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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch23: In The Flesh Part 2: Unwelcome Distractions

Summary: The Avengers are hot on the trail of Ultron...but once again, things don’t go according to plan and a tangle with the Maximoff twins leaves the team shaken.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, violence and crazy assed robots.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: Huge credit to @angrybirdcr for these stunning edits which perfectly capture Steve and Katie’s visions...

Chapter 23 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The normal schedule at the tower was utterly disrupted the next morning. Maria had come to Katie and Steve’s floor to inform them the team was assembling in the lab and had given them both a quick briefing. The previous night they had been able to reboot most of the servers, and the environmental controls of the tower were finally online again, but there was still no trace of the sceptre or the robots. Thor was busy trying to get help from someone on Asgard, Clint was working with some old contacts to see if he could get anything, whilst Tony and Bruce were trying to track him from the lab where Katie had a suspicion they would probably had been all night

The elevator doors opened with a ding; Steve, Katie and Maria exiting and she continued her report on what she had found out about Ultron so far, following them up the stairs as she did.

“He’s all over the globe. Robotics labs, weapons facilities, jet propulsion labs. Reports of a metal man, or men, coming in and emptying the place,”

“Fatalities?” asked Steve.

“Only when engaged,” replied Hill, beginning to type on her tablet while she continued to talk. “Mostly guys left in a fugue state going on about old memories, worst fears, things moving on their own, and 'something too fast to see’.”

“Maximoffs.” Katie concluded.

“That makes sense he’d go to them. They have someone in common,” Steve said nodding as they reached the top of the stairs.

“Not anymore.” Maria replied handing the tablet over to Steve. On it was a picture of Strucker lying on his bed in his cell; dead. On the wall behind him, the word 'peace’ was painted in blood.

“Bit of a mixed message don’t you think?” Steve asked.

“Is it? I mean if it were my mission, world peace, I’d probably take out Strucker too.” Katie shrugged as Steve looked at her, before glancing back down at the tablet in my hands. “Ultron could be in any system, he could be pulling planes down out of the sky if he wanted.” she sighed, “What if he’s just doing what he’s supposed to?”

"If I thought Ultron was bringing peace I’d hang up my shield.” He shook his head, leaning against the banister.

“Would you?” Maria questioned curiously. Steve looked at her, taking a deep breath and cocking his head slightly to the right.

“Let me know if he leaves any more messages.” he said simply, ending the conversation.

Katie shot Maria a look, mouthed thanks at her and then headed after him.

As they walked towards the lab they both heard Clint talking on the phone to someone, apparently someone with authority.

“I answer to you. Yes Ma’am.”

He looked over, saw the Captain and ended the call. “I gotta go…” He looked at Katie, then Steve, waved the phone and said “Girlfriend.”

“Any of your old contacts come through?” Steve asked, seemingly on the outside accepting his explanation, although they both knew full well he had been talking to his wife. Only Steve wasn’t supposed to know that.

“Still waiting.”

“Wait faster.” Steve said simply, turning and heading off down towards the lab. Clint shot Katie a look before he glanced down his phone and headed off in the opposite direction. Katie caught up with Steve who cast a glance over his shoulder at Barton.

“Girlfriend.” He quipped and she laughed

“I know, as far as cover stories go, explaining away your wife as a girlfriend is pretty lame.” They entered the lab and immediately could her a gabble of voices as Rhodey was talking to Natasha and Tony through one of the screens.

“If you hear something we need to hear it too.” Nat said as Steve strode past towards Thor who was pacing behind where Banner sat at a computer.

“That goes for you too, watch your six.” Rhodey replied.

“Any help from on high?” Steve asked, as Thor walked down the few steps into the lower part of the lab. He shook his head.

“He’s either away from his post or he’s been ordered not to answer” Thor said, striding across the floor as they both turned to walk back towards Katie “Ultron can’t hide forever”

“He’s not exactly hiding.” Katie said, handing Thor the tablet. He glared down at the offending item and the picture it was displaying.

“What’s this?” Tony asked moving to get a closer look only to have the tablet slapped into his chest by the obviously still annoyed God.

“It’s a message,” Steve replied. “Ultron killed Strucker.”

“And he did a Banksy at the crime scene, just for us,” Tony said sarcastically waving the tablet.

“This is good…” Nat glanced at the picture, her brows knitting together.

“No, it’s not good!” Banner shook his head as he rounded her chair

“No, Nat’s right, he’s showing us his hand, this isn’t his pattern” Katie nodded down to the tablet on the desk. “I mean why send a message when you’ve already given a speech?“

"Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss” Steve concluded.

“I bet he-” Natasha mumbled searching something on the computers. “Yeah, everything we had on Strucker’s been wiped.”

“And that’s good?” Banner asked, as everyone looked at him.

“Yes because he didn’t wipe everything” Tony said suddenly.

Moments later they were all in a room where a bunch of paper files were kept, files that had been rescued from SHIELD. They pulled the boxes containing information on Strucker and it seemed from most of them that he had gone rogue long before the events a few months prior.

“Strucker had a lot of friends.” Katie mumbled as besides her Thor was throwing random files across the room after deciding they were of no use.

“Well these people are all horrible.” Bruce commented digging through his own box.

“Wait,” Tony said pointing to the file Thor was flipping through. “I know that guy. From back in the day. He operates off the African coast. Black market arms.”

Steve stopped what he was doing to shoot Tony with a glare

“There are conventions. Alright?” Tony explained “You meet people. I didn’t sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game-changer. It was all very Ahab”

“What’s this?” Thor questioned, pointing towards one of the pictures of the man Tony had found. I peered over at it too.

“Uh, it’s a tattoo, I don’t think he had it,” Tony said

“No, those are tattoos, this is a brand,” Thor corrected, pointing towards a spot on the man’s neck right underneath of his left ear which obviously was a mark that had been burned there as it still looked red and raw in the picture.

“Yeah,” said Bruce as he placed himself in front of the computer, quickly searching what the mark meant. “It’s a word in an African dialect meaning 'thief’. In a much less friendly way.”

“What dialect?” Steve asked.

“Uh, Wak- wakanada – Wakandan,” Bruce said jumbling the pronunciation a few times before getting it right.

Katie swallowed and looked at Tony. “Tony, if this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trace goods…"

“I thought your father said he got the last of it,” Steve said, cottoning on.

“I don’t follow,” Bruce interjected. “What comes out of Wakanda?”

Steve, Katie and Tony all shared a look before Steve looked back at Bruce and stood to the side gesturing to his shield.

“The strongest metal on Earth”

*****

Ulysses Klaue’s warehouse was located in an old ship in a Salvage Yard off the African coast. Unfortunately Ultron, fresh from the murder of Strucker, had gotten there first, along with the Maximoffs

The fight had started, Katie and Tony both tangling in the air with Iron Legion bots and Ultron himself as everyone else took them out on the ground also trying to deal with the Maximoff twins, which was proving easier said than done.

"The girl tried to warp my mind,” Thor grunted, over the comms,“Take special care I doubt a human can keep her at bay, fortunately I am mighty.”

“Where is she?” Katie asked, looking round, her heat scanners showing her nothing.

“Thor?” Steve bellowed into his earpiece “Thor, do you read me?”

Thor didn’t answer.

Taking down another bot, Katie flew off down the hallway, in search of the god, but was knocked sideways by something into a pile of scrap metal. She stood up and prepared to take off again but, the world became dark, dim and gloomy. She paused, suddenly wary, trying to remember why she had come here in the first place.

She was in a church, at the end of the aisle. Steve was stood at the front, Bucky next to him. Both in smart suits. She frowned as she started to walk towards them when music started and everyone stood up. Katie was beyond confused, and she turned in the direction everyone was looking at to see Peggy Carter walking down the Aisle, in a beautiful white gown. She looked just as she did in the 40s photos Katie had seen.

But she didn’t belong like this, in the time. As Peggy glided past her, she turned to see Steve looking at the woman, his face smiling, features soft. And Katie felt he entire world collapse around her as Peggy reached the front of the aisle and Steve took her hands in his.

“Steve…” she managed to croak out. The Soldier looked at her from where he was stood and he smiled kindly at her.

“I hope you understand…”

“You love me.” Katie choked out and Steve shook his head.

“You could never be enough.” He said, shrugging “I’m sorry. It’s her, it’s always been her. You were merely a welcome distraction”

“No, no…that’s not fair, you said I was, you said I was yours…” she cried, dropping to her knees as the world shook around her.

Steve had seen Katie get knocked sideways out of the air, and was heading down to help when suddenly, he felt cold. Everything in front of his eyes seemed so far away, and a wave of calm spread over him. There was no rush, was there?

He was in a ballroom in the 1940s, loud jazz music hit his ears and the sounds of people laughing and joking. He tentatively stepped forward through the crowd but flinched when an explosion flashed near him. No, not an explosion, a camera. Then there was a gunshot. No, not a gunshot, a bottle being uncorked. Confused he looked around and saw a man lying on the ground, his friend dabbing at blood on his shirt, but it wasn’t blood. Steve looked again and he saw it was red wine.

All around him, people were celebrating, but all he saw was war and death.

Then, a very familiar laugh made him turn and he saw his girl in a gorgeous pink dress and she was being spun round the dance floor by Bucky. His face was creased into a wide smile, both his arms intact as he whirled Katie around the floor. She looked the same as she always had, but…she didn’t belong in this time of his life.

“Are you ready for our dance?” another familiar voice spoke as a hand tapped his shoulder. He spun round to find Peggy stood there, in a blue dress, her outfit and hair and make-up belonged here, in the 40s, in his past, but Katie didn’t. His eyes turned back to Bucky and Katie who were now swaying slowly, foreheads pressed together and he could do nothing but stare as Bucky dropped a kiss to his girl’s lips.

Then he was dancing with Peggy, but he had to stop, this wasn’t right.

She was his girl, not Bucky’s. He was with her, not Peggy. He needed to get to Katie…

“What’s wrong?” Peggy asked him. “The war’s over Steve,“ she told him smiling, "all of them.” She added. “We can go home. Imagine it.”

The party in the ballroom stopped. Everyone disappeared and the room went deathly silent.

He gave a loud gasp, it felt like he had plunged into an icy lake. He blinked, resisting the urge to vomit, taking deep breaths and slowly everything came back into focus and then he remembered where he was and why. The fight, Ultron, the warning from Thor….and Katie, where was she? He staggered to his feet, and stumbling slightly set off to find her.

She wasn’t far away, she was knelt on a walkway just below him suffering the effects of her own vision. Steve swung down a level, gently landing in front of her and knelt down on all fours.

“Katie…”

She could hear a familiar voice talking, through the fog and suddenly it cleared as if someone had poured a bucket of iced water over her head. She blinked, before she let out a groan of pain and dropped forward, grasping at the rough metal of the walkway beneath her palms- somehow and for a reason she didn’t know, she was knelt on the floor on all fours, and no longer in her suit. Every inch of her body was aching and her head felt like it was full of cotton wool and horrible lights were flashing behind her eyeballs, like she had had the worst migraine ever.

“Hey, you’re alright…” Steve said as she sat back on her heels, his hands either side of her face as she drew her eyes up to look at us.

“You’re …” she reached out to touch his chest, feeling the roughness of his uniform under my skin. “You’re still with me?”

“Yeah, baby course I am.” He said, frowning slightly, wondering what the hell the Maximoff kid had forced her to see. Deciding there was plenty of time to discuss that later he waited with her quietly whilst her breathing began to even out. She let out another groan, scrunching her eyes shut as the pain behind her eyes became too much and she lurched sharply to the left, throwing up all over the metal walk way.

Steve gently rubbed her back as she retched again, groaning in pain.

“It’s ok…�� he soothed gently “I got you…” Eventually she stopped and the throbbing in her temple subsided somewhat and she wiped my mouth, sitting back down on the floor harshly. “What happened?” she whispered.

“The Maximoff girl.” Steve said gently by means of an explanation, his hand reached round to gently stroke her hair.

“It was… it was so real.” She mumbled, glancing around.

“I know, tell me about It.” Steve swallowed, kissing her clammy forehead. Katie was surprised to find he was shaking slightly as well, drops of cold sweat were beaded across his brow “We need to get back to the ship. Can you stand?”

“Yeah” she said, and together they stood. Katie was a little bit shaky at first but Steve held her up and took a deep breath, shooting a furtive glance around.

“Clint?” Steve spoke in to the coms as Katie got back into her suit.

“Cap, you back with us?”

“Yeah, how is everyone?” He asked as they made their way slowly up the stairs. Katie didn’t trust herself to fly. Instead she kept the face plate open, needing the fresh air.

“Nat’s in a bad way, she’s still not out of it.” Clint replied. “What about Nova?”

“I’m alright.” She said, shakily as they left the warehouse, blinking in the light of the sun, the light making her heave again and she bent over, emptying what little was left in her stomach on the floor. “Sorry…” she mumbled as she straightened up and turned to Steve who shook his head.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Doll.” He assured, looking at her, hands reaching out to gently stroke her face. He looked around and spoke, mopping at his brow. “Thor?”

“I’m here.” the God’s voice came, he also sounded shaky. “That witch, she warped my mind after all. Her power… I’ve never seen or felt anything like it.”

“Tony?” Steve asked as we set off walking, slowly, across the sandy stretch to where the jet was parked.

“She got to Banner.” Tony said over the coms. “And whatever she showed him… well, Hulk just levelled a local town…”

“Casualties?” Steve sighed, looking at Katie.

“I dare say a fair few.” Tony replied. “Veronica and I did our best.”

As they reached the jet Thor landed next to them bringing Clint who in turn was carrying Nat. It was clear to see that everybody, bar Clint was severely shaken. It was a blessing that at least one of them had presence of mind. Clint got the jet off the ground, tracked Tony’s whereabouts and helped get a semi-conscious Bruce settled while Tony took off the suit. It all seemed very distant to Katie and Steve, who both felt like they were watching the interior of the jet through a fog.

“It was always her,” Steve’s voice echoed in Katie’s ears, and it hurt, a deathly pain deep in her being. She tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but the sickening panic she had felt during her vision threatened to wash over her again. Besides her Steve wasn’t faring much better. Bucky dropped a kiss to his girl’s lips. He moved slightly in his seat. It was an involuntary move, almost like he had been startled by something, which he had been, and Katie spotted it. She unclipped her belt, stood up and gently sat on his lap, pressing her head into the crook of his neck, shivering. He pulled her closer, kissed the top of her head and the pair of them just stayed there, not a word uttered between them.

Katie fell asleep, and when she woke up it was dark through the front of the window, showing they’d crossed time-zones. She was still on Steve’s lap, his head was lolling against the head-rest of the chair, his arms still around her whilst he also slept. Gently she untangled herself from him, and stood up, stretching. Clint was still piloting the jet to wherever it was they were headed and Tony was looking at something on a tablet a few seats away.

“Hey kiddo.” He placed his arm round her as he settled into the seat next to him. “Feel better?”

She shrugged.

“Well you’re doing better than Nat” he said, and Katie looked over. She was sat, staring at the floor. Her eyes darting to the sides every so often.

“She still not come round?” Katie asked, laying her head on her brother’s shoulder.

“She’s with us. But she’s really shaken…hasn’t said a word.”

“Seems I got off relatively lightly” Katie mumbled as she glanced over at Steve who was still asleep.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tony asked, his chin resting on her head.

“Erm… I saw Steve and Peggy” she muttered, looking down at her engagement ring, twirling it round her finger “it sounds silly but… they were getting married and I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t with me. Then he told me…” She trailed off, swallowing, she felt sick again.

“You know none of its true, right?” Tony said, his eyes locking onto hers “He loves you, not Peggy. The Maximoff brat is messing with your head.

“I know…” The tears sprang forth into her eyes. “ But it was so real, physical, I could touch things and people. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t need to…” Tony shook his head, gently reaching out and wiping her tears away with his thumb. “I had one, at Strucker’s base when we got the Sceptre.”

“I knew something else had happened to you” Katie sighed “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought it was just a funny turn but now I know it was her. I saw you all dead. I felt it. The whole world too. Because of me. I didn’t do enough.”

Katie slid her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“So that’s why you restarted the Ultron thing again” she said gently

“Yeah… really worked out that didn’t it.” He sighed.

“We’ll fix it.” Katie replied softly, shrugging as she sat up.

“How do you know?” Tony looked at her with eyes that were so like her father’s. She could do nothing but shrug back.

“Because we have to.”

*****

It was dawn as they all stepped off the jet and followed Clint as he confidently led them up to the porch of a large farmhouse, literally in the middle of a field. The sleep seemed to have done most people good, although Natasha was still not quite right, so Clint supported her as they walked up the path. Steve had his arm round Katie’s shoulder; hers in turn was round his waist, but not for support, for comfort.

“What is this place?” Thor asked looking around at the farmhouse and its surroundings.

“A safe house?” Tony responded unsure.

“Let’s hope.” Clint opened the door and stepped inside, with everyone else curiously following close behind. “Honey? I’m home.”

To nearly everyone’s surprise, a woman, who Katie figured was Clint’s wife, walked out from the kitchen and into the living room. She had long brown hair and was holding a bunch of colouring books in one hand, but one thing that was hard to miss was that she was very pregnant.

“I brought company. Sorry I didn’t call ahead.” Clint told the woman as he walked up to her and gave her a kiss.

“This is an agent of some kind.” Tony muttered pointing at the couple.

“Guys, this is Laura.”

“Hi,” she greeted awkwardly, “I know all of your names.”

Tony not knowing how else to react just gave a small wave that was just as awkward.

“Oh, incoming!” Clint warned as the thudding of feet and loud voices of young children hit their ears. A boy and a girl hurried into the living room, both running over to Clint as they yelled “daddy”.

Steve’s face was a picture, despite herself Katie almost laughed at the genuine-fake shock he wore across his features.

“Hi sweetheart! Hey buddy!” exclaimed Clint while kissing the top of their heads. “How are you guys doing?”

“These are smaller agents.” Tony said, adding to his previous statement.

“Did you bring Aunty Nat?” the little girl questioned.

Nat stepped forward, suddenly finding her feet. “Why don’t you hug her and find out?”

“Sorry for barging in on you.” Steve said, always one for keeping his manners.

“Yeah we would have called ahead, but we were too busy having no idea you existed.” Tony remarked with his usual sarcasm. Katie shot him a look.

“Yeah well Fury helped me set this up when I joined.” Clint explained, his arm around his wife. “Kept it off SHIELD’s files and I’d like to keep it that way. I figured it’s a good place to lay low.”

Thor, who had been extremely quiet since arriving, made to step closer to the group but a loud crunching noise stopped him. Katie and Steve looked down and he raised his boot seeing the lego house he had just crushed. He glanced upwards and caught Steve’s eye, then Katie’s as he kicked the broken pieces underneath the table. Then a toaster popped and all 3 of them glanced at it, before Thor turned and hastily left the room. Katie looked at Steve and the pair of them followed Thor out.

“Thor,” Steve said, and he stopped dead.

“I saw something, in that dream.” he explained. “I need answers, I won’t find them here.”

“Be careful” Katie said to him, he nodded and then with a whirl of his hammer he was gone.

They both turned to go back into the house when Steve stopped dead, the image of that damned vision flashing in front of his eyes.

“We can go home…imagine that”

He was home, with Katie, there was no home without her…

Katie, who had been heading back into the house, noticed Steve had stopped. She turned to look at him, his face was glazed slightly, a look on his face she knew extremely well, the one he got whenever he was thinking about his past.

“It’s always been her.”

Katie tried to ignore the flash back and gently spoke to him, her voice shaky.

“Steve?”

He suddenly focussed and looked at her, smiling softly.

“Walk with me?” he said, inclining his head away from the house.

Katie nodded with a swallow, taking his outstretched hand, the pair of them heading down a worn path through the field outside the house. Neither of them said a word for a while, they just walked taking in the large fields and the various trees and shrubs and they reached a clearing which was clearly where the family spent a lot of time. There was a picnic bench to the right of a large oak tree which sported an archery target, 3 arrows currently protruding from the middle circle. 2 bikes lay propped the trunk under the target and a baseball glove lay discarded on the floor.

Frankly Katie loved the levelheadedness of it. Steve loved the normality of it.

“You know, all I ever wanted was to join the army, hold down a good job, have a wife and a family…” Steve broke the silence as they both walked towards the bench. Katie looked up at him as he glanced around. “I mean a farm was never really what I imagined but…”

“A town house in Brooklyn?” She smiled softly as she took a seat.

Steve shrugged. “It doesn’t matter where, I just want to build a life with you, whatever madness that brings with it.”

Katie turned her face away, blinking away the tears. She knew her vision hadn’t been real, she knew it was all a dream but there was part of her that would never stop wondering, whether given the chance he would go back and live his life over with Peggy. Was he settling here for second best?

“Sweetheart?” Steve asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry just, she really did a number on me and now my head is all over and…” she looked at him as he moved so that he had one leg either side of the seat and he was turned side on to face her.

“What did she make you see?”

She took a deep breath and told him, by the time she got to the part about him saying she wasn’t enough and was a mere distraction, she was really biting back the sobs as Steve reached out and pulled her to him. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing him in, relishing his touch and the fact he was real, and there with her.

“Seems like she got us all pretty bad.” Steve said, his voice thick.

“What did you see?” Katie asked quietly.

“She showed me a dance.” He took a deep breath his arms still around her “But it was back in the 1940s. You, me, Peggy and Bucky were there.”

“Dancing?” she frowned “In the 1940s?”

“Yeah, I know. For once you were the one out of time.” He mused gently, looking at her for a second before he carried on “But you were dancing with Bucky, you were with Bucky, and I was with Peggy and she was telling me the war was over and that I could go home…”

“Maybe my vision wasn’t that far off after all.” Katie sniffed gently.

He pulled back from her slightly, and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“No matter how much I try to ignore it, how much I love you there’s always going to be part of you that’s back there, and a wishing you and Peggy had gotten your dance…”

Steve blew out a breath through his nose, shaking his head. She’d got this all wrong “Baby that’s not what I saw, at all…”

“You know sometimes I notice that look in your eyes, that haunted look like you’re somewhere else…” she continued, looking at her hands “I convince myself I’m seeing things because the thought that you might be wishing you could be elsewhere breaks my heart…”

“Baby, I-“

“If I am second best then, fine, I get it but I need to know….” she looked at him through her tears. “If you knew then, what you know now, and had the chance to… would you do things differently?”

He took a deep breath and moved slightly, reaching into his pocket for something. When he turned round Katie noticed he had the compass with Peggy’s photo inside it in his hands.

“You will never be second best.” He shook his head as he turned the compass over, in his hand. “That dream I had was awful.” He sighed “Not because Peggy was with me but because you weren’t.”

He clicked open his compass and passed it to her. The black and white picture of Peggy was gone, and inside was a photo she instantly recognised as one they’d gotten from a photo booth in Coney Island on her birthday last year. They were both looking cross eyed into the camera, happy and carefree, joking and playing. An hour or so post the photo being taken, he’d asked her to marry him.

“I changed it over the moment we got back that day.” He said gently, “I love that photo, it reminds me of just how much you make me smile and that I can just be me around you. I don’t have to be Cap or anyone else, just Steve.” HE reached out with his still gloved hand to brush her hair behind her ear. “You wanna know what my biggest fear is? Losing you.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his but even as she did she knew he was telling the truth. Steve didn’t lie.

”That part of my life with Peggy is over, and it’s okay. I can live without it, but I cannot live without you.” He sighed, his voice slightly choked and he moved his hands up to wipe the tears off her cheeks that she wasn’t even aware she had shed. “So would I do things differently? Not one fucking second.” He gently pulled her face to meet his in a soft kiss and whispered. “Please believe me, kitten.”

“I do.” She nodded as her lips met his again, melting into his hold. She kissed him back, urgently, needy and he was happy to oblige, his arms wrapping round her, pulling her into him.

“Bet I look a right state.” She pulled away, her head resting against his. He chuckled slightly.

“Well we could both probably do with a shower.” HE nodded, looking up over at the house, “Why don’t you go back in? I’ll grab us some stuff from the jet.”

She nodded and he kissed her forehead once more as the two of them headed in opposite directions. Steve watched her go heaving out another sigh as he stood up. Frankly it said something about their deep rooted issues that their visions took them both to losing one another to other people and not death. Especially after everything that had happed the last year and what was going on right around them now with Ultron. But it also made perfect sense, neither of them could face being without the other. They’d fallen in deep, real deep, and whilst in some ways it was frightening in others it was so, so right.

There was absolutely no doubt in his heart at all where Katie sat in his life. And that was forefront and centre. He just hope she realised that too.

By the time Steve had made it back she was already asleep on the bed in the spare room Clint had directed him to. Dropping the bag gently to the floor so as not to disturb her he headed into the bathroom and stripped off out of his suit. He lay his forehead against the cool tiles, the warm water was soothing as he washed away the grime of the fight. He dried off, changed into a pair of jeans and an under-armour shirt and headed back into the bedroom. Katie was still out of it, and deciding that a nap seemed like a damned good idea he slipped onto the bed besides her. Sliding one arm underneath her he pulled her back so her back was pressed into his chest, his other arm gently draped over her, his hand tangling with hers.

“I love you so fucking much.” He mumbled into her neck as he closed his eyes “So much.”

***** Chapter 24 Part 1

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x ofc #mcu #mcu fanfic #the avengers #chris evans #chris evans characters

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chrwrites · 4 years

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Coffee Cups

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge Prompt:“Oh no, he’s hot!”

read on ao3

The small coffee shop she found on her way to college on a rainy day quickly became Marinette’s favourite place. The staff always welcomed every client with a genuine smile, it was her quiet corner in a hectic city like New York. Sometimes, when she missed her family too much, she would spend the whole afternoon after her courses there, just to feel something close to the familiar warmth home had. She became a regular, the employees knew her and they prepared her order just as soon as they saw her walk through the door. She had found her own piece of heaven in the chaos her college work brought her, not to mention that the coffee was great.

She had become so accustomed to that small café and it’s employees that when Rachel, the girl who usually stayed at the counter and sometimes spoiled her with a few more cookies than she’d ordered when she had a rough day at uni, told her that she was quitting the job, she felt somewhat sad, and she was sure that whoever was going to replace her would have never been as good as her.

At least, that’s what she thought until she walked into the café and saw him.

The boy standing at the counter had the most beautiful smile Marinette had ever seen, and he welcomed warmly her and Alya as they entered. He was tall and even through the apron that covered his figure, Marinette could see that he was pretty well-built. His jaw was sharp and it reminded her of some sculptures she had only seen in museums. It was sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

His hair was short and black on the sides, and the longer part on the top was dyed blue and fell unruly on his forehead, right above his blue eyes.

His right brow was decorated with a black piercing, and his ears were embellished by black plugs and black rings on the superior part. His calm and cordial attitude contrasted his appearance and that’s what struck Marinette the most.

He was gorgeous.

“Good morning, what can I get for you today?”, he said, and his voice made him even more attractive than Marinette thought he already was, it was smooth and deep, and she would have listened to him talk forever. She kept staring at him, too mesmerized for the words to come out of her mouth.

Alya nudged at her and she shook herself from her thoughts, “Uh I… yes…”, she nodded, and the boy raised his eyebrow at her “And what can I serve you?” he repeated kindly.

Marinette mentally slapped herself. Don’t make a fool of yourself, you’ve grown up now.

“Can I have…” You? Your number? Please? “a Chanel Mercato, please?” she said, feeling her cheeks flaming when she realized what she had said. Shit.

The boy gave her a confused look, “I’m afraid we don’t have that”.

“Oh! Yeah. S-sorry. I can’t function properly when – a cute boy is looking at me the way you do – I haven’t had my coffee yet”, she gave an awkward smile trying to brush it off, “I meant a Caramel Macchiato. And a raspberry croissant. Please…”

The boy nodded and she looked at him as he wrote her order on a cup. A black snake was wrapped around his right forearm, its head reached the back of his hand right above his thumb, and Marinette wondered how his big hands would have felt if they were caressing her skin. And now that his gaze turned at her again and his lips were moving slowly, she wondered how could an action like this be so fascinating to her eyes. Oh wait- what did he say? Was he talking to her?

Marinette got back to reality only when Alya poked at her side again.

“You know, as much as I’d like to keep looking at your pretty face, I have to serve other people. So, if you could give me your name…” he said, accompanying the words with a slow grin. He sounded so calm and collected but Marinette felt herself short-circuit at his words. Did he just call her pretty? Breathe Marinette, it’s not like the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen called you anything. He’s just doing his job and he’s being polite. Just this. Get yourself together.

