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[malicemismanager]

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[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Best Friend Pact- Part 1: Best Friends

Calum attempts to drink the sadness away one night at a party, but his friend, Neveah, doesn’t let him completely. And in their stalled journey off sobriety, they make a secret pact. Black!OC. 

CW: Over the course of this series, death and death related trauma is mentioned. Mentions of pregnancy and birth. 

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Calum is no stranger to the crowded house party. He's no stranger to a kitchen counter lined with liquor bottles or the red solo cups stacked on one side of the counter. He's no stranger to rattle of speakers thumping out tunes. He's no stranger to the random assortment of chips, finger sandwiches, and sweets laid out too. He's no stranger to the bodies pressed into each other as they dance. He's no stranger to the people spread out on the couch and into the backyard, no stranger to the people settled onto stairs.

Calum pours himself a drink. He'd normally go just for a beer. The week's been long though. Working in the studio has drained him. The final products all sound good. They're all worth it. He feels, however, like he's poured every ounce of himself into these songs and left him without a drop of anything left in his soul. The disaster of vodka and mixer is not going to help him. It'll shut down his brain and keep him from thinking about how lonely he feels. 

He's used to being alone. He's used to sleeping with a woman here and there. Lately, his chest has been aching. He wants to come home to a full house. Someone to tell about his day. Someone to cook for even if it's just a frozen pizza. He's always been a bit of a romantic. Romance has never been favorable to him. It's always cut him down with the same hand it helped him up. He knows it's not smart to give up, but he has. There's no romantic love for him out there.

"It's not a beer in his hands," Nevaeh muses, yelling over the music. The pair of been friends for what feels like forever. She takes the cup and sniffs it. "Oof, you could kill a horse with that."

"Tell the horse to get off my chest and I won't have to kill it," he mutters back, downing a fourth of the cup.

She takes his hand, tugging him off the counter. Calum won't talk. It's why he's opted for the alcohol. She won't force him. She won't even force him to dance. He might do it-- that's always a shot in the dark. No, she's just getting him in the crowd, away from his solace. They stand off the side of the dancing crowd. "Besides the horse on your chest, how's life?"

He shrugs, hiding in the alcohol in his cup, in the burning of his chest. It's strong but he's going to finish it. That's for damn sure. "Life is long," he muses.

She sighs and nods to the dance floor. "Maybe dance life away. If it's long, make it enjoyable."

Calum gives another shrug. He finishes the cup and steps closer to the sea of bodies. He's gotta do something besides drink and mope. One song turns into two. Two turns into three. But then the buzz of the first drink isn't strong enough anymore. He knows the smart thing to do is wait, give it a couple more minutes. He's just impatient right now. He just needs to feel nothing but the floating in his veins. "Need a refill?" he asks, nodding towards her cup. She shakes her head. "Okay, I do. I'll be right back."

She watches him, all the curls on the top of his head, and shoulders filling out his button up, sliding through the crowd back towards the kitchen. Calum grabs a beer this time, cracks the can up and downs about half of it in one go. He takes a breath before going in after the rest of it. He only gets about three-fourths of the can down before someone is pulling at him. He knows it's her. He can tell by the way she squeezes at his hand. He lets himself be dragged by her smaller frame. "Couldn't even let me get one more beer?" he smirks, settling onto the back porch with her.

"Spill your guts and I'll personally get you that second beer."

"I don't have any guts left to spill," he huffs. "That's the issue. I give everything away. Every goddamn thing and for what? What do I have to show for it? And romantic love is a fucking lie. A scam," he spits.

"Maybe that's because we're all believing in lies," she counters, the slight chill of the night shocking her. "Maybe love isn't an anvil that's dropped on your head and maybe it's not sunshine and rainbows. Maybe it's work, just like everything else in life."

"You might as well just say you don't believe either," he laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He makes sure to avoid the long black coils. Her skin, normally a medium brown is now helping her fade into the night. "Join the club."

She pushes his side a little, rocking with him when he falls to the right a little. "Fucking sue me for thinking love exist, somewhere out there. Just not for me because I'm bad at it."

"You're not bad at it. You're just too good for anyone."

"That's reassuring," she huffs. "Besides love not existing, is there anything else plaguing you?"

Calum goes quiet, staring up into the black night. Neveah's always been easy to talk to. Calum hates being a downer. He's already sat around and moped. Can he go back to drowning out the sorrow? He sips at his beer this time. "Second beer still on the table?"

"It's got your fucking name on it."

He sighs. She leans into him, a small gesture that she is right there for him, ready for whatever he has to say. "I'm so lonely. I'm not alone. I have people. But I don't have that one person you know? I told myself all I needed was music, my friends and my dog. But maybe that's not true. I want a family. I want kids, ya know. I just don't think I'm capable of it sometimes. Walls too high, hurt too many times and all that jazz."

"You're capable. You've just gotta trust again. It won't be easy."

"No one's got the patience for me, not that I fault them."

"That's what you think. But someone does. You're very sweet and caring."

"I'm polite," he counters, downing the rest of his can. "I was raised to be polite. It shouldn't be a shock."

"No, besides the random stranger," she huffs. "Besides the letting animals cross the road and besides helping the elderly person in the grocery store, besides that you care deeply for the people you put in your life. Whoever cracks that wall of yours is gonna have a great man on their hands. You just have to be willing to put in the work to change. You've gotta meet them halfway."

She's right; he doesn't want to admit that. Every time he meets them halfway he gets burned. How much longer can he be expected to stick his neck on in the fire? He squeezes the can, forgetting it's empty. His jaw flexes, she notes. "I'll go get you that second beer."

"It's not you. Just a long week," he says softly, not quite facing her. He can see her fishnets tucked into ankle-high boots and the end of her skirt in his peripheral vision. She stares down at him, half her body tucked into the warmth of the house, half exposed to the biting chill of the night.

"I know," she answers softly. Then with a wistful smile, Neveah reclines into the door molding. "Maybe you should create a pact with someone. Say by 27 if you and someone else aren't in a relationship, just have a kid together. It'd be like the romcoms."

Calum laughs, staring out into the backyard. "Could I ask you?"

"Mr. I-Don't-Believe-in-Love and then me, Ms. Who-Knows-If-Love-Exists-For-Me having a kid together. That's quite the sight, but sure, why not? What the fuck would I have to lose?" she laughs, sliding into the house. "Cracking a cold one with your girl comin' up," she hums, closing the door behind her.

When she returns, two cans tucked under her arm, she hands one to Calum and then opens one for herself. "Bet money your kid is going to look so much like you, it's going to be like you spit them out. Like you and Momma Joy. She will never be able to deny you," she says to Calum's hunched figure.

He exhales another soft laugh. "Love her. Miss her too."

"When's the last time you talked?"

"Couple weeks."

"Whenever you do talk to her, tell her I said hi."

"I will," he whispers between gulps. "But my kid will be cute. Gets it from his dad." 

She softly releases her laughter. Her sip is the only sound against the silent night. Her hands tremble a little from the chill. She hates seeing him like this, hunched over, a can in his hands dangling between his legs, head tucked to his chest. She knows he'll be reaching into his left pocket for the pack and lighter. And sure enough, the hand comes up to his jacket. But instead of sliding into the jacket, they grab the front. His arms wind back and out of the sleeves. He stands, pulling his right arm free finally and hands it over to her.

