#might chuck it up on ao3 if i ever come up with a title

[donutcats]

incredibly short holmesbury au where I change just a few scenes so tewksbury can confess via the language of flowers

-

there’s knocking at the door and tewksbury is handing her a dance card and it all feels very rushed in enola’s opinion. one moment her hand is on his neck and his is at her waist and she can feel each breath he takes against her chin and then- knocking and rushing.

“but I don’t know enough!” a few stolen moments in a bathroom won’t hold up to people who have been doing this for their whole lives. she might also miss the feel of him already but that’s neither here nor there.

before she can even finish speaking, he’s moving away and snatching a single stem from a nearby vase overflowing with flowers of all differing colors, just as quickly stepping close and handing it to her.

“what does this mean?” she demands, because it’s tewksbury and because it’s a flower and of course it has a meaning. they always have meaning in his hands.

but he just smiles, already angling to slip out of the room. “you’ll figure it out.” and then he’s gone and enola has no choice but to stick the flower into her bodice and hurry out of the bathroom as well.

-

she takes the time to weave the stem into her hair as she hurries along, hoping it looks somewhat presentable as she’s loath to let go of it just yet. it feels rather important.

it’s just as she’s securing it amongst the twist of her updo that she watches cicely barrel out of a nearby room, leaving william in her wake.

perfect. now is her chance to have a word with sweet william. 

-

he’s laughing and signing dance cards, being his perfect amiable self, and enola feels something akin to a boiling pot on a stove. oddly hot and agitated. 

cicely mentions her, pointing, she can faintly make out the sound of her fake name, and then tewksbury is looking over. it’s all enola can do to look away. he catches her eye again, his gaze flicking up to her hair, and he almost positively lights up at the sight he finds. there’s a brief, wild moment where enola considers ripping the flower from her head and tossing it among the dessert table.

if only to make him stop gazing at her like that.

stupid.

-

it’s almost midnight, and enola is twirling the flower between her fingers. pondering.

“oh, how I itch for the book my mother gifted me. perhaps then I could make sense of this ridiculous message, from an equally ridiculous boy.”

there’s a sound at the door, and the flower is abandoned on the table in favor of something a bit sharper. speak of her ridiculous boy and he shall arrive, it seems.

as she’s being led away in handcuffs, she has the fleeting thought that she’ll never learn the meaning of her flower now. 

-

the next time she sees her ridiculous boy, she’s standing in his doorway, asking for help. 

tewksbury’s home looks and feels like a greenhouse and it’s so incredibly him that if enola weren’t in such a state, she’d appreciate it more.

he’s weird and wonderful and so incredibly good, and he truly understands her in a way she fears few others do. he has a talent for saying just the right thing to kick start her brain into motion.

“did you understand what I said… or what I didn’t say- did you understand what I didn’t say?”

“yes!” she did, honest she did. even while her mind was working double time and connecting every clue she’s missed, she could hear him. some of the words might have been lost in the torrent of her discovery but the meaning was clear. doesn’t he understand? 

she could pick his voice out of a crowded room. 

“you were saying…” 

suddenly, it catches up to her. his ramblings in his parlor, the memory of him handing her a flower in the bathroom. overlapping with an older memory, when his hair was shorter and the day was brighter. handing her a flower with a smile. 

“that message you sent, with the flower at the ball… what did it mean?”

tewksbury swallows, she can see it from her place at the bottom of the stairs. “it was a heliotrope.” he says, putting a name to the purple blossoms. “it means I love you.” something in enola’s brain freezes at that. the soft look to his eyes, the way his face is limned by the lamp light. “more specifically, it means I am devoted to you.” 

oh. a warm wave crests in enola’s chest at the realization. suddenly, puzzle pieces are fitting together seamlessly. it's as if her mind has become one of sherlock’s maps, with strings tied around each important moment, tying them together. 

there is a spark and she can not help as the words tumble from her, working the mystery out even as she speaks. sarah and william, in love and creating a plan together. 

it isn’t until tewksbury tries to herd her back inside that she snaps back to their previous conversation. she knows that they have much to talk about, thank you very much! there has been quite a few revelations tonight.

she’s never said the words to anyone besides her mother. she loves him and it should feel big and scary and unknown, a foreign feeling settling in her bones, but she says it. she tells him and it's that same feeling as figuring out where a clue fits into the bigger picture. a case coming to fruition. 

it feels right. it feels good. he is her wonderful and ridiculous boy who confesses through horticultural means and she loves him.

[arokel]

Obviously I’m here for more coxstroke and perhaps a situation where one takes advantage of his height for whatever (nefarious?) reason?

here you go! this is almost entirely based on @roborain 's beautiful art so it only gets a teeny bit nefarious at the end, but I hope you like it anyway :)

Title: Leading, Resolution

Pairing: Don Hume/Bobby Moch

Rating: G

Tags: Piano, Fluff, First Kiss

Read on ao3

Notes: The chord progressions here are based on a typical ragtime chord progression, which is a bit before the boys' time but made its way into folk music throughout the 20th century.

Playing an instrument is a great way to brood without anyone noticing. Don's fingers roll into familiar tune after familiar tune as his mind churns, gaze straight ahead. He knows these songs well enough to play them in the dark, and so he can focus his mind's eye on the carousel of memories that won't leave him alone even now, when he should be able to lose himself in music as he's always done.

D7-G7-C.

His thoughts have been in unrest ever since the moment three days ago when Bobby had said, "you know, I think we're the same" and refused to elaborate.

Roger is clapping along. Joe hums under his breath and Gordy bobs his head in time. And Bobby watches.

"The same how?"

"You know, the way you look at me - I look at you like that too. You just haven't noticed."

"I don't look at you any way."

"Well, I do. You don't have to do anything about it; I just wanted you to know.”

Dominant-dominant-tonic.

There's no way Bobby could have meant it the way it sounded, but every second since Don has been searching for those looks, for some sign he might not have heard wrong. There's been nothing.

"Eyes up, Donny! Come on, you're shy to look at me now? Listen, I'm sorry I said anything. You can forget it if you want."

"Easier said than done."

"Well, I - my offer still stands. If you want to do something else. Feather, Adam; is today your first time in a shell? Because it sure as hell seems like it."

Leading-leading-resolution.

Don wants so badly to do something, anything, but he can't trust his own ears. He needs to see it.

The latest song trails into silence and Don's hands drop to his lap, played out. His head is too full of questions now to keep going even through the muscle memory. There is a smattering of applause and a few whoops from Chuck, and Don finally turns to face out towards his teammates, focusing his eyes for what feels like the first time in hours. That's when he sees it.

Bobby has drifted closer to listen, and now he is pressed against the lip of the shallow stage, elbows braced on the boards and chin propped in his hands. And his eyes -

They're a pale, piercing blue like always, and yet, watching Don, they're softer. Robin's egg rather than ice. And the look in them, so unlike Bobby's usual sharp gaze, can only be described as smitten - the way Joe looks at Joyce, the way Don knows he looks at Bobby even if he denies it, the way Bobby said he looked at Don.

Don can't look away.

He pushes back the bench and steps away from the piano to affect a slight bow, ears burning less at the applause and more at the heat of Bobby's unwavering gaze as he straightens.

Looking at the room properly now, he can see that the boys have finished their cleaning while he played and, now that he's finished, most of them are already drifting towards the door. Only Bobby remains, spine straightening and flushing under Don's scrutiny. The adoration is gone, to be replaced with a nervous, questioning look, but Don has seen enough. It was there, and Bobby does look at Don like Don looks at him, and Don wants to see it again.

It is now only the two of them. Don gathers his courage and lets himself smile down at Bobby.

"Come up here?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Hoped you would, though," Bobby says, with a grin of his own, and pushes himself up onto the stage.

Before he can straighten to his full height, Don bends to meet him, hands on Bobby's shoulders keeping him on his knees, bearing him down to the floor to kiss him. When they part, Bobby's eyes are hazy and bright and sweet.

Then he ruins it, as usual, with his mouth.

"So you like me looking up at you like that, huh? I know a couple other things I could do from this position."

Don's fingers twitch in surprise, grip tightening briefly on Bobby's shoulders like the opening chord of another piece.

E7. Dominant, leading, leading, leading -

Don will follow it where it goes.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Amity Park Loves their Ghost Boy

For the Phic Phight prompts: Danny is used to being alone and relying on himself or his friends. When starts to lose a major fight and is on the verge of defeat, the townspeople surprise him with their commitment to their hero. (from @another-shameless-fangirl) and Amity Park loves their ghost boy. (from @underforeversgrace)

AO3 Link

[Warning for non-graphic violence]

Since becoming a halfa, a hero, Danny had learned to rely on only himself and his friends, and no one else. And with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all attending out of town colleges while Danny went to Amity Park Community after high school to stay close to the portal, the number of people who had his back decreased to one. He'd grown used to being self-sufficient, to clamming up when anyone asked him about his bruises, to keeping everyone else out of the way. No one else had the strength to save his tail, so he had to be strong enough for everybody.

But he didn't think he was strong enough. Not this time.

The ghost was a massive brute, fifty feet tall and dressed like a gladiator, calling himself Omnipotus. He was wailing on Danny worse than Dash ever had, and he wouldn't let up. He had decided based on the stories of Danny defeating Pariah a few years ago, that the halfa was the most powerful ghost around, and Omnipotus was determined to take that title from him by force. Maybe he wasn't quite as powerful as Pariah Dark, but Danny also didn't have the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton giving him a power up this time, and even though he'd gotten stronger in the last three years, it looked like his number might finally be up.

"It's seems I will best you after all, oh Great One," Omnipotus boomed. He spat out the title with a sneer and raised his sword. "I am the strongest ghost in the Infinite Realms."

He started to swing his sword down upon Danny, who was far too tired to dodge or block, and just had time to accept his fate. He'd had a good run, if a short one. But the sword stilled in the air when a rock hit the enormous warrior in the foot.

"Stop it, you big meanie!" Omnipotus and Danny both turned to see who'd said that. "Don't hurt Phantom!"

A little girl, probably six or seven years old stood below them. She picked up another rock and threw it at the meanie's head. Omnipotus growled and made to attack her, but a woman, presumably the girl's mother, jumped in front of her. Danny gasped, and his hand shot out to help, despite knowing there was nothing he could do. Then the sword glanced off her body without doing any damage, despite its size.

"What witchcraft is this?!" Omnipotus demanded, swinging again to the same result.

"Allow me to introduce you to the Fenton Specter Deflector you creep!" The woman shouted. The little girl stepped out and threw another rock, angering Omnipotus further. "Best fifty-eight dollars I ever spent!" 

"Enough!" Omnipotus shouted, then a rock came flying from the opposite direction, and another, and pencil sharpener, and a jawbreaker. A group of teens Danny recognized from Casper High, kids he'd never even learned the names of, or spoken to, who were freshmen when he was a senior, were chucking anything they could get their hands on at the ghost. "Insolent brats!"

"That's rich, coming from a pathetic, wannabe, loser in a skirt!" One of the teens shouted back. The others hurled equally biting insults, and shoes, and pens. Some of them just straight out booed Omnipotus, and was it Danny's imagination, or was the ghost starting to shrink. "You're such a desperate moron you have to chase down actual cool ghosts just to try and get yourself some legitimacy, but by stealing it instead of earning it, you're just exposing yourself as a fraud, a wuss, and a coward!"

"Ouch," Danny said, smirking up at Omnipotus, and yeah, the ghost was definitely starting to shrink. The spectral gladiator swung his sword at the teens, but they'd all been in ghost attacks before, and had developed damn good reflexes from them. The teens dodged, ducked, dove out of the way of the sword. Omnipotus swung again, but he couldn't seem to hit any of them.

Some other little kids had joined the first girl, and they were using the mother wearing the specter deflector as a human shield while they searched the surrounding area for more rocks and threw them at Omnipotus. Most of the rocks didn't even come close, but their displeasure was plenty clear.

"Meanie!"

"Grumpy-pants!"

"Doo-doo head!"

"Dummy!"

"Fart face!"

"That's it!" Omnipotus screeched, and turned intangible so the things that were thrown at him went right through him. "I'm not here to fight some measly, powerless mortals. I'm here for the ghost boy."

"Like hell you are!" Finally some more adults joined the fray. A woman with short hair and a flannel shirt jumped out of her pick up truck with a shotgun and took aim. "That's our ghost boy!"

"Your puny human weapons can't hurt—ARGHHG!" Omnipotus cut himself off with a screech as the woman fired twice and he was hit with a spray of green gunpowder. Apparently, he hadn't been to the mortal realm in some time if he didn't know about ghost hunting weapons.

"Fenton rounds," The woman said, reloading. "No Amity Parker over the age of eighteen doesn't have at least one anti-ghost weapon in their arsenal! Ain't that right June?" Another woman in a floral sundress hopped out of the passenger seat and activated a bedazzled Fenton Wrist Ray, taking aim at the ghost.

"Sure is, May," she said, and started firing at the ghost as well. "Step away from our hero!"

Danny had heard from his parents that there was a pretty big market for anti-ghost weapons and equipment in Amity Park these days, but he hadn't imagined that so many people would have them. And even those who didn't threw rocks, and shoes, and insults. More and more kept coming, people of all ages from all over town. Some of the people already there called up friends to come take potshots at the ghost who was giving Phantom trouble.

More and more people showed up saying things along the lines of, "I heard we were beating the crap outta some ghost?"

Omnipotus, who'd once been a giant, shrank smaller and smaller, trying and failing to defend himself against their booing and taunting. Some people had set up several ghost shields to resonate into a single, larger one to keep Omnipotus from escaping. A ring of people with specter deflectors held the front line, jumping in front of people when the ghost tried to launch a counter attack.

Danny, too weak to move much, had been carried out of the immediate danger zone a while ago to recuperate and recover his strength. He watched from a distance until Omnipotus had shrunk too small to be seen over the crowd.

"You alright, Phantom?" asked an elderly man who was sitting back to watch the show as he manned one of the ghost shield generators.

"Yeah," Danny said. "I'll be fine. I just... I can't believe that so many people would do this for me."

"You protect us all the time," the old man said kindly. "It's the least we can do to return the favor when you're in a bind."

"Who's got a Ghost Trap?!" someone shouted over the crowd.

"Here!" Danny said, holding up his Fenton Thermos. A cheer went up amongst the assembly as Danny was hauled to his feet and gently pushed back toward the front.

"Let this be a lesson, you gladiator creep," a woman said when Danny arrived and uncapped the thermos. "Amity Park loves our ghost boy, and we don't take too kindly to those who try to hurt him."

"Yeah!" said a little boy, then he stuck out his tongue at Omnipotus.

It seemed that, being the ghost of a gladiator, cheering made him stronger, and booing weakened him. This particular crowd wasn't cheering for him. The once enormous ghost now stood even smaller that the little boy taunting him, and he crossed his arms and pouted petulantly. Danny activated the thermos and sucked him into it, and the crowd cheered again.

Danny was bombarded with hugs, and high-fives, and handshakes as he slowly made his way out of the crowd. Most of his energy had returned while the good people of Amity Park took over the fight, so once the ghost shield generators were turned off, he was able to take to the skies without a problem. He flew home wearing a face-splitting grin. Wait 'til Sam and Tucker heard about this.

[banannabethchase]

Desperate Measures - also on AO3

~

Adam's had it with Matt using his boo boo eyes and hair to flirt with everyone, so he makes him wait to get what he wants. It backfires.

~

Written for the kinkmeme prompt, which probably didn't need to be posted anonymously since this feels like it screams me. Title from Desperate Measures by Marianas Trench, and I'm so excited I FINALLY have gotten to use this song for a fic!

~

Adam first notices it when they’re in the hotel, for fuck’s sake. Matt catches the eye of the bellhop and bats his dumb fucking eyelashes up the elevator. It lasts until they get outside their room, when the bellhop drops Matt’s bags and stammers out an apology.

“It’s cool, man, I got it.” Adam glares at Matt, who tries the booboo eyes on him. Adam rolls his eyes.

“Are you sure?” the bellhop asks, looking between Matt and the bags.

Adam hands him a twenty. “We’re good. Sorry for the trouble.”

His eyes dart over to Matt with a little smile on his face. “It was no trouble at all.”

“Thank you,” Matt says, all moony eyed, and Adam has half a mind to grab him by the hair and yank him into the hotel room.

“Just get in the damned room,” Adam says, hauling all the bags in as he unlocks the door. Matt floats in after him.

“He was cute,” Matt muses, like he has no idea what he does. “Wish I’d gotten his name.”

“Why, so you could fuck up his head even more?” Adam asks. He chucks the bags onto the bed.

Matt tilts his head and starts playing with the ends of his hair. “What do you mean?”

Adam sighs. “You’re the worst.” He yanks Matt in and kisses him long enough to get Matt whimpery and needy, then pulls away.

“Wait, no,” Matt says, giant eyes searching Adam’s face. “Come back.”

“Nope,” Adam says. “You can wait until after Dynamite.”

Matt frowns. “Dynamite’s ages away.”

“Yeah.” Adam may be a cowboy, but he’s also a bit of a scientist and more than a bit of a dick, and he wants to know what Matt will do when he’s riled up and desperate.

Matt shifts and wiggles. “But we got the nice room and everything!” Matt whines Adam doesn’t think he’d be surprised if Matt stomped his foot. “That – we got the king bed!”

Adam shrugs. “You can wait until after Dynamite or you can get nothing at all.”

Matt’s eyes widen, and Adam thinks he might just be getting what’s going on here. Matt pouts, then licks his lips. “Nothing?”

Adam stares at him. “Nothing.”

~

Surprisingly the first person Matt runs into is Mox as they walk into the venue.

“Hey, douchebags,” Mox says, lighting a cigarette as he leans up against the door.

“You’re in the way,” Matt says. He flips his hair over his shoulder. “Move.”

“Nah.”

Adam decides to hang back and let it happen. Matt’s been bitchy ever since Adam told him he had to wait, and he’s interested to see how Matt handles it.

Not well, is the answer. Matt stalks up to Mox like he has anything on him, and Mox shoves him into the wall. Adam slides out of the way and watches as Matt blinks up at Mox.

“What, you’re not gonna defend your boy?” Mox asks, forearm across Matt’s chest.

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Now why on earth would I do that?” He nods to where Matt’s blinking up at Mox like the horniest baby cow on the planet. “He’s having fun.”

Matt’s cheeks turn pink.

“You are, aren’t you,” Mox laughs, leaning in a little closer. Matt’s eyes flicker over to Adam for the briefest of seconds, then back to Mox. He looks like he’s about to lean in for some sort of kiss, but then Mox steps away and laughs. “Fuck, Cowboy, you got a handful.”

“You don’t gotta tell me,” Adam says with an eye roll. “Jesus, Matt, you could be a little less obvious.”

“Hmm?” Matt mumbles.

Adam has to grab his shoulder and shove him into the venue after Mox steps aside.

~

“You’re, like, so strong,” Matt says, sitting on the table in front of Kris. Adam glances over from where he’s getting a cookie from the dessert tray. Matt’s actually swinging his legs. Adam laughs and shakes his head, and decides to watch.

“Thanks!” Kris says, beaming. “I had to work really hard to come back after the knee.”

Matt nods, all his attention on Kris, turning on the baby cow eyes. “And you’re a champion now,” he says reverently. He slides his hand to bump pinkies with Kris. “That’s, like, so impressive.”

Kris’ cheeks turn pink. “Thanks. That means a lot, from an EVP.”

Matt shifts so he can rest his hand on top of Kris’, and Adam might have to intervene if Matt keeps going. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”

“I could probably squat you, easy,” Kris says. She puts down her fork. “Come here.”

Matt looks like a kid on their birthday when Kris straight up grabs him and throws him over her shoulders, squatting him like it’s nothing. Matt giggles, one hand on her bicep and the other on her waist as Kris squats like it’s nothing.

“Oh, my god,” he says. Adam’s pretty sure he’d swoon if he were standing. “This is –”

“Hey, Matty, we have to get ourselves back to get dressed.” He wraps a hand around Matt’s waist and hauls him off of Kris’ shoulders. He knew what the next two words were, and telling a coworker who is technically an employee that her squatting him is his fantasy might cross a line. “Sorry, Kris. You are cool as hell, though. Send me that squat routine.”

“Yes,” Matt says, nodding emphatically. “Please send it to him.”

Kris grins and giggles. “You two are cute. Come hang out with Best Friends some time, okay? Now that you guys aren’t mean anymore, I think Orange might forgive you.” She cartwheels away.