Marinette took a deep breath before she could speak again, and when she finally was ready to say her name, her mouth let out a gabbled “Ma-Ma-Marinette”, and she really wished the ground would swallow her up. As if she didn’t embarrass herself enough, she added, “And thank you??? You’re beautiful as well. I mean husb- I mean ho- pretty as well.” she blabbered. Oh, she wished she could sew her mouth shut now.

She winced and lowered her head, and she kept looking at the floor as she walked to the other side of the counter to grab her order. Alya, who was right next to her, burst into laughter as soon as they reached an empty table.

“Oh, I thought you stopped getting all worked up in front of cute boys! I kind of missed that”, she snickered.

Marinette didn’t say anything, she just put her head in her hands and sighed heavily. She really wanted to scream. What was happening to her? It wasn’t fair, she had just embarrassed herself in front of the cutest guy she had ever met. What did he think of her now? She missed Rachel already.

“This is bad, stop laughing!” she whined at her friend, who looked way too amused by her behaviour. She lifted her head to grab her cup and noticed that he had spelled her name in the way she said it to him.

Ma-Ma-Marinette was followed by a little winking smiley.

As exaggerating as it may sound, Marinette felt overwhelmed. She felt weak and all she could think of were those deep blue eyes that looked at her, and the smiley face he had drawn next to her name. She really needed to lay down for a moment.

“Please, tell me you didn’t skip class today because you couldn’t handle someone calling you pretty” Alya chocked on a laugh when Marinette complained to her on the phone that evening.

“I skipped just the first one!” she said, “I really needed to get myself together you know?” she groaned in frustration. “Have you seen him? I wasn’t expecting to see someone so gorgeous today and he called me pretty and I made a fool of myself in front of him!” she sighed.

What could she do now? She contemplated not going to that café anymore while she was laying down, but was it worth it? She didn’t want to give up that small piece of heaven she had found in New York, and she also wished she could make it up for that morning at least, and prove to the cute boy she wasn’t the stammering mess he met that day.

She also kind of hoped that he would forget about her the next day. Why was she like this?

After a whole 30-minute conversation where Alya tried to convince Marinette not to give up her favourite coffee spot, she decided she would have gone back to the café. He called her pretty after all, maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. Who doesn’t get all awkward when they see someone as hot as that guy?

When she went back to the café the next day he was still the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen. He smiled softly at her, and she looked around the place as she walked to the counter. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone behind her waiting to order and she could have the chance to talk to him calmly.

“What can I get for you today, Ma-Ma-Marinette?” he said, and his voice was as welcoming and warm as the day before, maybe even sweeter than the caramel macchiato she always got. This made the fact that he still remembered her sting a little less. Calm down Marinette, don’t mess it up this time.

“A C-Caramel Macchiato and a raspberry croissant, please” she said, mentally high fiving herself for not stammering too much this time.

He handed her the order with a smile and wished her a nice day; their hands brushed against each other for a moment before she grabbed her cup.

Marinette felt her insides go wobbly before she put her order on a table and sat down. She could still feel his gaze on her but that was probably her imagination. She grabbed her cup, and that’s when she noticed that he hadn’t written her name on it.

I meant what I said the other day, you’re really beautiful -L.

Marinette’s eyes widened and she blinked as she examined the cup, making sure she’d read that correctly. His calligraphy was clear, and she pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming. He called her beautiful this time.

And she had an initial! Not his name, but an L., that was a good starting point! Too bad the coffee shop didn’t give the employees name tags.

She flushed when she re-read her cup, and he smiled at her again before she left the café to get to class, this time there was something else distracting her from her lessons.

Marinette ended up looking forward to seeing him every day, sometimes they also managed to talk for a moment before another client needed to order; and she was the happiest when the cute barista smiled at her and handed her her order with a new phrase that made her start the day in the best way, it didn’t take long for her not to stammer around him anymore.

I hope your day is as lovely as your eyes -L.

Your smile is adorable -L.

After a whole week of getting cute messages on her coffee cups, Marinette felt like this was going nowhere. If he was really interested in her like he showed through all those messages, why didn’t he ask her out? Also, she got so engaged in their conversations she always ended up forgetting to ask for his name when they met.

“Are you going to do something about it?” Alya asked after Marinette spent another day complaining.

Marinette nodded tenaciously to answer her question, she needed to act this time.

The next day, when the blue haired boy asked her what he could get for her today, Marinette collected all the bravery she had in her body and said, “Oh, the usual. But add your number, and your name, too. Please.”

It was his turn to blush as Marinette held his gaze. He looked taken aback by her sudden burst of confidence, but he smiled when he grabbed a new cup. He looked even better with his cheeks pink, she thought. It took him longer than usual to write on her cup, and he winked at her when he handed her the order.

Along with his number, he had added another note.

I’m free on Friday -Luka.

#lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette fanfic #lbsc sprint fic challenge

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nonstoplover · 4 years

Text

trust fund baby ~ Timothée Chalamet (song drabble) - version 2.0

my masterlist │ my song drabbles

song i used as inspiration: why don't we ~ trust fund baby

words: 1.7K

approximate reading time: about 10 mins

a/n: okay so when brainstorming about this song's lyrics i came up with an idea (a different one than this written below) but as i started writing it, another possible, quite similar situation came to my head and since i couldn't decide which one i liked better, i figured i let you guys decide and wrote both. anyway i'm not an expert in cars and repairing them, so excuse my lack of knowledge please. i hope you still like it though! please leave feedback, it means the absolute world to me. love youu

here's version 1.0, the original idea

"Damn it." Timothée cursed out loud, slamming his palms against the steering wheel.

He couldn't figure out what was wrong or if accidentally he did something that caused the problem, but here he was in the absolute middle of nowhere, all alone with a slightly smoking engine hood.

He had no clue only that something really bad was going on. He grabbed his phone and opened the browser to search for the closest garage.

"Really?" He muttered to the device in his hand in disbelief. The closest one was about an hour away. It would take forever for a breakdown truck to come here for him.

He contemplated waiting for a little while, see if it went back to normal, maybe he could drive to the garage himself if the situation got better. The two sides in his mind reasoned against each other non-stop as he tried to figure out what was the best solution.

In the deep thinking he was doing he didn't hear the sound of an approaching vehicle from behind him until the image of it in the rearview mirror caught his eyes and the engine's roar entering his ears couldn't be mistaken.

He watched the slightly worn-out jeep get to him frozen in his seat, the idea to somehow stop it and ask the driver to tow him to the garage forming in his head but he did nothing to carry it out, still surprised by the sudden appearance of another car on the road.

The jeep passed him with reduced speed before eventually pulling up short in front of his car. Timothée's eyes widened as the car door opened and someone jumped out of the vehicle. His fingers shakily searched for the handle so he could get out on the road as well.

When he straightened his back and his eyes fell back on the approaching person he was taken aback by the sight. A beautiful girl around his age wearing a well-worn pair of jean shorts and a baggy, retro t-shirt, a worried expression on her face.

"Is everything alright?" She spoke up, rambling on without a pause, not even waiting for a reply from the boy. "I saw you parking here and I was thinking maybe you're just taking a break from driving but I was like, it's better to check if something's wrong."

Gosh, stop rattling, (y/n) thought to herself. You're not making a very nice first impression right now.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Timothée answered subvonsciously, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before realising what he had just said, then swiftly shook his head and corrected himself. "I mean, no, not everything's fine. There's a little smoke coming out of my engine hood and the closest service station is quite far and I don't really know what to do."

Hearing the boy answer with a similar amount of gabbling slightly calmed the girl down, he probably found the situation quite odd likewise.

"Can I look at it?" She pointed at the car.

"Look at...?" He frowned in confusion. Why would she want to look at it? "I mean, sure, if you wanna."

"Great!" She half-exclaimed, already making her way towards the car, opening the car hood, her torso disappearing in it fully in no time.

Timothée watched her shocked, he was sure that the process would've taken a minute or even more for him, still the girl did it like it was nothing extraordinary.

"Okay, I think I know what's the problem, and lucky for you I happen to have the needed equipment with me," she straightened back up, turning back towards the boy.

He watched her pass him on her way back to her car and after a little packing around she got out a toolbox from the trunk and made her way to the other car again, swinging the tools in her hand like it's no big deal that she kept such things in her car.

She casted a glance at the brown haired boy, a chuckle erupting from her throat when she saw the expression on his face.

"My dad owns a service in my hometown and he taught me how to repair the most common problems," she explained, placing the box down on the ground as she reached the car. "And he has always insisted on me carrying around a toolbox in my own car in case anything happens."

Timothée felt his jaw drop to the ground in surprise and was quite thankful that the girl had already turned back towards the engine with a tool he could have sworn he had never seen in her hand, this way not seeing his reaction.

In his mind flashbacks of high school and even college parties and talks played non-stop as he watched her work. All his life, at least the part where dating was already a subject, he always told everyone that if he had ever dated a girl, it'd be an independent, smart and skilled woman. Someone who could fix anything whether it was changing a lightbulb or repairing a car.

And as it seemed in that moment, the girl he had always been describing was standing right in front of him. All he knew was that he couldn't let her slip away now that he found her.

"Okay, I think it's done. Can I sit in and start it to see how it is?" Her voice awoke him from his thinking.

"Yeah, sure."

On the way to the car door (y/n) tried to clean her oil-stained hands as good as she could with more or less success, pressing her skin in the worn jean material on the front of her thighs before climbing in the car. The engine growled loudly a moment later, and they both waited curiously if smoke's going to appear again.

When nothing happened, the young girl swiftly got out of the car, leaving the engine going as she approached the boy again.

"Would it be alright if I took it for a tiny ride? I wanna see if the smoke comes back after using it again," she explained. "I'll leave my car key and wallet and all my stuff with you as warrant."

Pulling the mentioned things out of her jean pockets, (y/n) held it out towards him, waiting for a response. He silently nodded, a bit taken aback by the sudden suggestion but eventually taking the stuff from her, watching as she got in his car again, passing him and speeding off into the distance.

Maybe he was foolish to trust someone this easily, but she left all her belonging with him, why would she run away, stealing his car? Otherwise, she had a pretty nice car herself, compared to his older, simple car even the (already dried) mud-stained jeep seemed fancy.

It took all self-control he had in himself not to open her wallet and search for her ID so he could learn her name, but it felt wrong, finding it out without her knowledge. He could just ask her when she got back.

The figure of his car started growing again, signaling that she had turned around and started driving back, and indeed his car arrived back to the starting point a few minutes later. The girl carefully wheeled the car around so it faced its original direction again before stopping the engine and getting out.

"It's working absolutely alright by far. And even if it somehow starts doing it again, you'll get close to the garage by then."

"Wow," he muttered, feeling speechless. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, I'm glad I could help," the girl leant down to pack her equipment laying on the ground.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, no, nothing. You don't have to pay me for this. I'm not even a professional," she quickly straightened her back, laughing at his suggestion as her hands waved it away.

"But I feel like I should pay you, you deserve something in exchange for stopping even though you didn't have to and offering to repair my car. And actually repairing it."

"No, really, please. I'm doing this because I like helping people, what is more people who happen to need my special knowledge about fixing car problems."

"Then at least let me buy you dinner or something in the nearest diner. If you have the time and would like to do so, of course."

Smooth, she thought giddily, watching him nervously creasing the hem of his shirt. The thought that such an attractive young man would be interested in a girl like her felt extra heartwarming.

"Okay, I can accept that," she giggled in the end.

"Amazing!" Timothée exclaimed, heart bursting with happiness that his sudden and absolutely not thought over plan worked out well.

"Then, are we gonna drive separately and stop at the first diner that comes in sight?" (y/n) visualised the scene appearing in her head.

"Yeah, probably," he chuckled. "Though what do you think about exchanging phone numbers and staying in a call while we drive there?"

"Great idea!" (y/n) grinned at him, amusement in her eyes. The boy truly had some pretty good thoughts in his head.

They both pulled out their mentioned smart devices from their pockets and switched them, typing in their respective numbers before saying temporary goodbyes and climbing inside their own cars. Just in time with (y/n)'s engine starting roaring, her phone in her hand started ringing.

She glanced at the screen for a short moment before erupting in loud laughter as her eyes took in the nickname he set for himself.

"Heya, Timmy T," she answered suggestively, still giggling, making the boy let out a chuckle as well.

"Hi, (y/n)," he answered a second later. "Nice to meet you."

"You too."

(y/n) tapped on her screen to put the call on speaker before putting the device down and slowly starting make the car roll forward. Glancing in the rearview mirror she made sure the boy was following her before picking up a faster speed.

For the next two hours they went from the first small talk to deeper, more serious subjects, getting to know the other more. Minutes spent with laughing loudly or silently listening to the other's stories went by.

In the first half an hour Timothée sped up out of nowhere and caught up to (y/n)'s car in the opposing traffic's lane so they could cast momentarily glances at each other until another car appeared on the road and the boy had to slow back down to swerve back in the normal lane behind her car.

The strange but nice attraction they both felt towards each other only grew stronger with every passing minute and by the time they arrived to the first diner in their way, they were already something close to best friends, or maybe even more.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

#timothée chalamet #song drabble #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet x reader #x reader #fanfiction #alex turner imagine #fanfic #trust fund baby #why don't we #wdw #dune #call me by your name #cmbyn #interstellar #the king #nonstoplover #masterlist

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stories-sometimes · 4 years

Text

I’ve Made A Huge Mistake {12/12}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 1847

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

This is technically the last chapter, but I will be writing a few drabbles to go along with the series, if anyone has any requests.

Around a week later Peter and her were safely back in New York, laying together on his dorm room bed. Beck had been arrested and Fury and a legal team were working adamantly to form a case against him. They looked into him to find his past at Stark Industries, along with slowly revealing the team he worked with. William and Victoria had been arrested and were cooperating on a plea deal to uncover the full extent of Beck’s plans.

But for now, the pair were cuddling, comfortable in their pyjamas watching Ferris Bueller. The daisy necklace was still sat on her chest, the same place it had been she’d gotten it. Peter stared down at her, relieved she was safe. She looked more relaxed than she had been since London, simply caught up in the enjoyment of the film. Eventually, she felt his gaze, flicking her eyes up to meet his.

“What?” She smiled.

“I’m in love with you.” He confessed without thinking. Her face switched instantly, softening in a confused way.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I, I shouldn’t have said that.” He backed away from her. He felt absolutely terrible, she was in a vulnerable position and Peter in no way wanted to take advantage of her. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want, or go away or anything. I’m just sorry.” He stood up, stressing over what he’d just done.

“Why would I tell you to go away? This is your dorm?”

“Cause I was one who just fucked everything up.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I-I,” He could make up some lie, some excuses, something to try to get him out of this situation. But he had to own up to his feelings like a man. “Yes.”

“Really?” “I’ve loved you since we were kids. I bought that necklace and I had this whole plan to tell you, but then-”

“Life got in the way.”

“Yeah.” He admitted, running his hands through his hair nervously. “I completely understand if you don’t feel the same way. And if you don’t, I don’t want anything to change. I still want to be your friend, and I-”

“Peter.” She cut him off, pulling his hands out of his hair, holding them in hers. “I love you too.”

“Wait really.” He replied shocked, cupping her face in his hands.

“Yes. I’ve loved you for so fucking long, but I was too scared to say anything. And then I thought you liked MJ.”

“You thought I liked MJ.”

“Yeah, you guys seemed really close and, you know. I got jealous.” She explained bashfully.

“We’re friends, I’ve never liked her like that. And you were jealous of me, seriously. I was always the one who was jealous of all the guys staring at you, not the other way around.”

“Are you really that blind? Do you actually not see how many girls fancy you?” Peter rolled his eyes, blushing slightly, “C’mon, you got that whole hot nerd thing going for you.”

“And you like that?”

“Absolutely, I always go for the annoyingly smart guys.” She joked, “And as much as I want to jump into this, but I can’t right now. I just got so caught up with Beck and that was a fucking mess. And I know if I throw myself into another relationship one of us will end up hurt. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. You gotta do what’s right for you. And I will wait, however long you need, for you to be ready.” She pulled him into a tight embrace, nestling her head in his neck.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

Six weeks later the two of them sat in the court, waiting to be called to the witness stand. Peter felt ridiculous sitting in his Spiderman suit while everyone else was in formal suits. He held onto her hand to relax the both of them. Each sweating at the thought of seeing Beck for the first time since London. The man was soon dragged out into the room and the hearing began. Beck was being charged for a series of charges, from fraud to the destruction of the cities, right up to the deaths he caused through his malicious plans. She kept her head up, refusing to make eye contact with the older man trying to stare at her. For the most part, she blocked out what was going on during the hearing, not even realising she was being called up to the witness stand until Peter was shoving her up.

“Mr Beck, please describe your relationship with the witness.” The prosecutor asked.

“Well, we know each other very intimately.” He smirked. She clenched her jaw in response, trying to ignore his comment, knowing he was just trying to fuck with her. “We were involved in a romantic and sexual relationship while the two of us were in Europe.”

“And how do you respond?” The lawyer turned to ask her, “Were you complicit within this relationship?”

“Yes, everything was consensual.”

“And considering his character, why would you travel through Europe with him?”

“Because at the time I, like everyone else, believed his story. I got caught up with the idea I had of him.”

“And why did you stay with him after you found out his true character?”

“When I first found out I was alone with him in a foreign country with no way of getting home on my own. I was scared of what he’d do. And later he threatens to kill my friends if I didn’t comply with his plans. Beck was trying to blackmail me into staying with him.”

“And when did you figure out he was lying?”

“I was in a hotel room, unpacking our stuff, and I found illusion technology initially created for Stark Industries within his Mysterio suit. Then I realised the elementals were fake and if that was fake, I thought everything else would be.” A few more questions were asked before she was allowed to sit back down.

“The jury had spoken.” The judge announced a few hours later. “Finding Mr Beck guilty for all accused crimes and will be given three life sentences at a maximum-security prison with no opportunity for parole.” They said before smacking the gabble down. She watched Beck being assorted from the courtroom back to his holding cell. The experience was oddly therapeutic for her. With the truth out there and Beck behind bars, she could truly put this unfortunate chapter behind her. She and Peter made their way back to his dorm. Peter pulled off his mask before turning back to face her.

“We did it,” Peter said, hugging her, “It’s all over now.” She wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling back a few moments later. She traced her fingers over his cheeks, a dumb grin on her face. Within her mouth was on his. It was gentle, but with an underlying passion of years of built-up feelings.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Peter mumbled against her lips, “You sure about this, you’re definitely ready?”

“Yeah, like you said, it’s over.” She kissed him again, walking the two of them over to Peter’s bed, pulling him on top of her. She traced her tongue over his bottom lip. She moved her hand, tracing her nails down his chest and lightly grazing over his groin. Peter let out a gasp.

“So you wanna do it, do it?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah, if you wanna too.”

“Yes, yes. I really want this.” Peter nodded eagerly. He immediately pressed the spider logo on his chest to loosen his suit. She pushed the suit of his shoulders, pushing it off his body. And removing the tight material helped the growing strain in his underwear. Peter slowly unzipped her dress, she raised her hips slightly to help him shimmy the dress off. Peter looked at her body in complete awe. She raised to a sitting position, unclipping her bra and sliding it off before lying back down on the bed. Peter crawled back on top of her, gently kissing his lips, down to her neck and further down to reach her chest. He ghosted his finger over a nipple, flicking his eyes back up to her when he heard a soft moan. “God, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” Peter whispered.

“I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“This is so much better.” He kissed further down her stomach, loving every inch of her body. He reached her panties, brushing over the lace. “Can I?”

“Please.” She let out breathily. He pulled the thin fabric down her legs, taking her calf in one hand to kiss back up towards her core. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue over her clit. She moaned, grasping at the bedsheets below. Pleased with the reaction, Peter went in again, more confidently. Her back arched as she snapped one hand from the bed to Peter’s curls. A coil built up before Peter finally tipped her over the edge.

“Fuck Peter, feels so good.” She moaned. Peter felt a surge of pride rush through his body. He’d just made the girl of his dreams cum. She pulled him back up, pushing his boxer’s waistband down. Peter helped, shrugging them off, groaning embarrassingly loudly when she wrapped her smaller hand around his cock. “I want you in me.” She whispered in his ear. And that had to be the sexiest thing Peter had ever heard. He pushed into her, bottoming out hastily. They both moaned, gripping onto one another for dear life. He pulled back out more slowly, then thrusting back in. He immediately set the pace, slow, deep and loving. It was the most passionate thing either of them had ever felt. Everything else was completely irrelevant. All that mattered was the two of them in the moment. They were completely immersed with each other. Soon they were both coming down from their highs, wrapping around each other’s bodies.

“I love you so fucking much.” She said.

“I love you too, more than you could possibly know.”

Everything was going perfectly, at least for that night. The next morning she reached over to check her phone, only to see her twitter blowing up.

“Peter, Peter.” She shook him awake.

“What’s going on.” He said, dazed.

“You’re trending on twitter.”

“It’s probably cause of the trial.”

“No, you’re trending, not Spiderman.” Peter shot up at that. They opened the app to see a final interview with Beck. Within it, he revealed Spiderman to be Peter. He dropped his head into his hands.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.” Peter sobbed into his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey.” She said, running her hands through his hair to try relax him, soothe his woes just a bit. “Why would you think this is your fault.”

“Cause I showed him who I was and I should have -” “We’re going to get through this.”

“You promise.” Peter said between panicked breaths.

“I promise. I’m gonna be right by your side and it’s going to be alright. You haven’t made a mistake.” She reassured him.

“Not with you.”

Taglist:

@cool-ontherun-world

@eleventhdoctorsangel

@chubby-tink

@eridanuswave

@squishychar1ie

@sincerely-cronch

@charmed-asylum

@lukesbabylon

@cutie1365

@smilexcaptainx

@tomhollandssecurityguard

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x original character #peter parker smut #quentin beck #quentin beck x you #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #marvel #ive made a huge mistake #spiderman #spiderman far from home #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #mysterio

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch1: Back Into The Field

Summary: Katie heads back to SHIELD following the crazy events in Miami and finds herself on desk arrest following a disciplinary for two weeks. But when catastrophe strikes on a mission, she kinda wishes she had stayed there.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x O/C Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language (no smut, yet, but will be down the line. A bit of angst, injury and blood (some may find upsetting)

Stark Spangled Man: Re-cap

Steve was mad, furious, absolutely and utterly infuriated. His foot tapped as he rode the elevator up to the 95th floor where it pinged open and he stepped into the living area of the tower. Katie uncurled herself off the couch and started to speak before the doors had even shut behind him.

“I know you’re pissed…” she began, but he held his hand up, shaking his head.

“Pissed doesn’t even come into it…” he said, “Are you insane?”

“Not last time I checked.”

He felt his jaw tighten, this wasn’t the time for her jokes or quips. As he looked at she felt herself quell under his gaze and she dropped her eyes from his and sighed.

“I had to help.”

“You’re a fucking idiot_!” he stood, arms folded as he glared at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent as he unloaded “You could have been seriously hurt, or killed… I told you to call me!”

“You’re only pissed off because you missed a chance to play the hero…” she snapped and then inwardly groaned. As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them.

“Is…is that actually what you think?” he frowned, looking like puppy dog she’d just kicked across the floor.

“No, its not…” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean…”

“I was worried about you!” he pressed, “Katie, you’re my best friend and I couldn’t cope losing you as well…”

As well as Bucky.

His sentence hung, unfinished, making her feel like shit. She sighed and crossed the room, slipping her arms around his waist. After a second or two he unfolded his arms and hugged her back.

“You should have called me.” He sighed, his tone softening as she lay her head on his chest.“It was so frustrating. Fury was refusing to do anything, if I knew how to fly one of those damned jets I’d have taken one myself…"

“Ask Clint for some flying lessons.” she said, stepping back to look up at him, sighing again as his face displayed no amusement at her attempted joke. “Look, I’m sorry, truth is, I didn’t think. We just got caught up and I didn’t want to drag you into something that wasn’t your fight. This was down to Tony and a very long list of people he has pissed off…”

Steve snorted as he released her from his grip “Well then it isn’t your fight either is it?”

“He’s my brother, Steve, I’d die for him if I had to.” she shrugged.

“How is he now?” Steve asked, following her towards the bar area.

“Seems ok.” she said, stepping behind it. “Recovering from the surgery, destroyed all his Iron Man suits…”

“He what?”

“Clean Slate protocol… blew them all up. Including the one he had made for me.” she slid an open beer across the bar top towards him. He caught it as he settled down on a stool, shaking his head.

“Wait, he made you a suit?” Steve frowned “An Iron Man suit?”

“Iron Maiden…” she grinned, leaning on the bar opposite him as he looked at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and grinned “They’re a band…rock… add them to the list.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and pulled out the notebook she’d gifted to him the year, making a note of the name, before he slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

“So he made you a suit…” he said, motioning her to continue.

“Yeah, well wasn’t much point seeing as I only got to wear it for like half an hour or whatever. It was only a prototype, nothing I could use with SHIELD either as it was too conspicuous, not that it matters anyway as he blew them all up, like a massive firework display”

“Why?” he frowned, bottle paused halfway to his mouth.

“Some kind of outward gesture to Pepper, basically said that any designs for a new one she gets to help him with…”

Steve took a big pull of his beer and swallowed. “That’s a big step for him.”

“Yeah, I know. He loves her.” Katie swallowed a mouthful of beer “And she loves him, she’s good for him.”

“Is she ok now after the whole Extremis thing?”

“Yeah. Tony managed to engineer an antidote with a bit of help from the SHIELD lab and she’s good.”

“And how are you?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Katie snorted, shaking her head “absolutely exhausted by all of it. Gods, Aliens, crazy assed super soldiers that explode…” her eyes narrowed as she eyed him playfully and suspiciously “you’re not gonna explode are you?”

“Not planning on it, no.” his crooked grin spread across his face.

***********

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat. Well, most of them. Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother Fury was pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports, analysing and cross referencing them with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either. That said, it was heavy going, but as with anything she was soon engrossed, circling a part of the hard copy of the report with highlighter pen, before glancing back at the screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan.

Nope, this was officially crap.

Steve’s morning wasn’t much better. After one particularly gruelling Ops Training session, whereby one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he showered and headed up to find Katie. She’d skipped the Ops training, not particularly needing it to be fair as she was a dead shot as it was, but her main reason was she was buried in work that Fury had dropped on her desk. He found her sat, paper in her hand and she was looking her computer screen. She sighed, scratching at her head before she dropped the file onto the desk letting out a groan. It was such a pure, natural action, Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t. So he gave a little cough and as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned.

“Fancy lunch?” he asked her.

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered the first time she had taken him to the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. He held the door for her and she stepped under his arm, and he followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough!“ she said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she asked, looking at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. She’s simply rolled her eyes but today he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad. Been through worse.” He grinned as he opened the door to the Deli for her. He followed her in and stood besides her in the queue and became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she said causing the Captain to roll his eyes. He was used to her utter random comments now. She was very like her brother in that respect, her mind moved at about 100 miles an hour and half the time he had no idea what made her come out with the stuff she did and to be honest, he’d long since given up attempting to understand.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?” she asked.

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at Steve’s with a film. Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past 6.

“Shit…” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late” she apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours!”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something…but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” she rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” he said, his voice taking on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m going now…see you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?”

“Old enough to be” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs he was waiting at the door to his flat, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time…” he muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed” she said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to.

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the 3 boxes on the coffee table and reaching straight in for one of the pepperoni slices before Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the tv where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait...did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself…” she looked at him and he sighed.

“I’m not completely useless ya know…”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the film. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line “You can’t handle the truth” When the film had finished, Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel…errr Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson” she said, “Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. Kaffee annoyed me a little, arrogant, cocksure.”

“Reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” he said, giving a little smirk.

“You enjoy it?” she asked.

“Yeah, very good. Better than the one we watched the other night anyway.”

“Yeah, pisses me off though. I mean Galloway, she’s a strong female military woman and they still have to go with the romance angle. And with Kaffee too. Personally I’d have punched him in the face several times.“

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format” he said, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…”

“Appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged “Crap like that, happy endings and all, never happens unless it’s in a film. What’s more likely to happen is boy gets you into bed and then fucks off when the chase is over. Well, most men anyway.”