"I can hear your teeth chattering," he grins. She slips into the sleeves and pats the pockets.

Her hand slip inside and grab the small cardboard pack. Pulling the box out, she taps it twice, pulling a cigarette out and dangling it between her teeth. Neveah doesn't smoke. "Got a light?"

Calum shakes his head, a grin lighting up his face. Only her. Only she would do something like this. He reaches into the right pocket and pulls out the lighter, giving it a light shake between his fingers. "Looks like you had one all along."

"Oh, would you look at that," she mumbles around the butt of the cigarette. Calum pulls on it, removing it from her lips and wraps his around the same spot hers once were.

He stands to her left, away from the door, leaning against the railing. He covers the end of the cigarette, watching the paper burn as the flames lick it. "You're killing yourself, you know," she mutters, watching the nicotine and paper burn, curling up and falling into ashes at their feet.

"I'm killing the horse," he retorts. "Remember, he's the one sitting on my chest."

"Well, just don't kill yourself in the process."

"No plans to, but I can't make any promises."

__

It's album, tour, album, tour. But finally, finally, there's a break. It's only a year at first. Then they realize, again, like most major shifts, more time is required. One year turns into almost two. Making an album in L.A. turns into taking some time off at home in Sydney. His mother smiles as he slides the plate over to her. "Cooking for me yet again?" she jokes.

"Gotta treat you right," he grins, then turns back to the stove. Joy watches her boy. He seems alright, but she knows he can hold too much onto his soul before it cracks.

"How about treating yourself right?" she probes with a hum. He's getting older, nearing 29, almost thirty, but makes no mention of a partner. She knows the pain, the betrayal. She just prays he doesn't stop him, doesn't hold him back.

"I'm alright, Mum."

She nods, humming again. "Just alright?"

"I'm okay. I'm good. I'm–alive, at the very least."

"Alive is good," she answers, grabbing a forkful of the salad in her bowl. "Alive is a start."

Calum's been thinking a long time about how to tell them. He stares at the pristine backsplash of his childhood home, trying to think of the right words. He knows the backsplash all too well. She finally got most of the grease stains out, he notes. He remembers when he was barely tall enough to see into the oven, the moment when he could see the top of the stove. He remembers running after Mali, hearing her laughter when he finally manages to catch up with her. He wants that. He wants something other than the sound of Duke's paw on hardwood floors.

"I want a kid," he says, turning around, facing his mother and father. Joy's grip on the fork slackens. His father clears his throat.

"What was that?' David asks, in his thick accent. Calum remembers how hearing that sometimes as a kid would scare him. It's not a disciplining tone to his voice now; it's shock, confusion, the lilt of 'did I hear that right?' laced in his voice.

"I said I want a kid."

"Like adopt a kid?" Joy tries. That's going to be hard for him. He'd be a single father, constantly traveling, long hours away from home at the studio.

Calum shakes his head. "No, like try with someone."

"Who?" both his parents ask. He's never mentioned anyone to them. "With a donor?"

Calum shrugs. "Of sorts. It may not work out. It's just a thought. Just one option. If it doesn't work, then I try the 'old fashion' way and whatever avenues I can go down. But I-It's just-"

"You need to try. Need something or someone else," Joy finishes, her grip tightening back again around the utensil. "I understand." 

David looks at her, eyes trying to read what exchange is happening between mother and son. They speak in a language he sometimes does not understand, not Māori, he's used to that. It's silent. It's something in their gut shared between them in nods and glances. He's never been able to decipher it. He may never be meant to understand it.

When Calum returns to L.A. after picking up Duke, he makes a pit stop. It's about noon, he knows where Neveah will be. He strides into the coffee shop. And sure enough there she is, standing about four from the counter, hair tucked up into a pineapple, the curls gelled a little in the back. He waits off to the side until she's next. He slides in next to her, sliding a ten across the counter to the man.

"Add a venti black iced coffee to that receipt too. Extra strong."

The boy nods. "Not a problem." He turns around, grabbing cups and wrapping their orders around them, scribbling her name on both cups.

"Back in town, huh?" she laughs, smiling up at him.

"It would appear so," Cal smiles. "Mum says hi and she hopes you're taking care of yourself."

Waving a hand over herself, she grins. "I think I'm holding up just well." When her name is called, Calum grabs both cups and she takes Duke's leash. They settle outside. Duke climbing into Calum's lap, sniffing at the straw.

Calum spins the cup a little, barely a sip into the drink. How does he bring up that pact? It was years ago. They weren't necessarily drunk but they definitely weren't on the path to sobriety. "Can I ask you something?" he starts, finally.

"I knew something was on your mind."

"Do you remember six years ago?" He takes a breathe, playing at the lid. Is she even going to remember? He keeps talking. "It was at one of Ashton's parties, we were making the fourth album. I told you I wanted kids. But I was on that whole love sucks kick and you joked about the romcoms that have that pact thing where neither one of them–"

"I remember," she interrupts softly. "I told said that you could ask me. Because we would make quite the pair." Her laughter falls out in tufts, soft and breathy, exhaling from her nose mostly. "What about it?"

Calum blinks. There's no beating around the bush, no softening this question. He flicks his gaze to her, she's looking at him patiently, lips wrapped around her black straw. "Would you consider having a kid with me?"

She blinks, jolting just a little. "Oh, oh, fuck. Seriously?" 

Calum nods, swallowing the thickness forming in his throat. She's going to say no, he can feel it. She's taking too long to answer.  He blabbers on, "If you don't want to, I totally understand. A baby's a huge responsibility, but I–I'm at a point where the band's finally slowing down and I know I want a family. No, it's not the traditional route. Maybe it's the route for me, ya know. If you're not comfortable, I'll figure something else out."

Her fingers wrap around his. Calum finally looks back to her, after staring down at the cup and his dog. "You'd still need me then, idiot. You'd call me late at night, and lord knows, I would move in to be there for your baby. Even if you went a different way, that baby needs a motherly figure."

"So?" he asks, pausing, unsure of what she's implying. Certain she wouldn't go for this. It's crazy, right? Insane. Asinine. Here he is, asking one of his best friends to have his baby. Certainly, she'd turn the suggestion down. He knows she'll always be there, but for this? Offering more than just her body, her time, her life for him, for his desire to have something else to love.

"I'll do it."

"You'll what? Are you sure?"

"I'll have your baby, Calum." Her grin is soft. "I'm clearly not getting any younger. My love life is down the fucking drain. You'd make a great father. And this means I get to sucker you into being into my life for at least another 18 plus years," she smiles.

Calum finds his glee bubbling in his chest. He tightens his hold around her fingers. "Something tells me even without you agreeing to this, you'd be in my life for a really long time. But thank you. So much."

"Well," she laughs, "let's make this day count because after this bye bye coffee and deli meats."

