of the others knew where—their uniforms didn't always allow the comfort of having empty pockets most of the time). "According to our hypothesis, we believe that our favorite neutrophil brother, U-1146, may or may not be closely affiliated with the red blood cell, AE-3803."

"But...we already knew that." 2001 couldn't help but say. "We already know that they're friends. What else do we have to investigate?" As an afterthought, he added, "Not that we have to investigate anything, mind you. Can't we just accept that he has a social life while the rest of us are weirdos?"

"HOW DARE—"

"4989, he's got a point. All we do is scare the other cells with and kill anything that looks strange." 2626 mused as he tried to wrestle the upstart from punching 2001 at his implied insult.

2048, who had been silently listening to their conversation for quite some time piped up.

"While I do agree with 2001 here, why not test your theory out? Er, whatever it is, that is."

"Ah, yes!" Grinning proudly, 2626 brandished his notepad and pointed to a diagram that had barely legible handwriting and weird doodles in the margins. "Today, we neutrophils will kidnap an erythrocyte!"

"But, like, why?"

2626 slapped his hand over his forehead.

Wasn't anyone else interested in what the red blood cell had to say about her relationship with U-1146?

AE-3803 licked her lollipop as she idly walked through the lungs to the nearest station that housed the packages of oxygen. She had taken a little break after several consecutive circuits around the body and had taken to replenishing her store of glucose before returning. As she neared one of the alveoli, she heard a slight rustling behind her. She whipped her head around, thinking that it was another red blood cell like her, but finding no one, turned away. However, as she did so, she felt the hairs on the back of her stand in erect attention.

"Is it just me," she mumbled quietly to herself as she tapped the sweet treat against her bottom lip, "or am I being followed?" As she was about to enter a storage room, there was a—yowl? scream?—yodeling sound that had the erythrocyte dropping the lollipop from her mouth to the floor.

One part of her mourned the loss of her lollipop while the other part of her, a shriller more scared part of her, screamed for her to get away and seek cover! Unfortunately, all she could see was a group of white uniformed...cells? Grabbing, blindfolding, and tying her up.

There was one final thought racing through her head as she felt herself succumb to the eerie darkness of slumber.

Was it too much for her to ask for a new lollipop?

When the young erythrocyte awoke from a spontaneous knock to the nuclei (or rather, lack thereof), she didn't know what to think at first. Where was she? Why couldn't she see? Why couldn't her arms and legs move? And most importantly:

How many packages of oxygen and carbon dioxide did she fail to deliver?

"Umm, hello?" AE-3803 called out. Instantly, she wanted to crawl up in a corner and go through apoptosis. What a stupid move! What if it was some kind of bacterium or parasite holding her hostage? What kind of twisted, sick, psychotic—

"Ah! Hello, Miss Red Blood Cell! Good to see that you're awake." It was an overly cheerful, male voice—a far cry from the usual grating voices of invaders.

Although, that begged the question: if she was being tied up by beings that were not bacteria or viruses, then just what she was up against?

"C-could you untie me?" At the very least, she reasoned, she could see what it was before she was hemolysed. "Please?"

"Of course!"

And that's when things went from bad to downright odd.

Standing before her were four white blood cells of the neutrophil variety. Aside from the differing hairstyles and ID tags on the brims of their hats, there was virtually nothing separating each other's identities. Seeing that they didn't brandish any of their weapons at her or yelling "ANTIGEN SIGHTED", she relaxed.

Marginally.

The circumstance just begged another question.

Why would some immune cells tie her up and knock her out?

"So...umm?" How did one exactly go about addressing her kidnappers—who, she might add, were tasked with keeping the body's cells safe from all harm. Were they brainwashed or something? Or was something wrong with her? "How do you do?"

"I called it! She's far cuter than anyone could have ever imagined!" One of them, a guy with buggy eyes exclaimed in a fanatic way...which kind of reminded her of when they were chasing antigens.

"4988," a straight laced neutrophil commanded, "you're scaring her!" This neutrophil addressed her in what appeared to be in an apologetic manner. "Sorry for all of this, 2626 and 4988 were adamant that they meet you."

A neutrophil with bangs covering his eyes—how the heck could he kill germs if he can't see?—waved at her while holding a notepad.

"Hey there! I'm 2626 and I have a few questions to ask concerning your affiliation with—"

Another neutrophil cut in—2048, AE-3803 read.

"Don't mind the fanboys, they're just really curious."

"2048, don't interrupt my important science experiment! It's imperative that—"

Tuning them out, the red blood cell turned to the only neutrophil who looked a little remorseful and had a tiny shred of sanity.