Whilst her action and mannerisms remained neutral, the bitterness in her voice gave her away and Steve felt a surge of anger towards her ex. He’d never met the guy and still wanted to punch his lights out for the way he’d treated her. They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch,and seeing the time decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the shower and thought about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totall honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, warm green pools that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it. But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself.She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers?

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he'd felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he'd looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her... the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help...none of that was anything to do with mere friendship.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend. He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last long. 2 weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran the cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie read the files, all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the 3 newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Steven Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken 3 bullets to the chest.

“I got him…” Katie said, calmly taking aim at the hostile responsible and as soon as she knew she’d hit him, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you…Adams…look at me…” she said gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“I can’t stop the bleeding…” she said, her tone giving away exactly how worried she was.

“Medic, NOW!” Steve yelled, looking around frantically for help “We need emergency evac…”

“This is just like Coulson all over again…” Katie mumbled to no one in particular as she reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine. Steve gripped the young man’s hand as she administered the pain relief.

“Son,look at me…” he instructed and Adams horrified eyes turned to Steve “That’s it, keep looking at me…”

Steve swallowed, figthing to keep his face calm. He’d seen that look so many times on the battle field, the look that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now, 70 years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied in his ear “Evans has taken 4 down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We can take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out.Katie seemed to come to the same conlcusion a she nodded.

"Alright…Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay…Evans, we need top cover…”

“Roger, Nova…”

“Steven… we’re gonna move you now.” she said, looking at him, her voice calm and level. She took his hand out of Steve’s which allowed the captain to haul him into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had the man positioned he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted 2 hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off 2 shots, the thumps and lack of returning meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow who flanked them up the ramp where she dropped the shield to the floor and offered her hand back to Adams, Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok…” Katie said, soothing him as the medics bustled around, glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom…I love her…and dad…” Adams was mumbling now and she shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself. “she smiled “you’ll be fine, I promise…”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now. How’s he looking?” Rumlow asked as he stepped up besides Steve who had stood back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly.

“Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking her head. Katie threw her head back closing her eyes as her face screwed up.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered as Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger.

“Radio base” he turned to Brock, his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific nights sleep, she’d been at the T riskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after 10 am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants.And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” she said, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “He was 24 Clint. His whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems ok, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No,because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Which made it slightly easier. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury said, handing him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping into one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t’ get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of 60 seconds post sip.

The scotch was smooth, he expected nothing less from the boss. And the pair of them sat in silence for a few moments.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” Fury asked, leaning back.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve said, undoing his tie.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” he said, rolling the tie up and shoving it into his old Army uniform pocket.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be ok. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury said “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“It was a straight forward in and out job Captain.” Fury leaned forward. “What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

“Taking risks is part of this job.” Fury said simply “It’s a dangerous gig.”

3 glasses of scotch and an hour later he shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did, he was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese…plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this “new life” was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet. He shot a message back.

He changed into a pair of sweat and a hoody, hastily making his way to her penthouse and the the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey…” she said, crossing the space towards him and giving him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“how did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but…they were ok about it. They didn’t shout or yell…”

She flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig as he sat back down, staring at the bottle in his hand.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“it wasn’t your fault Steve.” she said, gently. She did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter…” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds…”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s head shot up unable to believe she actually thought that.

“Why not?” she sighed sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Abrams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him…”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she said, reaching in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He said as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know…” she said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death…” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not… I mean you’re tiny…” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She said back, Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was picking on her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back.

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs on the other as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her. The contact was comforting, clearly for her as well as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and as he watched her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him. He placed it against his leg and manouvered her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. Pondering for a moment, he decided to do neither, reaching for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

“Steve…” Katie was doing her best to wake him from his obvious nightmare after he had jolted her awake, thrashing in his sleep. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to shake him out of his sleep. His face contorted into a silent scream and then he jerked awake, his eyes wide, breathing deeply. It took him a while but he suddenly realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Shit…sorry…” he said, his voice croaky “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie said, gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands.

“Thanks…” he said as she handed him the glass. He took a large gulp, his breathing returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare…” he said softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened.” she said softly “What was it about?”

“It was…just Bucky.” he said shaking his head, “I saw him fall…”

“You know you can talk to me about it Stevie.” she said softly “It might help.”

“They’re always the same.” he said, shaking his head, swallowing thickly “I either replay him falling or me going into the ice…”

She didn’t speak, simply waited for him to continue and for a moment she though he wasn’t going to, but then after a sigh he leaned forward and placed the glass on the table and ran his hands over his face again.

“It was a Hydra train,” he started, “We had a tip that Zola, a Hydra scientist was traveling somewhere and thought that it was our chance to capture him. One step closer to taking down Hydra. There was a blast from one of their weapons and it bounced off my shield and blew open the side of the train car and Bucky was thrown out.” he blinked, swallowing “He grabbed onto a bar and it wasn’t stable, and he fell.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round his shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” he said softly. The guilt ate him up every day, that he had survived, why had he deserved that any more than Bucy?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ he said softly, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie replied

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she asked, standing up.

“Yeah if that’s ok…” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he said, as he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything. She bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she said, pouring them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to both, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before handing it to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…he looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good…”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So…when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.” he said, taking another bite of his toast.

She shook her head “What an ass…”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly with a shrug, chewing his breakfast “to be honest I enjoyed it.”

She looked at him “What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know…” she smirked, and he rolled his eyes before he smiled softly.

“Punk…”

Tags @the-omni-princess

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #katie stark #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Text

[Carewyn had actually intended to see Torvus before hearing Trelawney’s prophecy -- she hadn’t gotten around to visiting him at the end of the school year, so it’d be polite to give him an update. Plus the centaur had been a good enough of a friend to her over the last two years that she'd looked forward to them meeting again under less dire circumstances. Just because these circumstances weren’t less dire didn’t mean she had to change those plans.

Carewyn found Torvus in a glen of the forest they’d met in before, which likely wasn’t far away from the centaurs’ camp, although Carewyn had personally never seen it. The Slytherin Prefect had two glass jars tucked under her right arm.]

Torvus: “(with a smile) Of course, Carewyn.”

[The centaur’s face then grew more grim.]

Torvus: “Were you able to defeat the dragon in the Cursed Vault and break the curse trapping those students in portraits?”

[Carewyn gave him her best smile.]

“Yes. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

[She adjusted the glass jars under her arm.]

“That’s actually why I’m here -- I brought you these.”

[She handed Torvus the two jars. The centaur peered at them curiously, rotating one in his hand and looking through the glass at its contents.

Carewyn’s gaze drifted away uncomfortably, but she kept her voice as level as she could.]

“It’s apple and cranberry chutney -- you can put it on just about anything, like bread or cheese...even some meats, I think -- if you eat meat, that is. I probably would’ve baked you some biscuits, but I wasn’t really sure if chocolate chip would be to your taste.”

I think chocolate is bad for horses, but I don’t know if it is for centaurs.

[Torvus blinked up at Carewyn, taken aback.]

Torvus: “You made this, for me?”

[Carewyn felt her cheeks flushing slightly, but she smiled fully.]

“Well, Pitts helped me. I just wanted to thank you, for all your help...reckon I probably could’ve done more to say ‘thank you,’ earlier, but...well, better late than never, right?”

[Torvus considered Carewyn for a moment, still clearly a bit stunned. Then his face broke into a smile as he looked down at the jars again.]

Torvus: “...I appreciate the gesture, Carewyn. You are truly a kind human.”

[Carewyn smiled in relief.]

“Then it is okay?”

Torvus: “Yes. You said that humans eat this ‘chutney’ with bread, correct? Bread is a staple of our diet.”

Thank Merlin!

“(through a soft laugh) Great!”

[Torvus glanced down at the two jars, thinking. Then he secured each jar to his quiver with the ribbons Carewyn had tied onto them, so that they wouldn’t fall and break.]

Torvus: “...I must ask, though...what of your brother? Did you manage to find him, when you discovered the Vault?”

[Carewyn felt like a cold stone had plopped down into the pit of her stomach. Her gaze drifted to the ground.]

“...Yes. But...”

[She took a deep breath, and settled down on a large tree root so she could sit comfortably. She rested her head in her hand.]

“In the Vault, Rakepick -- our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher -- turned on us. She would’ve killed us, if we hadn’t been lucky enough to overpower her...but she still escaped.”

Escaped back to R...

“I found Jacob in the Vault...but as soon as he learned that Rakepick got away, he immediately ran after her.”

[She swallowed back the lump in her throat.]

“...I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

[Although Carewyn had managed to keep her voice level, Torvus spoke very gently as he stood over her.]

[Carewyn shook her head, her gaze still lingering on the ground rather than on Torvus.]

“You had it so much worse, though. Your whole family shunned you...I can’t imagine how hard that must have been...”

Be grateful for what you have, Carewyn. At least you still have Mum. At least you still have the others to look after. And at least...at least you know Jacob left because he was trying to be helpful -- no matter how wrong he was --

[She scolded herself internally in a vain attempt to tamp down the pain and self-pity she felt.]

Torvus: “We’re together now -- that’s all that matters. (more softly) I hope you’re able to have a proper reunion with your brother too, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn looked up at him, touched by the smile on his face.]

“Thank you, Torvus.”

[She decided to change the subject.]

“Oh yeah...forgot to mention, I’m taking Divination this year.”

[Torvus raised his eyebrows.]

Torvus: “Oh?”

“(amusedly) I admit, I wasn’t that impressed with tessomancy, but...well, I guess there’s a whole term still to go. Do centaurs read tea leaves too?”

Torvus: “No. We read the stars -- from there, the best of us use Sage and Mallowsweet to refine their findings.”

[Carewyn listened in great interest.]

“(with a wry smile) So no dredging up shapes in moldy tea leaves or reading palm lines, eh?”

[Torvus’s nose wrinkled in disgust.]

Torvus: “(derisively) Most human branches of Divination are considered...unreliable by my herd.”

“(laughs) Well, you're not the only ones: a lot of people in my class don’t put stock in what Trelawney says, either.”

[Now that the topic had been smoothly brought up, Carewyn finally felt comfortable enough to bring up her question. She really didn’t want Torvus to think she’d come all the way out to see him just to ask him about it, not only to spare his feelings but also because she herself hated putting so much weight on it when she didn’t even truly believe Trelawney’s prediction in the first place.]

“...Torvus...may I ask your opinion, on something?”

Torvus: “Certainly.”

“How valid are prophecies? At least, to you.”

[Torvus raised his eyebrows.]

Torvus: “You have heard a prophecy?”

“I’m not sure. Trelawney claimed she’d had a vision and gabbled a bunch of stuff...but I’m not positive she wasn’t just acting out. I mean, considering my history with the Cursed Vaults, I’m sure she assumes I’ll be involved with the last one, so -- ”

Torvus: “The last one? Has there been another curse?”

“Yes. A Statue Curse. My friend’s sister found a student turned to stone in the courtyard the other day.”

Torvus: “I see...”

[He looked thoughtful.]

[Carewyn recited the prophecy to Torvus, just as she had to Percy earlier that day. The centaur considered the words carefully.]

Torvus: “...I’m afraid this is beyond my capabilities.”

[Carewyn couldn’t fight back a grin.]

“I personally suspect ‘fake’ myself.”

[Torvus, however, didn’t smile.]

Torvus: “Even so...it wouldn’t do, to dismiss it out right. At least until you have confirmed otherwise with someone else who is gifted in Divination.”

[Carewyn frowned.]

“Could you maybe ask a member of your herd what they think?”

[Torvus didn’t look very enthused about this chain of thought.]

Torvus: “Centaurs do not usually share their opinions of the night sky with humans. My herd would not take kindly to me speaking for you, particularly when you’re not known to them. And humans -- with the exception of Hagrid and a few others -- aren’t welcome in the Centaur Camp.”

"(very firmly) Then I won’t have you speak for me. The last thing I want is for you to get in trouble on my account.”

[Carewyn had been ready to close the book on the discussion, coming to the conclusion that learning more about Trelawney’s so-called “prophecy” wasn’t worth risking Torvus getting in trouble -- but Torvus spoke up again.]

Torvus: “However -- if you presented them with suitable offerings, they might be persuaded to permit you to visit our camp.”

[Carewyn blinked.]

“Offerings?”

“Well, I s’pose it is polite to bring some sort of a gift, when you visit anyone’s home for the first time...”

[Carewyn brought a hand through her ponytail thoughtfully.]

“I just wish I knew what gifts your herd would like.”

[Torvus smiled slightly as he pointedly adjusted the jars of chutney tied with ribbon to his quiver.]

Torvus: “I have faith in you, Carewyn.”

((OOC: According to Greek myth, centaurs are known for eating meat, bread, and wine. I imagine the bread these centaurs make would be slightly different than most modern bread recipes, though, likely to better resemble medieval peasant bread (which was made by grinding different grains and then kneading them into a dough with water and yeast and then baking it over a fire or in the sun) or Ancient Egyptian bread (a similar mixture baked over hot ashes).

Although in the game, Torvus dryly references that MC only comes to see him just to ask for his help (not like you give us a choice, Jam City!), Carewyn most definitely is not that way -- she is way too much of a Mama-Bear-type and way too sensitive about other people’s feelings to make anyone feel like they’re just a tool to her.

But yeah, just like with Duncan and Pitts, I demand more Torvus content! I want him on our friends list, damn it! YOU HEAR ME, JC??))

#carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #torvus #sybill trelawney #roleplaying #gameplay #my art #hphm #hogwarts mystery

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years

Text

Fic: Of Comic Books and Sushi

Summary: When his dad’s visit to him at college clashes with an important class, Neal asks his roommate Belle to look after his dad for a few hours. Belle takes it upon herself to introduce Neal’s father to the wonders that Boston has to offer.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Trying something new for the first time.

Rated: G

=====

Of Comic Books and Sushi

Belle would admit to being somewhat nervous about meeting Neal’s dad properly for the first time. She’d met him in passing, obviously, over the course of the two years that she and Neal had been roommates, but this would be the first time that she was meeting him without Neal there as well, and she was anxious to make a good impression.

Especially since the very first time that she had ever seen the man, she had been wearing a bright pink fleece onesie with ‘Princess Fabul-ass’ embroidered on the butt, with her hair in a towel turban and a bright green mud mask on her face. She had never fully forgiven Neal for not warning her that his dad was coming that day, and the onesie, a gag gift from Ruby, had never been worn again despite its cosiness.

She didn’t even know why she was so nervous; it wasn’t like she was dating Neal.

In fact, it was probably quite a good thing that she wasn’t dating Neal, because if she remembered correctly, having got over her initial mortification, Mr Gold was really rather attractive. Ruby had said that her liking for older men would get her into hot water one day, and if having a sort-of crush on your roommate’s dad didn’t constitute hot water, then she didn’t know what did.

She had the sudden urge to kill someone in the art department, because it wasn’t Neal’s fault that he was leaving her alone with his dad for three hours. One of his presentations, a pivotal one which counted towards his final grade, had been rescheduled at the last possible moment, and since he couldn’t cancel it, he’d had to draft in Belle to keep his dad entertained.

How on earth was she supposed to do that? Neal had probably already shown his dad all of Boston’s usual tourist attractions on his previous visits, and it would be awkward indeed for them to just sit in the apartment for the entire time.

There was a knock on the door and Belle gulped. It was zero hour. She checked her appearance in the mirror. Although he had, thankfully, seen her looking much better than she had been for their first meeting, Belle was still acutely aware that she had never seen Mr Gold himself looking anything less than pristine.

Finally, she opened the door; it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting after all. When she got a good look at him, Belle had to double take, and she was sure that she stood gaping at him for at least five minutes before either of them spoke.

“You cut your hair,” she said. As greetings went, it could have been worse.

“Yes, I decided that it was time for a change. And hello to you too, Miss French. How are you?”

“It looks great. I mean, you look great. I mean, I’m great, thanks for asking. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea? Has Neal explained the situation to you?”

She stepped aside to let him in, aware that she was gabbling but unable to stop herself.

“Yes, he told me that he was leaving me in your capable hands. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Belle busied herself with kettle and teabags, deciding to break out the teapot since was an occasion - well, a guest - that merited a bit of class. Hopefully, making the tea would distract her enough that she wouldn’t do or say anything that she might regret after the heat of the moment had passed.

Because Mr Gold did look great, as did his short hair. If she’d found him attractive before, then he was practically sex on legs now. Good God, had she actually thought that phrase, and in connection with her roommate’s dad, as well? She really shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way. Neal was like a brother to her, which meant that Mr Gold should have been like a father to her, and…

Nope. She brought the teapot over and poured two cups. Nope, the feelings that she was feeling now were definitely in no way familial.

“So, did you have any plans for today, Miss French? I know that this isn’t exactly how you were anticipating spending your Friday.”

“You can call me Belle, Mr Gold, honestly. And no, you’re not interrupting anything. I was going to go to the comic store and treat myself to some sushi for lunch, but that’s probably not your thing.”

“Believe it or not, Miss French, I have never actually done either of those things before, so I wouldn’t know if it was my thing or not.” He paused, and there was the smallest hint of a shy smile on his face. “If you don’t want an old curmudgeon cramping your style, then I completely understand, but I’ll happily tag along with you if I may.”

“Sure, of course.” Well, at least that solved the problem of what they were going to do whilst they waited for Neal. “You’ve seriously never had sushi?”

“Never.”

“Mr Gold, you are missing out. Let me just get my coat and we’ll head out as soon as the tea’s drunk. You’re in for a treat, I promise you.”

“Lead on, MacFrench.”

If Mulan was alarmed when Belle brought Mr Gold into the comic store then she didn’t show it. Unlike some (mostly young, white, and male) comic store proprietors that Belle had met in her time of frequenting them, Mulan didn’t care who read comics; the more the merrier in her opinion. She would always try to convert any newcomer who walked through her doors, from any walk of life.

“Do you come here a lot?” Mr Gold asked Belle as she browsed the racks. She wanted to find something that he would enjoy and that he could bond with Neal over. Belle knew that their relationship had been very strained during Neal’s high school years and they were both working hard to recover it. Which was probably why she shouldn’t be throwing a spanner in the works by being attracted to Mr Gold.

“Yes, it’s like a second home. Well, a third after the library. Neal and I met through this place, actually, I don’t know if he’s ever told you. There was a tiny little comics convention up on campus and Mulan had a stall there. Neal and I were both looking and tada, the perfect partnership was born.” She paused. “We’re trying to make our own comic, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m writing and Neal’s drawing.” It made sense, after all. She was studying English and library science and he was studying art.

“He’s never mentioned it to me.”

“You should ask him about it. The concept sketches he’s done for it are amazing.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing them.” Mr Gold still sounded rather mind-blown by the concept. “What’s it about?”

“It’s an Alice in Wonderland story, with a twist. All of the characters are human, but it’s still set in a fantasy psychotopia. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’ll be great if we ever get it finished.”

“I’m sure that it will, with you two at the helm.” It wasn’t just a polite platitude Belle could tell that he really meant it, and something in her heart turned a somersault at his words.

She turned back to the racks of comics before she could do something that she regretted, hoping that Mr Gold wouldn’t notice her blush. She grabbed the latest Harley Quinn for herself and a new Thor for Neal, holding it out to Mr Gold.

“That’s one of the ones Neal’s reading at the moment,” she said. “After the morning that he’s had, I’m sure that he’d be glad to see it.”

Mr Gold nodded, picking up on the unspoken suggestion as he took the comic from her. “Thank you, Miss French.”

“It’s Belle, really.”

Mr Gold shook his head. “Only if you call me Andrew.”

Belle was about to protest that she couldn’t do that, that he was her friend’s dad and she needed to address him with the appropriate level of respect, but something stopped her. They were both adults after all, and on an equal footing. And he had offered her his first name, so presumably he was fine with her using it.

“Ok… Andrew.”

It didn’t feel as weird as she thought it might, and she was rewarded with his shy little smile again.

“Thank you, Belle.”

She watched him go over to the cash desk, where Mulan immediately started regaling him with the best reading order for the series if he wanted to get into it himself, and Belle had to take a moment to take stock of what had just happened.

She was on first name terms with Neal’s dad now. They’d definitely turned a corner in their relationship, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, then he’d definitely wanted to turn that corner with her.

What on earth would Neal think?

Forget Neal, well, for the next couple of hours at least. She could deal with him when the time came, and if he was her best friend then he might be weirded out for a couple of weeks but would hopefully come around to the idea, and honestly, nothing might come of it after all.

Belle really hoped that it would, though.

Her stomach gave an aptly timed growl, reminding her of the other object of their trip out today, and she hurried to pay for her own title, steering the now somewhat overwhelmed Andrew away from Mulan and out into the street.

“Sushi?” she asked hopefully. Andrew nodded.

“It’s certainly a day of new experiences, that’s for sure.”

“Mulan’s harmless really. She just wants to spread her passion around.”

Belle and Neal’s favourite sushi restaurant was only round the corner from the comic store, a little hole in the wall place that was all but hidden away unless you knew where to look for it. Belle was happy to take charge, ordering all of her favourites and the usual things that she would start beginners with, and the talk turned back to the nebulous Alice idea whilst they waited for their food to arrive, with hilarity ensuing as Belle tried to teach Andrew how to hold chopsticks properly.

It was only when she was holding her fingers over his on the slim wood to adjust his grip that she came to a frightening realisation.

They were basically on a date.

She paused for a moment, letting her head get around it, weighing up the pros and cons. On the one hand, Neal was probably going to kill her, but on the other hand, she really couldn’t bring herself to care. She was having a good time, and even if this was the last time she saw Andrew, she wouldn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when Neal called, breaking up the moment.

“Hi Belle, it’s all over now, thank God. Where are you?”

“Hi Neal. We’re in Kokoro. How did it go?”

“It was fine, I don’t get the result till Monday… Wait, did you say that you were in Kokoro?”

“Yes.”

“With my dad?”

“Yes.”

“My dad is eating sushi?”

“Well, he’s attempting to, his chopstick skills need honing.”

“I…” There was a stunned silence at the other end of the phone for a long time. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to see this to believe it.”

Belle just laughed as Neal hung up. Knowing that their little moment would be over soon, she raised her cup of tea to Andrew’s in a toast.

“To discovering new things.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Thank you, Belle. I’ve had an unusual, but very pleasant, morning, and I can’t fault the company.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you. The same goes for me.”

It was an open invitation for the both of them, the knowledge that they had enjoyed spending time together without Neal, and they would take the opportunity to do it again some time.

She had to grin as she saw Neal staring at them from outside the restaurant, and she waved. Only time would tell, but she was very confident that something could happen from this.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #first date (ish)#meet cute #college #Fic: Of Comic Books and Sushi

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justgeorgeharrisonfic · 5 years

Text

FIRST DATE

“So, how’s your boyfriend then?”

Well, that solved that bit then. How to get round to the subject. And would he still want to go out with her. And was he still interested. And had he been interested at all, or had she completely imagined it. And…

“Eh?”

Interested enough to really want an answer. He wasn’t just making conversation before he had to go somewhere else…

“Pattie?”

“Oh.” She hoped that word hadn’t come out as a squeak. She remembered to breathe. And smile. She’d planned this bit. “He isn’t my boyfriend any more.”

“Isn’t he?”

“No.” She shook her head too, to emphasise the point.

“Why not?”

That was a bit she hadn’t anticipated. “I…” She paused. Not sure how to make it sound alright, not horrible, not too eager. “I just…”

“You dumped him!”

“Well, I…”

“You dumped him!” George’s grin was wide, and happy. “So, will you have dinner with me then?”

Pattie’s smile matched his in luminescence. “Ok.”

“Tonight? Oh.” George paused. “I can’t do tonight. Tomorrow?”

“Ok.”

Should she vary her conversation a bit…?

“What’s your address?”

Pattie gave him her address, and he borrowed a bit of paper from a passing lighting man so that he could write it down. They fixed a time. Then George was called away for a scene, and Pattie was left feeling as though she was hovering just above the ground.

“What about this?”

Mary looked up from her magazine. “It’s nice.”

“That’s what you said about the last one.”

“Well, that was nice. This is too.”

“But which one is better?”

“For god’s sake, Pattie! I don’t… Which one do you like best?”

“I don’t know!! I know!” Pattie pulled off the shift dress and dropped it in a heap on the floor, where it joined three other dresses and a skirt. She stepped over them and returned to the wardrobe. There was the sound of clothes hangers being dragged from one side of the rail to the other, and then she hauled out a short blue sleeveless dress and held it up against herself as she frowned into the mirror. “What do you think?”

Mary rolled her eyes, and took another sip of her wine. She didn’t bother to reply, and Pattie didn’t notice.

“Aaarrgh!!” The blue dress joined the others on the floor. “I don’t know!! Oh Mary. What should I do?"

“Get dressed?”

“What do you think he’d like?”

“How on earth should I know? I’ve never even met him.”

“But you’ve seen him…”

“Pattie, you look gorgeous. Whatever you wear you’ll look gorgeous. He didn’t ask you out for your dress sense. Just put on something!!”

Pattie stood in the centre of a pile of clothes and tried and tried to quell the panic filling her head and making her heart pump and her mouth dry. She breathed deep and slow and swallowed hard and then again. She looked down at the dresses on the floor; she stooped and picked up the white one from the bottom of the heap. “This one,” she decided.

“You mean the first one you tried.” Mary drained her wine glass, and poured herself another half. She made no attempt to keep the sarcasm from her voice – Pattie was aware that she probably deserved it. She didn’t bother to find a reply, but just put the white dress on, zipped it up, and then looked around behind her.

“Now. Shoes?”

“Nooo!!” But Pattie was laughing at her flatmate, and was already putting on the only shoes she had that she knew she could last out an evening in before the pain got too bad. She returned to the dressing table, shook out her hair and brushed it through. Again.

The doorbell rang.

“But is a suit too posh?”

“Course not.”

“How do you know?”

“Cos everyone wears suits in posh places. So you wouldn’t look posh. Cos the place is posh.”

George stared at his friend lounging on the sofa, and decided that he was speaking sense. In other words, not putting him on. He turned and padded back to the bedroom, and picked up a tie. And then another tie. And another. He paused, worrying, and then trotted back to the sitting room. “Rich, which tie?”

“What the fuck?”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Does it matter?”

“Course it does!” George found he was shouting. About a tie. “She does modelling. She knows about… clothes." Even to his own ears he sounded stupid. “Blue or grey?” He held them both up against himself.”

“Blue.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you even look?”

“No.”

“Thanks a bunch.” George went back to the bedroom and held up the blue tie against himself, and decided that it did look alright. He was still putting it on when the buzzer went. Tie still undone, George went to the intercom and pressed. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Brian Epstein’s clipped tones needed no further introduction; George buzzed him in. As the older man stepped into the flat, George asked him anxiously, “Is the suit alright?”

“Mine or yours?”

George glared.

“It looks fine, George.” Brian paused to light a cigarette. “Did you tell her I was coming too?”

George stood, looked at him forlornly, pursed his lips. Shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I… didn’t know what to say.”

“You could have just…”

“I didn’t want her to change her mind,” he blurted.

“You agreed about me coming.”

Agreed? Well, maybe. Brian did have a way of sounding persuasive. Of making you think he knew best. Of making you think it was the right thing. And, maybe he was right. Pattie was a posh bird, she’d know all the best places and what to do and he was a git from Liverpool. He nodded, he didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, it’s time we were off. The taxi’s waiting.”

George nodded again, and went back to the mirror to finish doing his tie. He stared at the finished product; stared at the face which had, and still did, prompted a thousand screams, thought about Pattie, closed his eyes and silently prayed to himself that she hadn’t gone off the idea, that she wouldn’t be disappointed, that… it would all be alright. He opened his eyes again, and went back into the hall to his waiting manager. “Seeya, Rich,” he called through to the sitting room. And then the two left the flat.

The doorbell rang.

Pattie froze; stared in the direction of the door, as though hearing a doorbell ring was the last thing she’d expected. She stood.

“D’you think you’d better get that?” Mary’s voice was as amused as it had previously been irritated. She made no effort to move. “There’s a Beatle at the door. You don’t want to leave him standing there, in his little Beatle boots…”

“Mary!! Don’t be silly!” Pattie took a deep breath, and then walked, calmly, catwalk, towards the door. There she paused, deliberately posed, deliberately composed her face into a welcoming camera-friendly smile - and opened the door. She stared at George. He stared at her. She could feel her smile freezing, and fought to relax it.

“Hello!” It was the best she could do.