Hearing her say that makes it twice as real. Calum exhales hard, bringing the straw to his lips. They sit hand in hand for a moment or two longer before she pulls her hand away. Sure, it's crazy to agree to have your best friend's baby, but it's not like everything in her life has been perfectly sane or easy. It's not like she hasn't been thinking about a kid. Though, in addition to her own desires, she had witnessed what the loneliness does to him, sees how sometimes he becomes a shell of his former self. A kid won't fix everything wrong in his life, but he's talked about having a kid lot lately. Always points to a seat, or stroller, and gushes at how cute the baby inside is. She has to ask. Just to make sure. "Cal, you know a kid isn't going to miraculously change your life, make it all better, right?"

"I'm not looking for a kid to fix everything. I know I can still be reserved. I know a kid won't make me an open book. I know I'm going to be traveling eventually. I know my life isn't ideal. But I want a family. I want the chance to give something back. I need this for me. I've already gotten serious about quitting smoking. I know it's not a lot, but I'm trying. The guest room would be the perfect bedroom for a baby. I'm thinking yellow, maybe a soft orange. That way it's not too girlie or too boyish. I have some money set aside too to help with doctors appointments. Getting pregnant is the hardest part, or so I've read. Miscarriages are a lot more common than I ever realized. There's a great OB/GYN facility about ten minutes from my house. I went in before leaving for home. They gave me some pamphlets to read."

"Someone's done their homework. So, tell me, what's next?"

"Well, I guess step one is to make sure we're both good to go. We go get some tests and see if we get the green light from there." Calum scratches at Duke's head, watching her nod and stare out over the foot traffic. "And then," the thought catches in his throat. Do they have sex? Do they go to a doctor's office?

Her laughter is loud and sudden. "Is the Calum Hood bashful about sex?"

"Well, ya know, it's a way. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it. There are other ways I'm sure."

With a shrug to her shoulders, she reclines into her seat. "I know a fertility clinic, was a secretary there for a couple of months. Let's start there, make sure none of us are experiencing any issues. Though," she shrugs again, lips curling into a grin, "I'm not opposed to a more natural approach."

The heat rises quickly to his cheeks, but he leans forward, careful of Duke's body pressed close to him. "What are you saying, huh? Fantasized about me?"

The air fills with her bark of a laugh. "Once, maybe twice. After you bulked up, I'll admit to a scan here and there. You weren't the lean kid I had met in that Starbucks."

Calum rests against the cool metal of his seat. It's been a long ass time. He's nearly her for nearly a decade. It somehow feels so much shorter than that, but somehow longer too. "It's really been a decade, hasn't it?"

"Over a decade actually. I visited London about twelve years ago." She was there for a summer program before going to university and hadn't even noticed Calum. Until they collided. Thankfully, the whipped cream to her drink was the only casualty, though her jacket and his suffered wounds. The whipped cream was easy to remove and didn't stain. But there he was, voice still a little high, but somehow still low and hushed, wristband peeking out beneath his sleeves, big brown eyes terrified. He apologized profusely, the accent sitting on her brain and making her more curious as to why he sounded so Australian. She thought he was cute but never in her league.

But he had surprised her. He asked if she was free that weekend to hang out and make up another way for getting whipped cream on her jacket. They hung out at the mall, mostly near the food court, talking. He said he was in a band, was actually working on some new music. She was talked about school; Calum admitted school wasn't his thing. Though, she consistently told him he was incredibly intelligent and school wasn't for everyone. They hung out occasionally since he was becoming busier in the studio and talked mostly through messenger. The summer ended, she went back to the states. That hasn't stopped their friendship. He moved to LA for music; she was in Arizona for school. He made a trip to see her, the first time he had seen her in person in years. It was like nothing happened like they hadn't spent years of their friendship behind computer screens.

About a year after she finished graduate school, she made the move to LA, or more like back home. Her mother was having some health issues. Her dad needed some extra hands at home. Her younger brother was still at school; so she went back home. Things with her mom improved. Neveah moved into her own place with a roommate, worked some part-time gigs until she found herself now a program coordinator at the small museum in town. Their friendship had always been easy, never awkward, or sexually charged. But it didn't mean they didn't talk about it. Calum sometimes found it easier to talk to her than any of the boys, including Ashton.

Calum's not afraid to admit that over the course of their friendship, he had considered making a move on her, once at the start. But he could never truly bring himself to do it. Her friendship was much more valuable than whatever lonely horny vortex he might've fallen into. But now, somehow, the smirk on her lips felt right. It's clearly flirty, but it didn't feel like it was overstepping. "Twelve long years, I'm not gonna lie. I thought early on, especially after the band got big, you'd try something with me," she muses.

"I wanted to but never did. I valued you more as a friend."

"Such a gentleman."

"Did you ever wish I had?"

Her lips screw up and to the right. "Not really. Would've probably made things awkward."

"But not now? When I'm asking you to have my kid?"

"No, I'm near 30. I want a kid too, but everyone in this plastic town doesn't seem viable. Using a random donor scares me. I'm not aging in reverse. I know you. It's not ideal. This is doing things like all out of order. But I want to help my best friend out. When the opportunity presents itself, you take it. Even if it seems crazy."

Calum raises his cup of coffee; she mimics the action. "To crazy opportunities when they present themselves."

"To crazy opportunities when they present themselves," she echoes and gently taps her cup against his.

__

Calum's sure he's going to drown in pamphlets. There's almost too much to know, makes him feel like he's in school again. He knows he must know it. The good news is that both of them don't have any issues. Now it's a question of how. That sends both of them back down the vortex of more pamphlets, artificial insemination was one that kept coming back home. Not that he was against having sex with her. They had tried it once. It ultimately failed when she made one too many smart comments.

It's hard to get into the mood when the person you're trying to seduce keeps laughing, reminding you of all the embarrassing shit you did when you were a kid, asking if this is how you seduce all your other partners. The moment that sentence left her lips, Calum knew them having sex to get her pregnant would be a far-fetched option. He laughed, resting his forehead onto her collarbone. "I swear to God, if you don't shut up, my dick will never get hard."

"Ya know as much as I should be upset by that sentence, I find myself only amused."

"You're...Jesus, woman. We can't have sex if you want to bring up all the shit awkward seventeen-year-old me did. Like you weren't exactly all put together yourself. You managed to dump an entire bowl of cereal on yourself while sitting."

Neveah slapped his bare back lightly. "I was laughing too hard and tipped the bowl a little too far."

"Yeah, sure, blame it on laughing." That night ended with a marathon of the Great British Bake-Off since it was his turn to control the Netflix. That night also landed them here, attempting to artificially inseminate at home. The process is no less awkward, a huge game of jacking off for Calum pretending like his best friend isn't just a few rooms away. Then it's a long process for her as well, but they make it work. They talk about it, make jokes, her favorite line is, "Huh, sounded like quite the adventure for you."

To which Calum always laughs a little with a shake of his head, responding with, "Your number's up next. Get ready."

Calum's not even intending to hear the statement that filters out through the door on his walks back inside from the backyard. Duke had been itching to get out and Calum always tries to give her as much space as possible. When on his way to refill his glass of lemonade, he catches her voice from behind the door.

"Fingering myself is easier than this, and that's some work," Neveah mutters to herself. Calum freezes outside the door, trying desperately to hold back his laughter. But a snicker or two falls past his lips. "Shut up! I'm doing this for you!" she shouts from behind the closed door.