Matt turns to Adam, frowning. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you were about to get inappropriate.” Adam leans in and kisses Matt’s temple. Then he drops his lips closer to Matt’s ear. “God, you can’t even keep it in your pants at work. How shameless.”

He laughs at the whole body shiver that floods through Matt’s body.

~

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Adam mutters, dropping his forehead in his hand.

Yuta’s got Matt pinned up against the wall with a hand around his throat. “Say that again,” Yuta growls. “I dare you.”

He’s pretty sure nobody else would notice, but Adam can see the barest hint of an outline of Matt’s hard dick in his jeans.

Matt stares at Yuta with gigantic eyes, then flutters his eyelashes.

“Let him go, Yuta,” Adam says, prying Yuta’s fingers off of Matt’s throat. Matt whimpers, and Adam does not want him to reveal why.

“He told me I wasn’t tough enough for the BCC,” Yuta says, glaring at Matt. “Make him take it back.”

“He’s goading you,” Adam says, trying to push Matt away. “Matt, dude, take it back before Yuta kills you.”

Matt looks over at Adam like Adam’s stolen his candy. “Why?”

“Because you probably want to keep your head on your body,” Adam says. “Please, keep it in your pants when it comes to people who are actually lethal.”

Yuta lights up. “You think I’m lethal?” Then the rest of the sentence process. “Wait, keep it in his – oh.” His eyes widen, and he looks over at Matt. “I, uh. Really?” He gets a soft little smile on his lips and he reaches out to bump the back of Matt’s hand with his.

“Back away from my boyfriend before I kill you,” Adam growls.

Yuta looks Adam up and down, like he’s trying to decide if it’s worth the fight. He shrugs. “Alright. But you know where to find me.” He winks at Matt and Matt giggles.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Matt.”

Matt beams and slides his hand into Adam’s. “Yeah.”

~

Matt squeezes himself between Nyla and Claudio during a companywide pep talk right before the start of Dynamite. Adam counts how long it takes before Matt starts being inappropriate. He doesn’t even get to double digits before he starts playing with Nyla’s hair.

“Matthew, you fucking idiot,” Adam mutters. “HR is right there.”

“But I was just –”

“Nope,” Adam says. He grabs Matt’s arm and yanks Matt in front of him. “Not in front of the whole company.”

“But Nyla –”

“If you say she started it, I’ll make you wait until next week.”

Matt shuts up.

~

Adam watches, almost embarrassed, during the Bucks vs. Danny and Sammy match where Matt straight up caresses Danny’s face mid match.

“He’s really at eleven tonight, isn’t he?” Kenny mutters. “What’d you do to him?”

“How the fuck is this my fault?” Adam asks. “He’s the one out there, like, presenting on live television.”

Kenny raises an eyebrow. “Because I know you, and I’m pretty sure you’re doing one of the Matt experiments you used to do back in New Japan.”

Adam opens his mouth to argue, but very quickly realizes he has no defense.

“Exactly,” Kenny says, patting Adam’s arm. “Good luck, though, Dr. Frankenstein. Have fun with your monster.”

~

Matt comes offstage and practically drags Adam into the first locker room when he’s done with the match, kissing him like he’s dying for it.

“Uh.”

Adam breaks away only for Matt to go at his neck like a horny leech to see Luchasaurus and Christian staring at them blankly. He pokes Matt’s ribs. “Matt, babe, this is the wrong room.”

“Don’t care,” Matt mumbles against his skin.

“I care,” Luchasaurus says, sounding surprisingly affronted.

Matt pulls away and blinks, and it appears at least some sense starts to return to him. “Right,” he says slowly. He grabs the handle of the door and backs away. “Right. Sorry.”

Adam smiles apologetically and follows Matt out of the room.

“We need to go to the hotel now,” Matt says, tone as urgent as if there was a bomb they had to diffuse. “Seriously. I’m gonna do something stupid.”

“Working up Yuta wasn’t stupid?”

“Shut up.”

Matt works in a furious frenzy as he packs up his stuff in the EVP room while Adam casually puts his things together. He’s done before Matt, because he’s not running around the room like a chicken with its head cut off.

He’s on his phone playing Tetris while Matt digs for a shoe when Nick comes in.

“Matt, where the eff did you go?” Nick asks. “We got backstage and you ran off. You okay?”

“He’s fine,” Adam says. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Matt turns around, raising something black and blue triumphantly. “Found it!”

Nick looks between the two of them. “Yeah. Yeah, don’t tell me. I’d rather not be scarred today.”

Matt shoves the shoe into his bag and grabs Adam’s hand. “Come on, back to the hotel.”

“Later, Nick,” Adam says. “Don’t make any stupid choices like your brother.”

With a frown, Nick asks, “Does that imply my brother is making stupid choices, or that my brother is the stupid choice?”

“Yes.”

~

Adam sends up a quick thanks to the big guy that the cute bellhop isn’t working tonight, because Matt doesn’t get distracted the whole time through the drive, the lobby, the elevator, and the hallway. The door closes behind them and Matt’s hands are on Adam so quickly it feels almost impossible.

“Christ, let the door shut all the way,” Adam laughs. “So fuckin’ desperate.”

Matt whines, sliding his hands up Adam’s shirt. “I – yeah. Desperate.”

Adam licks his lips and grabs Matt’s hands, forcing them still. “Just can’t control yourself.” He shifts his voice a little lower, a little darker. “Can’t get enough of it, can you?”

Matt shakes his head. “No. Gotta – want your cock.”

“Not sure if you deserve it.” Adam puts his hands on Matt’s hips and pushes him toward the bathroom door. He turns Matt so he’s facing the mirror. “Look at that slut. Does he deserve to get fucked the way he wants?”

Matt bites his lip as he looks at himself in the mirror, considering the question so seriously Adam fights a smile. “Maybe?”

Adam laughs. “You tried to get it from so many people.” He trails his fingertips up and down Matt’s arms, drawing goosebumps. “Couldn’t wait for me. Maybe you don’t get it because you were so impatient.”

Matt’s lip juts out in the pout of the century. “I tried.”

“Not as hard as you should have,” Adam laughs in his ear. He grabs Matt’s hip, pulling him back against Adam’s own cock, which is already embarrassingly hard. “Mox, Kris, Nyla,” he presses a kiss to Matt’s neck in between each name, “Yuta, Danny, Claudio. And that’s only the people I saw,” Adam growls into Matt’s ear. He slides his hand into Matt’s hair and pulls it back to see Matt’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth fall open. “Who else did you whore yourself out to, huh?” He drags his lips across Matt’s cheek until he turns Matt’s head to meet his lips. Matt whimpers into his mouth, grinding his ass back against Adam’s cock. “Who else did you try to open yourself up for?”

“N-nobody else,” Matt gasps. “Only those ones. Only when you were looking.”

Adam laughs, harsh, as he moves his mouth away to bite at Matt’s earlobe. “Desperate and performing. As always.” He sighs. “Such a slut.”

Matt sighs at the word. “Mhm,” he murmurs. “Always. For you.”

“Any of them as good at is as I am?” Adam asks, sliding his fingertips into the waistband of Matt’s pants. “Any of them got a taste of what I got?”

“No,” Matt gasps, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. Adam slides his hands across Matt’s abs, up his chest to tweak nipples. “Nobody. Nobody like you.”

Adam hums in approval, rewarding Matt by sliding his hand down and cupping Matt’s hard dick through his sweats. Matt whines, hips pushing forward like he can’t stop himself, and Adam takes his hand away.

“You’re so mean,” Matt pants, dropping his head until Adam lifts his head to meet his eyes in the mirror. “You’re so mean to me.”

“You like it, though, don’t you?” Adam slowly pushes Matt’s pants down his hips, careful to make them catch on his dick. “You love it when I’m mean.”

Matt lets out a weird, wordless whimper, something drawn from deep within him, and it turns into a sob when Adam kneads his ass. “I do,” Matt whispers. “Fuck, I – I do.”

“Who do you belong to?” Adam turns Matt’s head so he looks into Matt’s blown pupils. “No matter who you go parade in front of, who do you come home to?”

“You,” Matt breathes. “Always, only you.”

“Good,” Adam laughs into his year. “Brace yourself on the counter, baby. And don’t you dare look away from that mirror.”

Matt nods, mouth still open.

Adam pulls the lube off the counter where he’d put it earlier today. He slides a finger in easy, always so easy, Matt is for him, and Matt cries out.

“Eyes open,” Adam snaps, and Matt obeys. “You take a finger so easy. Just like a whore to be so open about it.”

Matt whines, and it’s clear how hard he’s fighting to watch himself in the mirror. His eyes meet Adam’s in their reflection. “Please. Please, Adam, I want – only your cock, forever.”

Adam bookmarks that for later, because interesting, and slides in a second finger, scissoring to open Matt up further. Matt makes a choked off sound. “Yeah?” Adam asks. “That what you want? That what my good slut wants?”

Matt shakes his head. “No,” he gasps. “No, not enough, you know. You know I want you, Adam, I want you.”

He runs a third finger around Matt’s rim. “Yeah?”

Matt nods, and shouts as Adam slides the third finger in. He’s half sobbing in desperation now, fucking himself back on Adam’s fingers so relentlessly that Adam wonders if he could get off just watching it.

And he slides his fingers out without warning.

The noise Matt makes is almost a hiccup, and he glares, burning red, at Adam. But he doesn’t look away from the mirror.

“Good boy,” Adam murmurs, lips to Matt’s temple. “Look at you, following directions for once. What a good little slut.”

Matt nods, mouth so red and wanting that Adam has to turn his head to kiss him. He slicks himself up with one hand while he slides the other around Matt’s neck.

“Mine,” he growls into Matt’s mouth.

Matt pulls back, eyes huge and sweet. “Yours.”

He shifts Matt back to the counter. “Lean over, baby, you better hold on.” And he slides home.

Adam has been doing a damned good job of pretending the whole day wasn’t riling him up, wasn’t bringing him to the brink of sanity to fuck Matt in the middle of the ring. But now, feeling that slick heat clench around him, seeing Matt’s ecstatic expression, Adam finally admits to himself that he’s been just as desperate this whole time. He and Matt go a little wild with it, as he pounds into Matt without a second thought and Matt grips the counter with white knuckles.

“Don’t stop,” Matt whimpers. “Don’t you – give it to me like the whore I am.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Oh. Interesting.”

Matt nods. “I – I’m a slut, right?” He smiles at Adam in the mirror, but it falls away for a particularly devastating roll of his eyes. “So fuck me like one.”

Adam’s never been good at saying no to Matt, especially when he gets so gone that he’s swearing. Adam feels surrounded by Matt, his scent, his scorching heat, his noises, and thinks he could do this forever. Matt’s practically singing for him, from Adam’s name to desires for more to pleas to go harder. Adam does his best to oblige.

“Matt,” he gasps. “Matt, god, I love you.” He curls a hand around Matt’s hip and another around his cock.

“I thought you were being mean today,” Matt teases, grinning at him in the mirror.

“Can’t,” Adam whimpers. “Not now.”

Matt giggles and tangles his fingers with Adam’s at his hip. “I – god, so close – I love you too.”

Adam comes without warning, so hard his brain spins, deep within Matt. He has the sense to keep stroking Matt’s cock until he feels Matt’s cock spurt, hot and wet, all over his hand and the counter. He rests his head between Matt’s shoulder blades, coming down from somewhere near Neptune, and stays there until he can breathe steadily again.

“Did you mean it?” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Matt’s tanned skin.

“Mean what?” Matt asks. He wiggles so Adam’s cock slips out of him and turns so he’s facing Adam. “You know I love you.”

Adam looks up and smiles at Matt, at his wrecked hair, at his red face. “The forever part,” he murmurs, brushing a rogue lock of hair off Matt’s face.

Matt looks away for a second, then turns those absurd eyes back on Adam. “I did.”

“Good,” Adam says, grinning. He thinks he must look just about as wrecked as Matt. He turns them around to look in the mirror. “I think forever works for me.”

~

Mini Playlist:

Desperate Measures - Marianas Trench

Take Me on the Floor - The Veronicas

Instigator - Kaci Brown

Mirrors- Natalia Kills

[katiesharms]

(i love you) for sentimental reasons

(read on ao3!)

fandom: top gun maverick pairing: rooster/hangman rating: E (18+) wc: 7k

summary:

“Where are we going?” Bradley asks, slinging the empty overnight bag over his shoulder.

“Where do you think?” Jake gestures over Bradley’s shoulder, and he turns to see the framed map that was the first thing hung up in Jake’s base housing.

“So we’re finally making it to West Virginia, huh?”

or Jake and Bradley, one year later

a/n: hiiiii!! i was not planning on writing any more for this universe, but i figured after 30k of them being angsty, they deserved some happiness and i wrote this over the course of two days! and then 'miles' got 400 kudos and it motivated me to finish, so thank you!!

Bradley’s first year out of the Navy comes with a lot of changes.

His permanent address, for one, after he moves out of his parents' house in San Diego and into a place in Virginia Beach. He’s lived around the city for a good amount of his adult life, having been stationed there for years. But he usually opted for base housing instead of getting his own place. It was one of the many ways he shut himself off from outside connections. Now, Bradley embraces his new home. 

Another change is an obvious one, his job title. Bradley had worried, initially, about facing life as an adult for the first time out of service. He’s spent more years in the Navy than out of it, and he’s never had a typical 9-5 job or a 9-5 life. It’s not even like he’s strayed that far from the Navy; his new job means he’s on base all the time, talking to people about retiring and referring them to their services, And most of his new coworkers are also ex-military. They take him in like a little bird who needs to be cared for. He’s reminded at least weekly that their counseling services are available to employees as well as clients, and Bradley started taking advantage of them about four months in. Jake had just been deployed, and Bradley felt lonely and left out. He was so used to the built-in companionship of service, of always having someone around, that he started to feel a little left out. The counseling services helped him, and so has the camaraderie of his office. Bradley gets to meet all kinds of people, and he loves the service aspect of his job; his coworkers are great. Chuck, his manager, knows a guy who runs an airfield just outside of town, and Rooster still gets to get up in the air every once in a while.

His relationship with Maverick also changes. A year ago, it was rocky, but on the mend, a series of olive branches extended between the two of them. Now, Bradley feels it’s approaching something resembling normalcy. Maybe it’s helped by the thousands of miles that stretch between them, but they talk regularly, and Bradley spent the holidays out in San Diego with Mav, Penny, and Amelia. There are still awkward moments when one of them mentions something that happened during their time apart and forgets the other doesn’t know about it. Whenever one of them remembers that there’s years between them of emptiness, they stutter in conversation, an uncomfortable pause becoming almost stifling. But neither of them wants the past to become so large it overshadows the present, so it’s easy to subtly sidestep the verbal fumble and keep focused on the present and building back what they lost.

Perhaps the most meaningful change in Bradley’s life is Jake. Sometimes, when he wakes up to the soft diluted light falling across Jake’s cheekbones, Bradley can forget. Forget the years of turmoil and pain, the awkward starts and stops they took on their way back to each other. But those years are what made sliding into bed next to Jake and wrapping his arms around him feel so sweet.

Sometimes, during their years apart, when Bradley felt his lowest, he thought that Jake might have been the worst thing to ever happen to him. Now, cocooned constantly in Jake Seresin’s love, Bradley knows he’s the best thing to ever happen to him. When Jake became a permanent fixture in Bradley’s life, it’s like he turned the brightness up to ten. Everything seems more manageable with Jake by his side. His PTSD, his strained relationship with his Maverick, his grief. None of it goes away, but now Bradley has someone he can lean on, someone he feels comfortable letting in. And Jake, Bradley hopes, feels the same.

Being with Jake now has all of the fun of the first time, all the jokes, the flirty competition, the outrageous sex, and the gentle sex, but it’s deeper now. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but his relationship with Jake the first time was like empty calories. All fun and no depth, the superficial joys of a relationship with none of the emotional foundation to make it last. But they’re built to last this time.

All of this to say, Bradley loves Jake. Deeply, truly, reverently. He loves him enough to stand across from him in Jake’s narrow hallway, Jake’s back turned to him as he rifles through the hall closet, with no idea what’s going on. Jake hasn’t said a word since he arrived except for ‘follow me.’

“Here,” Jake tosses something at Bradley with little warning, and after he catches it on instinct, Bradley realizes it’s a duffel bag. Jake emerges from the closet satisfied, toting his own small suitcase. Bradley didn’t even know there was anything in that closet, much less multiple pieces of luggage. They really need to start spending more time at Jake’s.

“Is this your poetic way of breaking up with me?” Bradley asks, inspecting the bag. “Telling me to get lost or something?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m telling you to pack.”

“For what?” Bradley knows he can be slow in the air, but he really feels like he’s missing something here.

“Our anniversary trip,” Jake says like it’s obvious. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“I remember the anniversary.” This weekend marks one year since they decided to start again. “But I definitely don’t remember any trip conversation.”

“I’ve got four days off starting Thursday, and I think we should go somewhere.”

Thursday’s in three days. Bradley appreciates the sentiment, but a little warning would’ve been nice.

“You know I have a job, right?” Bradley asks but takes the bag from Jake anyway.

“Please, Amanda’s been begging you to take time off since you started. I don’t think she’ll care if you take two days off in the middle of June.”

Bradley has to admit that Jake has a point there. Since he started a year ago, Bradley’s taken a grand total of five days off. Three at Christmas to see Mav, and two when Jake got shore leave back in March. He just hasn’t had much of a reason for it; Jake was deployed for six of the past twelve months, and when he wasn’t, Bradley saw him all the time. And Bradley likes his job. Every morning, he wakes up excited to go to work, thrilled with his new career direction. After leaving the Navy, he was worried that he would miss its familiar rhythms, the routine he’s learned to glom his life onto. But he’s found a new one, a new way to structure his life. It revolves around morning meetings with Amanda and Chuck, afternoon visits with clients, and nights with Jake.

“Where are we going?” Bradley asks, slinging the empty overnight bag over his shoulder.

“Where do you think?” Jake gestures over Bradley’s shoulder, and he turns to see the framed map that was the first thing hung up in Jake’s base housing.

The cookie-cutter housing that Jake’s been in since he got reassigned remains pretty impersonal, even after a year of Jake living there. Besides their map, the only things on the walls are a few photos of the two of them and the rest of their special detachment, as well as a couple of those Ikea artworks that Phoenix bought Jake after the first time she came over, lamenting at how barren his house was.

Not that it matters. They spend most of their time at Bradley’s, which oozes personality and warmth. The walls are cluttered with photos, of his parents, of Mav, their friends, and Jake. Peppered around are also photos taken from planes, sent to him by Mav and a few other pilot friends. The blanket on the couch belonged to his mom, and the top two drawers of the dresser are full of Jake’s clothes. 

“So we’re finally making it to West Virginia, huh?”

It’s something they joke about all the time. Bradley likes to say the blank spot on their map haunts his dreams, and he’s not exaggerating too much. He’s still angry with himself for missing out on just one single state. Every time he complains about it, Jake pretends to be offended. “You’re saying that all of it wasn’t worth it because we missed West Virginia? I’m not as important as a state that doesn’t even have its own name?”

And, of course, Bradley would protest. He’d do it all again, every empty drive and shitty hotel room, every awkward conversation and stumble, if it meant he ended up here again, across from Jake and genuinely considering his insane proposal. Bradley just wishes they’d managed to hit their goal of every state. Blame the completist in him.

Jake’s right; it’s easier than easy to get time off work. Bradley asks for Thursday and Friday, and Amanda throws in Wednesday for good measure, chasing him out the door. Jake still has work that day, so Bradley decides to take the extra hours and cook them a nice dinner. Jake’s kitchen isn’t nearly as well-stocked as Bradley’s, but over the past year, Bradley has started migrating some of his duplicates over, like a rolling pin and mixing bowls. He rolls out the pasta dough by hand, cutting the ravioli shapes carefully to ensure even edges and a uniform shape. Jake returns to the smell of sauce bubbling on the stove and a flourless chocolate cake in the oven.

“Mmm,” he hums as he settles in behind Bradley, wrapping his arms around Bradley’s waist and leaning in, so his nose nestles into the crook of Bradley's neck. It’s cold from the AC in Jake’s truck, and Bradley winces away from it on instinct before relaxing into Jake’s arms. 

“What’d I do to deserve such a lovely welcome home?” Jake continues and starts to pepper kisses along Bradley’s neck, nipping at the nape as he slowly runs his hands up and down Bradley’s sides. Bradley shivers at the contact, a tendril of heat starting to lick up the base of his spine. Jake snakes his hand under Bradley’s loose t-shirt and rakes his nails over his stomach, just enough pressure to light Bradely’s nerves up.