He thought she wasn’t going to answer the door, that he had the wrong address, that he had the wrong evening, that…

She looked like an angel. He’d only seen her in a school uniform before. This wasn’t a school uniform, she was a vision in white, and all his shyness from school days, from teen days, folded close around him and he wondered why he’d ever imagined that a girl like this would be interested in him. She…

“Hello!”

George smiled, grinned, and his fears started to unfreeze. “Hello. You...look beautiful.”

He hadn‘t planned those words, everything he had tried to plan sounded corny, but this actually sounded alright to his ears.

“Thank you! Do you want to come in for a minute? I just need…”

“Pattie. I… er… just need to tell you something…”

What???

She didn’t actually say that out loud, but it did sound like a scream in her head. Out loud, she managed, “He’s… er… he’s…”

“Yeah.” “

Um…” What do you say? When you get the date you dreamed of and he brings - his manager??? What for? Surely not…

“He just thought…”

“Yes?”

“‘Cos... I don’t know London, I’ve only just got here, and I don't really know many places to go, nice places you know, not dodgy places like we might…” He was gabbling. Shut up. George took a deep breath. “He wanted us to go somewhere good and he needed to be there to take us,” he finished, and stared at her imploringly; he knew it was imploringly. He watched her face.

“So, he doesn’t want… he isn’t thinking…”

George looked blankly at her for a moment, until the penny dropped. “God no!!” and he laughed. Pattie frowned, puzzled at the obviously spontaneous burst of laughter, and he hastened to take any possible hint of insult from what he’d said. “No, he… Pattie, he wouldn’t be interested you!! Not you…”

There was a pause, just as puzzled, and then, “Oh! You mean…?”

“Yeah. But… you don’t tell anyone, okay? it’s…”

“No. Of course not.” She looked up at him and shook her head. “Not a word.”

They were still on the doorstep.

“Shall we…?”

“Yeah, ok.”

“I’ll get my coat.”

George followed Brian out of the car and waited close to the taxi door for Pattie, who stepped out, he thought, as if she’d been stepping out of posh cars all her life. Maybe she had. It went with her accent…

“George? Pattie?” The mildly-expressed two word utterance nearly had the effect of gunshot on his two younger companions, and George cut an almost guilty glance at her before they both hastened after him. A doorman stood to attention as they walked past, as casually as they knew how.

“Where are we?” George asked, very quietly, as it sounded like a very stupid question to his ears. Presumably everyone else here knew where they were.

“The Garrick,” Brian said over his shoulder to them. George and Pattie followed him. They walked side by side, both looking straight ahead at their dining companion-cum-guide, and they didn’t know whether or not to look at each other so they each looked at Brian instead. They followed him, as he in turn followed a liveried waiter, down some shallow steps and through a glittering dining hall, carpets muting every step, the low murmur of conversation from the other diners, the gentle chinking of wine glasses, the occasional efficient click of a cigarette lighter. As they neared a booth which was obviously theirs, since they were heading straight for it and it was in an alcove and all private and closed in, George risked a swift glance sideways at her face, just as she did the same towards him. Her wide-eyed apprehension exactly matched how he felt. Their glances held together; and then George felt - oh God - a giggle, a disastrous giggle, and he bit his lip and saw that Pattie had caught his giggle and was sucking in her lips as though she’d swallowed a lemon.

He swallowed hard. It didn’t help. He didn’t know whether Pattie had tried the same ploy; he didn’t dare look at her.

“Madame.” Her chair was moved out for her and she took it, still staring grimly at the table cloth, trying not to shake. This was awful. What would Brian, The Manager, think of her when she wasn’t even looking up or saying anything? GET A GRIP woman!!!

Her stern though silent admonishment to herself helped, and within a moment she felt sufficiently in control to look up and to smile dazzlingly at Mr Epstein, who was seated opposite her in the booth. George was next to her, and she turned graciously towards him, feeling every bit the Grande Dame. George was still looking down, apparently shuffling to get comfortable, and Pattie knew without doubt that he was still in the grip of the dreaded giggle which she had, almost, managed to shake off. And, at that second, he glanced up and caught her glance again.

Pattie shot to her feet. “I just need to…” she said, squeakily, gesturing vaguely behind her. It was understood what she meant, by Brian and also by the lurking waiter, who appeared as though by magic and gestured her towards the ladies room. She nodded as courteously as she could and virtually dashed away from the table.

Once in the marbled, gilt-trimmed, perfumed and glistening ladies room she glared at herself in the mirror and breathed deeply and waited until she knew the last of the disabling mirth had gone. This was serious business, snap to it. This was ridiculous. There was nothing funny about…

It threatened to start again; she stared up at the ceiling and let it run its course until she felt truly grounded and reasonable again, and only then did she dare to step away from the fancy Baroque washbasins, leave the rooms and step back into the padded and muted restaurant. She literally shook herself, and strode her best catwalk stride back to their table, cooing a greeting as she approached. “So sorry about that,” she husked.

George looked up at her, his large dark eyes clear, calm and free of any schoolboy chuckles. He smiled. “Okay?” he asked her.

She knew exactly what he meant.

The next ten minutes or so were passed easily by pouring over menus and listening to Brian mulling over the wine list, out loud. He eventually settled on one wine, declaring it to George and Pattie to be an excellent vintage. Neither of them felt the need to reply. But then the meals were ordered and the menus removed and what then, George worried. What should he say?

He need not have worried. And maybe this too was why Brian had elected to come with them, because Brian began to make conversation and, it turned out, he was brilliant at it. He was a genius at it. He spoke to them, he asked easy questions, he included them both, he made them laugh; a proper sociable laugh this time and not the kind that sweeps over you inappropriately in a church service and makes your eyes water and your shoulders shake. George was well acquainted with that sort of laugh, it happened many times when he was with the others – at press conferences, in rehearsals, in the recording studio – but it didn’t matter when he was with the others. It was what they did; they laughed, they fooled around. They freely ignored protocol. But, not here. Not with her. He couldn’t turn into a giggling ape when he was with her, desperate to impress her.

Except, the same thing had happened to her. Maybe, she wasn’t so very different from him after all?

George began finally to relax. He hadn’t seen Brian like this before and found himself profoundly relieved that he’d been bulldozed into him coming with them. She seemed to be enjoying it too. The wine was poured, she was drinking and smiling, and he began to do the same. After the first course Brian produced from a pocket in his devastatingly well-tailored suit a silver cigarette case, and leaned across to proffer it to his two companions. They each took a cigarette, and George turned towards her to light it for her.

She leaned slightly towards him, the cigarette held between her fingers against her lips, and he too moved towards her and held out his hand with the lighter. He flicked on the flame. The two young people both turned all their attention to the flickering glow; somehow she knew that he was as concentrated on it as she was, and somehow the sounds of the restaurant receded and the other guests ceased to be there, and it was only her and George, and his hand brushed against hers.

Pattie’s eyes widened in true shock as the touch sent a charge, a pulse, through her, all through her. Her eyes snapped up to meet his and suddenly she felt she was drowning in their deep brown depth…

…and he knew for sure and for the rest of his life that the only place he wanted to be was within the enclosing protection of those blue heavenly eyes.

“Could we have the dessert menu?”

Pattie could feel her mouth fall open in astonishment and it was a long moment before she could drag herself back to the surreal reality of a dinner date accompanied by George’s manager.

And the cigarette, bizarrely, was still not lit. They hadn’t got that far, before she and he had fallen deeply in love.

“Dessert?” Pattie managed.

“Their crème brulee is excellent,” said Brian. “I do recommend it.”

“I…”

“No thanks, not for me.” George turned his head back to her. “What about you?”

Pattie shook her head, still bemused, but vaguely aware that she didn’t want to appear rude. “No thank you, I won’t,” she said, to Brian rather than to George. “I… er, I don’t usually have two courses – you know…” and she trailed off, hoping that her expression conveyed the right amount of apologetic regret. “I hope…”

“Of course.” Brian defined urbanity. “Then… er… Perhaps...Is everyone finished? I can call for the taxi?”

Hidden under the table, his expression giving nothing away, George reached for her hand and tucked it into his.

Pattie’s heart sang.

“I… er…I have a meeting to go to now. Some… agents. You’ll be alright getting the taxi back?”

Pattie nodded and turned to look at George, who had an odd expression on his face that she couldn’t identify. But he looked at her, and smiled, and she felt it was all ok. “That’s fine,” said George. “Er… Brian…” He paused, and looked directly at his manager. “Thanks,” he said, and that was all, but Brian seemed to understand.

“It’s been a great pleasure,” he replied, to George and then directly to Pattie. He got to his feet. “I’ll show you both to the taxi.” It was a clear signal that this part of the evening at least was definitely at an end. The three strolled through the club back the way they’d come and a uniformed flunky hastened to direct them to the taxi. “Pattie,” said Brian, and said goodbye with a genteel kiss to her cheek. “George.” George nodded and smiled, and at last the two were in the taxi, alone.

“Why’s he seeing agents at this time?” Pattie asked. George had her hand clasped, cradled, between both of his, and he was sitting sideways on the taxi seat and his eyes were engulfing her. She looked back up at him and joined him in the space between them.

“He isn’t.”

“But…”

“Don’t ask.” The words were peremptory but his voice was gentle and as caressing as his gaze. “You never ask.”

He had given the taxi driver her address. That was… safe; but her head was swimming with the quandary about what to do or say when they got there. What…?

“Mary will be in,” was all she could think of.

George smiled and nodded. “When can I see you again?” was his reply, and she was sure that her relief was visible and probably palpable. “Can you do tomorrow? We finish filming about six.”

Her heart sang again. He wasn’t put off. He hadn’t expected… “Yes.” She nodded, and her other hand moved to clasp both of his. “Tomorrow!”

The taxi stopped. George leaned forward. “Could you wait a minute?”

The driver was happy to wait a minute; the meter was still ticking. George jumped out of the car and hurried round to Pattie’s side and opened the door for her; he held her hand as she got out and didn’t relinquish it. They moved together towards the downstairs door of her flats, and then paused, facing each other. Then he did let go of her hand, and slid his arms around her waist and tightened them. She followed their gentle urging and let her own hands move up towards his shoulders as she looked up into his face.

“I don’t like this,” he said.

He saw her blue eyes widen, worried, anxious. “What…?”

“I don’t like leaving you so soon.”

Her smile of relief was genuine, and glowing. “We could…” She thought; did she need to worry again? “But Mary is…”

“I know!” and he grinned, that engaging lopsided and so charming grin. “I’m not trying to… I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.” And then he kissed her.

Time stopped, her breath stopped, but it couldn’t have done but it felt as if it had, or as if she was in a realm where breathing and time didn’t matter. Pressed against him and her eyes closed and her arms around his neck and she was in the right place, the place she decided she would stay in for the rest of her life and maybe even longer than that. His hand was tangled in her hair. He broke the kiss.

“Are you going to tell me again that Mary is in?” His voice was husky. She chuckled.

“Yes. I’m sorry but she is.” Her fingertips trailed up the angle of his cheekbone, and he moved his head back and caught her fingers between his lips. He kissed them, and moved down to kiss the palm of her hand.

“But I don’t want to leave you.” He was smiling, loving, and there was no pressure, no need to worry about further excuses.

“I know!” she said. “We could go for a walk before I go in?” To her surprise he greeted this excellent suggestion with a small sigh and a downwards glance. She frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

George gnawed slightly at his lower lip, looked down again and then back at her. “I don’t really think I can walk around much,” he answered.

“Why not? Is there something wrong…?”

“I might get seen.”

“Who by?”

“Anyone.”

She frowned again. “I don’t understand. What does it matter if someone sees you? Shouldn’t you be here or something? I…”

“Fans.”

“What… Oh!” Suddenly she understood. “People might…”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone rueful. “It wouldn’t be much fun, for either of us.”

“Oh no, I get that. I just forgot, that’s all. I forgot – I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t even begin to interpret his expression as he reacted to her words. Eyes wide, lips dropped open. “You forgot.”

She nodded and this time it was her turn to grasp his hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry…”

“You forgot…”

She laughed. “I just forgot you’re… well. A Beatle.”

This time there was only one possible interpretation of his expression. It was joy. Utter joy. “You forgot I’m a Beatle!”

“Yes! Well, I…”

She got no further as he caught her in a bear hug and lifted her right off her feet. Pattie squeaked in surprise. “George!”

He set her down again, but his beam of joy was still of the ear- to-ear variety. “You forgot!”

“Is that alright?” She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but he seemed to be pleased about it.

“Very alright.” He kissed the top of her head, and then tilted her chin with his fingertips and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Come on, let’s get you in. Mary will be worrying!”

Pattie laughed, happily, and reached into her bag for her key. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. Same time. Here.”

She nodded at him, and then moved to the door and opened it. George waited until he could see she was safely in, and then turned back towards the waiting taxi. He opened the door and was about to get in when she called to him softly. “George?”

He turned back to her. “Hmmm?”

Pattie smiled. “Mary will be out tomorrow.”

#george harrison #pattieboyd #brian epstein #ringo starr #the beatles #george and pattie first date

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 58:Hysteria Drive

Chapters: 58/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel), Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Brains Are A Hell Of A Thing, Cultural Differences, Thor Isn’t Stupid Tho?, There’s A Bit Of A Spectrum Between Genius And Dumb

Summary: Some things just never go away.

The world felt distant as your heavy breathing slowed, the adrenaline thudding in your ears. You withdrew your hand, so slowly, from pointing at Steve, who poked at his chest in bemusement.

“Huh. That was weird.” He said.

Then the babbling began. You couldn't apologize enough. You didn't know what you had been thinking, why you automatically assumed that the tiniest flash of light meant murder. The thing on the ground wasn't even a knife; it was a key, like the one you wore hanging from your chatelaine. He hadn't thrown it at you, he had tossed it to Mr. Rhodes, who wanted to go back to their rooms to retrieve something.

It had all been nothing. And you had reacted with possibly lethal force. If that had been a knife, it would have stuck right in his chest. It would not have killed him, you didn't think, but if it had been someone else...

Yes, if this whole situation had been different, but it wasn't, and you were panicking now with no way out, and the other trainees were surrounding the group of you, uncertainty on their faces, but weapons in their hands. They knew you, knew your association with Loki, but they also knew that these other human visitors had associations with their king.

Andsvarr broke ranks, removing his helmet and pushing past Steve, who barely reacted to stop him, and knelt beside you with Natasha.

“My Seidkona, what ails you?” He asked. “Do you need water? Do you need space? Do you need to be taken to a shaded area?”

“I just-I'm sorry, I didn't-I mean I should have known, but I thought-I just thought that-I'm sorry-” You gabbled. You needed all those things, but you couldn't make yourself say it.

“Can you stand?” He asked. “We can lead you away from here. We can take you back to your room for now.”

It sounded good. Andsvarr was trusted, and his even tone was more helpful than Natasha's, being much more familiar. Neither Steve, nor Mr. Rhodes had approached, which was probably for the best.

You stood at Andsvarr's gentle urging, unable to bring yourself to meet anybodies eyes.

“There, everything will be all right now.” He said, just as strong arms circled you from behind.

You screeched in terrified surprise, and drove your heel down on the top of your assailant's foot with all your might.

“Ah.” Loki's voice murmured in your ear, dryly amused. “I see we have been learning new things.”

The gibbering apologies resumed. You needed to be removed from the area. You were hurting people! Well, not actually hurting them; phenomenal luck had directed your violence against those you would have a very tough time actually causing harm to, but the fact remained that you had tried.

Loki lifted you up in his arms and carried you away from the sunny training yard, murmuring calming platitudes on the way. But you just kept seeing blood on the potato leaves, the way the mans body jerked, even after you had split his head open. Why now? Why were you remembering now?

You hadn't even buried him. You'd just taken all the potatoes home, and never gone back to that field. Just left him there, murdered in the dirt.

You were babbling about it, without realizing, bloody leaves dancing in your minds eye.

You would never get the chance to apologize.

“What is going on? Is she going to be all right?” Steve asked.

“You know exactly what this is. Do you pretend not to suffer in the same way?” Loki said in a clipped tone, then amended himself to a more gentle sound when you squirmed in discomfort in his arms. “It's alright my dear. You are sheltered now. None can reach you.” He jerked his head at the Avenger escort. “Go. She won't calm with so many eyes on her. Give us time.”

Bucky nodded and helped Natasha to shoo the others away.

Loki cradled you in his lap, rocking gently until you went quiet and still, and then he just waited.

“Think I'll be okay now.” You mumbled. He didn't let go, but he did loosen his grip to allow you more movement.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Loki asked. “Was there too much dust? I'll have the courtyard swept-”

“No, I thought there was a knife! I thought someone else was trying to kill me again.”

“Oh darling. Of course, who wouldn't be afraid of that? I think some of the armor I commissioned for you should be finished by now; shall I have it brought to you tonight?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That's not all though. I just...reacted. I used my magic to send it back, but it was just a key, and it was just Steve. It wasn't even a danger, but I was totally willing to hurt someone. Just ready to react with violence, and then I couldn't stop thinking about that guy I killed...I murdered a man, and I just left him there-”

“That was self defense, my dear, anyone-”

“I just left him there!” You cried, voice raising again. “I knew him, but I just left him on the ground and dug up potatoes! Like he was nothing! I just left him and took a bunch of food home, and didn't tell anyone! Just left him there for the coyotes.”

Loki was stroking your hair now, just letting you vent.

“I thought it was over, you know? When it all went back to the way it was, but I never got past it. I'm still so angry at him, and at myself. I knew I shouldn't have gone out there alone, but I did it anyway. But it's still with me, and it's coming out more; that willingness to get violent, to kill even. I tried to hurt Steve, I tried to hurt you. I'm just damn lucky the two of you are so resilient, but other people aren't so lucky. Am I going to get worse? Will I end up killing someone again?” You looked up into his face, but his gaze was distant. “Loki?”

“I...feel we differ in attitude about this subject, my dear.” He said softly. “Asgard was always at war. Even after Father ceased conquering, the realms that now depended upon us still had to be protected. I have lead armies, fought, and bled, and killed for Asgard and the safety of the realms. And for far less noble reasons as well. Violence is...normal. Even here, it is normal. There are countries at war on this world, right now, as I hold you. All you did, both then and now, was try to protect your own life against someone unfairly trying to harm you.”

“But Steve didn't try to hurt me! It was a mistake!”

“Of course he didn't. But that slime out in the country did, and that has stayed with you. How could it not? Humans may try to convince themselves that violence is primitive and beneath them, but you need it, if only to keep yourself safe. It seems the cultural dichotomy does not allow you to reach equilibrium with your nature and your noble ideals. But my dear, you have caused no tangible harm. No one was hurt. You were not hurt. Let your heart be calmed. You have done nothing wrong.”

It didn't help, not really. His voice soothed, and his touch warmed, but his words didn't settle the unease. He didn't seem to understand why this rising trend of violence within yourself troubled you, even though he had been victim to it before! You had used your magic then too, to strike him in the bath when...you thought he was going to attack you. But even then, you had allowed your anger to take you a step farther. You could have demanded to leave after you found out he had been messing with you. Instead, you punched him. You could have run away after you had knocked that man down in the potato garden. Instead, you had chopped him. And you could have done anything else with that key-that-was-not-a-knife. You could have teleported it across the field, or into your hand, or onto the ground. Instead, you had directed it at the throwers heart. Your temper was dangerous now; it had the power of magic behind it.

It must be a cultural difference. Asgard prized warriors, gloried in battle. Even Saldis could use a sword. Not well, by her own admission, but she could. And 'not well' by Asgardian standards, might mean something very different than 'not well' by your standards.

To Loki, to everyone around you, your occasional outbursts were normal. If you weren't careful, it might become normal to you too.

*****

Steve spent a few extra minutes asking certain questions of various Asgardians before heading back to Thor and the others. By the time he returned, they were discussing Asgardian architecture, Thor regaling them with stories about what Asgard used to look like, and how they planned to incorporate classic Asgardian styles into stable, Icelandic buildings. It was surely an interesting conversation, but something had been bothering Steve for over half a year now. Something about you, something about the occasional thing you said, the way you reacted every now and then. Something that didn't add up. Or rather, something that added up too well with something it shouldn't.

Tony scooted to the side to make room for Steve, as Thor continued in his excited way about pressing mosaic into concrete, using glass and tile, rather than gems or other stones no longer available to them. They would each have a mural-he insisted-they were all part of Asgard's history now; Asgard's first official Midgardian allies.

There was a great honor in that, Steve knew. Asgard's unique, animated paintings were reserved for important events only. It didn't stay his tongue.

“Your Majesty, I have some questions regarding your...royal ward. And I'm gonna need you to play it straight with me this time.”

“Yes, of course.” Thor said, face open and innocent. He would stay that way, even as he lied to Steve's face, he knew that now. He would think it was impressive how Thor had duped them for all these years, but that would probably be narcissistic. The man was not human; he was centuries old, with godlike powers, though Steve was still not convinced he possessed true divinity. He was a prince as well, and Asgard seemed to take the whole 'divine right of kings' thing pretty literally. Thor would have been schooled in diplomacy, in deception, in the etiquette of multiple worlds...and they had all allowed themselves to be convinced that Loki was the smart but evil one, and Thor was the good but dumb one. He wasn't, but that narrative suited him at the time. It garnered him trust.

But Steve saw it now, and was torn between being impressed, and being uneasy. He sighed, and spread his hands.

“She remembers, doesn't she?” It was more a statement than a question. The big, friendly expression remained on Thors' face, but those bi-colored eyes were inscrutable. All eyes turned to him.

Steve watched him open his mouth, expected the lie to come-

“Yes.” Thor said. “She does.”

“Are you referring to what I think you're referring to?” Sam asked. “Because if you're referring to what I think you're referring to...”

“_____ remembers the events of the Snap. It has left an indelible mark upon her...as it has on all of us. She did not know the causes behind it, but she remembers living through it.”

“She 'did not know'? Past tense?” Tony demanded. “You told her?”

“Of course I did.” Thor admitted. “She had spent all the time since the Reversal believing that she was insane. If I could give her at least some small peace of mind regarding that, of course I would. How did you figure it out?”

“Some of the things she said, some of the ways she acts.” Steve said. “I took a peek at her birth records after we got into a conversation about birthday traditions, and realized she remembers being a year older than she should.”

“And you didn't think this was worth mentioning to anyone?” Rhodey accused. “This one thing we were trying to avoid happening, and you didn't have anything to say?”

“Did your brother have something to do with this?” Tony demanded. “Is that why he's all lovey-dovey? Trying to keep this under wraps?”

“No, no. Please, friends, remain calm. There's no sinister reason behind this. It's just that _____'s mental state was very fragile when she first came to us-”

Tony snorted.

“-And in some ways, still is. She was very paranoid when it came to this subject, full of self doubt, and worried about how she would be treated if other people found out. I didn't want anyone coming here with prying questions, not until she was more comfortable. As for Loki...Well, that's just what he looks like when he's happy. I know you've never seen him like that, but I remember.”

“Is she the only one?” Bucky asked.

Thor shook his head. “She said there were forums. Like small, electronic secret societies. None of them knew why they remember, what the connection is.”

“It's the magic, naturally.” Strange interjected. “You know? She has magical capabilities, these other people likely do as well. The stones are the source of magic, so it stands to reason that those that have it might not be affected by the spell.”

“You knew?” Tony snapped.

“You didn't?” Strange asked.

Then the shouting began.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#tony stark #natasha romanoff #Steve Rogers #Steven Strange #bucky barnes #sam wilson #james rhodes

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a-mad-scientists-writing · 5 years

Text

The Doctor (Times Twelve)

I finished writing this ages ago but I was determined to try and finish one of my WIPs before I posted it... since uni and exams and SO MUCH is going on and it's rare enough that I get to write anyway, I decided whatever. No sense in not showing what I /do/ have.

AO3

His head hurts and is probably on fire, along with everything else.

Something is gone and shouldn't be and something else shouldn't be here.

The house that the pair of twins in front of him inhabit holds much more than it seems...

“Hey Mason, how’s this one sound?” Mabel asked from her position flat on her stomach, the eyebrows on her little face scrunched up in critical consideration of her own big, careful writing.

She cleared her throat.

“Dear God-”

“You don’t haveta write out prayers, Mabel,” her brother interrupted immediately, lying on his back on the lower bunk-bed and squeezing a fluffy purple rabbit between his fingers.

“Well then why’s there heaps of siddurs in our house?” Mabel countered. “Plus the Torah, and My First Prayer Book, and-”

“The Torah’s not really a prayer book,” said Mason, but there was touch of uncertainty in his young voice.

“Yeah it is,” said Mabel stubbornly. “’S a book. With people prayin’ in it.”

Mason didn’t seem to be able to fault that logic, and let it go with an, “Okay,”

Mabel cleared her throat again.

“Dear God,

“Were you just asleep? Sorry if you were asleep. I didn’t wanna wake you, but I promise it’s a ‘mergency. There’s… a crack in our wall,”

Here, her chirpy little tone wavered noticeably. Mason stilled his fiddling with the toy. Like it was drawn with a wire, his head turned to look at The Wall.

A jagged, winding crack zigged and zagged through the plaster. It arched downward slightly, like it was imitating a crooked grin. However, he and Mabel hadn’t dared to put googly eyes above it.

They already felt like they were being watched enough.

Mason swallowed, not seeming to want to look away now that he was staring at it. Mabel’s eyes, already squeezed shut in concentration, screwed up tighter. The small fingers of her clasped hands were going white.

“It, like… talks’n stuff…”

The script she had written out on paper had run out.

Like she hadn’t been able to find the words.

“So, can you send someone to fix it? That would be greeeaat. Okay, that’s all, talk to ya later!” She finished brightly, springing up to feet and dusting her hands of with a pleased expression, content in the knowledge of a job well done.

Mason remained very still, staring at The Wall.

“I don’t think anyone else’s coming, Mabel,” he said, very quietly.

Anyone else.

It should have implied that there was someone who they had told about the crack. But there wasn’t.

No one had existed for them to tell about it.

“Mason, d’you hear that?” Mabel asked, puzzled, sticking a finger in her ear and wiggling it around.

A sound that was a cross between a whine and a roar, like the distant scream of a jet engine at full power, was steadily rising in pitch.

And becoming louder.

The pyjama’d kids looked at each other with wide eyes just as an almighty crash came from their front yard – not unlike a shed being flattened.

□

“See Mason, I told you he’d send someone!”

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

“This is so COOL!”

Two young voices were the first sensations to fight their way through Ford’s mind – besides the warning tolls of the cloister bell, that was. And the acrid smell of smoke. And the heat of various fires burning all around the console room. The armchair was completely ablaze. He hoped the axolotl’s tank had survived.

So, to rephrase: the sound of the two young voices were among the first sensations to assault Ford on his way to consciousness. Or, if not the first, then they were still at least assaulting him. His head ached.

He found a surface that wasn’t searing hot and dragged himself to his feet, barely able to see through watering eyes, black smoke, heat hazes, and the flashing purple and yellow lights sparking like small suns against his retinas.

That last one was probably not the TARDIS malfunctioning.

Ford stumbled towards the general direction of a door. His boots sizzled.

It’s fine. This is fine. It’s not the first time you’ve crashed a burning spaceship into Earth.

Not even the tenth time, really.

The bolt on the door slipped out of place easier than it ever had, like the ship was trying to eject him itself. The door burst open and he practically flew out, tumbling off the porch and face-planting neatly into dirt and grass.

Correction: the TARDIS definitely wanted him out.

Ford spat out soil and at least one leaf and became momentarily convinced that he’d gone blind upon pushing himself to his hands and knees.

The cool night air of – he breathed in, letting the scents of the wind, shrubbery and nearby surroundings wash over him – Oregon, USA, Earth, Dimension 38:! was a stark contrast to the burning insides of his ship. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he saw two kids holding a large flashlight between them, jaws dropped and eyes wide. They looked similar enough to be twins…

Something prodded insistently at his memory. Something person-shaped. Something missing. There hadn’t been someone else in the TARDIS, had there? No, there couldn’t have been. Though the last hour or so was fairly chaotic and scrambled in his memories, surely he would have noticed another person with him? There had been explosions, and tumbling, and falling, and malfunctions all over the place – he’d barely survived as it was, a human definitely wouldn’t have… so there couldn’t have been anyone else. Yes.

There was still a big blank space in his memory among all that frantic confusion.