Calum rests his head against the closed door, shoulders shaking with laughter. This is her second attempt for at-home insemination. Calum's offered to pay to do this at a doctor's office, even their doctor from the fertility clinic said that it would be a difficult process to do on oneself. They went on to explain that there was a risk for infection and that doing it at their office would be the safest way. But Cal could see the way her smile only turned up her lips to a polite degree and knew immediately she was going to disregard that.

"I could help you know," he says between his breathes of his laughter. Her grumbles are intangible. "I don't speak mumble," he retorts.

"Fine, I need your help."

Calum opens the door to see her lying on her back, hips pushed up by a couple of towels, one draped over her lap. "Quite the sight."

"It's about to get a whole lot prettier because you're going to get acquainted with my vagina and cervix."

More laughter shakes his shoulders as he eases into the room, placing his empty glass on the bedside table. "Hmm, I love it when you talk medical to me." He sits next to her bent knees, gently resting a hand on her towel covered thigh. "Now, what do I need to do?"

Neveah explains the process, he has to make sure the syringe goes in as far as it can, to be careful. She shows him how to empty it and to leave it for about fifteen seconds before removing it slowly. "I just have trouble with the angle because I'm nervous."

"No need to be nervous. It takes a few tries as the doctor said." Calum washes his hands in the adjacent bathroom. "Want me to put on gloves?"

"At this point, I'd just like for this to work. But, nah, unless you're concerned." He grabs one, sliding it over his hand and takes the crazy shaped syringe from her. They don't have too much more time before they miss the hour window, but Calum takes a moment, putting a hand on her lower stomach, lowering his voice a little.

"I know this is crazy, but it's okay. Things will happen when they need to."

"You guys are almost done with this album, before long you'll be gone, touring. There will be a huge gap in time."

He nods. "There will be but right now we've got a shot and I'm going to be there the entire way."

"You kind of have to be," she laughs. "I need you in order to have your kid."

"Details, details, details," he grins, moving his hand to her hand, giving it a squeeze. She gives a short-lived smile, before inhaling deeply. Music, Calum finally notices, plays faintly in the background. It's her instrumental playlist, soft sounds of piano hitting the air. He lifts the towel just a tiny bit to see. Normally this is a view that turns out differently. This is a view starts with an NDA and ends with him naked and breathless. Right now, it feels different. It's intimate as he gets her to relax. However, instead of a hunger to feed his own desire, he is filled with a surge of uncertainty. He feels her nerves too.

She squeezes at his forearm. "This feels weird. Like strangely intimate, but still oddly medical."

Calum nods, clearing his throat and meets her gaze again. The eye contact helps a little bit. Less strange, still oddly medical. "Yeah, it is a little strange."

She squirms just a little before releasing her hold. "Okay, let's do this. We've got like ten minutes left."

"That's still 600 seconds. Take another deep breath."

Her chest rises, lungs filling with air before she pushes it out slowly. Calum brings the syringe closer to her body, hovering just outside of her. "It's okay, I'm good," Neveah states softly. Her voice sounds kind of far away. Almost without thinking as he slides the contraption into her, he finds himself gently rubbing at her calf and thigh with his non-gloved hand. Her skin is mostly smooth. He plunges his seed into her, a slow and steady press. "Has anyone told you, you have really pretty eyes?" she asks suddenly.

Calum's too focused on making sure he doesn't pull it out too soon. There's a small lull. As he pulls the syringe out, he finds himself responding. "Not really, not that I could remember."

"Well, you do. They look like melted toffee in bright sunlight. Then they can be this rich dark brown. When you talk about your mom or family they lighten a little. I'm not sure if it's like actually happening, but they look lighter."

She stares directly at him as she speaks, unphased by what's happening. Like it was just a normal conversation at the dining room table or something. Calum's thankful, that made it a little easier. He brings the towel back down to cover her. "Thanks, I-uh, no one's paid that much attention."

"I've practically moved in at this point. You've got yourself your own personal observer."

He can't understand why the statement makes him bashful. He looks down to the bedspread, the smile softly resting on his face. "Thanks, again." After removing the glove, he stands, going to clean the syringe but pauses at his bedroom door. "Do you need anything? Snack? Water?"

She shakes her head no. "I'm good. Thanks though."

"I know this might be strange to admit, but you've got a more prominent dimple on your right cheek than your left when you smile and it's really cute when you laugh really hard. Mostly because you can really see it."

Her eyes widen, a small gasp leaving her. Neveah is silent for a moment before she whispers, "The only other people to mention that are my parents. I didn't think others noticed it."

Calum reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck, a smile briefly crossing his lips. "I just really noticed it yesterday when you were watching that stand up routine."

"Wonder what else we notice about each other." 

Calum nods and finally exits the room to clean everything. He's noticed a thing or two, like how she almost always closes the lower cabinets and drawers with her hip and how she always taste test something with her pinkie, how she has a dimples in her butt too, and how after a day at work heels and the skirt are usually the first things to go, her bra is quick to follow. She does most of her cleaning in the evenings too, almost like she's gotten her second wind of the day. He's noticed a lot, he thinks, shocked at how long the list is in his head.

__

Duke climbs off her lap at the sound of keys in the door. She pushes up from the sofa, her limbs heavy with sleep still. The TV's still a soft blue hue washing over the grays and blues of the sofa and dark brown coffee table. Calum kneels, petting and scratching Duke. He notices the TV first and then her sleepy figure. "I'm sorry," he whispers. He hadn't realized she has stayed up again waiting for him.

Neveah hums, waving it off. "I shouldn't have. I hadn't planned to still be up here. But then some crazy movie came on and I got intrigued," she shuffles into the kitchen, covering up a yawn. "I made pork chops if you're hungry."

Calum follows in behind her, pulling the jacket off his shoulders and unzipping his boots. "I've got it. Don't worry. Thanks."

"Welcome, sugar." The nickname falls all too easily from her lips. She doesn't even think twice about it; she can't. Until it's already off her lips. "Shit, sorry."

Calum finds himself wrapping her into a hug, a chaste kiss to her forehead. "It's alright. Get some rest. Thanks for fixing dinner."

"I should mention it was a scary movie," she pouts. She always does this, knows damn well horror movies freak her out but still watches them by herself.

"My bed always has an open invitation. I'll be there soon."

"Thanks, Cal. You're the best. One of these days, I'll stop watching them all alone."

"That's a damn lie. But I promise nothing's going to get ya. Not with me here now. Also, you had Duke. He's big and scary."

"Duke is just a grandpa," Neveah laughs.

She walks down the hallway. Calum eats, going in for seconds because the meat is so tender it falls off the bone and melts just at the thought of it touching your tongue. After showering and brushing his teeth, he slides into his bed. She's curled onto her side.

Sensing his presence, she turns to face him, gently holding to his bicep. "I probably shouldn't bore you with today."

Calum turns to his side, tracing her cheek. "Bore me. What happened?"

"Know how I was supposed to take those two tests today?"

"Yeah."

"I couldn't. I couldn't bear seeing not pregnant again."

"It's alright. Tomorrow, I'll be here. We can do it together tomorrow. There's still time. Come here," he breathes, pulling her into his chest, wrapping an arm around her. "I've got you. It's not easy, I know. But you've always got me."