A pop from the sauce pot pulls Bradley’s attention back to the task at hand and pulls away from Jake’s hold. It’s probably better for both their dinner and the state of Jake’s house, but Jake still lets out a frustrated moan from the back of his throat when his lips detach from Bradley’s neck.

“This isn’t without strings,” Bradley eventually answers Jake’s initial question, stirring the sauce and turning the heat down. “I expect you to do the dishes.”

Even with his back turned, Bradley can feel Jake rolling his eyes. “I thought that was a given.”

It’s their established pattern whenever they spend their evenings together, which, these days, is almost every evening; Bradley cooks, a combination of recipes from his childhood and ones pilfered from the internet and spruced up with some Bradshaw magic, and then Jake cleans. It works well; Jake can’t salt his food properly and once used cilantro instead of parsley when making meatballs. And Bradley, apparently, never scrubs the pans down hard enough.

“If you do them fast enough, I’ll give you something special tonight,” Bradley says over his shoulder and watches Jake’s eyes darken.

“You know I love a reward system.” Jake walks over to the sink and picks up one of the dishes already soaking. The rolling pin Bradley used for the ravioli. He begins running the sponge up and down it, brows furrowed in concentration and his tongue peaking out the corner of his mouth. And this past year must have really rewritten Bradley’s brain chemistry because the sight causes him to flush with arousal. 

After dinner (and dessert, when Jake moans around his fork in a truly obscene way), Jake plows through the dishes at a remarkable pace. He’s no less thorough; Bradley can hear how vigorously he’s scrubbing from where he’s trying to find room in the fridge for the leftovers. But he’s efficient, working through the pile with a single-mindedness Bradley used to think only applied to his flying. He knows now Jake also uses it for a few other things, like his skincare routine, and sex.

When he can see that Jake only has one dish left - the pan he seared broccoli in, Bradley walks up behind Jake, a mirror from earlier. He crowds Jake tighter than Jake did to him before, pushing Jake into the kitchen counter that hits just above his waist. Bradley snakes his hand around to the front of Jake’s pants, cupping him purposefully. Jake’s half hard; Bradley wonders how long he’s been like that.

“Can I finish this first?” Jake moans, his hand slipping on the pan handle.

“I don’t know,” Bradley mumbles against Jake’s ear, nibbling the shell. “Can you?”

Bradley squeezes Jake’s cock through his pants, and Jake tilts his head back. Bradley takes advantage of the newly open real estate and licks a stripe up Jake’s neck. “Fuck off,” Jake edges out, his jaw clenched.

“Thought that was the opposite of what you wanted?” Bradley pushes his hips into Jake’s ass eagerly, so he can feel Bradley’s own arousal.

Jake scrambles for the pan as it slides out of his grasp, catching it just before it hits the bottom of the sink. He gives it a quick rinse, setting it on the drying rack, and turns around in Bradley’s arms.

“You sure that’s up to the Seresin standard?” Bradley teases.

Instead of answering, Jake latches his mouth onto Bradley’s, licking in with no preamble. Bradley answers in earnest, leaning into Jake so much that Jake has to bend back over the sink. Bradley takes advantage of their positions by shifting his thigh between Jake’s legs, letting him impatiently grind down on his muscular thigh.

After a few minutes of kissing filthily in Jake’s kitchen, Bradley leans back and hooks his hands around the back of Jake’s legs, right where they meet his ass.

“C’mon,” he gestures his head towards the bedroom. “Let’s take this to a horizontal surface.”

“Are you gonna carry me?” Jake teases, but Bradley can hear the desire in it. “Are you sure you can handle it, old man?”

“Asshole,” Bradley mutters and lifts Jake anyway. Jake, to his credit, goes with it, wrapping his legs around Bradley’s waist.

It’s a short walk to the bedroom, thankfully, and Bradley’s back does start to hurt by the time he dumps Jake on the bed. Not that he’ll tell Jake that. Jake immediately pulls his shirt off and unbuckles his pants. Bradley might’ve laughed at the urgency, but he can feel it too, itching under his skin as he undresses as well. 

Once they’re both naked, cocks heavy and hard between them, Bradley crawls up the bed over Jake. After dropping a quick kiss on Jake’s lips, Bradley leans over Jake to grab the lube from the nightstand. As his fingers close around the tube, Jake nips at his nipple, lapping at it and the surrounding skin. The sensation causes goosebumps to rise along Bradley’s skin, and he grinds his hips down into Jake. When their cocks brush against each other, Bradley hisses at the contact, dropping his head down towards Jake.

Bradley pulls out of it, redirects his focus to the task at hand, and helps maneuver Jake up the bed and against the pillows. He makes his way back down Jake’s body, occasionally stopping to nip at his skin or lick along the divots of his muscles. When he reaches Jake’s cock, hard and already leaking precum, Bradley gives it a few licks along the head, running his tongue along the slit. Jake’s hips push up off the bed, chasing the sensation, but Bradley reaches his free hand down to hold him in place.

“Patience, babe,” Bradley admonishes, and Jake rolls his eyes, the brat. “I have a plan.” Bradley uncaps the lube and drizzles it on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up.

“Does the plan involve moving like molasses?”

Instead of answering, Bradley slides one finger into Jake without hesitation, enjoying how Jake clenches around it with a full-body shudder. No matter how often they do this, Bradley finds new things to delight in every time. Now, it’s the way Jake’s eyelashes brush against his high cheekbones as his eyes flutter shut in pleasure. Bradley works the finger in and out of Jake slowly, picking up pace as he can feel Jake’s muscles relax around him. Pulling out, he re-enters Jake with two fingers, pressing at his walls.

“You gonna fuck me?” Jake breathes out, shifting his hips to try to get Bradley’s fingers deeper.

Bradley huffs out a dry laugh. “We have to sit in a car all day tomorrow.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Jake grunts, shifting into a moan when Bradley pushes his fingers down, right on Jake’s prostate.

He’s not wrong, but Bradley doesn’t want to spend seven hours tomorrow with a Jake who’s grumpy because his ass is sore. So he carefully slides his fingers out, despite Jake’s protesting moan, and wraps his hand, still slick with lube, around Jake’s cock. Jake’s grumble of argument is cut off the second Bradley’s tongue flattens against his hole.

It’s not a great angle, trying to eat Jake out and jerk his cock, so when Jake realizes that Bradley’s only giving half his attention to both tasks and bats Bradley’s hand away, Bradley lets him. He redoubles his efforts on Jake’s ass, licking into his hole and gently pressing his tongue in. Eventually, he pushes his fingers, slick with spit and lube, back into Jake’s hole, licking around the rim where his fingers disappear in and out of Jake.

Jake’s stroking his own cock, in rhythm with Bradley’s fingers, and Bradley can sense he’s close. Jake’s movements become irregular, as he tries to push down onto Bradley’s fingers and up into his own hand. Bradley can sense Jake coming before he actually does, his entire body tensing up a millisecond before he’s orgasming, spurting cum onto  his chest.

Bradley lets Jake ride through it on his fingers, milking the orgasm for all it’s worth. As Jake’s orgasm dwindles, and he flinches away from the press of Bradley’s fingers on his prostate, Bradley gently pulls out.

“Happy anniversary,” Bradley coos sweetly as he licks up Jake’s chest, leaving a trail of saliva and cum in his wake. 

Jake, who seems to have regained his wits much faster than Bradley would’ve expected, retorts, “our anniversary is on Saturday.”

“Eh,” Bradley disagrees, laying on his back so Jake can crawl down the bed and start peppering kisses along the base of Bradley’s cock. It's an intricate dance they’ve perfected long ago. “We were basically already together by the time we hit D.C.”

“We hadn’t even had our big talk yet,” Jake argues before taking Bradley in his mouth, all the way to the root. Bradley can feel his cock brush up against the back of Jake’s throat, and it’s almost enough to see stars. But he’s not gonna let this deter him.

“We can have an anniversary week,” Bradley concedes, his voice strained as Jake bobs his head. “Really stretch out the celebration.”

Jake doesn’t answer, his mouth too busy, but Bradley can feel him smile around his cock, so he marks a tally in the win column.

-

True to their roots, they do minimal planning. One of the guys in Jake’s squadron grew up in West Virginia and recommended the New River Gorge National Park. Well, he initially recommended Harper’s Ferry, but Jake claimed that it’s a cop-out since it sits at the intersection of West Virginia, Virginia, and Maryland. “I want the true West Virginia experience,” Jake had drawled, and Bradley just rolled his eyes.

It’s nearly a six-hour drive from Virginia Beach, so they leave midday on Thursday, planning to get to their hotel around dinner time. Somewhere around Richmond, the Bronco starts making a rattling sound. Deciding to ignore it, Bradley figures it’s probably not that big of a deal. Near Charlottesville, the rattling gets louder, and Jake starts to look concerned.

“Should we pull over?” he asks warily.

“Nah,” Bradley says confidently. “She’s sounded a lot worse, and she hasn’t failed me yet.”

He’s mostly telling the truth. She at least hasn't failed him in a way that can’t be fixed with 20 minutes and a look under the hood. Judging from Jake’s skeptical expression, Bradley knows he’s thinking of one of those times.

“It’ll be fine, babe,” Bradley reassures. “You know how handy I am.” He wiggles his eyebrows for effect, and Jake shakes his head fondly, but doesn’t remark on it any further.

It turns out that Bradley may have overestimated both the Bronco and his mechanical knowledge because a couple of hours later, about thirty minutes from the West Virginia border, something in the engine pops and smoke starts coming out of the hood. Bradley pulls over quickly, remaining calm even as Jake starts freaking out next to him. Luckily, the road is almost empty, and he doesn’t have to worry about passing vehicles.

“Bradley,” Jake starts, his voice tense. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure,” Bradley tries to keep his voice calm. “But I’m about to find out.”

It takes Bradley only ten minutes to determine that the problem with his engine is not something he can fix with the limited tool kit he keeps in the Bronco. It looks like a part has completely rusted through and needs to be replaced before it’ll run again.

“We need to call for a tow,” Bradley says decisively. Whatever is wrong with the Bronco is out of his purview.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere! How are we gonna get a tow?” Jake sounds borderline hysterical.

“Don’t you have Triple-A?”

“I canceled it because you always fix everything!”

And, of course, he did, the beautiful, sentimental, stupid idiot. Bradley pulls out his phone and finds that, thankfully, he still has a few bars, even out in the middle of nowhere. A quick Google pulls up a bunch of auto repair shops in the nearby town, and after some preliminary research, Bradley selects one with vintage cars listed on their website and gives them a call.

As they wait for a tow, they both lean against the side of the car.

“I can’t believe you actually canceled Triple-A.”

Jake shrugs. “When your boyfriend can basically be your personal mechanic, why bother with the extra expense?”

“Because said boyfriend is not an actual mechanic, and you may end up stranded in the woods.” Bradley gestures around them in demonstration.

“Well, if said boyfriend had listened to his genius partner and pulled over earlier, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation.” There’s no malice in Jake’s voice, just gentle teasing.

“Okay, maybe we both made mistakes here,” Bradley concedes. Judging from the look Jake is giving him, Bradley’s pretty sure Jake’s not buying it.

They talk aimlessly for a little bit, but the waiting starts to get to both of them. When Bradley called, the guy on the other end said a tow would be about 45 minutes. Bradley starts getting antsy around the 20-minute mark, and he can feel Jake doing the same. When you’re used to the adrenaline high of flying, waiting around feels almost impossible. Jake, shifting back and forth on his feet, shifts to a more serious tone than their conversation about hippos warrants, and Bradley turns towards him.

“I never told you why I could swing the time off. I’m taking on a new role, more instruction than flying combat.”

“Is that what you want?” Bradley asks carefully, studying Jake’s face for any sign of hidden feelings.

Jake nods. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. I love flying, obviously, and this way, I still can. But I don’t really want, or need, the thrill of combat anymore. Besides, I like coming home to you, and I don’t like the thought of you not knowing if I’m okay. I want to be okay for you.”

“And for yourself. You should be okay for yourself, too.” Jake looks down but nods, which Bradley takes as a win. “I won’t lie and say I’m not biased towards one option, but I would love knowing you’re safer.”

Jake takes Bradley’s hand in his own, holding it loosely between them and running a thumb along his knuckles. “And I want to be safer. I’ve grown quite attached to this life we have together, and I’d like to keep it going for as long as possible.”

Bradley smiles, slow and warm, and soon the two of them are grinning at each other like the lovestruck fools they are. “Me too, Jake.”

If Jake had told him this, that he’s ready to ground himself, six years, two years, hell, ten months ago, Bradley’s not sure he’d believe him. But after their year together, after committing to each other to try for something that lasts, Bradley believes Jake is genuinely ready to start to let flying go. 

Because the fact of the matter is that they will have to, no matter what. The future, their future, stretches out before them infinitely, and Jake wants to stick around for that. No one can be Maverick, not even Maverick anymore, now that Ice is gone, and Jake will have to stop flying sooner rather than later. Bradley’s glad that he’s starting to make peace with it. 

The tow shows up, eventually, a kid who can’t be older than 25 driving the truck with a confidence only gained on the wide open roads of the country. Luckily, he and Jake both fit in the truck with him, and he spends the 30-minute drive explaining to them about the town they’re closest to, Covington. The kid has a thick accent, thicker than Jake’s family, and Bradley misses about one in five words, but he tries to keep up. Jake’s better at it, can understand the kid perfectly, and asks him a bunch of questions about small-town southern life. By the time they reach the town, Jake has the guy’s phone number and a list of recommendations.

The town they’re stranded in is tiny, just over 5,000 residents. According to Wikipedia, Covington is the second-least populous city in Virginia. Bradley could laugh if the prospect of being stuck here didn’t set his teeth on edge. Jake notices Bradley’s jittery energy, and places a comforting hand on his back as the mechanic explains why, exactly, the Bronco won’t be ready until Saturday afternoon. 

“You know,” Jake starts conversationally as they wait for the kid at the front desk to get his car keys. He offered them a ride to a hotel, and Bradley’s in no position to refuse. “I grew up in a town like this.”

“Yeah?” Bradley asks, thankful for the distraction.

“I mean, it was Texas, so obviously it was better.” Jake winks at Bradley, and it calms him, somehow. “But similar population, also in the middle of nowhere. It’s not as bad as you city folk like to think.”

Bradley takes offense to the ‘city folk’ moniker but lets it slide with just an annoyed glance at Jake. “It’s not the nothingness that I’m worried about. In fact, I like being in the middle of nowhere,” Bradley explains. “I just don’t like being here without a car or a plan.”

“Well, we’re not totally without a car. The kind locals are helping us out.” Jake gestures to where the kid from inside is pulling his car up to the curb. “And we do some of our best work without a plan, remember?”

“Hey, I take offense to that. There was at least some minimal planning. Someone had to get us across the country.”

“And yet, you still forgot West Virginia,” Jake says ruefully, and Bradley flips him off, just in time for the kid to pull up in front of them.

Bradley thought they’d figured out how to squeeze beauty out of every part of America when they found something to do in North Dakota, but apparently, they’re no match for Covington, Virginia. There’s a movie theater within walking distance of their hotel, so he and Jake watch two movies on Friday, some summer blockbuster fare, and the latest Marvel installment. They walk into downtown afterward and eat some of the worst Italian food Rooster has ever had.

But none of it sucks because of the simple reason that he’s with Jake. Jake makes every part of Bradley’s life better, even the shitty, mundane, boring parts. Because it’s hard to be bored when Jake is across from him, pulling faces at the soggy pasta in front of him.

“One year, huh?” Jake remarks somewhere between the entree and dessert course. Why Jake asked to see the dessert menu, Bradley has no idea. He can’t imagine it’s any good.

“Best year of my life,” Bradley says truthfully and watches Jake duck his head bashfully. “Even if you were deployed for half of it.”

“Best one of mine, too,” Jake says sincerely. “Though there’s not a lot of competition there.”

“Gee, way to make a guy feel special,” Bradley teases, but something catches in Jake’s expression.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jake looks so worried that Bradley rushes to reassure him. “It was just a joke, Jake.”

“Still. You’re special to me, Bradley. This,” Jake gestures between them, “this is special to me. I want you to know that, this time around.”

“It feels different, right?” Bradley asks, grabbing Jake’s hand across the table.

“Yeah,” Jake agrees, squeezing his hand. “Better. Miles better.”

And it is better. They’re having fun together, but they did that the first time. Now, when Jake’s dad calls, he doesn’t disappear for three days straight and come back a little more reckless and a little less kind. When Jake bought the wrong brand of detergent, instead of lashing out at him for a mistake he didn’t know he had made, Bradley let himself cry into Jake’s shoulder about how his clothes didn’t smell like his mom anymore. The first time they dated, Bradley thought sharing all of this would bog down their relationship with unnecessary baggage, making them too tragic to function. Now, he likes leaning on Jake, and letting Jake lean on him right back. 

“So with this new role, you’ll be deployed less?” Bradley tries to keep his hope in check. He knows there’s no such thing as a sure thing in any walk of life, but especially not in the military.

Jake smiles, all the hope Bradley's pushing down shining in his eyes. “Yeah. In fact, I won’t go on deployment unless there’s some major emergency. I’m pretty much guaranteed to be stateside until this stint is up. Gonna be seeing a lot of me.” Jake winks, squeezing Bradley’s hand.

Bradley squeezes it right back. “Good,” he says firmly. “I love you. And I miss you when you’re not around, even when it’s for a short trip.”

“I miss you when I’m not around, too,” Jake agrees.

“I love you,” Bradley says one more time for good measure., settling under Jake’s gaze when he repeats it back.

Bradley spent a lot of years never hearing or saying, ‘I love you.’ After his mom died and he stopped speaking to Mav, he floated through years of service relatively alone. There was a relationship here and there, and Jake the first time around, but nothing stuck. It was by circumstance and by design; the life of a naval aviator isn’t naturally built for meaningful long-term relationships, but Bradley tried his hardest to keep from forming any. All that love, for his parents, for Maverick, had nowhere to go. Bradley likes being able to give it to Jake. If anyone needs the excess of love Bradley’s been hoarding for the better part of two decades, it’s Jake Seresin.

They walk back to the hotel slowly. It’s a nice night; out here in the middle of nowhere, Bradley can look up and see stars for miles. It’s not as overwhelming as it was driving through some of the western US, but it’s still more than he ever sees in Virginia Beach, which is full of light pollution and aircraft obscuring the skies.

He and Jake walk side by side, shoulders brushing, but their hands kept to their own pockets. It’s a calculated move, in this small town where it seems the churches outnumber the people. It’s the same reason Jake requested two beds at the hotel, even though they’ll only be using one.

Bradley understands the pragmatic reason they’re not touching, even if his hands itch in his pockets to reach out and feel Jake’s presence. After so many years of only having Jake when they were in the same room together, Bradley sometimes craves the reminder that Jake is his, and he is Jake’s.

The hotel is small and generic, some Quality Inn that’s probably the exact same as the one two towns over. But it has clean sheets and hot water, so Bradley’s not gonna complain. They take turns in the shower, the cube too small for them to have any real fun in there together. Bradley showers first, washing the grime of the car, the road, and the auto shop off him. 

While Jake is taking his turn in the bathroom, Bradley lounges on the bed, towel slung low on his waist. He could get dressed, but honestly, it would probably be a waste of time.

Jake comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, still glistening from the shower. Bradley tracks a bead of water down Jake’s neck and chest, watches it disappear into the band of his underwear. When he pulls his gaze back up to Jake’s face, Jake smirks at him, but he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he lets his eyes settle on where the towel splits, and Bradley’s thigh is exposed to the cool air of the room.

“What’re you thinking about?” Bradley asks, low and slow, enjoying how the rumble in his voice correlates to Jake’s eyes darkening.

“I’m thinking,” Jake starts slowly, making his way towards the bed. As he settles over Bradley, he continues. “I think I should move in with you.”

“Are you inviting yourself to move into my home?” Bradley asks because, of course, Jake would phrase it like an imposition.

“Is it working?”

And yeah, it is. Bradley smiles into Jake’s shoulder, brushing his mustache against the delicate skin of Jake’s neck, and watches the goosebumps rise in response.

“I dunno,” Bradley lies, shiting to run his nose along Jake’s collarbone. “Might need some convincing. What’s in it for me?”

Jake reaches down to untuck the towel from around Bradley’s waist, and Bradley shifts, so it’s under them. Jake brings his hand up to Bradley’s cock, pumping it until it’s hard between them.

“Well,” Jake breathes into Bradley’s chest, where he’s nipping and licking at Bradley’s nipple. “We could do this way more often.”