“Are you okay?” asked one of the kids. Despite the thick bobble-hat ensuring that any colds or flu were doomed in their siege against it, fluffy brown curls stubbornly worked their way out from under its grasp. He and his sister – wrapped equally warmly in a sweater – looked about six years old.

That was when the first warning bell went off in his head. Although, he was still pretty stunned from that last collision with the console: it could just be his ringing head.

The kids looked at each other worriedly. Ford realised he should probably reply and stop staring sightlessly.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said hurriedly. He tried to stand up but tipped over halfway, staggered for a few steps feeling like the rest of his body was being dragged around by his head, and fell back onto his knees again.

“Uh huh,” said the girl, looking sceptical. “Um, you’re bleeding. But it’s a nice red,” she added optimistically.

His head really was sore. That would make sense.

“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Ford said dazedly.

“Are you an alien?!” Gasped the boy suddenly, looking from the trail of smoke in the sky, to the ship, to Ford, and back again.

“I’m as human as you are – as long as you’re not human. Are you human?” He peered at them. Gosh, it was hard to think.

The kids couldn’t have looked more excited if he’d doused them in waffles and ice cream. Food. Yes. He needed food.

“Is that your spaceship?!”

“Mystery Shack,” the boy read off the TARDIS’s camouflage circuits. “It’s a house! You fly a house?!”

“A big flying wooden house!” shrieked the girl, beaming.

“He crushed our shed!”

They didn’t look upset at all about that, bouncing up and down and turning the torch into a strobe light as they were, but Ford apologised anyway.

“And he’s here to make the crack stop!” the girl continued.

Another warning bell.

“Crack?” Ford repeated.

“Yeah, there’s this crack in our room-” said the boy giddily.

“-And you’re gonna fix it it-”

“-And it’s gonna go away-”

“-And it’s gonna be okay because God sent us a broken shack and a bleeding, burning man!”

What was going on?

Ford held up a hand to stop the flood, trying to piece together the gabbled words. It proved too much to take in, and another stab of pain complete with its own exhaustion bill took first priority.

“Alright, first things first.” Ford took a breath, closed his eyes momentarily, and made his body obey him as he stood up.

The kids stilled, eyes widening more with every moment, ready to hang onto the next words he said with everything they had.

“Where’s your kitchen?”

□

The kitchen, and more importantly the fridge, was inside. It was full.

The house was big. It was empty.

Yet another bell went off in Ford’s head, and this time it was unmistakeable.

The most pressing facts:

A tremendous crash had just resounded from right in front of this house and only the two six-year-olds inside had come out to investigate.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

They’d said they wanted him to “stop” the crack in their wall. So what had it started doing?

“Where are your parents?” he asked them, stepping back out into the hall and glancing up and down it. Completely deserted.

From back inside the kitchen, the girl shrugged as she looked through the contents of the fridge, and the boy replied aloofly, “Don’t have parents,” as he stood on a chair to examine the cupboards.

Oh.

“You must have someone looking after you, though?” Ford pressed.

Two more unconcerned shrugs.

Absolutely nothing about this was looking good.

At least, until the girl returned victoriously from the fridge with approximately half a million Joules of energy in the form of sugar-infused snacks.

“Party!” she whooped, spreading out the various boxes and tubs on the table. There wasn’t even any room for her brother to put the plates out.

“How hungry are you?” The girl said, eyes searching him piercingly. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was gauging just how much of a dent he was going to put in their food stash.

“Not particularly,” Ford assured her. “I’m more tired than anything else. I just need some energy and I’ll be fine,”

“Energy? Nooooo problem!!” Suddenly enthusiastic, the girl became a whirlwind of activity as she gathered various ingredients, shoved them into a blender, blasted it for a few moments, and poured the pink, glittery, (be-dinosaur-ed?) contents into a glass for him with a look on her face akin to that of a mad scientist strapping down their latest subject to the operating table and seeing the lightning rods begin to spark.

“Mabel-juice!” The girl – Mabel, he presumed – proclaimed proudly.

Out of her field of view, the boy blanched at her creation. Ford made eye contact with him. Then he looked at Mabel’s eager expression and watched her excited little bobs up and down where she knelt on her chair. He looked back at her brother. The boy shook his head mutely. Ford reached out, took hold of the glass, and downed the bright concoction in one – avoiding the, yes, plastic dinosaurs.

Some sort of bomb went off on his tongue and if his insides were a car they would have been revving like he was going 120 in second gear.

He slowly lowered the glass.

“Did you like it?” asked Mabel excitedly.

“Mabel, I’m going to need a whole pot of this,”

□

The boy’s name, as it turned out, was Mason, and he was Mabel’s twin brother. Mason and Mabel were six years old, lived in a large house in Gravity Falls with no adults around, and were frustratingly vague when Ford tried to press the point about who was taking care of them. Otherwise, they were very friendly and happy and may have gotten him addicted to Mabel-juice, which, as long as it kept him awake and alert and made Mabel delighted to see him drink, he saw nothing wrong with.

Mason applied a band-aid decorated with a classic green alien face to the cut on his forehead. He smiled shyly when Ford thanked him.

They really were taking all this very well.

And despite the illusion of normalcy around him… that was not a normal reaction.

Fortunately, Ford did not specialise in normal.

“So, what’s your name? What do we call you?” Mason asked when the rest of the food had been packed away and they had settled at the table with some hot chocolate that Ford had made in return for the Mabel-juice pick-me-up.

“I’m Doctor P-”

“Ooh, you’re a doctor?” Enthused Mabel before he could finish.

“Yes,” Ford nodded. “Actually, I have twelve doctorates – none of them in medicine though, which in hindsight would definitely come in handy sometimes.”

Mason’s eyes had blown as wide as coins.

“Twelve?!” Mabel exclaimed. “That makes you like… a super duper smarty pants doctor! You’re like… the doctor!”

“Are you an alien doctor? Or did you get them on Earth?” Mason asked.

“A bit of both,” laughed Ford.

“Why did you come here?”

“I like to look for weird stuff, and your planet has plenty – including a certain brilliant young chef like you-” he tapped Mabel playfully on the nose – “and a clever young investigator like you,” He tapped Mason’s nose as well. The actions earned him a very broad and crooked-toothed grin and a pleased if slightly bashful one.

“What planet are you from? I’ve got a book with them all in,” Mason informed him, growing bolder.

“Well, unless I’ve completely mistaken what century I’ve landed in, I doubt my planet will be in it. It’s called Gallifrey, and it’s a very long way from here,”

In awe, Mason mouthed the word Gallifrey after him.

“Does everyone from your planet have six fingers?” he asked.

“Only the lucky ones,” Ford said easily, years of practice and experience among the much wilder and weirder universe allowing him to believe the sentence much more than his younger self had. “I’d say I’m still not as lucky as you and that birthmark though. Did you know that that particular star cluster hosts the most dazzling and renowned solar storm patterns in the galaxy?”

One of Mason’s hands automatically moved up to flatten the hair over his forehead before he registered the encouragement and sincerity in Ford’s voice, and lowered it again with his happiest smile yet. Suddenly wondering if he should give Mabel a compliment to even things out, Ford found she was entirely unconcerned by the imbalance, nudging her brother fondly with a whispered, “Told you it’s cool!”

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, and then Mabel asked, slurping her drink, “Why’d you crash?”

Ford opened his mouth to reply, and found that he had nothing to say.

Hmm. Suffering from memory loss. That person-shaped hole in his mind…

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. Most likely temporary. “However, I think you two are far more interesting than me,”

At the pair of doubtful expressions aimed at the alien that had just drunk all their Mabel-juice and flattened their shed with his spaceship, Ford nodded resolutely, not backing down.

“I’m certain of it. Of the three of us, who has had their home invaded by a strange man flying a shack and had to patch him up and feed him all by themselves? Not me, that’s for sure. Well, except for one unfortunate Wednesday morning. Anyway, most people would have hosed me off the property, especially at this hour. You two are incredibly brave and capable, you know that? Your definition of ‘frightening’ is very different to everyone else’s,”

He watched them carefully.

“So that must be one heck of a scary crack in your wall,”

Like he’d flipped a switch, the comfortable atmosphere vanished and Mason and Mabel’s expressions dropped into something splintered and fragile.

□

“Hmm,” Ford said, staring at the crack.

Mason and Mabel watched his examination carefully.

“This crack is certainly not a normal crack, you’re right,” he pronounced after a moment. The analyser he’d picked up several galaxies and/or decades ago was going haywire in his hand.

Hearing a muttered, “Well, duh,” from behind him, he looked back at the kids, standing by their shared dresser – and that was another thing. They shared a dresser, and a bedroom, in this generously-sized house of theirs (re: absent of any other humans). They might just be attached to each other, but… considering the day he was having, he was more inclined to believe the version of events in which things just didn’t add up.

“There’s a voice coming from it,” Mabel continued. “I thought it was fairies from the bushes on the other side of the wall, but me an’ Mason looked for them and couldn’t find any,”

“Well done of you to rule that out.” Ford nodded. “Fairies can cause trouble like that, although beware when you do investigate them – the danger of being hit by projectile vomit is surprisingly high.” He pressed an ear to the wall, right over the crack, and heard nothing but the pump of blood through his ears.

There was a tug on his coat. He looked down to find Mason offering him an empty glass of water – recently emptied, going by the puddle near the dresser.

“You gotta use this,” the boy said.

Ford pressed the rim of the glass against the wall, still looking at Mason. Then he listened at it.

“Prisoner Zero has escaped,” announced a loud, distant, robotic voice, reverberating faintly through the glass.

“Prisoner Zero has escaped,” said Mason, exactly in time with the repeated alert. He had clearly heard it enough to mimic the tempo perfectly. Ford slowly removed his ear from the glass and handed it back.

“It sounds like there’s a prison on the other side of this crack,” he mused. Endeavouring to appear more upbeat about the situation for the sake of Mason and Mabel’s unsettled faces, he launched into an explanation. “Not on the other side of this wall, though. This crack isn’t in the wall, this crack is in everything,”

“Like… the air?” asked Mason, puzzled.

“The air, the wall, the space between the electrons of all those atoms. This crack,” he gestured, “is through time and space itself – and for some reason it has appeared in your bedroom,”

“Cool. How do we close it?” Mabel said immediately. Well, he supposed he couldn’t expect her to be enthused about it after however long it had been stressing her out for. Maybe she’d be more impressed when she was older – for now, at least Mason was trying to be excited, but Ford suspected that was more due to the possibility of making it go away.

“Well, it wasn’t us that made it – was it?” The six-year-olds shook their heads. “Good. You should probably be supervised if you play with dimensional tech.” Not to mention in your general daily lives. “So hopefully it was the prison on the other side. I expect they’ll close it once they realise it’s there – no one likes draughts. So,” Ford marched a few steps away from the wall to where the kids were, and about-turned, taking their hands. “We just have to draw some attention to it,”

“How?” asked Mabel, grinning and bouncing up and down a little in eagerness.

“By making some noise; knocking usually works.” And with that, Ford slammed his boot against the wall with a mighty bang.

The kids looked at each other, and began screaming nonsense, interspersed with enthusiastic but random attacks on the plaster of questionable innocence in order to attract the attention of whatever was on the other side. While they did seem all too happy to unleash themselves upon it, Ford pulled them back after the listening-glass shattered passionately against first it, and then the floor.

The crack split wide open.

Bright white light shone out, clearing to reveal a dark void housing indistinct shapes beyond. They looked like bars.

“PRISONER ZERO HAS ESCAPED. PRISONER ZERO HAS ESCAPED,”

Mason and Mabel were clutching his hands equally tightly. He was losing circulation in them. The loud tones, harsh tones, robotic tones of some sort of alert system blared.

A massive eyeball whipped over the crack, the icy blue iris swivelling to take all three of them in.

“PRISONER ZERO HAS ESCAPED,”

The crack snapped closed.

After a moment, Ford stepped closer to the wall, tugging the twins forward when they didn’t want to let go of his hands.

The crack had disappeared.

“It’s gone!” Mabel cheered, and she and her brother whooped and let go, jumping and dancing ecstatically around the room. Ford remained staring at the wall.

“It’sgoneit’sgoneit’sgoneit’sgone!”

So it did lead to a prison, Ford thought, the trickle of dread that had been winding its way through him ever since entering the house becoming more of a shower. And they’re on the search for a missing prisoner.

It occurred to him to wonder about the realistic number of ways such an obviously high-security, heavily fortified jail could allow for a prison break.

It occurred to him to wonder where the prisoner could have escaped to.

With a recently-opened crack in time and space leading out of the prison suddenly available.

“Mason? Mabel?” he said, raising his voice above their chants, having difficulty looking away from the now-closed – now locked – wall.

“Yeah?” they chorused.

“How about you take me on a tour of your house now?”

□

“And here’s another bedroom, and here’s another one, and another one – oh, no that’s just a closet…”

Nothing, nothing, nothing! There was nothing to suggest anything else in the house was out of the ordinary – except for everything! So many empty rooms, never filled, never lived in, the only signs of something existing and living in the house those left by the children currently dragging him through the halls. On the one hand, for a very specific reason, that was good, but on the other hand, for various obvious reasons, it wasn’t.

“And that’s about it for this floor…”

“Down the stairs!”

Everywhere he looked, there was a frightening absence of-

…everywhere… he… looked…

Slowly, bringing the children’s rushed progression through the house to a halt, he turned his head, eyes sliding over to the side first, and looked through his peripherals at the hall of doors he’d just toured through.

He saw something new that had always been there.

“Whatcha looking at?” asked Mabel brightly, swinging his hand.

“I’m not entirely…” he began.

The deep, echoing ring of a bell filtered through their surroundings. Ford’s head snapped up, and his heart started to beat faster.

“Oh no,”

He sprinted outside, the twins on his heels, spouting questions.

“It’s the TARDIS-”

“You mean the Mystery Shack?” corrected Mason.

“Yes, the engines are phasing!” Ford explained rapidly as they ran for the still smoking and flaming husk of his ship – wow, he hoped it was still functional enough to repair itself…

“I need to take it to a safe space and let it burn off the excess energy or-”

“Or it’ll explode the house?”

“And the tectonic plate below us,” agreed Ford, stopping the kids before they ran up the veranda after him and fishing his key out of his pocket. He turned back to them before he opened the door. “Stay here, keep together, I’ll be back in a few seconds.” Their mouths opened. “It’s a time machine too, I’ll explain later,” Their mouths stayed open. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, and I’ll be back before you know it-”

Mason interrupted his deluge of jabbering.

“That’s what people always say,”

Ford looked up from struggling with his key.

“They always say they’ll be back,” Mason repeated, resigned and quiet. Mabel wasn’t smiling anymore.

“And I mean it,” said Ford, looking them firmly in the eyes. He smiled at them briefly with as small an amount of panic as he could currently muster, and saw them start to smile hopefully back. “Count the seconds!” He called, and dived through the doorway.

Two was what he was aiming for. Three at the latest.

□

He was shouting before he made it out of the console room, which was full of black clouds of striking resemblance to those inside the crystal ball of a fortune teller living on a volcano. Fires were still burning all over the armchair. The axolotl was lucky his tank’s crash protection mechanism still worked.

“Alright! The engines are stabilised!” Ford ran, coughing, and pulled open the door. “How many seconds did you make it, kids? I’m sorry, it was longer than I meant it to be – navigation’s not doing too well,” The TARDIS belched smoke behind him. “But I’m back now, so-”

It was daylight.

He was fairly sure it had been near midnight when he left.

Something dropped in his stomach.

“Kids?!” He shouted to an empty front garden. It was silent. He broke into a run for the front door.

He had not left them alone in the house, alone in this house, overnight, he had not left them alone for hours when he had seen how wrong everything was here, when he had seen what was inside-

“KIDS!”

The front door burst open under his weight.

“Mason! Mabel!” He thundered down the hall, did a double take and glared fearsomely at what he saw, and ran for their bedroom door.

“Wake up, I’m getting you out of here right now – not via TAR- I mean, Mystery Shack, but maybe there’s a burger place down the street somewhere or in the next… country. Kids! Are you in here?”

There was a yell from behind him and running footsteps too heavy to be a six-year-old’s and Ford got a hand on his gun and pain exploded on the back of his head and everything went dark.

□

“Okay, Operation Sleepwalker is a-go,” Mabel muttered, keeping a grimly determined watch on the entrance of the hospital from her concealed position in the bushes across the road. They were prickly, but only if she moved, so simple solution. Plus, it was just their way of showing affection; she was fine with it.

She eased her foot into a more comfortable position under her and got stabbed by about a million tiny thorns.

“Stop loving me so much!” she hissed.

The rosebush stabbed her again.

“Oh, you…”

This waiting was getting pretty boring. Not to mention, various parts of her were going numb. The things she did for the sake of the mission…

“Mabel!”

She jumped and fumbled for the walkie-talkie in her pocket as another burst of static erupted from it.

“Mabel, you need to get back here!”

“What? I can’t do that! I’m on a mission!” she protested.

“Who cares about that anymore!” Her brother sounded unusually panicked. “It’s the Doctor! Or someone who looks a lot like him – he’s even got the trenchcoat and the red sweater and the weird strap thing!”

That piqued her attention in a big way, but then suspicion poked at her. Sure. He was back. Right.

“What do you mean you think he’s back?”

The voice on the other end of the line cracked in mingled guilt and stress. “I may have hit him in the head with a baseball bat, which knocked him out before he could say anything. Now I’ve handcuffed him to the radiator – but I think it was justified!”

“What the heck man! What’d you do that for?!”

“He broke into our house, Mabel! What was I supposed to do? And besides, I heard a clang!”

“What do you mean ‘a clang’?”

“A clang! Like when you hit a pot with a spoon! It sounded like that when I hit him in the head with the baseball bat!”

“You think he has a pot for a head?”

“I did think he was a robot simulant planted here to kill and/or prank us actually, but we can’t discount that theory either! No trustworthy person has a head that clangs when you knock them out with a baseball bat! Did I mention that? I did, didn’t I? I knocked him out with a baseball bat!”

“I think you’re fixating a little now,”

“You might be right. You have to get back here!”

A car pulled into the staff parking area of the hospital. Mabel’s eyes widened.

“No can do. She’s just arrived and I need to confront her! Again. Anyway, it sounds like you’ve got the situation back there aaaaalllll under control, so good luck! I’m switching this off now,”

“No! No, I do not have this under control! What if he wakes up? What should I do? Knock him out again?”

“Yeah! Or interrogate him,” Mabel suggested. “We don’t want a pothead robot simulant dressed like the Doctor going around killing and/or pranking us! Especially when you’ve just attacked him with a baseball bat. Bye.” She turned the walkie-talkie off amidst her brother’s frantic objections and shoved it back in her pocket. Then she exploded out of the bushes in a flurry of petals and leaves and a little bit of blood and raced over to the physician about to enter the building.

“AHA! I’ve caught you now, Zombifier!” She cried, pointing an accusatory finger right into the culprit’s face.

Doctor Ramsen looked surprised at her sudden appearance, then annoyed - as any crook would at being trapped! The way her eyes rolled were a clear sign of a guilty conscience!

“Mabel-” she started impatiently.

“The patients in your coma ward, are they or are they not compelled to get up at random hours of the day and night and walk around town completely conscious?”

“They are not,” said Doctor Ramsen, distinctly unamused.

“Still going with that story, huh? Well, you’ll be left with no legs to stand on today, you… legless… villain!”

“Mabel, you and your brother have had fun with this for the last few weeks, but I’m getting very tired of it now-”

“Because today I have proof of your dastardly insomniac deeds! Right here! Deny them if you dare!”

“I do. Now I want you to stop with this nonsense and go home, right now,” “No matter how hard you try, you can’t squirm out of it this time-”

“MABEL!” Shouted Doctor Ramsen. Mabel’s voice died in her throat. “Do I need to call your uncle? Again?”

“…No,” Mabel said after a moment.

“Good. Now go home, and enjoy your weekend without harassing anyone in this hospital please. Off you go.” She turned and walked through the hospital entrance, leaving Mabel frustrated and fighting off instinctive hot red clouds of shame. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed of! She was helping uncover the mysteries of this town, unlike everyone else who seemed content to just be complicit in them…

A strange thought occurred to her.

Maybe Doctor Ramsen wasn’t the root of the problem. What if it really was something else? She should call Soos and ask him to pretty please with sugar on top use his status as a nurse to do some more recon work on the coma patients when his shift came on. His answer was always the same: no patients were missing, everyone was unconscious in their beds, as usual…

She looked down at the picture on her phone that she had been brandishing at Doctor Ramsen.

On it, a lady dressed for the coma ward was depicted wandering down the street.

□

Ford jerked awake. This was difficult, due to the cuffs restraining his right wrist.

He was slumped at the end of the hallway against a thankfully-turned-off radiator. Down the hall, the nightmare faced him.

You left them here all night…

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Demanded a voice.

A boy in a blue and white hat was standing nearby, pointing a baseball bat at him with false bravado. Ford’s head twinged in recognition.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” He demanded right back, which seemed to throw the kid even more off-balance than he already was. How old was he? Twelve? Thirteen? Where the hell had he come from? Could he be a neighbour, perhaps?

“I- I’m Dipper,” the boy stammered out and then winced, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip.

“And what are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m investigating some zom- I mean, coma patients… it’s a long story… but I needed to pick up my camera.” He gestured to the bag at his feet, which Ford could see through the open top was indeed holding a video camera. Ford’s gaze flicked back up to him, and he shifted uneasily. Definitely hiding something, Ford surmised, but he couldn’t focus on it now.

“I’m Stanford,” He introduced himself in an attempt to build some rapport. The boy’s eyes narrowed. Forget it! “Now, where are the children that live here? A boy and a girl, Mason and Mabel, where are they?”

The boy frowned, opening and closing his mouth, clearly trying to work out when exactly the roles of interrogator and interrogatee had reversed. There was no time for this, not anymore. He had to get everyone out of this house pronto before his suspicions were confirmed. The view of the hallway behind Dipper seemed to loom larger.

“Kid! Just answer the question! This house is dangerous, and we need to get far away from it now!”

“Dangerous?” Dipper looked alarmed. Finally, he was getting through.

“Extremely, and even more so if you don’t let me out of these cuffs right this minute!” He pulled on them for good measure, but Dipper was looking over his shoulder, down the hallway, following the line of sight which Ford’s gaze had been flickering along for some time.

“What’s wrong with it?” He asked, looking back at Ford.

No time! It’s been too long already!

“The kids.” Ford stressed. “Where are Mabel and Mason?”

Dipper was looking over his shoulder again, forehead creased. “Huh? They… um… haven’t been here for a while…” he answered vaguely.

Ford’s insides froze solid.

“What?”

He hadn’t been that long, he was only out by about six hours, he hadn’t been that long!

“What do you mean?”

Nothing had happened to them before he arrived, so why would anything have happened to them since?

“Dipper, what do you mean? How long is a ‘while’?”

The boy turned back to him, shaking his head a little, and appearing to have reclaimed some of his authority.

“Alright, that’s enough questions. What are you really doing here, Doctor ‘Stanford’?” The quotation marks thunked into place around Ford’s name. “Are you some sort of robot imposter-” and there was a swell of righteous anger in that word – “here to invade us? To take us all prisoner? To kill us? To… prank us?! Answer me, pothead!”

Ford stared at him for a moment before his heart resumed its heavy beating of a tattoo against his ribs and the frustration and fear all came back.

“What in the name of- didn’t you hear me? This place is dangerous and we need to leave now!”

“Yeah, I’d say so! Some crazy guy just broke in and ran around yelling like he owns the place, and now he keeps trying to convince me to let him keep doing it!”

Ford would probably concede that point at any other time, but it was far too late to start rationalising with the kid.

Make him understand, make him understand!

“How many doors are in this hallway? Tell me, right now,”

Glaring uncomprehendingly, Dipper must have realised Ford was far too stubborn to allow him to direct the conversation because he sighed impatiently and gestured around them at each door without looking.

“Five. One, two, three, four, five-”

“Six,”

Dipper stopped.

“Look behind you,” Ford instructed. Dipper didn’t move, but he wasn’t contradicting his count. “Look behind you. You know there’s something wrong, don’t you? Something there, in the corner of your eye…”

□

Slowly, Dipper turned his head. His eyes strained to look into the area normally guarded by his peripherals. He faced the end of the hallway.

No way…

“Why haven’t I seen that before?” He breathed. There was a door. Door number six, sitting at the end of the hallway as innocently as a grenade. His heart beat faster. There was a whole other room in the house. A whole other room. How could he not have noticed?

“There’s a perception filter around it, tricking you into looking away, convincing your brain into skipping over it every time your eyes cross it,” The fake’s voice answered from behind him. Dipper took a step towards it, and another.

“No, stay away from it, stay back!” The fake ordered. “That perception filter was put there by something so it could hide, so it could stay here without being noticed!”

A whole other person had been living in his house? All this time?

The was a clinking and a clattering as the imposter tried to get free again. Dipper’s feet were still being drawn onwards like they were magnetised to the mystery at the end of the corridor.

That was a seriously creepy thought. There was someone else in the house with them? There had been someone else in the house with them this entire time? No, wait…

The guy hadn’t said someone, he’d said something…

On the other hand, they hadn’t been making much of a nuisance of themself. At least he didn’t have to do dishes for them as well.

His hand closed around the doorknob.

“Dipper!”

The door swung open easily at his touch. Not a squeak of the hinges. Not a stick in the movement.

It was accustomed to being opened and shut.

A particularly vicious clank sounded, along with some swear words that Dipper conscientiously edited out from his mind.

“Why do you even have handcuffs?!” The fake shouted.

“They’re my uncle’s,” Dipper answered vaguely, looking around the new room that was so, so old. It hadn’t been maintained along with the rest of the house over the years. It was bare, with peeling wallpaper and a creaky, bare wooden floor. Not so much as some blankets, or a table, or any furnishings at all were inside – although with the way Dipper was already struggling to keep the waves of panic at bay, he wasn’t sure he could have handled any irrefutable evidence that someone had been insidiously and possibly even ubiquitously part of his life since…

“Why does your uncle have handcuffs?” The voice echoed frustratedly back from out in the hall.

“No idea…” Dipper mumbled, still taking in the room. It was silent and still, the floor housing a fine layer of dust. There was nothing living in the slightest. Not even bugs.

“Dipper?” There was a tinge of worry in Stanf- in the imposter’s voice. He mustn’t have heard his answer.

Dipper shook himself.

“There’s no one here,” he called out loudly. “It’s empty,”

“How do you know?”

What? How did he know if it was empty? What, like he didn’t have eyes? Jeez, was this guy demanding. How hard was it to tell if a room was occupied or not?

“Because-” Dipper floundered helplessly for a moment. “Because I can’t see anyone!”

There was silence. His own words hovered in the air.

Tricking you into looking away, convincing your brain into skipping over it every time your eyes cross it…

Something there, in the corner of your eye…

Dipper swallowed with a dry throat.

“Dipper, get out of there,”

He turned his head, examining the four walls from his position in the centre. Nothing left, nothing right…

“Don’t look for it, just come away,”

He was very conscious that he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head.

“Dipper!”

And whichever way he turned, his back was always to something.

He looked around again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. His breaths filled his ears and his pulse filled his head.

He slowly made to look to the left… and whipped around to the right.

TEETH. Huge fanged TEETH. Translucent skin covering a reptilian, snakelike head and a long neck or body or whatever winding up to the ceiling and it opened its mouth wide and hissed at him, the TEETH impossibly huge.

Dipper screamed and hit it with the baseball bat. Then he ran.

Two steps into the hallway, slamming the door behind him for all the good that would do against huge freaking monstrous FANGS, two steps out and he ran into the Doctor, who had been pelting towards him. His whole body jarred with the collision and he went flying backwards-

-would have gone flying backwards if the Doctor hadn’t caught him, grabbed him, lifted him bodily off the ground and run for the front door, the handcuffs dangling from his right wrist knocking Dipper’s hat askew on the way.

Sunshine filled the world and kicked his brain back into gear and he started struggling to be put down. Most of the way across the front yard, the D- the imposter abruptly stopped and Dipper seized the chance, wriggling out of the guy’s grip, his feet thudding into the grass.

“We’ve been living with a monster this entire time!” He half yelled half gasped, trying to suck air into his aching lungs and expel it at the same time with as much success as could be expected. His hand leapt for his walkie-talkie – he needed to tell Mabel, he needed to talk to her, he needed to find her and then they’d go find Stan together- but it was missing, left behind in the bag with his camera-

“There’s a shed in this yard,” said Stanford.