They've been trying with the at-home kits for months now. This is their fourth attempt if he's keeping track right. Calum's frustrated but not nearly as her. He can't fathom the kind of guilt she feels. She has nothing to feel guilty about. It takes time to get pregnant. That's a fact neither of them truly understood the weight until now. He isn't going to give up on her, even if she wanted to give up on herself. He would always be right there for her.

[destiel-love-forever]

The Mysterious Case of Einstein the Cat

Read below or on AO3: HERE

"Anyone need anything from the store? Doin' a beer run," Dean calls as he walks into the bunker's kitchen with a notepad and pen.

"More carrots." Sam looks over Dean's shoulder at the list he has so far, scoffing when he sees it only has four things on it: beer, hot pockets, doritos, more beer. He rolls his eyes before adding, "Get toilet paper, too. We're almost out."

"Sick orange shit and toilet paper. Got it." Dean points a finger at Castiel. "You?"

"Green tea and cat food. Fancy feast, none of that dry stuff."

Dean and Sam exchange a look. It's Sam's turn this time. He doesn't look too happy about that. "Cas, we've talked about this buddy."

"Fancy feast," is all Castiel says in return.

"There isn't a cat to eat the fancy feast."

"Yes there is! I swear. You just haven't seen him!"

"Cas-"

"He's black and white and really cute. Super fluffy. Like crazy fluffy-"

"-with a stubby little tail and one ear that flops awkwardly. Yes." Sam looks over at Dean, who has been quiet this whole time. He tips his head in Castiel's direction, indicating this is the time where he needs to step in.

With a deep sigh, Dean does the obligatory, "Cas, the cat doesn't exist."

The look Castiel gives Dean is a mixture of betrayal and sadness. It's enough to make Dean slump a few inches and look away, staring at the floor like a child that's been scolded.

Dean knows what that look means. He's close to being kicked out of Castiel's bed and his ass better tread lightly on the thin ice beneath his feet.

"We aren't trying to be rude," Sam says quietly.

"Who is eating the fancy feast if there's no cat?" Castiel looks between the two of them, clearly thinking he has them beat. "Who else besides a cat, huh?"

Dean shrugs. "Rats. Mice. A fucking demon. This bunker is huge, Cas. It could be anything."

"Exactly! The bunker is huge!" Castiel stands up and stomps his foot. It's a total 4 year-old tantrum and he doesn't care. "It exists! His name is Einstein and he just doesn't like you guys."

Dean and Sam exchange the look they always do at this point. The agreement to give up. With a deep sigh, Dean adds it to his list, saying it out loud as he does so. "Fancy Feast for Einstein the Snuffleupagus."  

Castiel sets a death glare on Dean. The death of his sex life at least. He already knows what his boyfriend is going to say, but he still winces when Castiel growls, "No sex! No. Sex. For. You!"  

After he storms out of the room, Dean looks at Sam. It's a desperate plea for help.

Sam just shrugs. "Don't forget the carrots."

----

"Cas, come on," Dean says in exasperation as he watches Castiel toss cans of fancy feast into the shopping cart. It's been six months. Six months of Castiel saying there's a cat when there isn't. Him and Sam are past worried now. They're just annoyed. Cat food costs money. Especially fucking fancy feast.

Castiel just ignores Dean, walking over to the cat litter and picking up the bucket they always get.

Another 15 dollars.

"You need to get a job," Dean grumbles.

Castiel glares at him. "You and Sam don't have jobs."

"Well - yeah, okay. You're right." Dean huffs. "But we hunt."

"I would hunt if you would just let me!"

"You could get hurt. You're fragile now."

The look Castiel gives him is harsh enough to make Dean cower. Literally cower. Before he can come up with some sort of half-assed apology, Castiel says, "I'm human - just like you guys."

"Cas, I didn't mean-"

"And I'm clearly not that fragile. Are you forgetting the sex we had last night? Pretty sure if I was fragile that would have broken me."

Dean blushes, which is absolutely adorable and would make Castiel smile if he wasn't pissed. "Cas, babe-"

"No no no. Don't you 'babe' me Dean Winchester! Even on damn house arrest, I still help! I do research for you guys when you hunt." Castiel folds his arms over his chest and tips his chin up indignantly. "And it's not my fault Einstein doesn't like you."

"Who says he doesn't like me?" Dean asks, unable to stop himself from feeling offended.

"Because he only comes out when you're gone!" Castiel pauses. He straightens his back and looks at Dean with a slow smile, feeling slightly giddy. "You just acted like you believe he's real."

"What?"

"You asked 'who says he doesn't like me?' which was an acknowledgement of his existence."

Dean scowls. "No... I just meant, ya know, if he did exist... he would totally like me."

When Castiel does nothing but smirk, Dean pushes the cart away and grumbles under his breath, "Fucking cat would love me... doesn't even exist."

----

"Holy shit!" Dean stares at the thing on his stomach with wide eyes. He makes sure to keep as still as possible, not wanting to scare it away.

"I told you," Castiel says with a cocky smile.

"Holy shit." Dean tilts his head to the side and yells, "Sammy! Sammy holy shit get in here! Fast!"

Sam comes barreling through the cracked open door that the cat must have slipped through, out of breath and panicked. His gun is stretched out in front of him as he scans the room. When his eyes fall on the cat, he startles. Dean's glad he doesn't shoot, considering the cat is using him as a perch at the moment. "Holy shit!"

Then he sees that Dean and Castiel are naked and groans, turning around quickly. "Disgusting. Uggggh. Put some damn clothes on and come into the living room. I want to cuddle that elusive little asshole."

"Go away. He's ours first," Dean says with a scowl. He chuckles when the cat's tail brushes against his cheek. Then he sneezes violently, his whole body bucking forward. The cat makes a weird little meowing-screaming sound before running off. Sam tries to catch him but Einstein is way too fast.

"Way to go Dean."

Dean is about to bark something mean back at Sam when he sneezes again. Then again. And again.

"Shit." Dean rubs at his itchy eyes. "I think I'm allergic."

Castiel snorts - which is a tad rude considering Castiel's boyfriend is going to die because of his damn cat.

"Cat has to go." Dean sneezes again. "Gotta go."

"Maybe you should go," Castiel says in response.

"What?!?" Dean sits up and looks over at Sam, in need of some big brother backup. Except Sam is gone. Somewhere off in the distance yelling for Einstein. "I hate this cat."

"We'll buy ya allergy meds."

"Okay..." Dean sniffles pathetically. "Does he really not like me?"

Castiel smiles. "He hasn't met you yet. I'm sure once he does, he'll like you."

"Damn right he will." Dean wipes his nose. "I'm risking my life for him. He better love me."

"Whatever you say, dear."

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 15)

Happy Friday and Good Morning! Less than TWO WEEKS until I see Betrayal! At this time I do expect updates for the first week of December to run according to schedule. How have you all been? Good, I hope? Things have been stressful here. My husband’s been sick with Man Cold and has had to take time off work so I’m stressed about money. But it is what it is and tickets are bought so stress be damned, Kit is going to NYC. 

Want to donate to the trip? Buy me a Kofi or check out @redfoxcrafts for some cool Christmas gifts you can buy! 