"Is it okay if I run away? I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be here and I gotta do my job, ya know?" Not to mention the fact that she wasn't too sure that these neutrophils were sane.

For goodness' sake, they could go from bickering amongst themselves to phagocytizing her!

2001 shrugged before offering his arm.

"Honestly, the lot of them are complete idiots. I'll be happy to take you back to the alveoli."

"Thanks, Mr. Neutrophil!"

"Ah, no need for formalities. Just call me 2001."

As they walked back to the alveoli, the three remaining neutrophils remained fighting amongst themselves.

If 2001 had any assumptions about the red blood cell that usually tagged around 1146, they were finally laid to rest. Although she was a bit slow on the uptake and prone to wandering, she was till curious and pleasant to talk to. She had a bright demeanor, a love for her job, and a smile that was quite infectious.

Now, 2001 could confidently say that he understood by what 1146 was getting at when he suggested that they mingle with other cells.

The fact that AE-3803 was as genuine as they come and just as cute did nothing to cement his theory.

"Hey, 2001?" The neutrophil in question looked down at his companion as the red blood cell finally asked what she was wondering. "Why did you and the other neutrophils kidnap me in the first place?"

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

Seeing that lying would get him nowhere—not that he liked lying in the first place—he opted for telling her the truth.

"We wanted to know if your friendship with 1146 was more than that."

Was her face burning? Surely not, red blood cells couldn't get sick!

"Ah, er…" If she wasn't wearing her uniform, the redness in her face could easily identify her as an erythrocyte. "We're just friends?"

Even to her ears, it didn't sound like the truth.

Then again, she never thought about her relationship with her favorite white blood cell could extend to more than what it was. How would that even work in the first place? They were both cells bound to the body and their duties. Furthermore, two cells who were acting chummy with each other could just be that—friends. And what were the neutrophils thinking? Did they honestly think that kidnapping her would lead to-to...to what? A confession?

Well, that certainly wasn't the case because AE-3803 wanted to make clear that U-1146 was nothing more than—

She blinked as a white gloved hand waved in front of her hazel eyes.

2001 eyed her warily, as if suspecting that she was corrupted or something to help explain why she was so silent for so long.

"You're thinking way too hard over something that should be simple."

"Simple? You just don't kidnap someone over something that you think is simple!"

"Well, to be honest, I just went with it. The cells you should be mad at should be my colleagues, 4989 and 2626. I was there to supervise in case things went out of hand."

To his credit, the neutrophil looked a little ashamed at his lack of doing anything, but that didn't stop the erythrocyte from glaring at him.

"Really? You guys had nothing better to do?"

"There are several other divisions spread across the body. Taking a rest for a couple of hours is encouraged so that we don't get ourselves burned out...lest we should want to go through apoptosis."

"Well when you put it like that…"

2001 shrugged, but smirked at the female erythrocyte.

"We were also bored."

"WHA—"

"Ah, here we are!" U-2001 gestured to the entrance. "I trust that you know the rest of the way to the alveoli?"

AE-3803 cast a critical glance at the entrance before nodding her head. She knew the way well enough to spot a few landmarks and some trusty maps should she need it.

"Thanks for every—Hey! Where did you—?"

She caught a glimpse of her neutrophil escort shimmying down a blood vessel via his ability to migrate across the body.

"Ugh," she mumbled to herself as she stomped her way through the lung's entrance. "Why are the white blood cells so weird?"

"Did you get it?"

"Did she confess?"

"Did she stutter the entire time?"

2001 stood in front of his fellow neutrophils and found himself internally bemoaning why he hung out with them in the first place. Good grief, they were like myelocytes, except they were armed to the teeth and ten times more annoying.

"No to the first two and yes to the last."

Before any of the white blood cells could either gloat or weep about their expectations, 2001 grabbed a tape recorder that he hid within an inner pocket of his uniform.

"But I got some information that you all might find interesting."

"What information?" 2048 queried. He made a grab for the recorder, but 2001 halted him.

"Before you all start acting like progenitor cells, I'd like to remind you that we shouldn't be messing with 1146's business with the red blood cell."

"Yeah, yeah!" 4989 grabbed the tape recorder and began migrating to another blood vessel, the two other curious white blood cells hit on his heels. "Catch ya later, 2001!"

2001, admittedly a little embarrassed to stoop to such tactics, hoped that after listening to the red blood cell ramble about the most mundane parts of her job, the rest of his colleagues would leave her and 1146 alone.

Good grief, why was everyone acting like young myelocytes all of a sudden?

"2001, you look a little down. Is something amiss?"

"Hmm, 1146? Ah yes, I recently had to do some undercover work."

"Under...cover?"

"Don't worry too much about it, 1146."

"Then how come I'm getting chills down my back?"