“What?!” said Dipper wildly. “What?! Yeah there’s a shed! And an ALIEN in the house back there, in case you somehow missed it!”

“It’s old – it’s years old,” Stanford said in disbelief, looking at the wooden building like it held another translucent reptilian being.

“So? Let’s go! We need to get out of here!”

“No, you don’t understand – there can’t be a shed here, I destroyed it when I crashed…”

Desperately trying to pull himself together enough for both their snakes- their sakes before the alien came out and ate them both, Dipper took a deep breath and grabbed the man’s trenchcoated arm, tugging it – uselessly as it turned out. If Stanford didn’t want to move, he didn’t move, apparently.

“Look, it’s great that you admire my uncle’s shed-making skills so much-”

“Your uncle? He made this? Who is he?” Stanford said sharply.

Dipper waved his arms in a general gesture of franticness, helplessness, and lack of information or care, knocking his hat even more out of place. “He’s- he’s Stan! He’s my uncle! Showed up not long after-”

“How old is it? How old is that shed?”

Dipper ripped his hat off. “I don’t know! How many seconds is it since you told us to wait for you?!”

Stanford froze.

□

How had he missed it?

The boy’s fringe and fluffy hair sprang up out of hat-pressed flatness. That vivid red birthmark with the incredible likeness to the Big Dipper – how had he missed it? – glared out at him, as did a pair of fierce brown eyes.

“We need to go,” Dipper insisted, tugging on his arm again. Ford pulled himself together.

“TARDIS,” he said.

“You mean Mystery Shack,” Dipper corrected.

“Right.” He looked around for where he’d landed this time – which turned out to be on the property line, one corner of the house edging onto the road. Part of the fence had been obliterated, and Ford was forced to admit that sometimes its exterior, while relatively small, was still rather large to find parking spaces for.

As they turned to it, shutters rolled down inside the windows, the door locked audibly, and the sound of some sort of contained explosion went off inside.

“Ah,” said Ford. “Maybe not until it’s repaired itself,”

Dipper gasped and he whipped around to face what could now be comfortably called the haunted house.

“Zombie,” the boy said in a tight voice.

There was a man in a hospital gown standing in the doorway. He opened his mouth and snarled with an impossible number of humongous and needle-like teeth. Dipper’s body seemed to have completely locked up beside him.

“Well,” Ford said lightly. “On the bright side, we know that Prisoner Zero is also a shapeshifter,”

“That’s a bright side?”

“Would you rather we not know?” He grabbed Dipper’s hand. “Run!”

Their feet thudded on pavement, across grass, on pavement again. Houses, streets, cars flashed past. They weren’t being pursued. They weren’t being visibly pursued. Dipper was having trouble keeping up. Ford only stopped when a loud scream of feedback rang out of an ice cream van’s loudspeaker by the side of a park.

Wheezing and coughing, Dipper was bent double trying to take in air. That didn’t stop him from trying to make his lungs obey him so he could voice all his questions as soon as possible, that investigative curiosity he’d had as a younger child only having grown since. Good God, he’d been six five minutes ago…

“Prisoner Zero’s been in our house?”

“Yes – and they’ve not been idle. To take a form like that they’d need to develop a psychic link with a host,” The ice cream van had got the feedback under control, but still seemed to be having some technical problems.

“Where’s your sister?” Questioned Ford. “Is she alright? Didn’t you say something about coma patients earlier?”

Dipper straightened up and started breathing evenly again. “Yeah, she’s fine, she’s at the hospital. We keep seeing patients from the coma ward walking around town, so-” He stopped, eyes widening. “They’ve been Prisoner Zero?” He stopped again, his head cocked.

“What is it?” Ford knew before he’d finished the question.

“-incinerated. Repeat. Prisoner Zero will-”

“No way,” Dipper murmured disbelievingly. A harsh, robotic, and above all familiar loud voice was sounding over the ice cream van’s loudspeakers.

“-eject the human residence, or-”

It wasn’t just the loudspeakers. Twenty feet away, along the jogging track, a woman was staring at her earbuds strangely. On the other side of the park a teenager’s stereo was blaring the same robotic message. Through the curtains of someone’s living room, Ford could see a large blue eyeball swivelling back and forth on a television screen.

“-residence will be-”

Someone in the park shouted, pointing up at the sky. Ford and Dipper and everyone within sight were suddenly looking upwards in fear, in confusion, in curiosity, in panic, as the sun shimmered and dulled to an orangey-yellow and people could watch it without having to avert their eyes in pain. Everyone gaped at the incomprehensible sight.

Everyone except someone in a little corner of the park, who looked very familiar to Ford now that he was thinking along the right lines.

He cleared the fence posts in one leap.

“Mabel!”

Ford skidded to a halt in front of her and spent a second trying to adjust to how similar and different she was now compared to then – still in a wonderfully bright sweater, taller now obviously, hair longer, an expression a lot more shocked-looking than it used to be when she looked at him, but she was alright – they were both alright. (Dipper came to a stop by crashing into his sister, legs still not fully under his control after such a long run). Ford didn’t know how much the uncertainty of not knowing for sure what had happened had been stressing him out until he felt it vanish upon seeing the twins side-by side, if a little scared, again. So many things were going wrong today, but at least this was mostly okay.

“IMPOSTER!” Yelled Mabel, recovering her balance both physically and emotionally and brandishing a finger at him. She had braces now.

“No, no, I swear Mabel, it’s me, I’m back,” Ford said quickly, waving his hands placatingly. “The T- uh, the Mystery Shack’s navigation was fairly… melted and it clearly had a hard time trying to find the right time again, I’m so sorry. But I’m back now. Right, Dipper?”

Dipper was silent. He looked away from Ford’s stare.

“What? Dipper? You really don’t believe it’s me?” It didn’t seem possible, not after all that had just happened. And yet here the boy was, looking at him now that he had a moment to breathe with just as much unwillingness to believe, to hope that it was really Ford, and that he was really back.

“You said your name was Stanford,” He said, crossing his arms.

“That is my name!”

“No it isn’t,” Mabel said stubbornly. “That’s some sort of- of weird robot name you came up with because you’re a weird robot imposter!”

“Isn’t your uncle’s name Stan? It’s not that weird,” Frowned Ford.

“Not the point! The Doctor didn’t have a name! He was just the Doctor, mister, which you’d know if you were the Doctor!” She folded her arms too, confident that she’d trapped him. Ford suddenly felt like those few times Dipper had looked at him back at the house – like something was going on that was so obvious he didn’t know where to begin explaining it.

“Of course I have a name!” He burst out. “I never told you it because you interrupted me when I tried!”

A thoughtful expression crossed Mabel’s face. “Oh yeah, that did happen… and that does explain it.” Then she turned hard again, and Ford’s heart sank. “But not all of it! You never came back!”

“And why would you now?” Her brother chimed in, equally distrustful.

“I’ve already-” Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm the steadily encroaching tension making its way over him via the strange sun and the robotic message and Prisoner Zero and the two kids in front of him who… who he’d left when they didn’t have anyone else, and it didn’t matter that they hadn’t been alone for long before their uncle apparently showed up – he’d still left them, and broken their trust as easily as they’d given it, and now they were no longer small with unguarded hearts.

“Do you know how many psychiatrists Stan practically had to beat off with a stick?”

“Or how many seconds there are in six years? ‘Cause we do,”

Ford knelt down. Their faces were set, but at least now they had to look at him.

“I know you don’t want to trust me again,” he told them, “but you know it’s me. You know it, and I am back now, and I promise I can still help. So for now,” He stuck out both his hands to them. Hands that he was fairly sure they wouldn’t have seen many like in this small town, and hands which he was certain they remembered from his first visit. Dipper and Mabel looked back and forth between them and his face. Ford introduced himself anew.

“I’m Doctor Stanford Pines. I have twelve PhDs from various corners of the universe, I fly a Mystery Shack through time and space, and I’d like your help in solving this current crisis,”

They stared at his six fingers, and the still-warm soot on his jacket, and the traces of glittery dinosaur Mabel juice on his sleeves.

“Please,” he implored them. “There’s no one better suited to the task, or who I’d rather have,”

Hesitantly, with equal expressions that told him that maybe their hearts weren’t too guarded against him just yet, they shook his hands.

“Alright,” Dipper said.

“We’re really the only people who’ll have any hope of saving us anyway,” shrugged Mabel, and Ford laughed.

“But first, what is happening to the sun?” demanded Dipper.

“-residence, or the human residence will-”

“And the weird broadcast,” Mabel added.

Ford stood up. “Nothing good, I’m afraid.” He pulled his analyser out of his pocket – noting with some exuberance that Dipper and Mabel’s eyes widened as they recognised it – and aimed it at the sky. After a moment, a little hologram of something that looked like a snowflake at first glance blinked up on it.

“Allow me to introduce Prisoner Zero’s cell wardens – the Atraxi.” The spiky, delicate looking spaceship spun in place, a super-sized blue eyeball in the centre. “There’s currently a fleet of them surrounding the planet, searching for Prisoner Zero,”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” asked Mabel. “They’ll find them and take them away-”

“-and we won’t have to worry about some creepy alien hiding in our house,” added Dipper.

“What?”

“Oh yeah, it’s horror movie kind of stuff. I’ll tell you about it later,”

“The fact that they want to take Prisoner Zero away? Yes, that is good,” Ford informed them. “What they’re threatening to do? Not so much,”

“What are they threatening to do?” frowned Mabel. “It’s just looks like they’re floating around up there,”

On cue, the teenager nearby pressed the wrong thing on his stereo and the most certainly planet-wide broadcast boomed out at full volume.

“PRISONER ZERO WILL EJECT THE HUMAN RESIDENCE, OR THE HUMAN RESIDENCE WILL BE INCINERATED. REPEAT. PRISONER ZERO WILL EJECT THE HUMAN RESIDENCE, OR THE HUMAN RESIDENCE WILL BE INCINERATED,”

Dipper blanched. “The human residence… as in, ‘Earth’?”

“Exactly,” confirmed Ford. “So we need to find Prisoner Zero, who’ll be needing to stay close to any subjects of their psychic link in order to maintain their disguise,”

“The coma patients!” Realised Dipper.

“I feel like I’ve missed a lot,” Mabel complained.

“We need to get into the hospital!”

“Now that I understand!” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Soos to the rescue! He’s on his shift right now!”

“Alright! We can do this! Is there anything else?” Dipper asked Ford eagerly.

“I’ll need a computer-”

“Wendy has one! She’s right over there!”

“How convenient!” Ford praised.

“So that’s it, right? You do whatever you need to do with the computer, then we’ll go to the hospital and wrassle with an alien, and then we call the Atraxi and they can take Prisoner Zero away and not incinerate us, and everything will be fine!” Mabel cheered, putting her hands on her hips and huffing out a relieved sigh. “Simple! And it’s not even like there’s a twenty-four-hour time limit, like in the movies!” She laughed.

Ford’s stomach dropped at her innocent statement, and his mood change did not go unnoticed by the twins.

“What? There is a time limit?” Mabel said in some distress.

Reluctantly, Ford admitted, “Well, the Atraxi have technically already started the incineration process,”

“They’ve what?” Shouted Dipper.

“Force-field in the upper atmosphere in order to contain the explosion,” Ford said, waving his hand at the diluted sun.

“So how long do we have?” Mabel said, considerably more nervously.

And this is what he’d really have wanted to avoid telling them.

“Considering the mass of the planet, the density of the core, and the power needed to charge up a sufficient fusion blast… about twenty minutes,”

Mabel looked like her voice was being strangled in its formation. Dipper was bending over double and taking in whooping great breaths again. Ford decided that he wouldn’t mention how it was likely closer to fifteen now, after how long they’d been talking for.

Dipper straightened up again. “But you can still do it, right? You’ve had worse odds before, or something?” he said desperately. Mabel turned to him with equal expectancy.

With great reassurance, Ford placed a hand on each of their heads and ruffled their hair gently.

“Not really. This pretty bad. But with you two helping, things should be much easier! Now, which one is Wendy?”

#fanfiction #gravity falls #the doctor (x12)

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arwenkenobi48 · 6 years

Text

The Sting ~ A Star Wars Rebels Fanfic ~

Disaster strikes! Grand Admiral Thrawn has captured Maul, a valuable member of the Ghost Crew and mentor to the young Ezra Bridger! As the feared Imperial takes the Zabrak in for interrogation, Ezra and his friends set out to rescue him. Little do they know that Thrawn isn’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve...

Ezra stared in shock at the hologram, which showed the geometric symbol of Fulcrum. His face was pale with fear and his breathing was shallow and rapid. “Ezra? What’s wrong?” asked Kanan, sensing the boy’s fear. “Another transmission from Kallus,” Ezra murmured. “He...He said Maul’s been captured!” The rest of the Ghost Crew, who had joined him, all gasped in horror. “Damn it! I shouldn’t’ve sent him on that mission to Garel!” Hera groaned. “The Empire knows we have connections there!”

“Don’t blame yourself, Hera,” Kanan reassured her. “It was a risky task, after all,” “Yeah, but Kallus said the Empire only captured him!” Ezra pointed out. “Everyone else was just set free and they’re on their way back here!” Everyone was confused. “Ezra? Who captured Maul?” asked Hera slowly. “Kallus said it was...Grand Admiral Thrawn!” Ezra shuddered. “Oh, Force... We need to rescue him!”

“I agree! Who knows what Thrawn could do to him!” Sabine stood beside Ezra. “I’m with ‘em!” Zeb agreed. “So am I!” Hera joined them. Chopper beeped in agreement. “Kanan?” Everyone asked. Kanan gave a very long sigh. “I may not be on the best of terms with Maul, but the Empire shouldn’t keep him,” He murmured. “Alright! To the Ghost!” Ezra grinned. “Ezra, we’re on the Ghost!” Hera rolled her eyes. “Oh. Well...let’s do this!” Ezra did a fistpump. “For justice! For freedom! For-” “You’re overdoing it,” Sabine deadpanned.

Meanwhile, on the Chimera...

“Get your hands off me, Imperial Scum!” Growled Maul. He was strapped to a metal rack, Stormtroopers and probe droids on either side of him. The cell doors opened and two Imperials stepped in: Grand Admiral Thrawn and Captain Slavin. “Well look who it is, a spider in the web,” Murmured Thrawn. “You’re insane!” Growled Maul. “No, just sophisticated,” Thrawn replied. “I’m only one step away from discovering the planet that your Rebel allies use as their base, the name of which you will kindly tell me,”

“NEVER!” Spat Maul. “Never say never, my dear Maul,” purred Thrawn. “Wouldn’t you agree, Captain Slavin?” The captain simply smirked in a sadistic way. “You see, Maul, my trusted lieutenant here-” Thrawn uttered this sentence in a way that implied he and Slavin were something more than colleagues “-has armed those probe droids with a truth serum designed to affect even Force-users like you. You will tell me where the base of Phoenix Squadron is, whether you want to or not!”

Meanwhile, in the landing bay of the Star Destroyer...

Ezra Bridger and the Ghost Crew looked gratefully at Agent Kallus. It really helped to have an ally behind enemy lines. He had smuggled them in with little effort, as Thrawn and Slavin were occupied with the interrogation of Maul. “Where is Maul?” Asked Ezra, more than a little scared, although he tried to hide it. “Thrawn’s keeping him in one of the detention cells,” Kallus replied. “Follow me, I fear something terrible’s happening to him,” Suddenly, Lieutenant Lyste showed up. “What’s going on?” He asked.

Meanwhile, in the cell...

“Don’t try it!” Growled Maul, as the probe droid - carrying a syringe filled with a transparent fluid - hovered closer. “You won’t get a word out of me, you hear that? Not a single damn word! OW!” He yelped as the droid injected his arm. “He’ll talk now, Sir!” Slavin grinned wickedly. “I hope so,” Thrawn smiled. He tilted the man’s chin up as if teasing a kiss, before turning to Maul, still hurling insults at him. “Assassins! Tyrants! A...oh...ooooh...” His words faded into a delirious mumble. “Now then, Maul, we’re a bit more cooperative, aren’t we?” Thrawn purred. Maul nodded sluggishly, staring up at Thrawn with dazed eyes.

“Now, would you kindly tell me where the base of Phoenix Squadron is located?” Thrawn enquired. “Na...Naboo! Yeah, that was it!” Maul murmured. “Good,” Thrawn turned to Slavin. “Captain, set the hyperdrive coordinates for-” “Yep, the Battle of Naboo, ten years before the Clone War!” Maul exclaimed. “What!?” The two Imperials stared at him in amazement. “That was where I fought a Jedi!” Maul told them excitedly. “I was 22 years old! Whoo-wee, that was a fight worth seeing! Cost me an arm and a leg!” He giggled. “Or rather, both legs and no arms! Heeheehee!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Demanded Thrawn. “Err, he seems to be showing resistance, sir,” said the baffled Slavin. “I’ll give him another shot,” He did this. “Ouchy!” Squeaked the now very high Maul. “Now, please tell me where the Rebel base is,” said Thrawn politely. “Mandalore, behind enemy lines,” said Maul. “Are you sure?” Asked Thrawn. “1001 percent!” Maul replied confidently. “Finally,” Thrawn sighed.

“Yep, in the palace of Sundari!” Maul recounted. “It was there that I fought Pre Vizsla, then took his place as the leader of Death Watch! Ooh, he really lost his head over that!” He began giggling childishly. “Captain,” Thrawn was dripping with sarcasm. “Congratulations, your plan is a brilliant success!”

Meanwhile...

Ezra gave a sigh of relief. Finally, Kallus had managed to convince Lyste that they were prisoners being taken in for interrogation. He was beginning to worry that he’d have to use a Force kind trick on the Imperials, but luckily it hadn’t come to that and he was too worried about Maul to concentrate on it. “Kanan, I’m scared,” He whispered. Kanan gave his hand a little squeeze. “Hey, we’ll get him back, I know it,” He murmured. Ezra tried to swallow the lump in his throat as they approached the detention block.

Meanwhile, in the cell...

Captain Slavin had filled another syringe with truth serum and was watching Maul with baited breath. “Should I-?” He began to say, before Thrawn spoke. “Maul, are you finished?” He asked. Maul had apparently recovered from his laughing fit and asked, still a bit slurred: “Yee?” Thrawn, whose saint-like patience was beginning to wear off, asked yet again: “Where is the Rebel base?” “Why, it’s part of the Rebel band, of course!” Maul giggled.

Thrawn wasn’t as short tempered as his fellow Imperials, but this time, he pretty much lost it. “Sir?” Slavin asked nervously. Thrawn hissed under his breath. “Captain Marco Slavin,” He spoke with the voice of a tiger stalking its prey. “Unless you’re prepared to bear the shame of a demotion-” Slavin lost his nerve and freaked out, actually shrieking “Mommy!” and brandishing the nearest implement in self defence...which happened to be the syringe.

“Ow!” Yelped Thrawn, as the tip of the needle stabbed his elbow. Maul looked at Slavin with a lopsided smile. “Heheh, you poked him,” He said. “Thanks, I didn’t know that,” said the captain sarcastically. “Slavin, don’t stab me with that needle!” Thrawn winced, rubbing his elbow.

Ezra and the others, meanwhile, were right outside the cell. Kallus had redirected the Stormtroopers, giving them some precious time to rescue the Zabrak. Ezra decided to listen in on what was going on and what he heard blew his mind. “Was that syringe empty?” Asked Thrawn. “Uh, nearly, sir,” Slavin cringed. “You don’t feel bad, do you?”

“Bad? Me? Of course I’m bad!” Thrawn’s words were slurred slightly and it was clear that the truth serum had got to him. “Pah, you don’t know bad!” Maul boasted. “I’m an evil mastermind!” “Come now, you couldn’t possibly be as cunning as me,” Thrawn smirked. “What? I’m way badder than you, Mr Blue!” said Maul sassily. “Are not!” said Thrawn. “Am too!” “Are not!” “Am too!” Captain Slavin stared at his employer/crush and at Maul in disbelief. He couldn’t work out what in the world was going on.

“Tell him, Slavin!” Thrawn exclaimed, grabbing the man’s shirt (yet again). “Tell him I’m the baddest!” “He’s the baddest!” Slavin gabbled. “Tell him how I was going to fire you after I found the Rebel base!” “He was-what!?” Slavin squeaked. “Meh, that’s not so bad!” Shrugged Maul. “My master was so ashamed of me he replaced me with a vampire wizard! Now that’s bad!” “That’s nothing!” Scoffed Thrawn, as Slavin slowly backed away. “I beat up three students from my Academy and ditched my Southern then-crush for Marco!”

“Kanan, do you believe this?” asked Ezra as everyone listened, both unnerved and somewhat amused. “Nope,” said Kanan, shuddering slightly. They all heard a long “Pfffft!” noise and then Thrawn saying: “Nobody blows a raspberry at me! Take this! Pfffffffft!” “Sounds like we should intervene,” said Kanan, but before they could open the door, Slavin came running out of the cell. “Help! The Admiral’s gone crazy!” He yelled, waving his arms in the air as he fled down the hallway. “Oh, great! That’ll bring the Stormtroopers our way!” Kallus winced. “Better make it quick!”

Ezra entered the cell to find Maul and Thrawn, both under the influence of the truth serum, nose to nose and squabbling like schoolboys. “Are not!” “Am too!” “Am not!” “Are too!” “Hah! I win!” Maul grinned, then in a vague singsong. “I am the baddest!” “Come on, Maul, we’re taking you home!” said Hera sternly. Ezra removed Maul’s restraints with the Force as Thrawn pouted grumpily nearby. “Oh, Maul, what did he do to you?” He whimpered. Maul looked at Thrawn, muttered something about being in a timeout, then winked subtly at Ezra with a small, knowing smile.

Once the Rebels had escaped and the Ghost entered hyperspace, Maul flung his arms around Ezra in a tight hug. “Oh, my dear apprentice, did you think I’d gone crazy?” He asked. “Yeah,” Ezra mumbled, his head buried in Maul’s shoulder. “I almost went crazy, I thought you’d gone crazy!” “Well, I’m very much in the here and now,” said Maul reassuringly. “But how?” Asked Ezra. “They drugged you, I sensed it,” “Actually, they didn’t,” said Maul. “The syringe went in alright, but it was empty!” “What!?” Ezra gasped.

Meanwhile, back on the Chimera...

“What!?” Squawked Slavin. “Yes, Captain, you injected him with an empty syringe!” A much more lucid Thrawn glared furiously. “Didn’t you know that!?” “I couldn’t tell, the serum’s transparent!” Slavin squeaked. “But wait, how come you went loopy when you were injected?” “Because you actually filled the syringe that time!” Thrawn facpalmed. He sighed, sinking into his office chair. “Captain, I need a Vodka. This day is too bizarre even for me,”

“How on Lothal did Captain Slavin manage to do that?” Ezra was laughing now, more with relief than anything else. “I don’t know, truth be told,” Chuckled Maul. “My best guess is either his own incompetence got the better of him, or we have a good ally behind enemy lines. I believe you call him Kallus?” “Ah, that sneaky, fantastic man!” Zeb laughed. “Oh, Maul, I’m so happy you’re back!” Ezra smiled. “Me too,” Maul grinned, ruffling Ezra’s hair. “Not the first time I’ve orchestrated a sting operation, though. I’ve done this sort of thing once before. It was towards the end of the Clone Wars...” As he told his tale to a rapidly increasing audience, Kanan muttered through a facepalm: “Here we go again...”

MTFBWY <3

#darth maul #ezra bridger #agent kallus #grand admiral thrawn #captain slavin #the ghost crew #(too tired to tag them all XD)#ooof i enjoyed writing this #included some meta quotes too #*squee*#i love writing :3 #and let's face it #maul being high on truth serum would be kinda hilarious #evil strawberry #the new starkiller #mutton chops #sinister blueberry #silly sausage

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justauthoring · 7 years

Text

Mistaken - Sherlock Holmes

Prompt: You thought you knew Sherlock, but now, you didn’t know what to believe.

Notes: this wasn’t requested and isn’t really original, but i just finished season two tonight and this idea popped in my mind - i had to write it. please let me know if you liked it!!

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!

“Congratulations. The truth on Sherlock Holmes.” You rolled your eyes, unlocking Sherlock’s handcuff as he walked away. Huffing, you helped let John go, sending him a quick smile once he was free. “The scoop that everybody wanted and you’ve got it. Bravo.”

“I gave you your opportunity.” Riley snubbed, narrowing her eyes Sherlock’s way. “I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down.”

Pacing, you stood slightly behind John - your heart was still racing erratically against your chest. This was too much. Too much for handle. For God’s sake you were a fugitive now, on the run with Sherlock and John, and none of you had done anything - at least, you thought. Except, John had punched an executive in the face - but it was prompted!

“And then, lo and behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient.” Sherlock continued, pacing back and forth, before turning to Riley with his brows raised and stopping. “Who is Brook?” Riley shook her head, feigning lack of knowledge, but even you saw straight through her. “Oh, come on, Kitty. No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. There were all those furtive little meetings in cafes, those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your Dictaphone.”

You turned to John, watching as he hastily rubbed at his wrists. “You okay?” You whispered when a moment of silent past, and he smiled, nodding quickly.

“How do you know that you can trust him, eh?” Sherlock questioned, no doubt his brain running through and through all the knowledge he had consumed. “A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pocket. What were his credentials?”

You paused as you heard the door opening, spinning around in question before freezing at the sight of who it was. You didn’t know much about anything that was going on, John and Sherlock had elected to keep many secrets from you. The only reason you had found them was you’d bumped into them while they were running from the police - half of you wished you never had. But then you reminded yourself that if you hadn’t, you’d probably had been at home, worried sick.

“Darling, they didn’t have any ground coffee, so I just got normal.”

Now, you weren’t sure - as you mentioned, you were a bit of a amateur in this case - but you believe, that Jim Moriarty had just walked through the door.

His eyes widened at the sight of John and Sherlock, and you paused a moment, stuck in between as Jim backed up against the wall, the bag falling from his hands. “You said that they wouldn’t find me here. You’d said that i’d be safe here.”

“You are safe, Richard.” Riley reassured, standing up. “I’m a witness. He wouldn’t harm you in front of witnesses.”

“Now, hold up a minute,” you finally spoke, holding up your hand. “Did you just say Richard? His name is Jim-”

“Moriarty,” John finished, stepping forward. “So, that’s your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?”

“Of course he’s Richard Brook, there is no Moriarty, there never has been.”

“What the hell is going on here?” You asked, brows furrowing. You eyed Jim warily, taking a step back. “What are you talking about?”

“Look him up,” Riley clarified. “Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty.” Your eyes fell on Sherlock, heart racing with confusion.

“Doctor Watson, I...” Jim stammered, holding up his hands. “I know you’re a good man. Don’t... don’t... don’t hurt me.”

“No, you’re Moriarty!” John suddenly shouted, making you flinch. Turning to the rest of you, he continued; “he’s Moriarty! We’ve met, remember? You were going to blow me up!”

“What?” You screeched, shaking your head. You didn’t understand. Nothing was making sense!

Jim’s breath shook as he took a deep breath in; “i’m sorry. I’m sorry. He paid me. I needed the work. I’m an actor, I was out of work...”

“Will someone answer me?” You all but screamed. Turning to Sherlock, you met his eyes, searching for something. “What is happening? Explain...” You stammered, voice shaking. “Explain! Please!” You’ve known Sherlock for years, but yet, none of this was making any sense. You felt as if you didn’t even know the man standing before you,

You’d shared a bed with the man for God’s sake! Just what was happening?

“I’ll be doing the explaining,” Riley interrupted. “In print. It’s all here.” Handing the documents over to John, you crossed the room, closing your eyes as you walked between both Jim and Sherlock, glancing over John’s shoulder as your eyes scanned the words before you. “Conclusive proof. You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis.”

“Invented him?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Riley nodded, smirking. “Invented all the crimes, actually. And to cap it all, you made up a master villain.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” John exclaimed.

“Ask him, he’s right here!” Riley gestured towards Jim - Richard... “Just ask him. Tell him, Richard.”

“No, for God-sake this man was on trial.”

“Yes, and you paid him.” Riley clarified, her eyes falling on Sherlock. “Paid him to take the rap. Promised you’d rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but i’ll bet the money was good. But not so good he didn’t want to sell his story.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turned to Sherlock with watery eyes. Grabbing the sleeve of his coat, you tried to pull his attention on you; “Sherlock...”

He only ignored you.

“I am sorry,’ Jim mumbled. “I am, I am sorry.”