Clint x ofc

Rating: M for series

Chapter warnings: None

Masterlist

Chapter 15: The New System

Morning had brought nothing but dark clouds, wind and more inky rain. It was a steady drizzle with cutting gusts. Clint woke first, his whole body stiffening as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t the farmhouse, nor the shed. It was jarring, waking to find himself not where he expected. Still it was something he was growing accustomed to. It was hard not to, with how often he would wake from a half asleep daze, searching. It was the warm body clinging to his that actually rose his alarms.

She was smaller than Laura, was hard in places where Laura had been soft. Laura liked to sleep on her back. Deanna seemed to try to burrow her way into his shoulder and chest, seeking something from him in her sleep.

She wasn’t Laura. Guilt nibbled at his mind as he tightened his arm around her, nestling her closer. Part of him knew damn well that it wasn’t right. Laura had only been gone a month and a half. Part of him wondered if it mattered at all, Laura wouldn’t be coming back.  

“Laura, forgive me.” Clint whispered, turning his head to breath in Deanna’s hair. The fruity smell of her shampoo was just a hint now. Guilt haunted him as he clung to her. That guilt wasn’t enough to drown out how comforting it was to have someone to hold.

He dozed as he held her. The rain pittered against the roof as he relaxed into the mattress. A smile tugged at his lips as her fingers flexed, running along his chest in her sleep. Pinned between her stomach and his side was the stuffed fox and plush blanket that meant so much to her.  

Eventually, the need to pee drew him from the bed. He tried not to wake her as he slipped out from under her. Somehow, he had managed. Stretching his arms over his head, he gave his back a twist this way then that. The harsh sound of his back cracking filled the room, far louder than he had intended.

“What was that?” She mumbled, sitting up and rubbing sleep from her face.  

“My back.” Clint admitted with a wince. “That kind of hurt too. Sorry, I tired not to wake you.”

“I don’t think backs should pop that loudly...”  

“Probably not.” Clint laughed and so the morning started.  

They took their time, enjoying breakfast and coffee. Once Clint was caffeinated, he went out to tend the travel garden. The weather had let up a bit from the night before but seemed to surge in waves.

It was late morning before they pulled out of the ally. It took over two hours to make their way fifty miles before they called it quits. The weather, though calmer than the day prior, was still fierce. It, combined with a scattering of cars and trucks abandoned or wrecked on the road slowed them down to a crawling pace. Clint drove carefully, but neither of them seemed to mind it.  

Most of the day passed with idle chatter as each avoided topics they feared would upset the other. Soon they called it quits and parked for the night. Clint had cooked them dinner that night, dancing to music as she watched with amusement. Once they ate, they passed the time with movies. It was light and tense somehow at the same time. Evening gave way to night, though one could hardly tell a difference between the two with how heavy the cloud cover was.  

“Is it weird that this feels too normal?” Deanna whispered as the credits began to play on the latest movie.  

She leaned against him, tucked warmly into his side with her legs propped up on the side of the couch. The pain was much better today, likely due to how sedentary she had been all day.

“What? Waiting out a storm with movies and popcorn as the world goes to shit around us?” Clint ran his fingers through her brown waves.  

“Yeah.” The movie played on, neither were all that invested but having it play offered a sense of normal. “Feels like we should always be doing…” Words failed her and her voice trailed off.  

“Some big survival thing, all the time?” Clint offered and she smiled.

“Yeah.” A yawn ripped from her.

“I learned a long time ago how mundane survival is. It’s okay to enjoy it, while it lasts. It’s times like this that make the hard times easier.”

“Will we make it to your place tomorrow?” Deanna didn't look up at him as she asked the question.  

“Probably. Unless the storm shifts enough to keep us in place, we should make it.”  

“What are you going to do when we get there?” Strong fingers ran through her hair, soothing her.

“Not sure. Laundry, for one. Hook you up to the electricity. Give you a tour.”

“Are you sure you want me to stay there?” There it was, Clint thought, the real worry. “I mean, it was your home. Their home. Her home. I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“She’s not coming back.” The words tried to stick in his throat. “You can stay wherever you want, in my house or your house for as long as you want. You can use whatever. Make yourself at home.”

“Do you mean it?” She whispered. “As long as I want?”

“Yeah, Dee. I don’t really want to be alone so… yeah.”

“What if I don’t leave?”

“Than you don’t.” He answered simply.