“Mmmm,” Bradley hums, grabbing Jake’s hair to pull it, just hard enough that Jake moans into his chest. “I do like doing this.”

“And,” Jake continues, tracing a path down Bradley’s torso towards the top of his thighs, where he pauses to lick the crease at his waist. “I could wake up to you every morning and go to bed with you every night.”

Bradley hears the snick of the lube, and doesn’t even have time to process where it came from before Jake is prodding at his hole with a finger, slicked up. He lets his legs fall open more, making room for Jake to shift himself between them. Jake runs his finger around Bradley’s rim once and then slides his finger in slowly but steadily. Bradley tenses around it for a moment before relaxing into the sensation, shifting his hips to pull Jake deeper. They don’t do this often; Jake prefers to bottom more often than not. But Bradley enjoys it every time they do, enjoys letting Jake take care of him.

“So what d’ya say?” Jake asks before he licks up Bradley’s cock, from base to head, and takes the tip in his mouth.

“Unngghh,” Bradley moans intelligently. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out as Jake starts pumping his finger in Bradley. They’ve barely started, and already Bradley wants, needs, more. “Let’s do it. Let’s move in together.”

Jake rewards him with another finger.

When Jake fucks Bradley, he likes to take his time, elongating the experience for both of them. As much as it can frustrate Bradley in the moment, it makes it all worth it for the feeling he gets when Jake finally slides into him, filling Bradley up. Jake gives him a moment to adjust before he’s thrusting in, small movements at first that slowly build.

“We don’t have to, you know,” Jake says, surprisingly conversational for someone who has his cock in Bradley’s ass.

“If you stop, I can’t be held liable for my actions,” Bradley protests, clenching around Jake’s cock. It causes Jake to stutter a little in his rhythm, but he still continues.

“I mean, move in together. I don’t want to force you.”

Bradley knows they shouldn’t be having this conversation right now, not when lust is fogging up his mental pathways, delaying his neurons from firing correctly. So instead of arguing, he just says, “shut up and fuck me, Jake.”

It works. All thoughts of moving in together fade into the background as Jake continues to show Bradley the benefits of cohabitation.

The next morning, when Bradley wakes up to a fucking rooster of all things, he groans as the night before comes back to him. Glancing over, he sees Jake is still asleep; he gently untangles himself from his boyfriend. After getting ready, as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Jake, Bradley heads down to the lobby.

The receptionist is extremely helpful and points him in the direction of a local hardware store only a 15-minute walk away. Bradley’s back in the hotel room just in time to watch Jake stir in the sheets, reaching out to where he's expecting Bradley. When he realizes he’s alone, his sleepy pout is so cute that Bradley almost doesn’t want to draw his attention. Almost.

“Good morning,” Bradley greets, holding out the coffee he grabbed downstairs to Jake. Jake takes it and shifts to a sitting position.

“Thanks,” he mumbles into the lip of the cup, gulping down some. Bradley winces; how Jake can manage to drink that stuff before even brushing his teeth is beyond him. “What’s got you up so early?”

“I had to get something.” Bradley reaches into his pocket and fishes out his gift from his pocket.

“What are these?” Jake asks curiously, looking at the matching sets of keys in Bradley’s hands.

“One set for you, one set for me. You’ll need keys to your new home.”

Jake reaches out his hand, and Bradley drops a set into his outstretched palm. He picks up the keys by the ring, watching the way they glint in the light with something akin to awe. When Jake looks back up at Bradley, his eyes are misty. If Bradley didn’t know Jake, he’d think the reaction was a bit outsized for the gesture. But because he does, Bradley smiles at him.

“So you’re sure?” Jake still sounds like he can’t quite believe it.

“Jake, I’ve never been surer of something in my life. I mean, you made a pretty good argument last night.”

Jake flushes, and Bradley can see a combination of pride and embarrassment flash across his face. “I don’t want you to think I like, bribed you into it.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed next to Jake. “I want you to move in because I love you, and I know my future, whatever it looks like, has you in it. Obviously, being in the same bed is a plus. But also, you’ve improved every part of my life I’ve shared with you. So I want to share it all.”

“Bradley,” Jake breathes out, finally closing his hand around the keys. “I want that, too—every part of you. Like you have every part of me. Plus,” Jake adds, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye, “my place on base has never exactly felt like a home.”

“Really?” Bradley teases. “I thought the Ikea frames with the stock photos in them really gave the place a cozy feel.”

Jake rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder into Bradley’s. “I can bring them with me if you want.”

“You know there’s only one thing I want.”

They spend the next two days holed up in the hotel room together, planning Jake’s move. They never make it to West Virginia.

Sunday, on the way back, they stop at a Home Depot to buy boxes and then drive straight to Jake’s place to start packing. It takes three days to pack everything Jake wants to bring with him and another week to unpack it at Bradley’s. Between distracting kisses and petty arguments about space, they manage to nestle Jake’s things among Bradley's, working their way towards a middle ground of a shared space. 

The first thing they unpack, though, is their map. Bradley slides it out of the box marked ‘decor’ and hangs it up in the living room, right in the middle for everyone to see. 

[destielfanfic]

Good Things Do Happen

Good Things Do Happen - post 15x18 fic rec list with Cas being rescued/  already back from the Empty. Hopefully way less angsty than our previous  Happiness isn’t in the Having - 15x18 coda fic rec list. We all deserve good things. <3

All title links go to AO3, hashtag # indicates that this is also a tag on our Tags Page.

ours is the fire, all the warmth we can find by xylodemon [M, 6,800 word count] Dean POV, grief, #reunion

Sam brings it up as they're driving back from the steakhouse in Mankato. Dean cuts him a sharp, sideways glance. "You think I should what?" "I think you should try journaling." "Why the hell would I wanna do that?"

the rhyme of salvation by LymeandCoconut [T, 6,200 word count] Dean POV, #winged!dean, #reunion

“Nothing human can exist in the Empty,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “It would just - spit you back out, and probably kill you in the process.” “Then -” Dean pulled in a deep breath. Made his choice. “Then make me not human.”

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun [T, 5,800 word count] Cas POV, #reunion

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound. Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

For Love by Bookkbaby [T, 1,200 word count] Dean POV, #reunion

With Chuck no longer a threat, there's just one thing left to do: get Cas out of the Empty.

Nothing Equals the Splendor by RurouniHime [NC-17, 7,700 word count] Dean POV, #djinn dream, #wing!fic, #reunion, smut

Maybe it’s the cynic in him. The hunter, always under the surface of any quietude he ever found. Or maybe it’s just that he has always had trouble with blind faith. But after a while (a blink? A decade? A century?), Dean raises his eyebrows, looks around, and says— “Uh. No.” It’s so close. Just so slightly imperfect. And maybe, he analyzes, maybe that’s the final knell of this bell called contentment. Dean’s experience with happiness has always been that last rise in the road, right before it turns. Right before fate comes barreling around the corner head on. He turns in his spot on the bridge, and suddenly Sam is like a cellophane film through which he can see the light streaming, and the taste of cheap beer on his tongue is much, much older a memory than it should be. “Oh, you’re good,” he says, and means it.

Up to Date? by whelvenwings [T, 5,200 word count] Cas POV, Dean POV, texting

It's three months after Castiel was brought back from the Empty after confessing his love to Dean, and things are awkward between them. They haven't talked about it. Castiel can feel how much Dean wants to, but he won't let himself, and Castiel can only wait. But one night, with Castiel halfway across the world, he gets a text from Dean that might change everything - even if Dean didn't quite mean it to.

The Novel by FriendofCarlotta [NC-17, 4,600 word count] Dean POV, #domestic

Dean, Cas, Sam and Eileen are happily retired and living their best lives. There's just one problem: Sam has decided to commemorate the Winchester brothers' adventures by writing a novel, and it's not very good at all. AKA the episode coda where 15x20 was nothing more than Dean reading a draft of his brother's first novel and becoming increasingly appalled.

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal [T, 2,200 word count] #heaven, #trueform!cas, #humor, #jimmy, #reunion

Based on the tumblr textpost: jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time; katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store. Thanks for letting me write it, guys!

Fifty Ways to Lose Your Lover by PallasPerilous [T, 1,106 word count] #humor

Castiel's love confession scene is proving difficult to nail down. SURELY the characters will settle down in the next draft. SURELY.

Other useful resources - there’s no time in the world for me to read all lovely season 15 coda and fix-it fics, so, check out these AO3 tags by yourself!

Episode: s15e18 Despair

Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair

Episode: s15e20 Carry On

Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On

Post Episode: s15e20 Carry On

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos! And if you found our recs useful, let us know by Liking and/or Reblogging our posts! 

screencap from homeofthenutty

[tazatouille]

this is how the story goes

word count: 4249

warnings: mentions of death, disassociation, alcoholism and small mention of toxic masculinity

ao3 link

summary: In which Fabian deals with the fact that he doesn't always have to be the hero.

“Let me read to you tonight, my darling.” Mama says to him, holding out her hand. Fabian, being the small boy he is, lets out a giggle and runs over to her, taking it excitedly. She smiles down at him and he sees his own dimples on her cheeks. Fabian can’t help but think that she must be the most beautiful lady to ever live, because of course that would be his Mama. Her silver hair falls like waves down her shoulders and he wonders if one day his hair will grow as long as hers. 

She leads him to their library, hoisting him up briefly so he can pick out a book. He can’t quite read all the titles yet, so he picks the one he can reach, which is a small picture book. Mama brings him close to her chest, holding him with one arm. “Ah, that’s a fine choice, Fabian.”

“What’s it about, Mama?” He asks her, letting her flip the book over in his hands. 

“Hmm… let’s see.” She says softly. “It looks like you’ve picked an Elven tale tonight, one about a handsome adventurer who sails the seas in search of a great sea monster.” 

“That sounds like Papa!” This earns a laugh from his mother, who kisses him on the cheek.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mama lets go of the book, letting Fabian press it to his chest. Then she carries him out of the library and towards the stairs. “It’s time to get you to bed now, Fabian.”

---

Fabian recalls that day as one of the last days that his Mama ever read to him before bed.

But that was alright, because he’s been fine with that for a while now. He knew even then when little boys grow up, their mamas don’t read them to bed anymore. 

When Fabian gets up for school that morning, he sees her when he glances out his window. Cathilda is patiently watering the rose bushes as she always does in the mornings and Mama is sitting in one of her kimonos, beautiful as always, but carrying with her the heavy weight of time. Time that has caused bags to form under her eyes, her frame to grow thinner and dull her eyes each passing day. Time that has aged her, with every sip of wine she takes from the glass in her hand. 

He turns away from the window.

Fabian’s morning routine is easy. It’s about a half hour of dancing, then he takes a cold shower to wake himself up. Usually, he would go straight to training afterwards, but his Mama has allowed him this single day without morning training. He takes another hour to do his hair and then his makeup. It’s nothing too fancy, just a bit of eyeliner and the tiniest amount of concealer. If it was too heavy, he would sweat it off during practice and Fabian Aramais Seacaster does not let his makeup run.

By the time Fabian heads downstairs, Cathilda is now cooking in the kitchen. She’s humming an old sea shanty, one that she’s sung for him time and time again as a child. When he walks by, he hums along with her, dancing around her to grab his green smoothie.

“Good morning, Master Fabian!” Cathilda greets him, shaking the frying pan. “Do you mind taking this plate to yer mother? She’s waitin' in the dining room.” 

“Good morning, Cathilda!” Fabian says proudly, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Of course, I can.” He scoops the plate up off the counter, carrying it to the dining room. Mama sits at the head of the table, where Papa used to sit. To her right is none other than Gilear, thankfully not in his father's robes again. Fabian tries hard not to fling the dish right at his head and keeps his shoulders up.

"Oh Fabian, my baby boy, how are you this morning? Off to that little adventuring academy again are we?" Mama says, nurturing a glass in her hand. 

"Morning Mama," Fabian greets, setting her plate in front of her. Mama puts down her drink to lovingly pinch his cheeks. He laughs, hoping she doesn't notice when he slides it further away. "I believe me and the boys are going to meet at Basrar's this morning before school, since we aren't training today."

"We stop training for one day and you're already eating ice cream for breakfast? Whatever will we do with you?" Mama teases with a wave of her hand. He takes the seat to her left, purposely not making eye contact with Gilear.

Here's the thing about Gilear. He may be the Chosen One, something that Fabian is willing to admit and even defend, however, Gilear is still Gilear, and Gilear is a sad, pathetic little man who did not deserve his Mama.

Fabian could admit that his Mama and Gilear did have some similarities, as they seem to be both inept at the simplest of tasks. That being said, Hallariel Seacaster was an accomplished and renowned fencer, who dashingly took his father's own eye. Gilear Faeth was an ex-diplomat who couldn't get the yogurt stains out of his shirt even with the highest levels of magic money could provide.

This isn’t how the story is supposed to go. After Fabian heroically killed his own father, his mother was supposed to find another adventurous and even in some ways, more deserving man. In the story, Mama does not end up with a man like Gilear, but with a man far better than maybe even his father ever was. Or perhaps, she remains a widow, vowing never to remarry because her love for her deceased husband is so strong.

And in the story, Fabian is supposed to feel proud for killing his father, laying the final blow that his Papa craved so adamantly. But all Fabian is left with is a vacancy, the same vacancy that still rests in his mother's heart. 

At times, it almost feels hereditary.

He stares down at his smoothie and thinks he hears Gilear say something to him, but it goes unaddressed. 

Fabian thought it would get easier after sophomore year. Seeing his Papa was a treat, surely. Knowing his father is having such a good time in Hell helps him sleep a little easier, but it’s not enough to snuff out the flames of guilt that still burn in his chest.

Ever since his Papa died, his mother used the sensory deprivation egg less and less. To Fabian’s surprise, it was his mother’s decision, with Cathilda helping her steadily ease out of it. Cathilda told him that if they were able to get her out of the egg, they might be able to move onto her sobriety. He still holds onto that hope, even on the harder days when his mother can only greet him after school and then retire to her room soon after. 

“You know she loves you with all her heart, Master Fabian.” Cathilda said to him one night. “People are complicated, ya see… Just because she’s struggling doesn’t mean she loves you any less.” 

Fabian comes back to reality when he hears his mother’s laughter. He downs the rest of his smoothie, a little too warm now, to distract himself. He pulls out his crystal to check the Boyz’ group chat. “Well Mama, I think I’ll be off!” Fabian says, getting up from his chair. 

“Off already, darling?” Mama asks him, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s barely touched her food. “Come here.” 

He leans down and lets her place a kiss on his cheek. “You have a good day, my boy.” She tells him. 

“Of course, Mama.” Fabian smiles at her, then nods his head. “Gilear.”

Gilear nods back. “I wish you a good day, Fabian.” 

He walks out of the dining room, giving Cathilda a wave before heading towards the front door.

“Hangman,” Fabian thinks. “Ready for the day?”

He hears the purr of the engine start up as soon as he closes his front door. “I am ready for anything, sire. Where shall we go?”

“Head to the Ball’s apartment. I’m picking him up this morning.”

“Hangman...” Fabian warns, watching him roll out of the garage in front of him. The Hangman revs in response. “We are picking up the Ball.” 

“Master, I remind you that the Ball no longer needs a ride to school.”

Fabian is sure if the Hangman could, it would sigh in disappointment. “Of course, sire.” He leans slightly to let him climb on. Then, Fabian revs the engine himself and tears down the street towards Strongtower Luxury Apartments. 

---

“Fabian, for the last time.” Riz starts, walking out of the apartment building. “I’m never gonna get enough driving hours if you keep giving me rides to school.”

Riz lost his hat after sophomore year, and thank goodness because Fabian didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t going to work forever. He wouldn’t admit it to Riz, but he was quite fond of the way his hair fell. It seemed impossible to Fabian that Riz didn’t style it in any way, but one day while they were hanging out, Fabian spotted a bottle of all in one shampoo and conditioner and chucked it into the garbage can.  

Fabian laughs, putting a hand on his chest. “As if you would prefer to drive your mother’s car over a ride on the Hangman?” The Hangman revs underneath him for emphasis. He can see the smile creeping on Riz’s lips, so he keeps going. “Besides, everyone lies about their driving hours anyway. Who has the time to drive a whole forty hours both night and day? I certainly don’t.”

Riz looks like he’s about to protest, but instead his face spreads into a big smile. Fabian pats the Hangman’s seat victoriously. “Come on, The Ball. To Basrar’s.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Riz climbs onto the Hangman, situating his briefcase against his chest. Then, his arms wrap around Fabian’s torso tightly. “You aren’t always gonna be around to give me rides, you know. I should-- uh, probably learn how to drive at some point.” He says. It’s supposed to be casual, but in reality, Riz just dropped a whale sized weight on Fabian’s chest. It threatens to leave him breathless and not in a good way. 

Fabian revs the engine instead, letting the purr drown out his thoughts. “Don’t say stuff like that, Riz.” He says under his breath, before taking off down the road. He isn’t going to start thinking about this right now.

They are almost to Basrar’s when Riz shouts over the wind, “Oh hey, Fabian! Do you want to come over to the office after practice?” 

Fabian smiles. “Cracking another case, The Ball?” 

“You know it!” Fabian can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I always need someone to hold my string.”

Fabian feels the laughter bubble from his chest. “Yes, one of my many talents. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, holder of string!”

“It’s extremely crucial to my casework!” Riz adds. “I couldn’t solve them without it!”

Fabian feels Riz’s arms tighten around him and he lets out another laugh, pulling into Basrar’s. 

---

They walk into the cool air of the shop and see Gorgug sitting at a booth in the corner. He waves to them as they approach.

“Hey guys!” Gorgug greets, giving them a toothy grin. He’s hunching over, like always, with a pink milkshake in his hand. He always ordered strawberry with extra whipped cream.

“Hey Gorgug!” Riz greets, letting Fabian take the window seat. “Dude, I gotta tell you about this show I’ve been watching. It’s awesome.” 

“Oh yeah?” Gorgug says, sipping his milkshake. “Zelda’s been looking for more shows to watch, cause you know, all her parents watch is like those crazy reality TV shows.”

Fabian watches as Basrar floats over to their table. “Boys! Good to see you, and so early in the morning too. What can I get you?” 

Riz orders a weird concoction of chocolate mint, coffee, and pistachio ice cream topped with gummy bears and chocolate drizzle. Fabian never understood why the gummy bears had to be added to it, something that Riz no doubt picked up from Fig. The gummy bears become hard as rocks because the ice cream makes them too cold, but he’s been friends with Riz long enough to know he would eat almost anything. And so, Fabian orders a simple banana split with caramel sauce.   

By the time their ice cream gets here, Riz is already waist deep in the intricate world building of the tv show he’s been watching. The thing about Riz is that whenever he got really excited about something, he’d explain it so fast he’d have to keep back tracking and then return to his previous thought. It could get a bit confusing at times, but the Bad Kidz, at least Fabian, didn’t mind. They just made sure to ask a lot of questions. 

"Here's the real catch, though. It wasn't the butler, but it was actually--" Riz gets cut off by his crystal ringtone buzz loudly on the table. He grabs it immediately and presses it to his ear. A few moments pass before he says, "Mom? What's going on?"

Fabian immediately sits up straighter before Riz holds his hand out. "I'll be right back." He mouths to them, scooting out of the booth. Fabian watches as he walks out of Basrar's.

Gorgug plays with the straw of his milkshake for a moment."So… how are you and Aelwyn doing?" He asks innocently, because Gorgug would never ask a question he didn't want the answer to. Fabian suddenly feels a little sick, putting his spoon down.

"It-- uh, well--" Fabian is tripping over himself now. He hates when he gets like this. His thoughts race through his head and try to force themselves out his mouth all at once before he can even think of what to say.

"I--I get it, if that's like--" Gorgug stumbles a bit. "Too private or something, I just, you know, was wondering."

"No, no, it's fine, Gorgug. We just… broke up a few weeks ago."

"Oh." He says simply. "Why didn't you…"

"Say anything?" Fabian finishes for him. "I guess it was somewhat embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Did she break up with you?" 

Fabian shrugs. "No, it was more mutual, if anything." He starts playing with his ice cream now, getting spoonfuls of caramel sauce and pouring it back into the bowl over and over again.

"Then why would you be embarrassed?" Gorgug presses. "I mean, my parents would say that's pretty mature."

"It just wasn't what I-- We? Expected it to be." Fabian admits. It feels weird to say it out loud after it's been rattling in his head for weeks. "I guess, maybe I expected it to be like you and Zelda. Two matches made in nerd heaven." 