“So, this is the story that you’re going to publish?” John asked. “The big conclusion of it all, Moriarty is an actor?”

“He knows I am. I have proof.” Jim stuttered.

“Yeah?” You questioned, facing Jim. “Then show it.”

“You seem like a nice girl...?-”

“Y/N,” you spat.

“Y/N.” Jim smiled the best he could, taking a step towards you but pausing when Sherlock shifted forward. “I have proof! Show her! Show him! Can you show them something?”

“Yeah, show me something,” John shook his head.

Stepping forward, Riley shuffled through her things before handing you a folder.

“I’m on TV, i’m on kids TV. I’m the Storyteller.” Accepting the folder, you shuffled through it - only seeing exactly what he said. “I’m the Storyteller. It’s on DVD.” You felt your heart race increase with every growing second. “Just tell him,” Jim stammered. “It’s all coming out now. Just tell them. It’s all over. Tell them! Tell them! No-” Your gaze snapped up as you heard Jim screeched, noticing that Sherlock had taken a step forward.

“No! Don’t you touch me. Don’t you lay a finger on me!”

“Stop it,” Sherlock mumbled, shaking his head. “Stop it now!”

You gasped, entire body shaking as you watched Sherlock lunge forward.

“Don’t let him get away!” Sherlock screamed.

“Leave him alone!”

“Sherlock!” You screeched, hands falling on your head as you paced. What the hell... This - This couldn’t be happening.

“Can he do that? Completely change his identity?”

Panting, you followed behind John and Sherlock, your heart still racing.

“Make you the criminal?”

“He’s got my whole life story.” Sherlock spat, shaking his head. “That’s what you do. You sell a big lie.” You fell to a stop behind the two, their words going in one ear and out the other. “You wrap it up in a truth to make it palatable.”

“It’s your word against his.” John huffed, slamming the piece of evidence by his side.

“He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours.” Sherlock explained, pacing. “There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game and that’s to...” Sherlock paused and you finally clued in, glancing up at him.

“Sherlock?” John called.

“There’s something I need to do.” Sherlock suddenly announced, his back facing you.

“What, can I help?”

“No, on my own.” Sherlock moved to walk forward and you don’t know what possessed you but suddenly you screamed out; “no!” Into the dead of night. John paused, glancing back at you in surprise as Sherlock stopped, back still to you.

Your heart was beating against your chest and you felt as if you could barely breathe. With tears in your eyes, you huffed. “No, you don’t get to go until someone tells me what the hell just happened!” You screeched, throwing your hands up in frustration. A moment of silence passed and still Sherlock didn’t turn to you. “Look at me Sherlock!” Nothing. “Look at me!”

Slowly, he turned, his eyes meeting yours and you glared. “Someone better tell me what’s going on.” You mumbled, shaking your head as you looked down at your feet. Sniffling, you took a step towards Sherlock. “Because right now, all I know is that my boyfriend and his friend are on the run from the police. And that some guy tried to blow you up once! Oh and might I add, that that same guy claims you paid him to do every dirty thing he’s ever done!”

You huffed and no one dared say a thing.

“So tell me right now,” you whispered. “Or... Or - I don’t know what to believe,”

“Oh come on,” John sighed. “You don’t really belie-”

“I don’t know what to believe!” You cried, glaring at John as he fell silent.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself, making your way over to Sherlock. Grabbing ahold of his sleeve, much like you had done inside, you tried to gain his attention. “Sherlock, please... I need you to tell me.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything and you felt tears well in your eyes.

“Sherlock,” you whispered, tears falling. “I love you... and I need you to trust me.”

He hastily ripped his arm from your grasp, turning - and all the same you felt your heart shatter.

“Sherlock!” John called but he was already walking off.

You paused, staring at his back, not know that was the last time you’d see him.

A hand fell on your shoulder; “Y/N?”

“Don’t touch me!” You spat, ripping yourself away from John and stalking off.

The image was burned in your mind.

You didn’t see him that day but you envisioned it and all you felt was guilt.

Staring at his apartment around you, you were sick with guilt and sadness.

Sherlock wasn’t guilty but he died thinking you thought he was a criminal - and that, that you couldn’t live with.

let me know what you thought? please? remember, reblogging always helps!

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wilderwestqueen · 7 years

Text

How To Survive Christmas: A Guide By Hiccup Haddock

Summary: The Christmas season is difficult enough with your father messing with your love life. When Astrid gets invited over for Christmas, Hiccup becomes obsessed with making it the best Christmas ever.

Words: 6082

(ao3) (fanfic.net)

How To Survive Christmas: A Guide By Hiccup Haddock

Hiccup loved winter.

As November crawled into December, and the world became dark at four o’clock, Hiccup found himself spending every evening curled up in an armchair by the fire, a book in hand and his cat at his feet. Those long evenings that started early and ended late were Hiccup’s favourite, warm and comfortable, utterly bliss, if it wasn’t for the holiday coming up.

Hiccup may have loved winter, but Christmas was a different ball game.

It wasn’t that he hated the holiday, not really. It just seemed like an awful lot of effort for what usually ended in passionate political arguments at the table between his family, a needless amount of stress over presents that would be forgotten about in a few weeks, and a terrible amount of washing up.

Also, there were only so many times you could listen that Mariah Carey song.

He remembered loving the holiday when he was younger, but as he’d grown older, the whole thing had lost its appeal. Perhaps that was just what happened when you became an adult – Christmas loses all of its magic. For Hiccup, December had become less about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ as it had about surviving the holiday season without decapitating a plastic reindeer.

He’d already begun thinking about his plan for survival when his father had dropped a bomb on him that sent all of his plans for a quiet, uneventful Christmas out the window.

“I think we should invite the Hoffersons over to join the celebrations on Christmas Day.”

Hiccup spat out his tea.

They’d been sitting in comfortable silence for the past half an hour, the fire flickering away while Hiccup was curled up with a book and a mug of tea, his father opposite, newspaper open on the crossword.

“The Hoffersons? As in, the Hoffersons who live next door? As in, Astrid and her mother?” Hiccup gabbled, wiping the spit off of his face.

His father, Stoick, glanced up from his newspaper. “Yes, as in those Hoffersons. Who else?”

“No,” Hiccup said, quickly. “You can’t invite them. You always said Christmas was for family and family only.”

“I said that so you would stop bringing in stray cats and demanding that we feed them dinner.”

“Point still stands.”

Stoick raised an eyebrow. “What have you got against me inviting them over? I thought you liked Astrid. You two haven’t been fighting, have you?”

Hiccup sighed and shrank back into his chair. “No.”

“You two were the best of friends once. Why don’t I see her around anymore?”

He couldn’t explain high school politics to his father. He wouldn’t understand that there were hierarchies; Hiccup Haddock and Astrid Hofferson were on completely different levels, and they ran in different circles. They had been as close as close could be once, but by the time they started secondary school, they’d drifted apart. They still talked occasionally, and she was always nice to him, but they were hardly best friends anymore. Barely even acquaintances, honestly.

“School got busy,” was the answer Hiccup went with.

His father folded his newspaper and set it down on the table. “You know this time of year is difficult for them.”

Hiccup sighed again, guilt worming its way into his gut. “I know.”

“After the incident-”

“I know.”

The incident.

Boxing Day two years prior had been eventful. Everyone on the street had heard Mrs. Hofferson’s howling. They’d run outside just in time to see her throwing suitcases out of the upstairs window, Mr. Hofferson standing feebly out in the snow.

“It’s neighbourly to at least invite them.”

Hiccup sighed for a third time. The guilt had settled in the bottom of his stomach. “You’re right,” he said. “Invite them.”

On the inside though, he prayed that they’d refuse, or else he was going to have to figure out how he was going to survive spending Christmas with the girl he’d been in love with for years.

Six Days Until Christmas

Of course, they said yes.

Mrs. Hofferson was delighted by the invitation, promising to bring over Christmas cake and asking if there was anything she could do to help. Hiccup had been shoved out the door – “go and buy some proper decorations, for goodness sake, and stop acting like such a Grinch,” his father had said – leaving adults on the porch to gossip.

The shopping centre was hell on Earth.

The place was teeming with people, all packed in tight into a space that felt like it was too small to hold everyone, and everybody there was in such a rush. Hiccup ducked into the first shop he came to, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He found himself dragging himself up one aisle, pushing the cheapest decorations he could find into the shopping trolley, while Mariah Carey blasted loud and tinny through the speakers.

God, he hated Mariah Carey.

As he got to the end of the aisle, after passing a terrifying Santa mask with a semi-realistic face that looked like it had come straight out of horror movie set, Hiccup bent over the handle of the trolley and groaned.

“Hiccup?”

That voice was familiar.

He jolted up out of his position and stood up straight, his beanie flying off his head as he did so. “Astrid!” He dropped to the floor and grabbed his hat, sliding it back onto his head in one quick motion. “Hi! Hey, Astrid. Hi.”

She laughed. “Hi, Hiccup.”

“So,” he said, attempting to lean casually on the shopping trolley, “how’s it going?”

It was unfair how cute she looked, all bundled up in a duffle coat, with a hat and scarf. Her hair was down for once, cascading in blonde waves down her back, strands of it still fluttering in front of her face after being outside in the wind and cold.

“It’s good,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Last minute Christmas shopping?”

He watched as she peered curiously into his trolley, and he felt the urge to cover up his purchases, almost embarrassed by how little thought he’d put into them.

“Dad sent me out to get some extra stuff.”

Astrid nodded. “Right,” she said, and then brushed her fringe out of her face. “Hey, Hiccup, I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am that you invited me and Mum over for Christmas.”

Hiccup blinked. “You are?”

“Yeah,” she said, and then her expression fell a little. “We didn’t really bother with Christmas last year.”

“I know,” he said, softly.

The Hofferson house, usually so bright and vibrant every year, with lights and decorations to rival everyone on the street, had been dark and silent the year before.

“Do you still see your dad at all?” he asked, and then kicked himself.

This was the first proper conversation they’d had in months, and he was asking about that? Foot, meet mouth.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve seen him around with his new family,” she said, dully. “They seem really happy.”

“Hey,” he said gently, brushing her hand with his. “Do you want me to toilet paper his house for you?”

Astrid spluttered, her hands covering her mouth as she let out a giggle. Hiccup’s heart soared.

“Because I will,” he said. “For you.”

She let out another laugh, and then sighed. “I’m really happy I have someone to spend Christmas with this year. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, later,” Hiccup mumbled, eloquently.

He watched as she scurried off, and then stared down at his shopping trolley. Guilt was settling in his stomach again, as he looked down at his half-assed attempt at buying directions.

For one moment, he hovered in the aisle, and then he pushed his trolley back to the entrance of the store.

“How much stuff did you buy?”

His father was thumbing through the purchases Hiccup had left on the coffee table, while he busied himself arranging Christmas cards on the mantlepiece.

“You asked me to get some good decorations.”

“I didn’t expect you to go all out,” Stoick said. “What even is this?”

Hiccup turned to see his father looking down, confused at a white spray can.

“Fake snow,” Hiccup said, wandering towards the table, and pulling an armful of tinsel out of one of the bags. “I thought we could spray it on the windows, y’know, to make it look all wintery and festive.”

Hiccup left his father staring down at the fake snow and headed towards the tree. It looked rather sparse in the corner, small and unimposing.

“Why do we have the same plastic tree every year?”

Stoick stared at him. “You what?”

“We’ve had this tree for years,” Hiccup said. “It’s probably older than me. Why don’t we ever get a real one?”

His father looked incredulous. “I ask you every year if you want to get a real tree, and you can never be bothered!”

Hiccup frowned. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how mediocre this tree was? “Maybe this year we should bother.”

Stoick put a hand on his son’s shoulder and spun him around to look at him. “What’s got into you?”

“What’s got into me?”

“For months you’ve been grumbling about Christmas, and now you’re hanging tinsel everywhere and asking for a real tree?”

Hiccup sighed. “I just thought that since we have non-family guests this year, we should make an effort.”

“Riiiight.”

“And, y’know, seeing as the Hoffersons haven’t really had a good family Christmas in a few years and Astrid was saying-”

Stoick’s face lit up in understanding. “Oh, now I see.”

“You see what?”

“Nothing,” his father said, his eyes glittering. “We’ll get you your tree, don’t you worry, son.”

Then he ruffled Hiccup’s hair and headed for the door, a knowing smile on his face.

Five Days Until Christmas

He kept his promise.

Early in the morning, with his cousin Snotlout in tow, Hiccup and his father went out to pick a tree. Snotlout and his father were the muscle; Hiccup, arms too much like limp noodles to be of any use, supervised, examining every tree.

“Will you just hurry up and pick one?!” Snotlout groaned, while Hiccup stood in front of the sixth tree, stroking his chin in deep thought. “I’m freezing my balls off here!”

“Snotlout! What would your father say?” Stoick said, slapping his nephew across the head. Snotlout grumbled something rude under his breath. “But do hurry up, son, it’s getting pretty cold.”

“Why do you care so much about this? Don’t you usually have a plastic one?”

Stoick leaned over towards Snotlout, conspiratorially. “He’s trying to impress someone.”

“What?!” Hiccup stood up, staring at them both. “No, I’m not.”

“We invited the Hoffersons over to join us on Christmas, and he’s been all flustered about it since.”

Oh hell no.

Hiccup shook his head, vehemently. “That’s not true!” he hedged. “I’m just – trying to be polite!”

His father was grinning now, eyes shining. “He wasn’t looking forward to Christmas until he found out Astrid was going to be there.”

“Wait, Astrid’s going to be there?” Snotlout said. “Now it all makes sense!”

“Snotlout, don’t,” Hiccup said, but it was no use. His cousin was already jeering at him.

“You should see the way he looks at her,” Snotlout said, addressing Stoick. “He’s like a lost puppy.

“I have seen it,” Stoick joined in, “I see it every time they wait for the school bus.”

Hiccup felt his face burn.

“Hiccup loves Astrid! Hiccup loves Astrid! Hiccup loves Astrid!” Snotlout began to hoot.

Hiccup didn’t say another word, he just turned on his heel and stormed off.

Four Days Until Christmas

That morning, Stoick stumbled down the stairs to fetch a cup of coffee, only to find his son struggling to heave a huge evergreen tree through the front door. He gave a guilty smile, and then pulled the end of the tree up into his hands, effortlessly hauling it into the living room.

“I had it,” Hiccup grumbled to himself.

“Just trying to help,” Stoick said, and smiled sweetly down at his son. “You want it in the corner there?”

“Yeah, where the old one was,” Hiccup said, although his was still pouting.

Stoick set the tree down, and then took Hiccup by the shoulders, sitting him down on the sofa.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Stoick said, joining him in the seat.

“Thought you’d already figured it all out,” Hiccup said, sourly. He stuck his lower lip out, and hunched down in the sofa.

It was childish, he knew, but his pride was still smarting after the way his father and his cousin had spoke to him the day before. It was another reason he dreaded Christmas; somehow, when the whole family was together, it became of game of who could bully Hiccup the most.

“It’s all in good fun!” they’d say when he complained.

All in good fun, his left foot.

“I’m sorry for teasing you yesterday,” Stoick said, although Hiccup noticed the way his mouth was twitching. “Why don’t you tell what’s going on?”

Hiccup sighed, but he sat back up in his seat. “When we were kids, Astrid loved big Christmas trees,” he said. “She used to try and climb the big one in the town centre. One time, she actually did, and she got half way up there before they managed to stop her.” Halfway through his speech he realised he was grinning, and he did his best to smother it. “But they never had a real tree themselves. She always used to complain about the plastic one they had.”

The corners of Stoick’s mouth crinkled. “I’m sure she wouldn’t be offended by our old plastic one.”

“It’s not that,” Hiccup said. “Astrid... Astrid loves Christmas. She loves everything about it. The magic didn’t go for her. She loves snow, she loves presents, and she really, really loved family, until her dad had to go and ruin it.” He wrinkled his nose. “Last year she didn’t even celebrate Christmas at all. This year, I wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

Stoick stared at his son for a few long moments, and then leapt to his feet. “Alright,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Where do we start?”

They started by heaving the large tree into a pot that Hiccup had designated for it into the corner, wrapping a set of rainbow lights around.

“We’re going for a silver and purple colour scheme,” Hiccup said.

The wrapping paper they’d used had been silver with a purple ribbon, and he wanted to make everything colour co-ordinated.

“Right, of course,” Stoick said, nodding seriously while he hid a smile behind his hand.

They curled tinsel around the curtain rods, hung baubles from ribbon, and sprinkled fake snow on every available surface.

Stoick went around and hung mistletoe in every doorway, whistling innocently as he did so. Hiccup went around and methodically took them all down.

“You think it looks okay?” Hiccup said at the end of the day, when he and his father had flopped down exhausted, nursing mugs of hot chocolate while the fireplace crackled.

Stoick grinned down at Hiccup, and ruffled his hair. “She’ll love it.”

Three Days Until Christmas

“Bloody hell, it’s like Christmas threw up in here!”

Hiccup heard the voice from upstairs, and followed it down to find Cami standing the middle of his living room.

“What’s happened to you?” she said, in lieu of a hello, looking Hiccup up and down. “Are you ill? Did Father Christmas threaten you at gunpoint to get into the Christmas spirit?”

“Why did you let her in?” Hiccup addressed his father, deadpan.

“She came in before I could stop her,” Stoick said, but he was hiding his smile again. He looked over at their guest. “He’s freaking out because a certain Christmas-loving young lady is joining our celebration this year.”

“Ah, it’s an Astrid thing,” Cami said, grinning knowingly.

“Right!” Hiccup said, linking his arms through hers and forcefully pulling her out the door. “We’re leaving now! Bye, Dad!”

“Lovely to see you again, Cami!” they heard Stoick call with a twinkle in his voice, before Hiccup slammed the front door.

That morning, Hiccup had woken in a panic, realising that there was one very important thing that he’d forgotten.

What a horrible Christmas it would be to watch everyone unwrapping gift after gift, when there was nothing for you. He’d sent a quick text to Cami, Astrid’s cousin, and Hiccup’s official Astrid confidant, and she’d been more than happy to help. Far too eager, if you asked Hiccup, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

They hurried off into town, ready to find Astrid the perfect gift.

Last minute shopping was the worst.

The mall had been busy before, but now it was atrocious, hundreds and hundreds of people all packed in together, pushing and shoving so that they could get the last one of whatever they were trying to buy.

And that Mariah Carey song was playing again.

Hiccup and Cami had to link arms tight to keep track of each other, and they found themselves sighing with relief when they ducked into the first shop they came to, able to breathe away from the crowds.

“What are you looking for, then?” Cami said, as she strolled down an aisle, examining a loud, electronic singing snowman, with uncomfortable interest.

“Something personal,” Hiccup said. “Something thoughtful. Something that she’ll like, but also something that she wouldn’t have thought of.”

“Great, so, not asking for the world or anything.” She flicked a bobble-head Santa. “See anything you like?”

Hiccup wrinkled his nose. “Christmas-themed Christmas presents can only be used once a year. I want her to have something she can keep forever.”

Cami sighed loudly. “Why don’t you just give her a betrothal gift and officially invite her into the family?”

Hiccup scowled. “No,” he said. “That’s dumb.”

She laughed at the expression on his face. “I don’t know why you brought me here, you’re much better at me than gifts,” she said. “I just got Astrid chocolate. I got everybody chocolate.”

“You’re good company,” Hiccup admitted.

Cami beamed.

They looked through shop after shop, looking on shelf after shelf, but there was nothing that Hiccup deemed worthy of giving Astrid.

Cami’s cheerful demeanour dipped after a few hours, and she began to drag her feet, whining about how much her legs hurt.

“Can’t you just pick something?” she moaned. “We’ve been here for houuurs.”

Hiccup didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to feel fed up too. As much as he’d managed to get himself into the Christmas spirit for Astrid’s sake, he still didn’t love the holiday. That Mariah Carey song had been playing constantly, and the constant crowds were playing havoc on his anxiety. His introverted self was begging for a chance to get home and not be around people anymore.

It made him grumpy, a little bit miserable, and maybe a little too snarky.

“Excuse me,” he said to a bewildered shopping assistant. “What would you recommend getting for a girl you’ve been pining after from afar for years, that says ‘hey, I know we haven’t talked in a while, but, y’know what, I’m actually super in love with you’?”

Cami burst into laughter.

In the end, they came home empty handed.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Cami said, as she nursed her aching feet. “She’s not going to expect anything from you. Trust me, she’s already thrilled that you invited her at all, she isn’t going to expect gifts.”

Hiccup frowned. Truth or not, he still felt like a failure. He should have been able to find her something good.

Some perfect Christmas this was turning out to be.

Two Days Until Christmas

The eve of Christmas Eve brought Astrid Hofferson herself to the Haddock front door.

“Astrid!” Stoick said. “What can I do for you this morning?”

Her arms were kept firmly behind her back. “Morning, Mr. Haddock,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Is Hiccup in?”

“Hiccup!” he called up the stairs. “Young lady here for you!”

“Aaaaastrid,” he said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe in a way that wasn’t quite casual. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer,” she said, her eyes tracking Hiccup’s father as he made himself scarce. Then she produced a roll of toilet paper from behind her back, and revealed a bag full of them.

Hiccup grinned.

He joined her out in the cold, bundled up in a coat and hat to match hers.

Astrid waited for him out on the doorstep, hunched over for warmth, her mouth hidden by a scarf. Her nose was bright red, poking through the gap in the wool.

She was impossibly cute.

“Not that I’m gonna stop you or anything,” Hiccup said, as they walked through the suburbs, frost on the ground crunching underfoot. He’d taken the bag of loo roll from her, and was cradling it in his arms. “But what brought this on?”

“I went to see Dad.”

“Ah.”

“I got all angry, you see,” she said, her jaw set on edge. “I started thinking about how unfair it was that he’s done this to us, and how it wasn’t fair that he doesn’t even seem to want to see me anymore, and I was so worked up that I went to his house.”

Hiccup winced. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, no, indeed,” Astrid said, and smiled without any mirth. “His new wife opened it. She gave me such a blank look, and then called her kids in, like I was looking for trouble. I told her that I was his husband’s daughter, and she damn near slammed the door on my face.”

His mouth dropped open. “She didn’t know who you were?”

“Not a clue. Then Dad came out and started spinning a story about how I was a neighbourhood kid playing a prank, and then he grabbed me by the elbow, dragged me out into the garden and told me that he didn’t want to see me and that if he saw me here again, he’d call the police,” she said bitterly, clutching her arm. “Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

Hiccup felt a surge of anger hot in his chest. “What an asshole,” he said.

“Too right,” Astrid said. “The worst thing is that I still want him to come home and say that he made a mistake, even after everything he’s done. At least, I want him to do it so that I can slam the door in his face.”

“Well, my lady,” Hiccup said, brandishing the bag of bog roll on high, “I can’t promise you that, but I can promise you that their front lawn will be white as snow by noon.”

Astrid grinned.

When they got to Astrid’s father’s new home, they wasted no time pulling the toilet roll out and letting it unfurl across the lawn.

“Make it raaaain!” Astrid cawed, as she pelted through the grass, white tails trailing behind her.

Hiccup busied himself with draping toilet paper over a Santa statue that was taking up space next to the pathway. It really was an ugly Santa statue, its knobbly face glaring up at Hiccup underneath toilet paper hair.

“They should thank us,” Hiccup remarked as he admired his handiwork. “It’s like discount snow.”

Soon, the front garden was a veritable sea of toilet paper. It hung from the tree, it was tangled in the hedge, and Astrid had even managed to get some on the roof of the house.

Just as they were about to leave, a car pulled into the driveway. Astrid’s father’s new wife was red and spitting behind the wheel.

“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” she spat.

“Ma’am,” Hiccup said, stepping forward. “It’s my unfortunate duty to let you know that your husband is an asshole. Merry Christmas!”

Then he took Astrid’s hand and ran.

They were still giggling when they made it back to Hiccup’s room, lying on his floorboards and clutching their stomachs.

“That added years onto my life,” Astrid said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Years.”

“I still can’t get over her face,” Hiccup said. “And did you see her kids?”

At the very last moment before they’d run away, her children had jumped out of the car and danced in the loo roll, jumping up and down and throwing it in the air, giggling madly. They’d heard her screaming at them to stop even while they’d been running away.

“This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said, with a grin, and then she turned to look at Hiccup, giggles stopping for a moment as her eyes scanned his face. “I’ve missed you.”

Hiccup felt his cheeks go hot. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I miss when we were kids, everything was simpler back before high school got in the way,” she said.

“It still could be,” Hiccup said, and realised he’d been staring at her. “Simple, I mean. It could still be simple.”

“We were as close as anything once,” she said. “You gave me a charm bracelet once and said that it was a sign that we were going to be best friends for life. I don’t know what happened.”

“Life just got in the way,” Hiccup said.

“I wish it hadn’t,” she whispered.

Then she glanced at the clock on the wall and shot up. Hiccup blinked in surprise.

“Sorry!” she said. “I promised Mum I’d be home before four.”

Hiccup pulled himself up off the floor. “Let me walk you out.”

He took her down to the front hallway and watched as she put her coat and scarf on.

Before she left, she put a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. “Thanks,” she said. “For everything.”

“It was nothing.”

When she was halfway down the driveway, he had an idea.

“Hey, Astrid?” he called, standing on the doorway.

She turned back.

“Do you still have that bracelet you were talking about?”

Her forehead creased up. “No,” she said. “I think I lost it.”

Christmas Eve

Stoick awoke on Christmas Eve to his son stressing over place names.

Every year Hiccup made little card place names to put on the dinner table, so people would know where to sit. He’d been writing the name and drawing a little picture next to it, and hadn’t noticed that he’d absentmindedly doodled hearts all around Astrid’s name.

He screwed it up and started again.

Stoick kneeled down beside his son and put a hand on his shoulder. “You know there’s only so much more that you can do.”

“I just really want it to be perfect.”

“You really care about her, don’t you?” his father said, softly.

“I do.”

Christmas Day

After all the fuss and panic that had characterised the past week, Christmas Day dawned surprisingly calm. Hiccup woke to find his stocking at the end of his bed filled with goods, and he spent an hour that morning in his pyjamas, shelling out silly gifts from their paper home.

When the clock struck a reasonable time, Hiccup padded downstairs, to find his father already awake and wrestling with a raw turkey.

“Need any help?”

“I’ve got this covered, son, don’t you worry,” he said. “Why don’t you put some nibbles out and set the table?”

There was a routine to Christmas that Hiccup had always liked, even if in recent years the holiday had fallen out of favour. Nibbles, Christmas lunch, presents, and then games. That was how Christmas went, and that was how Hiccup liked it.

It wasn’t until the doorbell rang that Hiccup started to panic again.

The Hoffersons were the first to arrive, and Astrid greeted Hiccup with a hug that made his chest pound.

Since their little excursion to her father’s house and their subsequent talk in Hiccup’s room, he’d found himself even further gone for her than he could have imagined. It was a struggle not to get flustered with her this close, especially with her looking as good as she did.

She was wearing an oversized Christmas sweater, sleeves covering her hands, and her hair was down, and she looked so positively cute that Hiccup wanted to kiss her right then and there.

“Merry Christmas, Hiccup,” she said, with a smile so bright that it lit up the room.

Gradually, more and more of Hiccup’s family flooded into the house and filled up their home with noise and laughter. Snotlout arrived and greeted Astrid with a nod and not-so-subtle nudge of his elbow into Hiccup’s side. Hiccup scowled at him.

Astrid wasn’t a stranger to a lot of his relatives. Astrid had been a constant in Hiccup’s childhood, and as they’d grown apart, he’d endured dozens of questions about her absence. Everyone was delighted to see her again, and Hiccup was struck by the notion that Astrid fit in extremely well with his family.

Then he pushed that thought aside, and ordered everyone into the dining room for dinner.

Christmas dinner in the Haddock household was an experience like no other.

The room was crowded, dozens of chairs squeezed into a small space, around a table that was groaning with the spread of food.

They ate, and ate, and ate until their stomachs were bursting and their plates were picked clean. They pulled crackers, told jokes, played with the silly little toys inside them. Everyone was in a wonderful mood. Astrid’s smile was brighter than Hiccup had ever seen it, a purple paper cracker crown on her head, making her look like a princess.

Okay, Hiccup told himself. Enough of the princess talk.

But she did look pretty.

They had just flopped back down into the living room, full to bursting and utterly content, when they heard the shouting outside.