They let the silence reclaim them as they both focused their attention back on the movie. That was as close to a serious conversation either had felt up for. It didn’t take long for Deanna to drift to sleep.

~~~~~<3  

The weather was better today. Clint drove as they took turns nibbling on crackers smeared with a tuna spread. In the cup holders was bottles of orange soda, sweet and bright. The sky on the other hand, wasn’t all that bright or sweet.  

Clouds still hung thick but now they were whiter. They could even see where the sun was fighting to shine through in places. The radio was an ever shifting sea of soft static as it scanned the channels. They had it on in case someone was broadcasting something of note.  

“Clint?”

“Yeah? Wanna stop? We should be there in about twenty more minutes, maybe longer if the road is washed out but it should be fine.”

“What happened?” She asked the question she had been avoiding.

“What do you mean?” Clint knew exactly what she was asking but a man can hope.  

“To everyone? To the animals? To the world?”

“Oh.” She picked at her fingers as he sat in silence. She was regretting asking the question until he spoke again. “What are they saying?”

“It’s not a lot that makes sense, to be honest.” She shrugged. “Some people said it was the rapture, that its the end of the world.”

“You could say that, I guess. Hell, it could be what the bible meant. Who am I to say?"

“As for actual news, I’ve heard it had to do with the attack on New York but I kinda figured that based on the timing. Something about aliens, again. I guess there was a battle somewhere in Africa against the aliens or whatever and they won. I’ve also heard that it happened in Russia, New York or China. Some also say Russia or China found a new alien weapon and did it somehow. But how it happened? I- Everyone’s just guessing.”

“It’s crazy. You know, ten years ago, I wouldn’t even believe what you just told me.”

“Yeah. It’s crazy.”

“It’s not all that off, really. I guess there are- were, rather- these magical stones. Only a few existed and the more you had, the more power you had. Gather them all and you’re unstoppable.”

“Gotta catch them all.” Her laugh was brittle but Clint joined her in it for a moment anyway.  

“This guy- alien grape who called himself Thanos, managed to get them all.”

“Where were they?” She interrupted.

“All over the universe, apparently. I guess we had a few of them here on Earth.”

“What are the odds of that?” She mused. “I mean, a whole universe to spread them out in and having more than one here?”  

“Right?” Clint laughed, keeping his eyes on the road. In a weird way, it felt good to laugh about something that had in reality torn the very foundation of his life apart. “We- They, really- I guess, tried to stop him from getting them.”

“Where were you?” She regretted asking as weight seemed to crash against his shoulders. “I’m sorry, never mind. Forget it-”

“I watched everything that went down in New York from home. But I trusted them to take care of it. I mean, I’m just a regular man with a neat bow when you boil it down. I figured if they needed me, they would call. But they didn’t and I was on house arrest. If I knew it was all going to go sideways, I would have went anyway but I thought they had it taken care of. I should have gone anyway.”

“No, you didn’t know.” Her soft hand wrapped around his forearm. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.  

“You trusted them. In putting you on house arrest they said they had it without you. In not calling you, they said they could handle it. It’s not your fault they were wrong.”

“Anyway,” He cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders down, though his knuckles remained white. “He came here to get the stones hidden here.”

“Where were they?” She asked, not really able to believe the story yet why couldn’t it be true? People were worshiping Thor and even Loki now that the Norse gods had made themselves known.  

“Loki brought one here with his mind control stick, Tony had that one and put it in Vision. The other one was apparently guarded by a wizard.”

When she burst into what sounded more like hysterical giggles than anything sane, Clint looked over at her. They’d slowed, pulling onto the dirt road that would in twenty miles lead them to his home. “Are you okay?”

“A wizard?” She laughed more. “What is the world, an adventure quest story? Or game?”

“It seems like it, most days. Shit just keeps getting weirder and weirder for the last ten years.”

Silence stretched on for a bit, uneasy and heavy in the air before she spoke again. “All we can do is go on.”

“Yep.”

They sat in silence as the RV rocked as it climbed up the worn dirt road. It kicked up rocks and mud squished under the tires, leaving deep tracks behind them. The rain had almost stopped and for now was more like a mist clinging in the air. The droplets of water were far too small to hold the dusty and grime. It was the first inkling of a world where they water once again ran clear.  

They passed though a fence, standing tall and imposing. It was automated and Deanna was honestly surprised when it simply opened.  

“Camera.” Clint remarked. “Facial scans the driver and passengers. It knows me so opens.”

“Neat.”

“Hooked up to the Stark systems.”

The farmhouse was a brown splat on the ridge of a hill. Around the expansive property were hills and trees. It was all enclosed in a fence standing tall in the distance. The property was beyond impressive and with how large it seemed to be, Deanna had expected the house itself to be much bigger.  

There was a barn style shed off to the side, doors open wide. Inside was an old tractor, hay and so many things Deanna couldn’t even begin to guess their use. Clint pulled the RV up the last small rise in the road before slipping it into the space between  the house and barn. Stacked on the side of the porch was a pile of wood, waiting for someone to come along and finish chopping it.  

“This is it.”  

“It’s nice. I didn’t expect it to be so open.” Deanna wasn’t sure what to say, as Clint climbed out of the RV and rushed around to help her.  

“Yeah. Got a lot of land here. I wanted to make sure no one could sneak up or watch us without going through the fence. Stark put in the security system and backup power when he was here last.” He was silent for a spell as he helped her find her feet.  

She couldn’t walk, not really and while she managed almost within the RV, wide open spaces were a challenge for her. She hobbled and Clint wrapped his arm around her back, taking the weight off the still very painful ankle. With his large hand wrapped around her and gripping her side, he held his other hand out in front of her, offering it for stability. It wouldn’t do to help her and end up leaving her so unbalanced they both fell.  

He could have easily picked her up and carried her. It would have been nothing for him. She know that, she had seen his muscles and had been carried by him on that first day. It was nice, that he didn’t do that.  

Her hobbled steps were slow but Clint was patient with her. With great care, he helped her up the steps and into the house. Inside, he found her a wheeled office chair to roll around in, pushing herself with her good foot and holding onto the back to keep herself balanced.  

~~~~~<3

The wheels rolled noisily on the floor. The dust was heavy and each wheel left distinct trails crisscrossing all over the floor. It was tense at first, being in his house surrounded by the pictures and memories of the happy family that had once lived here. Clint spun the chair she was kneeling on as he walked by. He was cleaning out the refrigerator and moving excess flour, sugar and rice from the RV and into his pantry.

He took clothes, towels and bed sheets out of the RV, load after load, though there wasn’t a whole lot in reality. After dropping the first load in what Deanna assumed was a laundry room in the back of the house, the sound of another set of wheels filled the house. He came back through the living room, this time riding his own wheeled office chair.

She chased him through the living room, laughter flowing out of both of them as he rolled back to the front door. When he brought another armful of bedding inside, he plopped it on the chair and rolled it through the house with Deanna on his heels. She navigated the chair over the bump between the two rooms- something Clint told her he had been intending to fix forever- and into the laundry room where she started loading the washer.  

“I can do it.” Clint offered, unloading the bedding onto the ground.  

“So can I.” She didn’t even look at him as she put in shirts and jeans. “Some of these are clean?”

“You mentioned that you’ve been washing them in the rivers.” Clint shrugged. “I figured with how gross the rain has been, I’d rewash everything to get it clean for you. Really clean.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Clint nudged her from where she stood, knee planted on the seat of the chair and shirt balled in her hands. “Now go relax, let me get to it Dee.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I want to help. I’ve been sitting around just letting you do for me. I can at least sit here and load the washer, changed the clothes over without hurting my foot.”

“But you don’t have to. I don’t mind doing-”

“But I do. I’m not useless. Don’t make me be useless.”  

It occurred to Clint that this was about so much more than doing the laundry.  Reaching out to her, he rubbed her back in soft circles. This was a world that was all about what you could do. This new world, your value was dependent on what you could do. And right now, she couldn’t even walk.  

“You know you’re not useless.” Clint offered.  

“I am right now.” She snapped.  

He pulled her wheeled perch away from the washer as she threw a shirt inside it, far harder than needed. “Hey. Okay.”

She was sniffling now as she tried to figure out a way to say what she was feeling. “I just… If it wasn’t for you doing everything for me, I’d be dead right now. You have no reason to do anything for me. You have no reason to keep taking care of me. You have no reason. Let me do something. Let me give you a reason to.”

Clint wrapped his arms around her, pulling her and her wheeled perch to him and held her tight. “You’ve fed me.” He offered. “What you don’t realize is being alone was killing me. It was driving me insane. While yeah, right now you can’t walk, you’ve given me a reason to do more than sit around being pissed off at the world.”

“That’s nothing.”  

“It isn’t nothing. Don’t you get it? Until I found you, I woke up in a half mad grief induced daze and nearly every single night I’d go out looking for them. Because the decimation took out fifty percent of the living universe and how is it fair that I lost everyone. Half the time- I don’t even remember going out, looking and I’d wake up in the fucking town or standing in the fields without a shirt or shoes.” She sniffled, loud and ugly but he still smiled down at her. “When your foot is better, if you still want to be here you can clean and take care of the garden and hunt and build a castle if you want.”

“I want to do the laundry now, not later.” She whined before laughing in that brittle way he had come to realize was very much a sign that she was holding on by a thread. “I never thought I’d say that.”  

Clint laughed and leaned forward. It felt completely natural as he brought his lips to hers in a quick soft kiss. He held her for a moment longer before saying, “I’ll bring the laundry in.” and leaving her in the laundry room.  

As he walked through the house, the ghosts of his family looked on, judging him. He made a point to avoid looking at the family photos on the walls. Not once did he look the pictures of Laura in the eyes. As he walked by the fireplace he reached out and put a picture face down.

When night fell, the picture remained face down. Blocked from view of everyone was Clint, smiling wide and dressed in a neat black tuxedo. His arms had been around his smiling bride, dressed in a white gown that she had tried to talk herself out of getting because of the cost. She had about skinned him alive when he called the shop and gave his credit card information behind her back.  