"You know, not every relationship is gonna be perfect, Fabian." Gorgug reminds him. "Zelda and I get along great, sure, but that doesn't mean I don't fuck up every now and then or that I never get upset with her." He shrugs. "But that's a part of like, I don't know, loving someone. You guys kinda just get to figure stuff out together." 

"I guess Aelwyn and I never really tried figuring anything out together."

"Maybe you just expected too much from each other." Gorgug shrugs again. "Cause, you can't only love the best version of someone, you know?" 

Fabian opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, the front door jingles and Riz makes his way back to the booth.

"Sorry about that guys." Riz says, sitting back in the booth next to Fabian. "My mom needed to know where I put the law books I borrowed from her last weekend. Where was I?"

Gorgug responds, but not before casting a reassuring glance at Fabian. "Uh… I think you were about to tell us who the killer was, right?" 

Fabian can't tell if Riz notices and adds, "Oh yes, something about how it wasn't the butler?"

"Right, right!" He says excitedly. "Okay, so…"

He continues telling them about the tv show, which Fabian doesn’t mean to tune out of, but he can’t stop himself from thinking about Aelwyn. 

Their breakup had been mutual. They quickly realized that they simply weren’t compatible with one another. Fabian wishes he didn’t take it hard, but Aelwyn was technically the first girlfriend he ever had, and his first kiss.

Fabian was supposed to go straight to Fallinel, take on the Elven army and break Aelwyn out of imprisonment in a feat of gorgeous heroism. Which, if you left some parts out and moved a few things around, he did, technically. But then Aelwyn was supposed to be so impressed with his prowess that they would start dating, eventually get married out on the sea and then have beautiful children, born out of both Aelwyn and his exceptional talents. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

But when they actually got together, Fabian realized that he didn’t understand Aelwyn at all, and she didn’t understand him. They had both been through copious amounts of stress during sophomore year, with Aelwyn having to adjust to a new life without her parents, and Fabian having to grapple with the events of Leviathan and his own residual fears. It was just too much for them to sort out together, too many parts of themselves that they didn’t understand, so how could they ask the other to?

“You have this version of me built in your head, Fabian.” Aelwyn said to him. “Maybe, before all of this, I could have been that person for you. But, I’m not even sure who I am right now.” 

And he agreed with her, and that was that. 

Their crystals all buzz on their table, and Fabian reaches over to check the message.

figgy pudding: Hey losers, where you guys at? 

He types back. 

fabian: Basrar’s, be there soon.

“I guess that’s our cue, huh.” Gorgug says, gathering the dishes onto the table, like he always does. “Make sure to text me the name of that show, Riz, so I won't forget.”  

“Will do.” Riz replies, already sending the text to Gorgug. He gets up from the booth to let Fabian out and turns to him. “You ready to go?”

From the way Riz is looking at him, he can’t help but feel like he’s asking a different question, but he brushes past it. “Yeah, of course.” 

---

"Is something wrong?" Riz asks that night, because Riz is too perceptive for his own good and Fabian acknowledges that he hasn't said a word to him in over 10 minutes. “You were kinda acting weird today.” 

"Hm? Oh it's nothing, The Ball. Don't worry about it. What were you saying?" Fabian replies, sitting up a little straighter. 

They are sitting in Riz's office, with it's stale mugs of coffee and scattered evidence. If this was anyone else's office, Fabian would hate being here. Sometimes, Riz is so deep in a mystery it becomes cramped with case files and boxes, but it always feels good to be in a space that is truly lived in. It’s nothing like home, and maybe that’s why Fabian likes it. 

"You can talk to me, you know." Riz says, taking the red string Fabian's been playing with out of his hands. He pins a photo up on his corkboard.

Fabian doesn't respond. He knows he should, but at this moment, talking to his best friend seems like one of the hardest things he can do.

Riz notices this, and looks at him. "I know how you get. We don't have to talk about it." He runs a hand through his hair. "You, uh-- wanna watch a movie, maybe?"

Fabian blinks at him for a moment before replying, "You want to take a break?"

Riz laughs at that. "Come on, Fabian. I'm not that bad."

Fabian scoffs. "Please, you almost missed homecoming because you were here piecing together your clues." He gestures to the corkboard.

"And then I closed that case the same weekend." Riz says proudly, puffing up his chest a bit. 

Fabian smiles, then makes the mistake of looking down at the floor beneath them. He runs his fingers over the scratch marks carved into the wood. 

He tried to call and Riz didn’t pick up. Riz never ever misses his calls and his ringer is always on, so why wasn’t he--

Riz’s eyes go from soft to panicked almost immediately. “Hey, don’t do that.” He tells Fabian, pushing his hands away from the floor. “I, uh-- still need to get someone to fix those.”

“I could get someone to do it.” Fabian says immediately. Riz shakes his head.

“You know I wouldn’t let you.” 

“But I could.” 

“Fabian, it wasn’t your fault.” 

And when Riz says this, Fabian lets out a breath of air. 

Because he knows, deep down, the situation with Riz last year wasn’t his fault. But maybe if he had been a better friend and called more, or came around the office more, or had just been there when it happened... then Riz wouldn’t have to pay someone to replace his floorboards. Maybe, he wouldn’t have such a hard time looking at himself in the mirror.

“You aren’t the only one who fails, Fabian.” Riz continues, seemingly reading his thoughts. He sighs. “Y--You do this thing where you think you are the only person in the world who can do anything. The only person who can save the princess in the tower, the only person who can kill your father’s rival, like you are trying to hold the whole world up on your shoulders because you are Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And I get it, you know? I’ve had some pretty big shoes to fill myself.” He lets out a short laugh. “But, you don’t have to… prove yourself to me. Or to-- uh, anyone, really.”

“Riz, I--” Fabian’s words fail him, because figuring things out was always Riz’s job. He knows he will pay to get Riz’s floors done, because maybe Fabian didn’t have to prove himself to anyone, but as well as being a Seacaster, he was also Riz Gukgak’s best friend, and that he needed people to know. 

“It’s okay, Fabian, really it is.” Riz says, interrupting him. “I’m not gonna lie, you haven’t always been-- uh, a perfect friend. I know I haven’t either.” He shrugs. “But you always try to be, and that means more to me than you probably know.” 

Fabian reaches over and pulls Riz into the tightest hug he’s given since he got out of the Forest of the Nightmare King. He feels Riz tense up at first, but then his arms wrap around his neck. 

“You are my best friend.” Fabian says into Riz’s shirt, because if he doesn’t say this now the flames that stir inside his chest will burn the words to ash before they reach his mouth. It was easier to say when Riz wasn’t staring back at him, picking him apart. A habit that Riz could never shake, but sometimes, Fabian welcomed it. He didn’t have to say much, because Riz always just seemed to understand. 

Fabian has never had a best friend before. His family sailed so often when he was younger that it was hard to make friends with any of the kids. He was constantly being pulled out of school and thrown into the next. Every time he did so he would play his little charade of being Fabian Aramais Seacaster, impressing the children in his class, and then his family set sail once again.

Near the end of freshman year, Riz pulled Fabian aside to thank him for the briefcase and the business cards. Fabian had brushed it off, saying it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it took him hours to hand write all those business cards. Something that, to this day, Fabian still hasn’t told Riz. 

After that, Riz never stopped calling him his best friend, and Fabian quickly realized that Riz is one of the only people who had ever really tried to be his friend. He denied it at first, but eventually he came to accept it as a fact. 

And maybe it was the same for Riz too. Like Fabian, he didn’t like talking about personal issues. It wasn’t until sophomore year when Riz was finally able to talk about his dad in front of everyone. And much like Fabian and his own charade, he much preferred his role as a detective versus a teenage boy trying to figure the world out. 

But that was just it, wasn’t it? Because maybe, they could be two teenage boys trying to figure out the world together. 

And so, Fabian may not write his name upon the world. Every living being in Spyre may not know the name Fabian Aramais Seacaster, but he is okay with this. 

Because Fabian doesn’t always need to be the hero, the knight who saves the princess, or the son who kills his father’s rival. Because even when he’s not the hero, there are people who still love him. And to be a part of a story that continues to write itself, that is bigger than his own, with Riz and the rest of the Bad Kidz?

Fabian couldn’t think of anything else he would rather do. 

[theworldinclines]

Title: family matters Pairing: Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi Excerpt:      “You’re almost like another son to him anyway,” Sizhui points out.      “So you’re the favourite child while I get tossed to the wayside?” Ao3 link

Read below the cut.

     The first time Jingyi meets Sizhui, they are each five. Zewu-Jun himself delivers the boy to lessons and asks that the children treat Sizhui with exceptional respect and consideration. That in itself isn’t anything new, as the Lans have written rules that explain why giving others kindness is one of the many keys to leading a decent life and acting as a role model to those in- and outside the sect. What was different, however, was the moment before Zewu-Jun took his leave from the students.

     He gave a downturn of his chin to the boys and the teacher, but was unable to take more than two steps before little Sizhui had grappled to his robes, arms held fast around the Sect Leader’s left leg. Jingyi has never been known for necessarily obedient behaviour, but even he had never dared such an act toward Zewu-Jun, let alone in public. To the entire room’s astonishment, the man didn’t look put out in the very least. Rather than reprimand the child, Zewu-Jun put a gentle hand to his head and guided him out into the gardens. Jingyi knew he would be scolded were he to peek at them, and did it anyway when Laoshi’s back was turned.

     Outside he saw Sizhui and Zewu-Jun, the Sect Leader in his immaculate robes bent to a knee as though they were in the cleanly confines of a hall rather than stood on a dusty path. Sizhui was staring at the ground, rubbing at his nose, and Zewu-Jun gave him a gentle chuck beneath the chin, murmuring words Jingyi couldn’t possibly hear. Sizhui’s nod prompted a smile from the Sect Leader that Jingyi, even at his young age, could tell held something more behind it.

     He was quick to be facing the front of the room by the time Sizhui was led back into the class, much more collected and prepared to learn for the day. Jingyi understands, sort of; although he hadn’t wanted to begin lessons either, it’s just what is expected of children their age in the Cloud Recesses. He’d still stomped and whined, of course, but here he sits.

     And he’s rather glad to have come once Laoshi dismisses them, because he gets to trot after Sizhui’s slow movements and say, “Hey!” He recalls in a split-second Zewu-Jun’s request that they show Sizhui respect, along with the rules, and adds quickly, “Welcome to Cloud Recesses. I haven’t seen you before.” Sizhui stares at him, uncertain. “Did you just come here? Where’d you move from?”

     Sizhui gives a helpless shrug that is interrupted by the Sect Leader’s prompt appearance by his side. Jingyi immediately dips into a polite little bow that makes Zewu-Jun smile and he returns the gesture. Jingyi grins before he can bite it down and says, “Zewu-Jun, where’s Sizhui from?”

     The Sect Leader hesitates a moment before his expression smooths into something less telling. “He is an orphan, A-Yi,” he says simply. “I trust that you will show him kindness.”

     Jingyi looks at Sizhui with slightly widened eyes, nodding vigorously. “I will!” he promises the older man. To the boy, he says, “I’ll protect you. Don’t worry.”

     For the first time, Sizhui’s lips quirk into the hint of a smile. “You don’t need to do that. I’m okay.”

     “Too late,” Jingyi says firmly. “Tell me if anyone is mean to you and I’ll deal with them.” Zewu-Jun lowers his eyes to hide his amusement and Jingyi barrels on, “Better yet, I’ll stick by your side to save the trouble. Okay?”

     Sizhui allows a little nod before Zewu-Jun murmurs that they should be heading home. The boy nods and Jingyi gives a wave, which Sizhui repays with a shy, squint-eyed smile. Jingyi beams. It may be Zewu-Jun’s request, but keeping Sizhui safe won’t be an arduous task at all, he thinks. Maybe they’ll even become good friends!

     Jingyi finds Sizhui by the rabbits. It’s his friend’s favourite spot in the Cloud Recesses and if ever there’s a time when Jingyi can’t seem to find Sizhui in the main pavilion, he knows where he’ll be. Today is no exception.

     Sizhui had disappeared just before he and Jingyi were meant to meet. They had each taken their meals as quickly as possible without appearing impolite to their families before the usual rendezvous by the rock garden’s bridge for a short break together, a daily update of all things Cloud Recesses. But when Jingyi arrived, Sizhui was nowhere to be seen and he’d known that something must have happened for his best friend to abandon him without warning.

     Seeing Sizhui now, surrounded by soft rabbits, Jingyi hopes that he’d perhaps fallen into a brief mood as he sometimes does and all is in fact well, though he’d had to come here to get away from it all. He wouldn’t fault Sizhui that. However, when he calls out for him in approach, Sizhui wipes at his face like he’s been caught, and Jingyi begins to frown.

     “A-Hui,” he says, coming to a stop beside him. Sizhui won’t look at him, gaze focused on the ground as he soothes a rabbit in his lap, and Jingyi can see that his eyes are red, cheeks tear-streaked. “A-Hui,” he repeats.

     “I’m alright,” Sizhui says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

     “It’s been four years and you still think I care,” Jingyi replies, the slightest sarcasm in his words. “What happened?”

     “It really isn’t a big deal.”

     “So some non-issue made you come here and cry?” Jingyi deduces dryly.

     “They…” Sizhui stops.

     Jingyi sombers and can feel his frown deepening. “They who?”

     “Mingyu. And Pengfei. Rumours about where I’m from.”

     “Sizhui, what’d they do?”

     “They said…” Sizhui’s hands shake only slightly where they hold the rabbit, but it still makes Jingyi’s stomach hurt. “Just that they think I’m from that old sect that was eradicated years ago for their evil ways, and how it’s strange I’m not dead like the rest of them. A-Fei said if I’m evil it’s their duty to — ” Sizhui doesn’t complete the sentence as his voice catches, but Jingyi is already on his feet. “A-Yi!” Sizhui’s hand reaches for Jingyi’s ankle, though he’s too far to catch. “What are you doing?”

     “What’s it look like?” Jingyi demands. “I’m going to challenge them to a duel and shame them in front of the gods and the Four Families. What else?”

     “Jingyi, don’t,” Sizhui says tiredly.

     “Why not?”

     “We’ve only just begun sword-work, for one,” Sizhui quips, aiming for a joke. Jingyi crosses his arms over his chest and Sizhui sighs as he gently sets the rabbit aside to stand. “We’re barely 10,” he says. “You can’t fight another kid to the death, Jingyi.”

     “I disagree,” he mumbles.

     “Well, that’s allowed. I don’t expect us to agree on everything. But you’ll only get in trouble and I don’t want that.”

     “They said horrible things to you!” Jingyi exclaims. “And I said I’d protect you. ‘Our word is our oath,’ remember? Never break a promise. If I don’t confront them, I’m betraying one of our rules. A punishable offense, you know.”

     “Coming here to find me is enough,” Sizhui says, fond but immovable, per usual. “I’m not even crying anymore, thanks to you. I’d say you did your duty.” Jingyi grumbles his dissent, arms still crossed, but Sizhui just bumps their shoulders together as he stands by his side, twining an arm through Jingyi’s out of habit. “Let’s get back to class.”

     “They’re lucky they didn’t say that stuff in front of me,” Jingyi says while they walk. “Those brats. Don’t think I won’t do it next time.”

     “Yes, A-Yi.”

     “Don’t ‘Yes, A-Yi’ me; I mean it!”

     “Okay, A-Yi.”

     “Sizhui!” comes the expected whine.

      Because it is their shared space, another day finds the boys with the rabbits. Zewu-Jun had apparently shown it to Sizhui when he first arrived and was feeling lonely, and although Jingyi dislikes that Sizhui had felt sad, he’s happy that it had at least brought them a special hideaway that so few know about. There’s nothing like an afternoon of hideously dull lessons to remind Jingyi why he so prefers not being in class. As if he ever forgets.

     “There’s no way Laoshi Qiren isn’t trying to kill us,” Jingyi deadpans. “I swear, leaving his class I’m always sapped of both energy and will to live. Not a coincidence.”

     “You say this nearly every day.”

     “And it’s true! A slow-burn murder.”

     “I feel certain that if my Grand-Uncle was trying to kill me, there’d be more concern from my father and uncle.”

     Jingyi  makes a face and holds a rabbit up to meet her dark gaze. “What do you think? Who’s right, little one?”

     Sizhui rolls his eyes, taking the rabbit gently from Jingyi so that he can return her to the grass with her family. “She can’t talk,” he says, “but if she could, she’d agree with me.”

     “One of our numerous Sect rules is to reserve assumptions until proper evidence is drawn,” Jingyi recites, “yet here you are. What would your esteemed uncle say? Or your father, for that matter?”

     “Zewu-Jun would say it’s worth it to tease you. Baba would say… I’m right,” Sizhui concludes proudly. “Because I’m his son.”

     “Nepotism! Utter bias!”

     “You’re almost like another son to him anyway,” Sizhui points out.

     “So you’re the favourite child while I get tossed to the wayside?” Sizhui laughs at Jingyi’s affronted expression, and for that Jingyi takes his free hand where it rests across from him on the grass. “You know, that’s fine. If he already accepts me as a son, there won’t be any trouble when I request formal permission to court you.”

     Sizhui turns red and pulls his hand back to pet the rabbit, glancing around as though someone might be watching all of a sudden. “You’re silly,” he says to Jingyi.

     “We’re already going to be 15!” Jingyi pouts.

     “Why are you so interested in discussing it today?”

     Jingyi tugs a little at a few strands of grass. “Just the lesson earlier about cultivation partners.”

     Sizhui’s cheeks haven’t lost their blush but he does look pleasantly surprised as he says, “You paid attention in class after all! A-Yi!”

     “Only for today because it applied to me,” Jingyi insists. “To us, I guess.”

     Sizhui seems to remember his shyness and ducks his head. “You want me to be your cultivation partner?” he asks.

     “Don’t you want to be?”

     “I never said I didn’t!” Sizhui says quickly, seeing that Jingyi appears disheartened. He carefully reaches for his hand despite his own red face and says, “Would I spend all my time with you if I didn’t want to?”

     “Well, how should I know?” Jingyi asks, but he’s sitting up like he’s got less weight holding him down now. Back to his usual self, which is a good sign. “Some cultivation partners are platonic, you know.”

     “Rarely.”

     “A-Hui, are you questioning Laoshi Qiren?”

     “I’d prefer to avoid lashing by oar if I can avoid it, thank you.”

     “I thought you said you have nepotism on your side!”

     Sizhui shakes his head and, somehow graceful even here, stands up from the ground. “We should head back, A-Yi,” he says, brushing invisible dust from his robes. “It’s getting late now.”

     “Can’t we just stay here forever?” Jingyi asks dramatically, falling onto his back. At Sizhui’s look, he sighs and extends a hand upward for Sizhui to accept.

     Instead of allowing him to help Jingyi to his feet, Jingyi tugs Sizhui down so that he tumbles back to the ground, half against Jingyi’s side. Jingyi laughs aloud in amused delight while Sizhui’s blush returns with a vengeance.

     “Lan Jingyi!” he scolds, twisting away from him. “Shameless!”

     “You sound like your father!” Jingyi laughs again.

     Sizhui huffs and hurries to stand, putting distance between himself and Jingyi. “And if you don’t want him to give you the oar, you’d better just do as I say. Let’s go.”

     “Bossy, bossy,” Jingyi says, though he’s following Sizhui obediently for the path. He sneaks a glance to his left and can’t help but grin at Sizhui’s flushed cheeks and the way his ears have gone pink at the tips. According to Sizhui, Hanguang-Jun’s ears do the same.

     He gives a little poke to the skin of Sizhui’s ear, just to mess with him, and Sizhui huffs another breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Completely shameless!” before abandoning Jingyi altogether to hurry ahead of him.

     If Wei Wuxian had been asked as a teenager whether he could ever envision making a life for himself in the Cloud Recesses, he’d have laughed in your face. He did, actually, when Jiang Cheng made the passing joke all those years ago, assuring his brother that this place would never feel like home to someone with Wei Wuxian’s habits. Now, what’s closer to two decades ago than Wei Wuxian would like to think about, he has to admit that his younger self hadn’t been nearly open-minded enough.

     Circumstances that he couldn’t have foreseen changed his view of Cloud Reccesses, and he knows that he will be here for as long as he can be because being here means keeping his place beside his husband and son. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else these days and the certainty of that sometimes takes him by surprise, when he considers just how different things are now but in a way that feels right, like it’s what always was meant to be.

     He feels himself smiling when he sees A-Yuan and A-Yi in the woods near the rabbits. He knows that Lan Xichen had brought A-Yuan years before when he’d been new here, sure that giving the child a piece of Lan Wangji would bring him comfort in his three-year absence. It’s still Wei Wuxian’s favourite place in the Cloud Recesses — except for the rooms he shares with Lan Zhan, of course, but that’s a given — and it makes him even happier that Lan Sizhui had found solace here as his fathers had done at his age.