It was distant at first, but then it got louder and louder, until it was right outside the front door.

Astrid and Hiccup both realised at the same time that it was Astrid’s mother and another male voice. They both shot a look at each other.

Bertha Hofferson, who had just nipped back over to her house to get something, had found the last person she expected waiting on her doorstep.

She burst into the living room. “Astrid, I’m sorry,” she said. “I tried to keep him out, I tried, but he wouldn’t—”

“YOU!”

Astrid rose out of her seat, dread pooling in her stomach as her father stormed into the room, pointing his finger at her. Hiccup had risen too, standing shoulder to shoulder with Astrid.

“David, stop!” Bertha screamed, attempting to pull Astrid’s father out of the room. “Not here. Not now!”

The whole room had gone silent, everyone staring stunned at the scene in front of them. Hiccup took hold of Astrid’s hand.

“What are you doing here?” Astrid said, her voice stony.

That seemed to enrage him. “Do you realise what you’ve done?” her father screamed, spraying spittle everywhere.

“No,” she said, calmly. “What have I done?”

“After your little stunt,” he spat, “my wife wanted to know who you were. She found out that I was married while we were dating and now she’s leaving me. On Christmas. You’ve ruined everything.”

There was a ripple of disgusted noises through the room.

Stoick stepped in, staring down at the man with dark, dangerous eyes. “I think you better leave.”

“No,” he snapped. “Not until I’ve talked to my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Astrid said, incredulously. “Your daughter?!”

She slipped her hand out of Hiccup’s and took a step towards her father. “I stopped being your daughter the day you walked out on me and Mum for another woman. I stopped being your daughter when you decided to pretend I didn’t exist. Make all the accusations that you want, throw any insults you like, but if anyone has ruined Christmas for you, it’s you. I won’t let you ruin it for me.”

There was a long, stagnant pause, and then he lunged at her. Hiccup jumped in front of Astrid, and he wasn’t the only one. Half the adults in the room had jumped out of their seats, either to get in front of Astrid or to pull her father back.

Stoick was the closest, and the strongest. He slammed two meaty hands onto her father’s shoulders.

“Leave now,” he said, stern.

“But—”

“Get out of my house,” Stoick said. Every word was venom.

He looked as if he was going to argue, but Stoick stood firmly, arms crossed. Astrid’s father scurried away, the front door slamming behind him.

Astrid immediately got up and left the room.

Hiccup hurried after her, and found her sitting on the bottom of the stairs, staring at her feet. Her eyes flickered up when she heard him come in.

“Hiccup, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for him to spoil your party.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, sinking down onto the step next to her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m mad as hell, but I’m fine.”

“He’s an asshole,” Hiccup said.

Astrid scoffed. “Understatement.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hiccup said quietly, his fingers brushing against hers.

She looped her fingers through his, so they were holding hands. Hiccup cursed his heart for speeding up so much.

“I’m fine. I’m just sad that he had to come ruin the fun. You put so much effort into all of this,” she said.

Hiccup scratched the back of his head. “I wanted it to be perfect,” he mumbled, and then as an afterthought, he added, “for you.”

Astrid blinked. “For me?”

“Y’know, you always used to talk about how much you loved Christmas,” he said, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. “And I couldn’t bear to see you so upset about your father, and not having Christmas last year, so I, uh, did all of this.”

“All of this was for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Actually, there’s one thing I’ve forgotten. Hang on a sec.”

Hiccup left a bewildered Astrid on the stairs as he disappeared into the living room. He reappeared a few moments later with a silver covered gift.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to her. “Happy Christmas.”

“This is for me?”

“Yeah.”

Astrid’s brow furrowed. “But I didn’t get you anything!”

“That’s okay,” Hiccup said, with a soft smile. “I wasn’t expecting anything back. Go on, open it.”

She did, opening the present with care so that none of the paper ripped. Inside was a small velvet box. Astrid opened it, carefully.

Inside was a shiny, silver charm bracelet, with two charms already attached, one a small cat, the other, a heart. Astrid stared at it, her mouth dropping open.

“The cat’s me,” Hiccup explained. “The heart’s you. I thought it could be about new beginnings. Start a new bracelet, with new charms to remind you of happier things, instead of thinking about the bad stuff from before.”

Astrid still hadn’t said anything.

“Uh, if you don’t like it, that’s fine, I can—”

“Hiccup,” she said, and he stopped talking. “I was wrong before.”

“You were?”

“This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Hiccup flushed, a dorky smile spreading across his face. “It was nothing. I just wanted to see you happy.”

“God, Hiccup, how are you so perfect?” she said.

Hiccup ducked his head, staring at the floor. His smile was so big, his cheeks were aching. There was a long pause, while the two of them stared at their feet, both unable to stop themselves from grinning. Astrid slipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

“But, it’s not the real question,” she said, casually.

Hiccup blinked at her confused. “What’s the real question?”

“Did you notice?”

“Notice what?”

Her eyes flickered upwards, the corners of her mouth twisting. His eyes followed hers.

“Mistletoe.”

Damn his father.

Before he could register what was happening, Astrid had pulled him close, eyes sliding shut as their lips brushed together, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek. Their foreheads brushed, and Hiccup ran his fingers through her hair. When they came up for air, both of them looked at each other in the eye and giggled.

“Well,” Hiccup said. “I think Christmas might be my new favourite holiday.”

Astrid laughed, and then kissed him again.

And again.

Fin.

#hiccstrid #httyd #how to train your dragon #rtte #race to the edge #no i didn't send most of christmas eve writing a silly fic #why would you think that #happy christmassss

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hymn2000 · 6 years

Text

Called To Be A Rock - Frostiron feat. Spiderson AU fanfic - C2

Chapter 1

Comments/reviews/questions welcome as always

Overall Desc.: Peter is staying with Tony and Loki one summer while his aunt is away working/travelling.

Chapter Desc.: Loki is getting used to having Peter around and is becoming more friendly towards him. However, bad decisions and clumsy communication leads to a bit of an incident

Ship(s) involved: Tony x Loki aka Frostiron

Verse: Personal AU

Ongoing Warnings/themes/cw mentions: violence, mild e.d., medical, illness

Chapter 2/? - In His Anger And His Shame

When Tony and Peter returned home in the evening, both feeling worn out after their long day, the house was dark. Tony switched the lights on and went to seek out his partner, who was found, as expected, in his window seat. He had his nose buried in another book and had his music playing through the speakers beside the dolphin bowl.

“Evening” Tony said, sitting down beside him. “Good book?”

“Not especially” Loki replied, setting it down. “Good day?”

“Long day. It’s been a bit full on” he nodded towards Peter. “We’re going to order a Chinese. What do you fancy? Just the usual?”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry” As he said it, his stomach growled for everyone to hear. His cheeks flushed pink despite himself.

“Liar” Tony laughed at him. “C’mon, aren’t you ready for something to eat yet?”

Loki shook his head. “I don’t want anything”

He picked his book back up. Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter. “Alright, well, if you’re sure”

“You should order it anyway” Peter said, once they'd left Loki and were sat in the kitchen. “What does he usually have?”

“What does it matter? There’s no point buying something that’ll go to waste” Tony said, putting the takeaway menu down.

“It won’t go to waste. I’ll make him eat” Peter said determinedly. “I got him to have that hot chocolate, didn’t I?”

“I think that’s a different ball game” Tony mumbled, raising an eyebrow. “Fine, we’ll order for him too, but I think it’ll be a waste”

“I’ll make him have it, I swear”

Tony sighed. “If you manage to get him to eat, I’ll give you fifty dollars” he placed the wager, knowing his money would be safe.

Peter nodded. “Fine. Get your wallet ready”

Once the takeaway arrived, Peter took his and Loki’s order to the room with the reading nook while Tony stayed in the lounge with his laptop.

Loki was a little irritated when the door opened, and irritated more still when Peter climbed onto the window seat with him. The teen pulled open the takeaway containers, pushing a couple with a set of cutlery towards Loki.

“Here. Chicken fried rice and chow mein. Tony said that’s what you usually have”

“I said I didn’t want anything” Loki snapped. “You’re an interfering little wretch, did you know?”

“Well you’ve got it anyway, so eat it” Peter said, ignoring his scathing remark and sitting back with his own food. He gestured towards the speaker with his fork. “What are you listening to?”

“Well, maybe if you’d shut up you’d find out” he grumbled.

Peter sighed, returning to his meal for a while. Before too long, Loki’s stomach growled again, causing him to suck his breath with the pain of it. Peter moved his stuff aside and grabbed Loki’s fork and chow mein.

“I swear to God, I will feed you like a baby if you’re gonna keep being silly” he said.

“You most certainly will not!” Loki scoffed.

“Well, I’m gonna have to if you won’t do it yourself” he knelt up properly, raising the fork.

Loki grabbed his wrist quickly, and then grabbed him under the chin.

“You” he growled. “Are a pest”

He let him go and snatched the fork and container from him. He started to eat with the main intention of shutting the boy up. Peter sat back triumphantly. He’d just won himself $50.

Peter took the empty containers out to the kitchen and then went off to find Tony. When he found him, he gave him a poke.

“Right, pay up. I’ve won the bet” he said, proudly.

“You’re joking” Tony said in disbelief, looking up from his work. “How the hell..?”

Peter grinned at him. “I said I would”

Tony reached for his wallet and somewhat reluctantly handed over the promised fifty.

“You’re something else entirely”

He meant it as a compliment, and Peter took it as such.

The next day, Peter bumped into Loki in the kitchen getting himself a drink.

“Hello, you” Loki said. He was in a much better mood today. “I thought you were going out”

“Yeah, we decided against it today. Mr Stark has got a lot to do, yknow, emails and stuff”

“He never stops, that man”

“Mr Loki, sir? Can I have a look at your dagger”

Loki was a little surprised: the request seemed to be a little random. But even so, he took out his dagger and handed it over. “Don’t cut yourself”

“Woah. I didn’t realise how big it was. It’s pretty cool” he turned it over in his hand, looking carefully at all the different markings. “This is so cool”

Loki passed by him to put the juice bottle back in the fridge. He heard something out in the corridor and went to investigate. Finding it to be clear, he returned to the kitchen, deciding his mind was playing tricks on him. His presence went undetected. He went up behind the boy, who was still busy looking at the knife.

“So-”

Peter jumped violently and spun round quickly with a half-scream, arm jerking - and the dagger plunged deep into the left of Loki’s stomach.

They both stopped in shock, as if in freeze frame.

“Ok..” Loki seized the dagger, and in a moment of error, pulled it out. “Oh. I shouldn’t have done that-”

The dagger dropped to the ground with a clatter, and Loki very nearly followed it, but caught himself with the help of the breakfast bar before he could fall. With difficulty, he pulled himself up onto the stool by the counter, clutching himself. Peter broke out of his current state of shock.

“I-I-I’m so sorry Mr Loki! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean-” he gabbled, half screaming, looking around frantically. He grabbed a tea towel and pressed it against Loki’s stomach, trying to stem the bleed but shaking too much to do any good. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Mr Stark!! Mr Stark, help!”

“I thought we were starting to get along” Loki said. He placed both hands over Peter’s, pressing hard.

“I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Peter was now in tears, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “You made me jump, it just kind of happened!”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine” Loki said, but he was quite obviously not. He’d started shaking worse than Peter, and had turned deathly pale.

Peter started to really panic as he felt Loki’s grip on his hand weaken and noticed his pale waxy pallor.

“MR STARK!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “MR STARK! MR STARK, PLEASE!!”

The message carried, and within moments Tony burst into the kitchen. The first thing he saw was red - the bloodied dagger on the floor, the bloody hand prints on the breakfast bar, the blood soaking Loki’s shirt and shorts.

Loki.

For what felt like an eternity, Tony didn’t move as he tried to comprehend the scene that greeted him. When he came to his senses, he sprung into action.

“What have you done!?”

“I-it was an accident!” Peter cried.

Tony pushed him out of the way and quickly clamped his own hand down over the blood-soaked tea towel against the gushing wound. Peter stood back, trembling, looking at his bloody hands.

“What were you thinking?! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to play with knives? How could you be so stupid?!”

“T-Tony” Loki cut in. “It wasn’t his fault... I’m fine”

“No you’re not!” Tony shouted. “Why do you always say that at times when you’re so obviously not? I need to call Banner. I need to get him down here. You’re gonna be ok, you’re gonna be ok”

“Mr, Mr Stark, should I call 99-”

“Get out of here” Tony interrupted. “You’ve done more than enough”

“But Mr Stark, I-”

“I said get out! You stupid, reckless kid! You can’t help here. Get to your room: I’ll deal with you later”

Peter slammed into his room, falling back against the door once he’d closed it behind him. He slid to the floor, staring at his hands. What had he done? What had he done? He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and shout and cry. How could he have done something so horrible?

He struggled up, going to the sink and turning the taps on. He felt sick as the water turned red while he washed his hands. He scrubbed until the water ran clear again before turning the taps off. He looked round the room. Nothing felt real. He felt like he’d stumbled into a dream. It had all happened so quickly. Everything was playing over in his head: Loki’s face, the blood, the screaming (all of it his), and Mr Stark...

“You stupid, reckless kid!”

The words echoed in his head. He sunk onto the bed, head in his hands. Things were never supposed to turn out like this.

Peter woke with a start as the bedroom door opened. He sat up quickly, and the afternoons events came flooding back when he saw Tony’s face.

“Is he ok?” he asked desperately.

Tony nodded grimly. “He will be”

Peter let out a sigh of relief, but tensed again when Tony closed the door and came over to him.

“What were you thinking? You’ve done some reckless things in the past, but never anything like this. You shouldn’t have had the dagger in the first place. Why-”

“Mr Stark, it was an accident!” Peter cut in, fighting back tears. “He just made me jump, he made me jump and I spun round and I had the dagger and it just, it just happened! You can’t really think I did it on purpose!”

“I think you’re deliberately missing my point” Tony said severely.

All of a sudden he started really laying into him. Peter was shocked, having never seen him like this before. It soon became frightening and overwhelming, and he couldn’t help crying, burying his face in his hands.

After a while Tony grabbed him by the shoulders, making him put his hands down and look at him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact.

“I need to know that you’ve understood what I’ve said”

Peter nodded. “I understand, Mr Stark...”

Tony looked into the boys tear-stained face. He sighed and pulled him close. “You’re a good kid really, I know that... But you made such a dangerous mistake. I can’t ignore that”

Peter twitched a bit, and finally returned the hug. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. He felt so drained, emotionally and physically. But, the hot heavy feeling in his stomach was easing.

Later that evening, Peter’s door opened again.

“Loki?! Sh-should you be here?” he asked, shocked. “I-I mean, shouldn’t you be resting or something?”

Loki left the door ajar and leant against the chest of drawers. He was still very pale and a bit shaky.

“Tony won’t be happy when he finds I’m out of bed” his voice quavered. “Are you alright? I heard him shouting at you”

Peter swallowed. “What about you? Are you ok? I’m so sorry, you don’t even know”

“Well. I’ve been better. But I’ve been worse too” he smiled at him. “It was an accident: don’t worry about it so much”

Peter stood up shakily and approached him. He hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped his arms round Loki, careful to avoid touching where he’d been hurt. Loki was a little surprised.

“I’m still sorry”

A figure appeared in the doorway.

“Loki, you shouldn’t be up” Tony said gently, coming over to them. “You were stabbed, remember? You shouldn’t be pushing yourself”

“I’m fine”

“Come on, you need to rest” he carefully detached Peter from him. “That goes for you as well”

By morning, everything from the previous day finally took its toll on all three of them. Peter was exhausted by emotion and didn’t feel like doing much. Tony felt quite the same, and he stayed with Loki, who was feeling very sore and tired. It ended up being a lazy day, and the one that followed, followed the same pattern.

Three days after the dagger incident, things started to seem a bit more normal. Everyone was up and about, and Tony and Peter made themselves busy in the workshop all morning while Loki contented himself reading.

Around midday, Peter ventured back upstairs to find something to eat. He was soon distracted from his task by a loud thump down the hall. Upon investigation, he found Loki on his knees in the bathroom. He knelt by him and rubbed his back while he was dreadfully sick. His shirt was damp with sweat. It was a very raw and pained display, and for a moment it felt it would never end. But it did, and once it had, Loki pushed Peter’s hand away.

“Do you want me to get Mr Stark?”

“I don’t need your help” Loki snapped, hauling himself to his feet and pulling the chain. He held on to the sink to support himself. “Just leave me alone”

“I don’t know, Mr Loki, you seem awful sick”

“I said I don’t need your help” his grip tightened on the sink. He could feel himself shaking, could hear his pulse in his ears, and the pain in his stomach was getting worse.

“I’m gonna get Mr Stark”

“No you’re not! I don’t need-” he gasped, clutching his stomach. His legs gave out and he crashed to the floor, breathing in gasps.

“Mr Loki! Are you ok?!” Peter asked frantically, kneeling beside him.

Loki pushed him away.

“This is bad. I’m getting Mr Stark. Stay here”

Peter burst into the workshop, startling Tony.

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark, we need your help”

Tony looked up. “Why? What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything! But it’s Loki, he’s real sick”

“How sick?” Tony stood up, turning off the soldering iron.

“Really, really sick. He’s been really sick and he’s all sweaty and shaky and he can’t stand up properly”

Loki had managed to prop himself up against the bath. The room was spinning and he felt so cold and sick. He wasn’t happy when he received company.

“Oh sweetheart” Tony said sadly, seeing just how bad it was. He sat down beside him. “You poor thing. You’ve not had much luck recently, have you?”

Loki didn’t try to speak. He was trying not to be sick again. The room stopped spinning quite so much, and as Tony put an arm round him he started shaking violently.

“Alright lolly. I think you need to go back to bed”

Loki shook his head, pushed Tony away, and, using the edge of the bath as support, tried to pull himself to his feet. He nearly made it, but a pain like he was being stabbed all over again pierced his stomach. It was so sudden, and the shock of it knocked him back to the floor. With virtually no warning, he was sick again. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but it wasn’t enough. He was furious with himself for letting it happen.

Tony helped him to sit back against the bath and grabbed a flannel.

“Lets get you sorted” he said gently.

Loki continued to shake as Tony tended to him. “It’s so cold in here...”

Tony suddenly remembered Peter, who was stood in the doorway, biting his thumb. “Go and fetch the quilted blanket from his wardrobe, would you?”

Peter nodded and was back in a flash. Tony threw the flannel aside and took the blanket from Peter, wrapping Loki up in it.

“Right, lets get you up off this floor. We’ll get you settled on the sofa and then we’ll call Banner, ok?”

Loki agreed reluctantly, feeling too weak to argue. He had to lean heavily on Tony when they stood up, and even then it was a struggle, but they managed to get him to the sofa.

Loki lay down on his side, burying his face in the back of the sofa and pulling a cushion over his head. He felt truly horrible.

Banner had a bit of a journey so it was an hour before he arrived, armed with his medical bag. Loki had gone very quiet, shivering in the quilted blanket and shielding his face from the light. Tony was very relieved when Bruce finally arrived.

“I’ll do some obs but I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong already”

He took the pillow away from Loki, who whined and tried to grab it back, flinching in the sudden light. He didn’t take kindly to being disturbed. Banner pulled back on Loki's ear and inserted his tympanic thermometer. Loki squirmed and tried to move away, with little success. The beep put him on edge and while he was relieved when it was removed, he still tried to push the doctor away.

“You need to stop moving or it’ll only take longer” Banner said, pulling Loki into an upright position and taking his wrist. “I’m just gonna take your pulse, alright?”

Loki gave in, covering his face with his arm. The light was making his head hurt. Peter noticed this, turning and pulling the curtains across so the worst of the glare was blocked.

“He needs to see what he’s doing” Tony said, frowning at him.

“There’s enough light in here” Banner said, getting out his blood pressure monitor. “Obs aren’t great so far”

Loki winced as the cuff tightened on his arm, and tried to take it off. Tony grabbed his hand to stop him. “Leave it”

Tony kept hold of him until Banner had finished. He didn’t look too happy.

“Ok, I’m just gonna look at the wound”

He pushed Loki’s shirt off and carefully peeled back the dressing.

“Gross! is it supposed to look like that?” Peter said, looking in appalled fascination at the nasty looking cut, swollen and weeping.

“No, not a bit” Banner mumbled, prodding the wound with his gloved hands.

The pain of it made Loki start, and he hit out, catching Banner’s shoulder. It was a weak hit though, and didn’t make much of an impact.

Banner stood up, turning to Tony.

“He’s got a bad infection, but it's nothing too major - as in, it's not sepsis as I originally thought. He’ll need antibiotics though”

“Can you get hold of some?”

Banner nodded, opening his bag. “I grabbed some on the way over here. I knew it would be some kind of infection when you told me on the phone. It’s IV though, so I might need your help a bit to get started”

Tony sat down on the arm of the sofa, taking Loki’s hand in his. “Just need to stick a needle in your hand, alright? It’ll make you better”

"I don't want it" Loki mumbled, pulling the quilted blanket back round himself.

"Tough" Tony said, pulling the blanket aside and grabbing Loki's hand. "It'll only hurt for a minute"

He hugged him tight, letting him bury his face in his chest. Banner nodded in appreciation and sanitised the back of Loki's hand. He was quite glad that he was too weak to try to fight him off now. Tony watched closely as Banner readied the needle, and he squeezed Loki as hard as he could without hurting him. Loki didn't take it well. As the needle pierced his skin, Loki jumped and bucked, and Tony held him tighter still, shushing his gasps as the needle was secured in his hand.

Banner hooked up the drip and patted Loki awkwardly.

“Done. You’ll have to have a couple more bags after this but with it being IV, it’ll work a lot quicker than pills. Now, I need to clean and redress your wound”

Tony helped Loki lie back down and kept hugging him while Banner got to work. Peter edged closer to see what he was doing.

“Why’s it like that?”

“I can’t say” Banner replied. “It’s not always obvious why wounds get infected. It’s always a risk, no matter how careful you are and how many precautions you take. I think it’s partly a game of luck”

Loki tried to ignore them, clinging to Tony and trying hard to fight back tears. It was very difficult - he felt worse than he ever had before, he couldn’t control his shivering, and now his hand was throbbing and having the wound cleaned hurt so much more than he ever expected it to. It wasn’t long before he lost the fight and let out a muffled sob.

“Oh sweetheart” Tony gave him a squeeze. “I know, it’s not very nice at all”

Loki was very relieved when Banner had finished with him. He was feeling too weak to move and he was still shaking quite violently, the pain making it worse. He was still whimpering quietly. Tony wrapped the quilted blanket round him, and Loki pulled it up over his face.

“I’d keep an eye on him if I were you” Banner said, putting the last of his equipment back in his bag. “He’ll probably have a bad night but you should see some improvement in the morning. Let me know if you don’t - might mean a trip to hospital is in order”

Tony didn’t look happy.

“Shouldn’t he have gone to hospital in the first place?” Peter said. “I mean, why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

“I’m not taking him to any hospital” Tony said firmly. “We’ve got all the resources we need right here”

Peter wasn’t convinced, but he sensed it wouldn’t be right to argue with him.

Once again, Tony’s work required his attention, so he was stuck pacing the corridor on the phone. Peter took it upon himself to keep an eye on Loki, even though it wasn’t really too necessary, as the God had been asleep since Banner had left. The whole situation was making him feel very odd. He couldn’t help but feel responsible, and Loki was so pale and still that he almost seemed dead. It was quite unnerving.

He was a bit startled when Loki woke up. He’d grown still while he slept, but now that he was awake, he’d started trembling again. Peter rushed to his side.

“Are you alright? How do you feel? Are you getting better?” he gabbled.

Loki looked at him. Try as he might, he couldn’t speak. So he just looked at Peter, glanced to the side, and then looked back at him.

“Oh! You want me to get Mr Stark?”

Loki blinked at him, and Peter nodded. “Ok, just a sec”

Peter managed to pull Tony away from his work and bring him back to the living room.

“Hey you” he sat down on the edge of the sofa. “How are you doing?”

Loki still couldn’t muster up any words, so he just made a vague little noise. He just about managed to take Tony’s hand. Tony stroked his cheek gently.

“Poor old lolly. Alright then, let’s get you to your room, fella” he looked over at Peter. “Help with the drip and doors, ok? He’s not up to walking so I’ll have my hands full”

Loki soon fell asleep again once he was in his room. Tony sat with him for a bit, holding his hand and silently willing him to stop shaking, while Peter stood in the doorway biting his thumb. It was starting to become a habit.

“Mr Stark?” he approached the bed hesitantly.

“It’s not your fault” he looked up at the boy. “You don’t need to be here. You’re young: you should be enjoying yourself. Why don’t you go out for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like I should go” Peter said.

“Go. You’ve got that $50. Go and explore”

The house sounded dreadfully empty when Peter returned. He’d stayed out a lot longer than he’d intended. It was dark now - outside and inside. It was deadly silent. He walked along the corridors cautiously, feeling oddly like a criminal. On the way to his room he noticed a dim light under Loki’s door. Without knocking, he opened the door.

“It’s gone eleven o’ clock, you know” Tony said.

“I know. I was gonna come back earlier, but I got distracted”

Tony gestured for him to come over, so he did so, climbing carefully onto the bed. Tony was sat to the centre of the bed, with Loki lying at his side. He was still shaking.

“Is he asleep?”

“Only just. He’s not doing great. His fevers worse”

Peter looked at the both of them for a moment. “You’re really worried...”

“So are you. But maybe for different reasons”

Peter wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he remained quiet. He kept watching Loki, trying to work out what he was feeling. Loki soon woke up, blinking a bit. He looked up at Tony.

“You’ve only been out for about twenty minutes” Tony said gently, resting a hand on Loki’s head and gently rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb.

Loki looked quite visibly distressed, but also rather absent.

“Why can’t he sleep?”

“Have you ever had a really bad fever?” Tony asked. Peter shook his head. “It keeps you up. Everything hurts and you’re too cold and too hot at the same time. They’re not nice to have. Sometimes they make you hallucinate”

“What, really? Has it happened to you?”

Tony nodded. “Once. I didn’t realise that was what it was until afterwards. I just remember trying to count and add things up and forgetting all of the answers, and telling myself I needed to ask the manager how many people we needed to get into the meeting room. And then there was a bit where I was tossing and turning and getting aggravated because I couldn’t get all of the cash registers out of the bed”

Peter looked at him, not sure weather to laugh or not. Tony noticed this.

“I know, it’s pretty weird. It seemed to make perfect sense at the time. It was only afterwards, when I was better again, that I realised it was some sort of illusion”

Peter nodded. “Do you think Mr Loki is hallucinating?”

Tony looked at Loki, who was still awake but didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s fully comprehending what’s going on right now, at any rate”

The mobile on the bedside table started buzzing. Tony sighed.

“Who the hell’s ringing at this time?” he asked himself, climbing off the bed and grabbing the phone. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder as he left the room to take the call.

Peter watched him go. He looked back at Loki, who seemed to be looking at nothing with his tired eyes. He turned his head, and noticed a book on the bedside table, with Loki’s silver snake bookmark peeking out of the top of it. He picked the book up. It wasn’t something he’d ever heard of, but nevertheless he opened it to the bookmarked page. He was relieved to find it was the start of a new chapter. He moved the bookmark aside, cleared his throat, and began to read.

After a few sentences, Loki’s eyes moved to look at him. Peter glanced up, oddly pleased to find Loki seemed to finally be focusing on something. After a couple of pages, after he’d gotten used to the writing style, Peter started to get into the story properly himself - he was very nearly enjoying it.

Tony finally finished his phone call. He was ready to flop, but he stopped in the bedroom doorway, his presence going undetected. He was surprised by what he saw: Peter sat crossed-legged reading, and Loki curled up listening. His heart swelled with love for both of them. The atmosphere in the room had completely transformed. It felt so calm. They looked so comfortable together. Loki had even stopped shaking.

Tony waited for Peter to finish the chapter before making his presence known. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder.

“That’s enough for tonight. It’s late”

Peter nodded, replacing the bookmark and setting the book back on the bedside table. He pulled the blanket up over Loki.

“Goodnight, Mr Loki”

Tony walked with him to the door, suddenly stopping him when they reached the hallway. Peter was a bit surprised, and even more surprised when he was pulled into a hug. He was eager to return it - he felt they both needed it.

“You’re a good kid” he squeezed him tight and then stood back, clearing his throat. “Now go to bed”

#my writing #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #fanfic #frostiron

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