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @tnystrk-exe, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @winterisakiller, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @wegingerangelica

[itsallavengers]

44

44- I’m going to keep you safe

There were three things Steve Rogers considered important in his life.

One was, of course, family. This included his friends, his team- they were as close as he was going to get to blood relatives anyway. His mom was the only real family he knew, although even she was growing more fragile with each day. Soon, he knew he would have to let her go. But for now, there was not a task on heaven or earth that he would not complete for those he considered family. For those who he was loyal to, and who were loyal to him. 

The next thing was his morals.

This was a tricky one, see- it was notoriously difficult for an infamous mob boss like himself to stick to his morals, because there would always be an occasion in which he would end up having to abandon them for the sake of the cause. He’d strayed from his path a few times too many- he knew that. But when you got caught up in the life he did, it was bound to happen. He was trying his best, though. And to this day, he knew he had never spilled a drop of innocent blood. Everyone who ended up on his radar ended up there for a reason. They were not good ones. And until the streets were clear of scum, then he and his team would continue to do their job and fight to get rid of them.Many feared them- a few didn’t believe in their existence at all- but their path was clear, and Steve didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

The last thing was Tony.

(Keep reading under the cut, mobile users!)

Just thinking his name brought a smile to his mouth. Tony was... Tony was Steve’s everything. Sun, moon, and Stars- Tony encompassed Steve’s very existence. Without him, Steve would be nothing. He would have nothing.

He’d met him at a bar on the rougher side of New York, just over three years ago now. Leaning over the counter and asking for a drink with a slick smile on his face- he’d been gaunt and thin and desperate, Steve knew the type. Later on, he’d find out that that had been the night Tony had run from his abusive partner (an abusive partner that now lay somewhere at the bottom of the Hudson, last time Steve checked), but in that night, all Tony had been to Steve was a man too vulnerable for a place like that. 

Steve had been planning to start a rather large and rather dangerous fight in said bar- and he did, in fact, end up fulfilling that goal- but for a rather different reason. See, it just so happened that Steve’s target ended up being the one with his hand circled just tight enough around Tony’s wrist for him to start looking uncomfortable, and really, that had been all Steve needed. A quick slamming of his head into a table had done the job- and after that, the fight had mainly just carried itself. With a quiet word and a gentle hand against the small of Tony’s back, he’d quickly led them both out of the fight. 

After that- well- the rest was history.

Tony knew about his life. He knew what Steve did, because he had to. And honestly- Steve had gotten in fights with 90% chance of mortality; he’d brawled with the best and been put through the worst and most horrifying that the underworld of New York had to offer- but to this day, the most terrifying thing Steve had ever done was admit to Tony about the life he led. The prospect of losing him had been overwhelming, it had sent Steve into a panic- he’d put it off for months in his fear of the response. But when he finally, finally managed to tell him the truth, Tony had barely even batted an eye.

“I’ve never been the best at risk assessment,” he’d said with a shrug, licking off a stray fleck of cream from Steve’s lip, “but I appreciate the apology muffins anyway. Taste better on your mouth than they do in mine.” 

And that had been that. 

Steve was thankful for Tony every day. For keeping him sane, for holding him steady. Tony was his Godsend. He was ridiculously smart and brilliant at what he did- which, to Steve’s delight, turned out to be weapons designs. He’d equipped the whole of his team with new gear by the end of the week and fixed all their broken tech whenever Bucky sat on it or Clint dropped it. Everyone loved Tony, and if Tony was happy to run his garage by day and then create weapons for all of them at night, then so was Steve. 

Tony was Steve’s universe. It was bad, he knew, to be this emotionally compromised- but in all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less. At this point, everything revolved around that man, and the world knew it. Tony was, essentially, the safest man in New York. The single attempt three months and twenty-nine days ago (Steve would never, ever forget) to try and use him as leverage against Steve had not gone well for the perpetrators. They still hadn’t found all the parts of their bodies. Undoubtedly they never would- Steve had been very, very thorough.

Unhealthy? Definitely. But it didn’t change things. Were someone to hurt a hair on Tony’s head, Steve would not stop until they were dead at his feet. He’d made that much clear the first time around. There would not be a second. 

Turning over on the bed, he curled his arm around Tony’s waist and tugged him in closer, feeling the other man fit himself subconsciously against Steve’s body. He smiled at the action; pressing a kiss against the soft crown of Tony’s head whilst his fingers traced delicately around the scar on Tony’s shoulderblade. Bullet wound, he knew- he’d run his fingers over it enough times to be able to identify it to Tony’s body with his eyes shut. Evidence of Steve’s failure. Just once, perhaps- but once was enough. Once was far, far too many.

“Stoppit,” Tony mumbled into his chest, his hands rising to stroke messily down Steve’s arms, “m’fine.”

Steve just frowned, opening his hand until his palm splayed out against the mark and his fingers curled around the top of his shoulder. “No thanks to me.”

“Steve,” Tony said his name in exasperation, eyes pulling themselves open and head tilting upward to look at him, “it was not your fault. Please. It happened, it wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had in my life, but it’s over- wallowing in guilt isn’t going to reverse time and stop them trying to take me. What are you going to do about it now?”

Tony was looking up at him with sleep-heavy eyes; his head leaning on Steve’s forearm as he stared inquiringly. And honestly, how on Earth was Steve supposed to argue with that? He was notoriously bad at resisting Tony- mob boss or not, he was only human. 

With a sigh, he stroked his finger down Tony’s jaw, pressing lightly under his chin in order to tilt his head further. Soft lips rested on his forehead and he closed his own eyes, savoring everything that was so familiar, so much like home to him. 

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he murmured against Tony’s face, “I’m going to do better. No one will ever touch you again. Ever.”

Tony just rolled his eyes and dropped his head into Steve’s chest. He felt a long kiss pressed into his skin, just over his heart. “Mmm- if it’ll help you sleep easier. Want me to wear a hazmat suit at all times too? Just in case, y’know?”

“You say it like a joke, but that would probably make me feel better, yes,” Steve admitted, laughing a little when Tony batted him lightly and shook his head. 

“Gonna have to settle for sharpening your knives and looking a bit more threatening whenever someone looks in my direction, sweetheart,” Tony told him, voice slurred from the exhaustion that was already pulling him back under. 

Smiling adoringly, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony properly and let himself imagine that alone would somehow keep Tony safer. The worry plagued him constantly- would probably never leave, to be honest- but he knew that the likelihood of Tony ever being hurt was slim. Steve was too good at what he did for that to happen. Tony was no fool either- when Steve had arrived at the scene after Tony had been taken, he had already been halfway to freeing himself of his own accord. He was always carrying now, anyway- which made it even more difficult for someone to take him. Tony had a true aim and a particularly petty nature if provoked- no doubt the next person to try anything would get a bullet in a rather unsavory place.  

With a sigh, Steve let his head come to rest on top of Tony’s. “Sorry for waking you,” he mumbled, “just go back to sleep honey.”

With an incoherent mumble and one last messy kiss against Steve’s collar, Tony did. Steve let himself watch for a moment before he too shut his eyes and let sleep pull him under. 

Everything and anything. For Tony, Steve would do everything and anything.

Ao3 // support me on Kofi