     He watches from afar with a fond smile as the boys stand to be on their way home, but Wei Wuxian’s smile freezes when he can tell even from here that Sizhui is smiling sweetly with a hand in Jingyi’s, and his smile decidedly disappears when he realises their faces are far too close together. Wei Wuxian trips backward, a twig or five snapping as he does, and it must alert the boys to an outside present for when he regains his footing against the tree, they’ve fled the scene. A hand to his chest, Wei Wuxian stands there in astonishment.

     This lasts for only a moment before he is all but sprinting for the Library Pavilion where his husband is sure to be writing this early afternoon. He forces himself to slow down so as to not alarm Lan Wangji, though he comes to a sliding stop inside the doors anyhow with heaving breath.

     “What’s happened?” Lan Wangji asks, not lifting his eyes from his work. When it’s obvious that Wei Wuxian is still having trouble speaking, he looks up at him. “Wei Ying?”

     “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. He goes to him across the room and drops onto the floor to clutch at his husband’s arm. He stares at Wei Wuxian with the slightest concern and Wei Wuxian says, “I don’t mean to be dramatic — ”

     “Debatable,” Lan Wangji answers. “Say what you have to say.”

     “Did you know A-Yuan is — that he and Jingyi are — ”

     “They are what?”

     “I’ve just seen them with the rabbits, which is ordinary, but afterwards, Lan Zhan — ”

     “Baba? A-die?”

     Both men look for the entrance where their son has appeared, hands folded in front of him and looking for all the world their dutiful, sweet boy. Wei Wuxian’s heart stops, a feeling he’s never enjoyed, and jumps to his feet.

     “Sizhui!” he exclaims.

     “I need to speak with you both. Is this a bad time?” he asks. He’s walked in on more than one longing glance between his fathers to know when he should make himself scarce, but Wei Wuxian waves his son’s worry away like a pesky gnat.

     “Come here,” Lan Wangji invites him, and Sizhui does. He sits across from Lan Wangji, who looks up at his still-standing husband. Wei Wuxian hurriedly settles beside him and nods at Lan Sizhui in assurance.

     “I wanted to tell you on my own, before anyone else, so that you would know I’m sure of my decision,” Sizhui begins. “With your formal permission, I… I will begin publicly courting Jingyi.” Sizhui’s ears have begun to redden but he doesn’t hesitate as he goes on, “We’d like to be married.”

     The library is silent enough that a pin’s dropping would prove thunderous.

     As calm as he normally is, Lan Wangji simply asks, “How long have you known?”

     “A-die, you know he and I have been friends since almost the day I arrived here. He’s been there for me without my ever having to ask, and we… we’ve been certain of how we feel for over six years now.”

     “Six years?” Wei Wuxian blurts aloud. Lan Wangji gives him a warning side-eye and Wei Wuxian tries to remain collected. “Sizhui, if it’s been so long, why haven’t you told us until today?”

     Sizhui’s flush deepens but he forces himself to meet his father’s eyes. “Before all else, Jingyi and I are friends. We didn’t want the hassle of chaperones or rumours. I understand if our keeping this secret is upsetting, Baba.” He bows his head. “I… I’m soon to be 18, and I know we’re young. But I can’t help wanting to make the most of whatever time A-Yi and I have. You and A-die — ”

     A pause. “From what I’ve been told of your story, it has kept in my mind that I shouldn’t live with this sort of hidden feeling any longer than necessary.” Sizhui looks up at them. “Jingyi loves me, and I love him. Will you allow our marriage?”

     Wei Wuxian is crying, which he’d be embarrassed about if he cared, and he throws propriety to the wind in favour of opening his arms for his son, who gladly and in relief stands to accept the embrace. Lan Wangji is sort of smiling in a clear indication that he’s happy with these events, and Wei Wuxian leans to poke at his cheek just to tease him.

     “I’m thrilled you’ve told us,” Wei Wuxian says to Sizhui. “I assume Jingyi is informing his parents?”

     “Well, we wanted to wait until we had your blessing,” Sizhui admits. “It would be easier to tell them once we know Hanguang-Jun and the former Yiling Patriarch are on our side.”

     “You little schemers!” Wei Wuxian says, giving Sizhui’s cheek a light pinch. “Go on, then. Tell Jingyi the good news.”

     Sizhui beams and looks at Lan Wangji. His smile strengthens under his son’s eyes and he gives the slightest nod, which Sizhui knows to translate as wholehearted approval.

     He bows to his fathers and disappears from the library. Wei Wuxian falls against Lan Wangji’s arm as soon as he’s gone.

     “Ah, Lan Zhan. I rushed here to tell you about how I saw them kiss in the woods, but A-Hui beat me to it. I suppose they’d just decided at that moment to tell us, you think?”

     “Mn.”

     “If I didn’t already know Jingyi to be a good boy, I’d have to kill him.” Wei Wuxian sneaks a look at Lan Wangji, who doesn’t look amused. “No fun, Lan Zhan, no fun.” He taps a finger on the table and at Lan Wangji’s prompting expression says, “Well, I suppose they’ll be needing a chaperone now, eh? Can I volunteer to keep an eye on Jingyi? Break a leg or two?”

     “Wei Ying.”

     “Ah, Lan Zhan, I’m kidding,” Wei Wuxian says with a half-pout. “Huh. Maybe this is how Grand Master Qiren feels about me defiling the soul of his youngest nephew. I think I understand now.”

     “You did not ‘defile’ anything,” Lan Wangji says without pause.

     “My good husband.” Wei Wuxian presses a kiss to his cheek, followed by a gentle pat to the other. Although he’s smiling, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Lan Wangji covers Wei Wuxian’s hand carefully with his, wordlessly asking for Wei Wuxian to speak his mind.

     “It’s nothing. Only what Sizhui mentioned about our past. I don’t want to marry away our son but I… I am grateful that they don’t have to endure… all we had to endure. No mortifyingly long wait to reach their happily ever after. I’m glad for it.”

     Lan Wangji nods his agreement and brushes a kiss against his husband’s hand, making him blush. “A-Zhan!” he says with feigned astonishment. “Not in the library! Shameless.” Wei Wuxian knows he isn’t imagining the amused, pleased look on Wangji’s face, and he can’t hide his own smile at the sight. He still pulls out of Lan Wangji’s grip and says, “I don’t want to be responsible for any damage here, Gods forbid Qiren’s wrath finds me! Later?”

     “Mn. Later.”

     Wei Wuxian dimples at Lan Wangji, firing off a wink, before hightailing it for the Gods know where.

     Lan Wangji returns to his writing, but pauses as he thinks about the hour’s events. His son will be married surely within a year, perhaps have children of his own. The thoughts of a new baby to hold and Sizhui being loved so dearly bring such an unexpected wave of warmth to Lan Wangji that he decides, for today, he can put work to the side. He goes off to find his family growing, or perhaps the ‘later’ he’d been promised.

[galaxy98]

With the recent confirmation that we'll get to see more of Yunan and Olivia in season 3, I thought it would be nice to give a little rundown of a certain idea I had for a story prior to the trailer. Will I ever go through it, maybe not. For one thing, I have so many ideas that I want to do on AO3 so some things may have to be sacrificed. Not only that, but despite the episodes having a limited runtime, thus having less depth, it's likely going to turn out better than what I put out. That and it would be less convoluted. So here's a bullet list of the idea:

The working title for the fanfic is called Lady and the Newt. I wanted to go with Lady and the Merc or Lady and the General, though the former didn't made sense since Yunan is not a Mercenary. Also since it's a Disney show, I thought it would be funny to make the title a tongue-and-cheek reference to Lady and the Tramp.

The best way to describe this story is 2 lesbians on the run. There's also a butch and her daughter but we're not there yet.

Obviously, this would take place after True Colors, but based on the clips I've seen, it would've been drastically different.

For starters, it would begin with Olivia and Yunan trying to find a way to escape Newtopia. While Yunan is more concerned about finding a way out, Olivia didn't want to leave Marcy behind. At the same time, Yunan is also reluctant, albeit in denial, of wanting to go back there since she felt betrayed by both Andrias and Marcy, despite the latter being a child who was just being manipulated.

However, Olivia feels like she's complacent in letting this all happened, so she wanted to back there for the sake of ridding herself of that guilt. In other words, the both are still shooken up about the whole revelation.

They would eventually escape, but it will be a hollow victory.

This would be the first time we get to see Yunan without her armor. She took most of it off when trying to save an unconscious Olivia from drowning. By the time they set up camp, she will chuck her medals into the river in anger. She does keep the claws since they might come in handy, but other than that, she's completely vulnerable.

The fanfic would explore on the aspect about the expectations and pressure that Newtopia places on its society and how Yunan and Olivia were both affected by this mentality. Yunan ran away from home when she was in her teens because of her strained relationship with her family (Something that I will get into later on) and how due to being found by Andrias was she able to show off her skills that would work her way up to the ranks and then eventually the youngest general in the army, Scourge of the Sand Wars, Defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, yada yada yada. However, you would see why her family relationship was dysfunctional due to the infighting with her sister and mother who just happened to be a famous artisan (hint hint). Prior to becoming general, she felt like she had nothing to show for and that being a part of the court made her felt like she was special. But the problem is that she feels like she's nothing without the rank. So while Yunan constantly introduces herself because it's effective, it's also because that's all she has.

Olivia, on the other hand, didn't want to be a part of the court. The only reason she has that title in the first place was because her family already had connections to Andrias's so she was basically forced into the role. Royalty never particularly interest her but because she was so ingrained into the role, she ended up living a very isolated life. It's why she has a very stoic demeanor. Only when there's nothing else to do does she masks off the whole facade after keeping appearances for a whole day. During the night after they escape, she would lament about where it all went wrong.

There would be a retcon where Olivia originally planned on running away from Newtopia and she wanted Yunan to come with her. But with the combination of Yunan's commitment to the general rank, taking care of Marcy Wu, and then the events that soon follow, it never came to be. Olivia wondered if going through with that decision would've only make things worse.

There would be flashback chapters where we get to see the dynamics between the newts and the 13 year old girl. Any one of them involving Yunan would be an explanation as to why she initially felt betrayed by Marcy's actions. It's only later on in the story did she reconcile with those feelings.

Most of the story consist of them trying to get far away from Newtopia as possible, all while the fear of Marcy's fate lingers. In tale of dramatic irony, they assume that she may have escaped along with the others. But once they found refuge at Wartwood, they notice that Sasha was the only that's still here. That's when they figured the out news. Again, dramatic irony.

So that thing I mention about how there's also a butch and her daughter in this story, well here's what I mean. Priscilla and Pearl are the additional characters in this journey. The reason for their inclusion is because I had a particular subplot in mind. I loved the headcanon of Priscilla being Yunan's older sister because the potential dynamic makes so much sense. During their childhood, they were both competing for their mother's love, despite the fact that she didn't want them to fight. So due to jealously and the strained sibling relationship, it prompted Yunan to run away.

On an unrelated note, you can check out my poem fanfic on AO3 called O' Sister Of Mine. It explores the dynamic between Priscilla and Yunan as siblings.

The entire subplot would be about Yunan and Priscilla trying to repair their sibling relationship after years of fighting and not seeing each other. When her and Olivia cross paths with the two of them, Priscilla initially rejected their offer of going together. Because of Yunan and Olivia's status, she was worried that it was not only going to put a target on her back, but also her daughter's, which is the last thing she wants. But since they can't stay in one spot, they have no choice but to go together.

I think by looking at the pattern of where this story is going, the entire lesson is about not taking things for granted and being the change you want to be. The three girls may be the main focus of the show, but this fanfic explores on the side characters who were affected by the events.

Well there you have it. This is mostly just a rough draft of ideas but it does get the main gist across. Like I said before, this likely isn't going to see the light of day, especially when Matt Braly's crew is going to come up with something better than I can. This is one of those big AO3 projects that I'll have to keep on the shelf, at least temporarily when I don't have a lot on my plate right now.

But if you want to express any interest in me doing this in the future, feel free to reblog or leave a comment in the notes.

[wayward-dreamer]

If It Was To Work

Title: If It Was To Work

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,949

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, p in v, Happy Ending, SPOILERS FOR 15.08 OUR FATHER WHO AREN’T IN HEAVEN

Summary: Dean gave Sam some great advice. Sam just wishes he’d take his own advice sometimes.They had a lot on their plate with their Chuck situation, but that doesn’t mean they can’t take on an old-fashion, black and white case. That also doesn’t mean they can’t go out and celebrate a job well done afterwards.Walking into that bar and seeing you was the last thing Dean thought was going to happen.Maybe Sam’s right. Maybe he should listen to his own advice.**SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR 15.08 OUR FATHER WHO AREN'T IN HEAVEN**

A/N: My first one-shot on Tumblr! Find it on AO3 too! I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Some would probably say that going off to kill some vampires in Iowa while they still have their God problem would be a bad idea.

To Dean, it was the best idea Sam had that week.

He had been itching to get back to a regular, normal, non-Chuck related hunt for weeks and he was very glad to be hacking heads off vamps just outside of Des Moines.

Taking out a cloth from his back pocket, Dean walked towards the Impala as he wiped the cloth down the length of the machete to get the blood off. He dropped the machete into the weapons box, just as Sam came up behind him and did the same. Dean shut the trunk and walked over to the driver’s side, getting in and starting the engine.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a cool one” Dean smirked, as the radio started.

Sam nodded. “You know what, let’s do it.”

Dean frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean we haven’t done a victory beer at a bar in a while, so why not?” Sam shrugged.

“Okay.” Dean said, looking between Sam and the road. “Better take this opportunity now before you change your mind.”

Sam rolled his eyes, as he scrolled through his phone. Dean continued to drive for about 15 minutes before they spotted a roadside bar. He pulled the Impala up into an empty spot, before shutting the engine off. He got out of the car, as Sam followed behind him.

“You grab a spot, I’ll get the beers” Sam said, as he took in the large gathering within the bar.

Dean looked around the bar, taking in his surroundings. They hadn’t done this in a long time, and he was glad that they didn’t have to get back to the Bunker straight away. No one had any leads on Chuck, so they could take a day if they wanted to. At this point they needed to. As his eyes roamed over the patrons, they stopped on one person in particular.

She leaned over the pool table, lining up the shot, giving him a great view of her ass in the dark blue jeans that she wore. Round, perky and irresistible. Perfect. As she stood from taking the shot, Dean caught a glimpse of the tattoo she had on her right arm; a sleeve of vines and flowers. She laughed, as the two burly men they were playing with forked over a roll of cash each. The girl had confidence. Dean smirked, already taking out some cash to buy her a drink. Something about her felt familiar, though, as he continued to admire her.

When she turned away from her friend and faced the rest of the bar, it hit him like a fucking Mack Truck. A flood of memories flashed through his mind, all at once, knocking the wind out of him.

Y/N. Y/N was here. In the same bar as him. After all these years of never having run into each other, not even on a hunt, and here she was.

Damn it. This had to be Chuck’s doing, right?

He suddenly heard a snapping sound and saw something waving in front of his face. He shook his head and looked away, facing Sam. His brother was wide-eyed and confused, his forehead creased as he looked at him.

“Dean, where the hell were you?” he asked.

Dean shook his head again, lifting the beer to his lips and taking a large gulp from it. “N-nothing. I mean, nowhere. Nothing. Shut up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, bewildered by Dean’s sudden odd behaviour. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” Dean started to answer Sam but when he looked up, he saw that Y/N was walking towards the bar.

She was wearing a tight black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and her Y/C/H flowing behind her as she walked. However, much like him, she took in her surroundings and stopped in her tracks when she saw him. Sam saw Dean go completely still and wondered what was happening. He turned around and knew straight away what was going on. No wonder he was acting strangely. Dean slowly got up from the stool at their high top, leaving his drink behind. As he hesitantly walked closer to Y/N, her eyes widened in shock. He was just a few inches away from her when he took in her features. She hadn’t changed; she was still as beautiful as ever.

Y/N took him in. How was it possible that the man became more attractive with age? She looked past him at Sam, who gave her a small smile. She couldn’t believe that in all the years since she and Dean parted ways, she would be seeing them again now and in the most random of bars.

“H-hi” she squeaked out, as she moved closer to Dean.

Dean nodded. “Hey.”

She brushed her knuckles together, as she looked around the room. She was trying to avoid looking at him too long, for fear that she might burst into tears.

“How are you?” she asked, only glancing at him before looking away again.

A sad smile crossed Dean’s face when he realised what she was doing. She was forgetting how well he knew her.

“Have I really changed that much that you can’t look at me?” he said, in the most light-hearted manner he could muster up, but it still held a sadness behind it.

She finally looked up at him. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You’d be surprised” Dean grimaced, wishing he had brought his drink over with him.

Everything else in that bar faded into the background as Dean and Y/N continued to look at each other. A range of thoughts and emotions flooded Dean’s mind as he thought back on how they had left things the last time they were together. There was so much about that night that he regretted, the most painful of which he knew was something neither of them had gotten over. It was the greatest regret of his life; letting her go. Pushing her away. What he didn’t know was that she completely understood why he did what did. She always understood.

Y/N looked back at her friend who was still preoccupied by the men they were playing pool with. She turned back to Dean and knew she had a couple of options here. She either walked away and went back to her friend, forgetting about him completely. Or… she asked him to have a drink with her, for old times’ sake. She took a deep breath, ready to ask him and possibly open herself up to being heartbroken again.

“Hey, you wanna grab a drink with me and Sammy?” Dean asked, beating her to it. The same thoughts had been running through his head; about whether or not to ask her.

She smiled properly this time, a full wattage smile that reached her shining eyes. “I’d love that.”

Y/N walked over with Dean to their table and smiled at Sam. Sam immediately got up from his seat and hugged her, causing her to laugh.

“I swear you got bigger somehow” she laughed.

“How are you?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m good” she said, simply. “Honestly can’t complain. I know you two have it worse.”

“What? You been keeping tabs on us?” Dean asked, intrigued as to whether she was or not.

“Not really, but… Garth talks. A lot” she replied, laughing again.

Dean scoffed as he smirked. “Figures.”

They all proceeded to catch up on everything from the past years. Y/N told them how she now had a place in town, somewhere to come back to after a hunt. Sam told her about the Bunker and she was suddenly giddy.

“Oh man, I gotta see it” she smiled.

“Yeah, first time we got there… couldn’t really believe that it was real” Sam said, smiling too.

Dean smirked as he watched Y/N. “You should, you know? See it, I mean. You should uh… You should come over some time.”

Y/N looked at him and smiled softly. “I will.”

Sam looked between Dean and Y/N. He remembered Dean telling him about what happened between them and knew there was a lot of things that were left unfinished between them.

“You know, I’m not feeling too great” Sam said, getting up from his seat. “I’m going to get a cab, head back to our motel. Leave you two to catch up.”

Dean glared at Sam while Y/N wasn’t looking. He knew what he was doing.

“Oh okay, well it was good to see you” she smiled, as she hugged him again.

“You too” Sam said.

As he moved behind her, Sam turned around and gestured to her. Getting Dean’s attention, he mouthed “talk” before he gave Dean a knowing smile and walked away. Dean shook his head but quickly turned back to Y/N before she noticed the silent conversation between him and his brother.

“Another round?” he asked.

“Sure” she replied.

Y/N and Dean sat across from each other, each of them had two empty beer bottles in front of them. They had both moved onto whiskey. Dean brought his glass to his lips, taking a large sip. Y/N turned the glass around in her hands, watching the amber liquid move around.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d see you again” she laughed, the sound of it somewhere between sincere and bitter. “I thought you and Sam were so good at hiding… I’d never run into you.”

Dean huffed. “Small world, I guess.”

She nodded and smiled sadly but didn’t say anything else.

“Listen, Y/N-” Dean started but she placed her hand on top of his to stop him. He looked at her and wondered what was wrong but was confused when she smiled at him.

“Dean, I know you’re about to apologise and you shouldn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong” she said.

“Didn’t do anything wrong? Are you kidding me? I left without even saying goodbye. All I gave you was a fucking note saying I had to go, and I was sorry” he said, his voice angry but lowered so no one heard them.

“Don’t you think I knew why? Dean, I knew you had to go back with your dad. I knew you would do anything for him, how important your family is to you. I get it, Dean. I always have. I don’t hold any of it against you, I don’t blame you for what you did. I never have” she explained, tightening her hold on his hand.

Dean looked up at her, his expression sad and yet bewildered by what she just said. She got it, why he had to leave. She understood.

He suddenly remembered the advice he gave Sam recently about Eileen.

She gets it, you know? She gets us, she gets the life.

It was with the same with Y/N.

If it was to work…

Could it work again? For them? Could they go back to what they were with everything that was going on with Chuck?

You don’t ever think about something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Sam had said that to him once. When he would find himself thinking about Y/N over the years, he always thought about what Sam had said.

Y/N gripped his hand tighter, smiling as she looked down at their hands intertwined. She stroked her thumb over his knuckles, thinking back on all the times she had done it all those years ago.

“I missed you” she said, looking up at him.

Dean looked into her eyes. He could see what she was feeling in that moment because he felt the same. He had a decision to make. Let go of her hand, get in the Impala and drive away, leaving her behind. Or take her hand, go back to her place and pick up where they left off. Option 2 was tempting but he was scared. Scared of what might happen to her if he did. Then the words he said to Sam repeated themselves in his mind. He had to try.

Dean picked up his drink and gulped down the whiskey in one hit. Y/N did the same, knowing what was thinking and being on the same page as him, instantly. He took out a few bills from his wallet and put them under his glass, before taking her hand in his. He led her out of the bar and over to the Impala. Opening the door for her, she sat inside before he walked over to the driver’s side. Getting in behind the wheel, he started up the engine.

“So, where to?” he asked.

She smiled as he turned the radio on. Zeppelin. Just like old times. “Take a left at the exit.”

Dean pulled out of the parking lot and followed Y/N’s directions all the way to her house. When they arrived, he parked outside. It was a small, quaint one-storey, enough for her and maybe even someone else to live in. They got out of the car and he followed behind her as she guided him inside. It was spacious and decorated simply, yet it wasn’t empty by any means. The lounge flowed into the kitchen which had a door to the backyard and outdoor furnishings.

“Nice place” Dean said, looking around.

“It was my parents. When dad died after the ghoul hunt, he gave it to me, but I started hunting instead. When I realised I needed a safe place to come back to, I came back here” she explained.

Y/N walked closer to Dean. “You want another drink?”

He shook his head as she stood in front of him, close enough to smell her perfume.

“No” he replied, simply.

Dean pulled her closer, before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, instantly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his came around her waist. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their lips still connected. He felt the same, like nothing had changed, and yet it somehow felt new.

She pulled away from the kiss but still kept her lips against his. “Down the hall, on the right.”

She leaned down to press her lips to neck, as he carried her to the bedroom. He was slightly distracted by her lips as he stumbled down the hallway but made it to the room without crashing into things.

She lowered herself from him, her feet firmly on the floor. They didn’t waste any time, as they kissed heatedly and began to remove their clothes. Dean pulled away to take her in as she stripped down to red bra and panties. She was as beautiful as the first time he saw her.

“Fuck” he groaned, as he leaned in and began kissing her neck.

She took his shirt in her hands and pushed it off, only pulling away from him to lift his black shirt over his head.

“Dean” she moaned as her hands roamed his chest.

Dean gently placed his hand behind her head, until she laid down on her back. He sat up to pull her bra off, and leaned in to place kisses along her breasts. His hand wandered down her body, his fingers feeling how wet she already was through her panties. He wanted her so badly, even after all this time apart. He missed her.

His hands trailed her body, feeling her smooth skin against his calloused hands. She whimpered, feeling his rough yet light, soothing touch. She closed her eyes as she thought about how they were in the past, and how much she still wanted him. So much time had passed since they were last together like this, but he still remembered the right pressure and movements that drove her crazy. He pulled her panties down her legs and slowly ran his fingers along her pussy.

“Dean” she sighed, in a needy whisper. She pushed herself up on her elbows and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Can we… can we do that later? I just…”

Dean smirked and leaned forward, nudging his nose against hers. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip as she looked into his eyes, just as lust blown as hers. “I want you inside me.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, passionately, before he shifted back. He wasn’t about to waste any more time with her.

He quickly pushed his boxers down before he moved closer to her. Y/N pulled him as close as she could to her, wrapping her arms around his neck as he settled himself between her legs. He pressed his lips against hers, as his hands moved her legs to wrap around his waist, trying to get even closer to her if that was possible. She reached down between their bodies and took his length in her hand, holding it near her entrance. Dean moved his hips forward as he looked down at her, his cock slowly pressed into her. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a small smile spread across her face. When he was fully inside her, he waited. He wanted to do this right and not rush things. Apparently Y/N had other ideas though, as she combed her fingers through his hair roughly, and pulled him in with her legs.

“Dean” she gasped against his lips. “Please move.”

Dean chuckled softly, kissing her once. “Someone’s impatient.”

She gripped his hair tighter and groaned. He glared down at her playfully as she winked, her eyes glinting with mischief. He shook his head and smirked, leaning down to kiss her once again.

Dean pushed his hips forward and then back. He set a slow pace, thrusting carefully and taking his time. She leaned up and kissed his neck, biting his collar bone as her arms wrapped tighter around him. They looked into each other’s eyes, seeing all the years of longing for each other and how much they still loved each other.

“Dean” she moaned. “Harder.”

Dean wrapped his arms around her back and sat up. He leaned back and sat her in his lap, looking right into her eyes and their arms came around each other. She moaned into his mouth as his lips captured hers, her hands in his hair as her hips rocked against his. His left hand wandered into her hair as his right held onto her hip, his fingers pressing into her flesh.

“Fuck” he groaned, as her hips came down hard, repeatedly.

“Dean… I love you” she said, a hitch in her voice.

His hips begin to rock harder against her, as he pulled her in even closer. He kissed her fiercely, lightly biting her lip.

“Dean, I… oh my God” she moaned loudly, as she kissed her neck, the spot that always drove her crazy.

“Fuck, sweetheart” he huffed. “You feel so damn good.”

“Dean, I… I’m close” she gasped.

Dean could feel it. Her hips started to move faster, stutter slightly as she became overwhelmed with what she was feeling.

“Let go for me, Y/N” he said, looking up at her.

“Dean, I…” she started but cut herself off as she moaned loudly.

Y/N’s eyes shut tightly, as she moaned his name repeatedly through her climax. Dean’s hips moved faster and harder, as he feels his own release. Y/N placed her hands on his neck, as her thumbs ran along his jaw.

“Dean, baby” she moaned sweetly, as she smiled at him. “Cum for me, Dean. Cum inside me.”

“Fuck, Y/N” he grunted as he came, spilling his seed inside her.

He rode out his climax, resting his forehead against her chest. Y/N held him close, her hands in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

They came down from their high, breathing heavily. Dean lifted his head and looked up at her, his hand cupping her cheek and bringing her closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, once, twice. Dean pulled away and looked at her again.

“I love you” he whispered, his breath still laboured from their love making.

Dean slowly pulled out of her, turned and laid down on his back. Y/N laid down next to him and pushed herself closer. He wrapped his arm around her as she laid her head on his chest and hooked her leg around his. They laid there in silence for a while, as they enjoyed the quiet and basked in the afterglow. Dean took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. How he was going to say what he wanted to since they got to her apartment.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, breaking the silence first.

Dean huffed a laugh. Of course, she knew that he wanted to say something.

He took another deep breath. “What would you say… if I said that I… if I said that I wanted to start things up again?” he asked, ripping off the Band-Aid.

Y/N turned and leaned her chin on his chest. Her eyebrows furrowed as she didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

Dean brushed his hand down her arm, absentmindedly. “I mean that we hunt, together, and then we came back here… or the Bunker… together.”

She smiled softly as she thought about what he meant.

“Some things that have happened recently, they’re… they’re making me think differently about this life. About my life. I just know that now that we’re back here…” Dean explained, taking her hand in his. “I’m not ready to give it up again.”

She sighed as she leaned in and kissed his hand. “Me neither.”

“I know I’m risking everything again, doing this with you. I mean, we’re on God’s radar, and he could strike down at any minute but…” Dean started but stopped when she cut him off with her lips. She kissed him hard, pulling away and leaving him breathless.

“We can do it, Dean. Things are different now… scarier, yeah, sure but… I get it. I know what your life is and what it could mean, I know that joining you means I won’t be a regular, running-after-a-normal-monster hunter anymore. I know it and… I don’t care. Despite everything, despite whatever gets thrown at us… I know we can make it work” she said, as she shifted forward and leaned her forehead against his.

Dean smirked. She gets it. She gets the life. “So… we’re really doing this?”

She grinned back. “Yeah. We are.”

Dean leaned in and kissed her, passionately. He slowly rolled her onto her back, the kiss growing and becoming more intense. They both knew the risks, hell, they knew they could die at any minute, but as long as they had each other they had something more to fight for. The years of missing each other and now finding each other again, it would all be worth it when they got out of this alive. He was determined. They would find a way to get rid of Chuck, they would find a way to live a comfortable life, and when that happened, he wanted Y/N by his side.

The next morning, after the sun had risen and they made love once again, Dean made her breakfast. They ate and laughed together. Dean answered a call from Sam about another hunt he found. Y/N packed up her duffle bag and placed it next to Dean’s in the Impala’s trunk. They smiled at each other as she sat next to him, listening to classic tunes as they went to meet up with Sam and go off on the next hunt.

Together.

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

Can be found on my AO3 (Use title above)

Word count: 4.2K

Chapter 3 under cut

Tick

Tick

Tick

Ethan, the blonde father, had bundled himself up in a thick cover he had taken off his bed in his new home. The night had only begun to take over, the rain storm outside had pattered against the roof and windows of his den. It was times like this that he had slight regret over the fact he could have just tried to convince Chris to place him and his daughter somewhere else. Maybe then this night wouldn’t be cold because of the timed heating system in place- maybe he just goes over and ask Dimitrescu if he could sleep over with Rose.

That thought he quickly shook out. As far as he was concern, he didn’t want to get too friendly with his neighbours. He still had his walls up, ready to attack if it meant his Rose could be safe. The father was already worried about the fact that his daughter would also ned to have tests run on her. The thoughts simple didn’t sit right with him, but it wasn’t like he could just straight up disagree with whatever the BSAA wanted to do. He was no match for any of them...or maybe he was?

A ring caught his attention, vibrating his thoughts out of his skull. Drifting brown eyes caught onto the rotary phone. ‘Heisenberg’ The father thought, a hand itching to grab the phone. With finger tips just glazing over the phone, he quickly withdrew his hand back to his chest and cradled it with the other. “Should I though?” He pondered out loud, watching as the phone carried on ringing. “To hell with it.” Ethan had reached and grabbed the phone before the ringing could stop. Reaching the phone to his ear, he held it and waited for the other to speak.

“Ah papa! Thought you would never answer,” The gruff voice came out, a little glitch but that was due to the rain outside.

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to.” The truth spilled out with Ethan moving to lay back against the armrest of the couch and pulling his feet up to rest on the cushions. A laugh came out from the other side, making a twitching smirk come up upon the young male’s lips.

“Ah, feisty as ever still. Relax, I won’t call you every night. More or less 6 calls at most a week.” Ethan rolled his eyes playfully, well aware the other couldn’t see but he liked to think he did. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to call you on this fateful night.”

“Hm,” Ethan hummed, “It never crossed my mind but go ahead, seemingly you’ll just keep calling if I placed the phone down now.”

“That’s the spirit papa, I still have an hour and 25 minutes anyway! So, I want to learn.” It took a few seconds for Ethan to process the others words. ‘Learn?’ Why would Heisenberg, the fourth lord and creator of walking armed zombies want to learn?

‘“Okay...What do you want to learn about?” The line had gone silent to the point Ethan had moved the phone a little away from his ear and craned his neck back as though the problem would be shown. His body soon jerked up when the familiar voice had answered back, startling the man.

“I want to know your interests.” A simple answer, yet eerily uncomfortable to Ethan. He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Licking his lips as a way to calm his beating heart, Ethan relaxed back in his position and sighed through his nose.

“And why do you want to know my interests now?”  

“Isn’t it obvious. We are neighbours, bond to be for probably the rest of our lives so we might as well start getting homely with each other!” A prompt scoff and click of the tongue came from Ethan as he changed his position, with a little struggle, to sit back straight on the couch with legs dangling off the front and back pressed against the back cushions. He rested his elbow on the arm rest and placed his head on his hand.

“I am not staying here forever Heisenberg. After these tests, I’m going back to a normal life with my daughter away from all this.” Unknowing to Ethan, Karl had taken much a liking to his protective nature. It was rather...tempting to mess with, to see how much further the male could go for his daughter- even after a close death.

A chuckle came from Karl. “Now, now Ethan. I’m sure you’re aware that we're stuck here till then. You’re different Winters, just like the rest of us. You really think they’ll let you go after some tests? We...what did they call us again,”  

“They called us bio weapons Heisenberg...”  

“Ah yes! We are bio weapons. Now, I’m pretty sure weapons aren’t allowed in your society now are they. So, Winters, are we really going to be free after everything?” A flash memory appeared in Ethan’s mind, back to the start of the day when his arm had been covered by the mould. How it didn’t come off, how it felt like it was stuck forever so him...the weird boiling sensation that washed over him.  “I’ll take your silence of you knowing I’m correct.”

“So, what!” The sudden snarl had caught Heisenberg off guard, making him take the phone away from his own ear. Even then, he could still hear Ethan’s voice loud and clear, a realisation that he had angered and frustrated the other. “Maybe I am some weapon but some of us have lived through a normal life for that to be taken off us. I may not understand half the shit you’ve gone through but dammit I could still be a normal person for all I know.” Ethan had stopped to take a breath. Luckily his voice being raised had not awaken the sleeping child but it did awake something else.  

“Ethan...” Karl asked after hearing the line go silent for a second too long. “I-I understand your angry at my words but-”

“AH FUCK GET OFF ME!”  

…

Karl stared at the phone in his hand. A long deafening sound came out of it, a single beep carrying on for generations ahead. Working up a cold sweat, Karl had slammed the phone onto its stand and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair he was sat on in his own small kitchen. Silently, he was thankful for still wearing his boots as he had rushed out of his home, knocking a plant that was on a table top inside the home on accident, then proceeded to stampede his way through the dirt road to get to Ethan’s home. He hadn’t even managed to get his second arm through his coat before he was at Ethan’s front door pounding against the wood. “For fuck's sake Ethan, Open up!”  

Pressing up against the door, Karl rattled the handle about only for the door to open with him falling in behind. The rain drops that was collected on his clothing had splattered amongst the wooden floors of Ethan’s home. Trying his best to get up and not slip, Karl had successfully stood up and chucked the door shut behind him to stop any more water entering the Winters resident. Bracing himself, Karl had steadied himself straight as he stood his ground and closed his eyes, trying to hear the man who lost connection. A quiet groan was heard from the left room closest to the front door. “Ethan!” Karl called, running in that room and looking about.  

“The fuck you-ack!-doing in my home,” Karl turned his sightlines to stare at the floor, he then walked around the couch to see the man he was looking for on the ground, turned away from him. Tugging his hat off, Karl placed the wet material on the armrest close to him and then settled down to the ground, sitting on his knees.

“I’m here because you randomly screamed and left. Are you okay?” Bringing comfort to someone was never and never will be Karl’s strong suite but hopefully his presence there will somewhat calm the other.

“It’s nothing. Just go back home,” Ethan’s voice came out as a whine, on the contrary it also sounded desperate. Karl looked down at his lap fiddling with his fingers. He furrowed his brows and snarled.

“I'm not leaving till you tell and show me that everything is okay.”

“Why would you care, go home Heisenberg.” The sneer that came back from the other in response to Karl’s words had him annoyed. He wasn’t going to sit here and let the man who gave him somewhat a freedom turn him away. He wasn’t going to leave Ethan no matter how many times the other will try to push him away. Making a bold move, Karl reached over and grabbed Ethan’s shoulder harshly, before pulling him backwards making the taller blonde male collide on his back. Karl looked down at the fallen male and loomed over him. Ethan had shut his eyes as his back had hit the ground, a hushed cry came from between his lips as he tightened his grip on his shoulder.  

“Ethan,” Karl breathed out, steadily thrusting his hand to hold Ethan’s as he tried to pry it away from his shoulder. “Ethan everything will be okay, just breath.”  

“What do you think I’m trying to do,” Ethan had opened his eyes and spat out his words, breathing harshly through gritted teeth. “Ow” He cried out, letting Karl take his hand away from his shoulder. Once removed, Karl peered down to see black taking over half of Ethan’s body, it was just beginning to move onto his wrist that was just seen appearing before the end of his pyjamas top sleeve.

“Woah, don’t you look a lil different.” The amusement in Karl’s voice sent Ethan over the edge. The father had raised his hand and made a quick slap on the others face before pulling himself back up and pushing his back to rest against the couch.

“Just leave. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.” The flat voice of Karl had Ethan turning his head with a scrunch up nose.  

“Yes, you will- ahm- leave.” Karl shook his head, growing annoyed at how Ethan had discouraged his advances of staying with him. Then, a great idea popped into the mechanical man’s head. Snaking an arm around Ethan’s waist, the Lord had brought Ethan to his side and held him tightly. His fingers dug a little into the thin frame of Ethan, rubbing soothing circles into his side.  

“Just relax. It seems whatever is happening is reacting to your emotions. Stay calm.” For once, just for this time only, Ethan couldn’t help but agree in his mind that Heisenberg was correct. All this happened after he lost his temper or was saddened greatly. He had to do this. Do this for Rose.

Inhaling deeply, Ethan tried his best to relax in the other’s grip. Going as far to even turn to rest his head on his shoulder. Together they sat, only a few sparks of quick pain passed through Ethan’s muscles. He felt like his body was trying to cave in on itself, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t feel it physically doing that, it was his brain telling him different stories. ”That’s it. See, being calm is good for you. Especially a lion like yourself.”

“If you carry on talking, I will bite your throat out.”

“Kinky.” Another slap, this one a little lighter, came across Karl’s chest. Realising that Ethan had hit a blow on him, he laughed at the thought that was behind it. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, luckily for you I enjoy a bit of biting.”

Ethan hit head against Karl’s shoulder, groaning loudly at his words. On the other side, Karl had bit his lip and scrunched his eyes up, holding back more laughter at Ethan’s reactions. ‘Gosh he’s cute’ Karl kept his thought to himself, gazing down at the other who seemed a lot more at peace with himself and not groaning in pain- but rather annoyance.  

Time passed, both of them sat in the same spots, bathing in the others presence. ‘Maybe he isn’t all bad.’ Ethan stared at the sleeping Lord, who was snoring loudly within his ear. Although Ethan wasn’t ready to fall asleep after all this, he allowed himself to settle next to the other. “You better not get sick.”

The next day had seeped in quicker than the father had wanted it to. All night he had been laid against the sleeping lord, who after the first bird tweeted, had wrapped both arms around Ethan and fell to sleep on his lap. Ethan had to use all his willpower to reframe from smacking the other awake, instead he decided to run his fingers through his mangled hair- being careful for the knots.

His eyes felt heavy as he drifted in and out of conscious. It seemed that over the hours the mould had once again disappeared. The metal man was right, he had to control his emotions better if he was going to protect his cub. He didn’t need to get worked up and harm her by accident. The thought made him shiver.

Just as his eyes had clamped shut, a bang against the wooden door had startled both men. Karl lifted his head up at world record time, his forehead colliding with Ethan’s chin. “Ow, what the- OH gosh. My bad” Karl scrambled out of his mouth as he moved away from Ethan. Ethan rubbed his chin, looking towards the other and hummed. They calmed their breaths before another knock was heard at his door.

Grumbling, Ethan rubbed his eyes and stood, making his way into the front of his home. Letting out a yawn, Ethan had swung his door open to come face to face with Redfield. “Where is he?” He simple asked, before barging into the Winters home.

“HEY!” Ethan called out, slapping Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t just walk into my new home, and what do you mean ‘where is he?’”

“Heisenbug Ethan. Where is Heisenberg?” Chris wasted no time to walk into Ethan’s living room, only to stop his movements at the doorway leading to the living room and cough loudly.

“Hey there.” A sheepishly voice said, no doubt feeling awkward with the situation.

“No time for sleepovers you two, get in the car Heisenberg. Your testing remembers?” Chris stood aside, letting Heisenberg walk past him with his hat on this time. Just as Karl saunter past Ethan, he tilted his hat down and winked, continuing past Ethan who rolled his eyes at the other’s flirty actions. He watched as Karl left his house, purposely jumping down the steps on his front porch and entered a black BMW with armed security- nothing like what Ethan had.

A hand was placed on Ethan’s shoulder, shaking him around. “What was he doing here?” Chris asked, looking into Ethan’s sleep-driven eyes. Ethan gave a shrug of his shoulders and leaned against Chris’ shoulder closing his eyes. Out of instincts, Chris wrapped his arms around Ethan and steadied his feet so he could support the weight of the blonde.

“Something happened but I think I know why now...” Chris hummed, a sign for Ethan to continue talking. Firstly however, he let loose a yawn. “When I get really...emotional, the mould takes over. However, it only takes over half my body so I think if I let my emotions come unstable...well you know...”

“So, Heisenberg came over because?” Ethan let loose another yawn and completely fell limp in Chris’ hold. Smiling a little, Chris placed his arms under Ethan’s knees and pulled him up into a bridal-position and took him back into the living room to place him on the couch.

“He came over to help me...” Silence held onto Ethan after that, the father on the brink of sleep. He first pulled his knees up to his chest and held them there, letting his eyes fully rest.

“Ethan, I just need to ask a favour.” Luckily for Chris, Ethan still had the energy to speak back to him.

“Hm?” He hummed, really wanting to sleep.

“We are going to need Rose for testing today.”

Oh boy.

Ethan was nestled next to Heisenberg in the back of the BMW with Rose wide awake bouncing on his leg. At the front was Chris sat in the passenger seat, looking at the front view mirror every few minutes to see his friend drifting off to sleep. When he turned to look at Heisenberg, he just caught him glaring at him. “Keep glaring like that and who knows, maybe your eyes will pop out.”

“Maybe your spine will pop out boulder-punching boy.”

“Will you both shut it, it’s the first thing in a morning.” Ethan had groaned, not wanting to hear anyone’s voice. Just sleep. He just wanted sleep.

“Your fault for not sleeping.” Karl had answered towards him, turning to look at Ethan but was instead met with Rose trying to grab his coat pocket. “What the- hey, your gremlin thing is trying to rob me.” He grassed out as Rose had successfully grabbed a pouch of money out from him. Everyone in the BMW had smirked and turned their heads other directions to hide their humoured faces.

Ethan looked down and smiled softly at his baby girl, going as far as to pat her on the head softly. “That’s it, we only rob from metal man. I’m proud of you Rose.”

“hey!” Karl argued back, pointing a finger at Ethan. “And here I thought you were the going to raise her to be good.” Ethan shrugged in return, gently taking the pouch from Roses’ hand and passing it back to Karl.

“She is doing good, stealing from you.” Karl huffed and leaned back, crossing his arms. Soon though, Rose had followed and did the same thing making everyone realise their laughter they were holding.  

“Oh c’mon!”

The testing wasn't all that bad luckily. However, Ethan refused to sleep whilst his daughter was getting blood samples taken from her as well as x-rays and other shots that a scientist had claimed it was only flu shots. He had his suspicions though. Another test was them pricking her finger, only to watch it heal almost instantly. It seemed Rose had gathered regenerations abilities, just like her father. “And that’s it for today. We may ask her back to see if anything changes as she grows up but for now everything seems to be good and stable. You’re welcomed to take her back home after you have your tests done.”  

Ethan held his daughter in his arms. Her cheeks were a little red due to crying at getting her blood sample taking from her, but it was only for her to cry because her body hadn’t experienced pain like he had. Holding her on his lap with one arm and her frail body leaning against his stomach, Ethan had shrugged his jumper off leaving him in a grey shirt. He placed his arm on a small table in front of him and watched as the scientist dragged a scalpel down his arm, only to watch mould leak from the wound and close it up. “Hm, interesting.” Th scientist mumbled, writing down on his note board and another one following doing the same thing. “You wouldn’t mind if we did a much larger cut would you?” They asked, smiling kindly.

“Be quick please.” Ethan talked, letting his eyes settle on Rose. The scientist seemed very excited to do so. They disappeared out of sight lines before returning with a much larger and sharper tool.  

“You might want to bite on your jumper,” they said as they placed his jumper into Ethan's mouth. Closing his eyes, Ethan howled as he felt the knife slide down his arm, digging much into his skin. For a second, he saw white, only for that to go and his vision came back. He looked down to see how much they just cut him, only to see that the mould had in fact covered the whole of his arm. “It seems to be protecting you. Write that down.” The scientist tried once again to cut through the mould, only to fail this time. “Well, we have all that we need at the moment. Be sure to check in every month for yourself and the child when we need her.”

“You’ll ask me first before going through my child.” Ethan spat out as his jumped fell onto his lap. He was quick to jump of the chair he was sat on and place Rose on it so he could place his jumper on. His hand was still covered in the dark green mould but at this point, he didn’t feel to make a big scene out of it. Pulling his jumper down, Ethan was fast to secure Rose back into his hold and walk out of his testing room. On the way out, he accidently bumped into Moreau.

“O-OH! Ethan...Thank you! Thank you so much. I didn’t know what I was doing then. Please- Please forgive me. I-I'm sorry!” The man called out, tears springing slightly from his eyes as he clasped his hands in a pleading manner in front of himself.

Ethan awkwardly looked at the agents leading Moreau for help. They all raise their arms in defence and watched from a far. Sighing, Ethan looked at Moreau and moved a hand to pat his head. Unluckily for him, it was his mould hand and Moreau saw it. “O-OH! That’s mould, right? Wow, you get cooler each time. I-I wish I was like you! No wonder why little-little brother loves you so much from the start!”

Okay now that caught Ethan off guard even more than the apologies coming from Moreau’s mouth. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you.”

“I got to go! But I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” Moreau rushed off, following the agents as they led him away from Ethan. As Moreau was getting further out of sight, Ethan stood his ground alone.

‘Loves me? The heck, like, yeah sure. He’s shown that but loving...Nah, Moreau been watching too many romantic movies.’ He brushed it off, wiggling his fingers in Rose’s face. “I need sleep, that’s what.” He spoke out loud before walking down the same hallways as Moreau. On his way down, he had begun to walk with the Beneveinto group.

“OOoo, it's the father!” Angie squealed, waving enthusiastically at Ethan who walked right next to Lady Beneveinto by the elevator and stair case.

“Yeah yeah, sure. Hey, I have a question?” He asked, looking at Beneviento's veil. She stopped for a second and turned, nodding for him to continue. Angie watched from her shoulder, her eyes staring intensely out of their sockets. “Do you have a name...like a first name?”

“HAhaha! Of course, she does silly! It’s Donna! And you better call her that and nothing else you blondey.” Angie spoke for Donna, crossing her wooden arms over her chest and pointing her finger at him.

“What is it with everyone pointing their fingers at me today,” Ethan mumbled down to Rose before looking up and nodding. “Well, it’s great to meet you Donna. Hopefully our stays close by won’t be a problem in the future. I hope to get a long.”

“Me too,” Her voice was very quiet, nothing compared to Angie’s. At first, Ethan thought he was hearing things but the soft tap of her hand against his shoulder proved to differ. “Goodbye small one,” She whispered down at Rose before walking away, taking the stairs case down.  

For the first time in a while, Ethan didn’t have to force a smile onto his face. It came naturally and relax. Pressing the button on the elevator, the male had stood waiting for the doors to open. As soon as they did though, a sudden force he did not even notice pushed him in and the loud sound of something clicking made him turn, anger seething in his bones. “WHAT THE HE- Heisenberg!” The name fell from his mouth with violence lace within.  

“Hush Ethan, they going to catch us!” He breathed out, pressing himself to the back of the elevator watching as the doors begun to shut.

“Who is they?!” The elevator had fully shut, making Ethan panic. Here he was, in a small space with Karl right next to him and Rose within his arms.  

“Agents, armed people, that boulder guy. Quite a few people actually.” Karl begun to explain, looking at the father who carried an angered look.

“Heisenberg, which button did you press?” He asked, lacing his voice in a fake kindness and a smile dripping with the urges to kill the man in front of him.

“Oh, this one,” Karl hovered his glove hand over the button that said ‘Ground floor’. A sigh left Ethan’s lips as he rested his eyes. At least they were heading to the floor he needed. “I was going to press this bright red and shiny one though,” Ethan opened his eyes and watched as Heisenberg had pressed the button that said ‘STOP’ in large letters.

“Karl...”

“Yes?”

“You’re a very dead man.”

[kiarcheo]

A Whole New World    5/10

Jane and Kat find out there is more to each other…and to the new world they have found themselves in.

Read on Ao3 too

                                 ——————————————–

‘Look what I’ve got?!’

Kat grabs the slips of paper Jane is waving in her face. They are train tickets. ‘Okay?’

‘Do you know what’s there?’

‘No?’ Kat is confused but can’t help smiling at Jane’s excitement.

‘Amusement park!’

‘Really?’

‘Yes! We’re going to make a day out of it.’

‘What about the others?’ As much as she chafes at being ‘controlled’, a whole day out, leaving the city, probably warrants a heads-up at the very least.

‘Sadly they are unable to join us as they all have prior commitments either in the morning or in the afternoon.’ Jane doesn’t sound sad at all.

‘You cheeky fox.’

‘Nobody expects subterfuge from the village idiot.’

‘Hey, that’s my role! You’re Dumb, but I’m Dumber.’ Kat swats at her.

‘We should get that on t-shirts.’

‘And you’re clearly the brain of our duo.’

‘Wow,’ Jane brings a hand to her chest, ‘nobody ever accused me of such a thing.’

‘Well, certainly you’re not the brawn. You might have built some muscles in your legs skating, but you still have noodle arms.’

/

‘Would you like a map?’ the cashier at the entrance asks as he hands them their wristbands.

‘Yes, please, it’s our first time visiting.’

‘Then you choose a good day. Mid-week we don’t get too many people so you can enjoy and explore the grounds without too much crowds...and queues.’

They move away from the gates before stopping.

‘Where to first?’

They both look around in awe.

‘Adult slides?’

They study the map trying to find them. ‘Here!’ a finger points the number corresponding to the picture. ‘Astroglide here we come!’

.

‘Should we try something else?’ Kat asks, picking up her mat, after they had gone down the slides various times. ‘We can come back,’ she adds seeing the yearning look Jane shoots the attraction.

‘Do you want to...’ Jane points towards the roller coaster.

‘Honestly?’

Jane nods.

‘Not really?’ Kat winces as even on the ground they can hear the people currently on it screaming their heads off.

‘Thank God,’ Jane breaths out. She is not keen on being that far up in the air. She is sure it’s safe and all, but like with airplanes, she doesn't really want to test it herself.

They keep walking around. ‘What about this?’ Jane asks stopping in front of a garish bright structure that announces itself to be a fun house.

.

‘Never again,’ Kat pants out, face flushed and hair escaping her ponytail. ‘Never been this close to dying for a second time!’

‘There is nothing fun about dying of a heart attack,’ Jane agrees, hands clutching her chest. ‘At the cost of sounding like an old lady–’  

‘Yes.’ Kat nods. She can’t find it in herself to muster up her usual teasing about Jane’s age. It’s like she has lost her sass together with her breath. ‘Let’s find something nice and calm.’

The hall of mirrors proves to be the right choice, leaving them breathless but this time with laughter.

.

‘Are they crashing into each other on purpose?’ Kat looks on confused as colourful little cars bump into others much to the hilarity of everyone involved.

‘Fancy a drive?’ Jane elbows her. ‘Could be a literal crash course on driving.’

Kat rolls her eyes at the pun, but soon they find themselves seated onto a small, pink bumper car, Kat at the wheel.

‘You know how you said you have no plans to get a car?’ Jane asks, bracing herself, as once again the car jerks, the forward movement immediately stopping as Kat tries to figure out how to drive it. ‘Please stick to that.’

‘Let’s see how you do then!’

She makes to stand up, car still in the middle of the floor with people bumping into them.

‘Maybe we should pull over to one side before swapping?’ Jane throws an arm around her waist, stopping her.

‘That's the whole problem!’ Kat snarks. ‘If I could do that, we wouldn’t be swapping.’

Thankfully the time runs out and all cars slow down. Some people leave theirs, new people getting in, others stay waiting for the new session to start. And Kat and Jane trade places.

‘Never getting into a car with you,’ Kat informs her cousin as they leave the attraction.

‘What? Why? I was good!’ And she was. In the thick of the action, skilfully – especially for a first timer – trying to evade getting bumped while chasing others, and gleefully and viciously crashing into them.

‘Because I saw the glint in your eyes. You make for a scary driver. And I bet that you would have road rage.’

/

‘What happened?’

Jane and Kat, who had just returned home, stare at Anna confused.

‘Your...’ the fourth queen motions with her finger to her forehead.

The cousins look at each other. Then realisation dawns on Kat. Indeed, there is a red mark on Jane's forehead.

‘She walked into a glass wall,’ Kat reveals with a giggle.

‘All your fault.’

‘Mine?’

‘Yes! Who distracted me?’

‘I just called your name. It was you who decided to turn around to flip me off, and consequently headed straight into it. How is that my fault??’ Kat protests. ‘Also, headed....because you went with your head in first, you got it?’

Jane storms off.

‘She doesn’t want to admit that the pun was brilliant and she loved it,’ Kat tells Anna before going to the kitchen.

.

‘Aaaahh!’ Jane screams jerking away. ‘Bloody hell, K, it’s cold!’

‘Well, it is ice.’ Kat holds the pack up with a grin. ‘For your head.’

Jane snatches it from her. ‘That was not my head.’

‘I thought about throwing it at you...’ Kat plops down on the bed.

‘How is slapping it on my nape any better?’ Jane grumbles but joins her on the bed, scooting towards the wall to lean against it. She tilts her head backward so that the ice pack stays in place without holding it there.

‘Does it hurt?’ Kat asks, genuine concern in her voice.

‘Not really. Only if I furrow my brows.’

‘Then don’t,’ Kat says, moving so that she is in the same position, back against the wall.

‘Thanks for the advice, Doctor Howard,’ Jane remarks drolly. ‘What are you going to do?’ she then asks out of the blue.

‘Uh?’

‘The number.’

‘Oh,’ Kat hums in realisation. ‘Nothing.’

‘You are not going to call?’

‘I don’t even know her. All we exchanged was, well, our orders and some small talk.’ And then as they were leaving, the waitress had handed her a slip with her phone number, along with the receipt for their food. ‘And I live in a different city anyway.’

‘So it’s not because it’s a girl?’

Kat stiffens. An uneasy silence falls as she stares at her lap, picking at the skin around her nails until Jane’s hand covers them, stilling their movement.

‘It’s okay.’

'Is it?‘

‘Of course.’ Jane hasn’t heard such vulnerability in Kat’s voice...well, she never did. She IS cagey with her feelings, and even once they got closer, Kat had switched from not talking about how she feels to talking about it sarcastically. ‘I don’t care who you like, as long as they treat you well.’

Kat twists around to hug her. ‘Best sister I could have asked for.’

‘Cousin. Second cousin.’

‘Shut up,’ Kat grumbles. ‘You know what I meant.’ She releases her. ‘We were having a moment and you ruined it.’

Jane knows Kat is not really upset, but– ‘I love you too.’

‘Now,’ she drawls, ‘I never said that.’

Jane shoves Kat, who ends up sprawled on the bed. ‘Now who is the one ruining the moment?’

/

‘Ow!’ Kat rubs her arm. ‘I did not throw the ice pack at you! And a book hurts more.’

A flash of remorse appears on Jane’s face, before vanishing. ‘You deserve it.’

‘I deserve to have a book chucked at me?’

‘Yes. Because you told me to read it.’

Kat picks it up to look at the title. ‘I just told you about the series.’ She had not read it herself. ‘But I thought you liked the first one?’

‘Exactly. Except the others are terrible.’

‘I’m…sorry? But I can’t really do anything about that?’

Jane still looks quite...perhaps not upset, but annoyed.

‘Want to talk about it?’

The regret starts fifteen minutes into Jane’s rant.

‘Am I right?’

Kat blinks at her. ‘I have not read any of them, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Jane deflates.

‘How you tried checking online?’ Kat suggests. ‘It was a really popular series so I‘m sure that there are other people who didn’t like it...maybe you can find some to complain with?’

.

‘You were right,’ Jane announces, walking into Kat's room.

‘I usually am,’ Kat says cheekily, ‘but about what?’

‘There are lots of people hating those bloody books. Or better, the wasted potential of them. They are even writing alternative storylines and endings!’

‘Are you going to do it too? I remember you having lots of opinions and ideas on how the story should have gone.’

Jane stares at her for a long moment. ‘Do you think I could?’

‘Of course.’ Kat has no hesitation whatsoever.

‘Really?’ Jane seems to have plenty of them though. ‘I mean, I know I’m not Cathy.’

‘Just because she was the one who wrote in the past, it doesn’t mean she is the only one allowed to write now,’ Kat points out. ‘Perhaps we should all die again soon too, since–’

‘Fine, fine, I get it, no need to–’ Kat has a point, but still... She blows out a breath. ‘But I’ve never done it. Not now that we’re back, and certainly not in the past.’

‘Everyone has to start somewhere. And it’s not like you have to publish or anything like that, you know? If you want to write, write. Even if you do it just for yourself.’

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[banshee1013]

Suptober Day 1 - On The Road Again

So, here we go again! Attempting more art/fic for Suptober. This time, I’m going to string each day’s art/fic into one cohesive story (and a post-season 15 timestamp for “Ten Inch Hero” even!) Wish me luck! Here’s Day One - On The Road Again. Enjoy! ==================================== Title: The Road Less Traveled (subject to change) Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, heed the tags for each entry) Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!) ========================================

CHAPTER ONE - On The Road Again Words: 988

Castiel startles, disrupted from his reading as a loud clatter coming from the Bunker’s kitchen shatters the looming silence.

Things have been very quiet since Chuck was defeated, with Jack watching over Heaven, Rowena watching over Hell, Benny ruling Purgatory, and Billie keeping the Shadow company in The Empty. Oh, there were still hunts, but they were few and far between. Without Chuck to twist creatures to his storytelling needs, they have been more or less content to live their lives like regular citizens. Castiel had been occupying his non-hunt downtime reading everything the Men of Letter’s vast Library contained; and exploring his new humanity - his Grace being sacrificed in the battle against Chuck.

Dean had gone to great measures to make this new human existence of his as pleasurable as possible - introducing him to new flavors in both food and drink, new activities... and many new and different carnal pleasures. 

He closes his book - the Library’s very special edition of Alice In Wonderland, of particular interest to him due to its role in returning Dean to full size after their encounter with a witch earlier this year - setting it upon the table before him and rises, heading to the kitchen to investigate the disturbance.

Turning into the kitchen doorway, he is greeted by the enjoyable site of Dean bent over in front of the refrigerator, jeans stretched tight over his superior posterior. He smirked at his own thought - “superior posterior”. Rhymes always pleased him greatly, especially when they were his own.

Tearing his eyes reluctantly away, he notices the possible source of the earlier clattering noise - the green cooler, most commonly occupying the back seat of the Impala, was now situated on the kitchen island, lid open. As he ponders the significance of the appearance of the cooler outside of its normal environment, Dean rises from his rummaging, packages of cold cuts and cheese in his hands, and turns toward the cooler on the island. His eyes raise and catch Castiel’s.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean’s remarkable green eyes sparkle in the warm light of the kitchen, and the corners of his mouth pull up into a bright smile. 

Lips...very distracting, Castiel notes to himself. Very distracting indeed.

“Uh... Earth to Cas? You in there, Major Tom?” Dean waves at him, breaking Castiel’s stare and diverting his gaze from Dean’s distractingly full lips, back up to his equally distracting eyes. 

He takes a moment to contemplate the pros and cons of his new-found humanity and the increased sensory input now available to him, and decides that, while inconvenient and often overwhelming, they had allowed him the ability to move from merely admiring Dean’s soul, to the capacity to admire every other other part of him as well - and to experience the joy of falling madly in love with him. 

He feels his own lips pull into a smile matching Dean’s own. “I am still on Earth, and also understand that reference.” His smile widens at his own joke. Jokes were also very enjoyable, even his subpar ones; especially when they caused Dean to laugh as he had just started doing. 

“Dammit, I love you so much, Cas,” Dean says, recovering from his outburst. “Never, ever change.” 

“I will do my very best to not change, unless the change improves my ability to make you laugh,” Ignoring Dean’s snort, he addresses the subject at hand. 

“I heard a noise and came to investigate.” He gestures toward the open cooler. “I assume the presence of the cooler and the sandwich ingredients in your hands means you are planning a trip.” 

“Got it in one, hot stuff,” Dean says, tossing the lunchmeat and cheese into the cooler and closing the lid. 

Castiel tilts his head in confusion, and not from Dean’s insinuation that his body temperature is elevated (he gets that reference as well). “Is there a hunt I was not aware of? I thought Sam and Eileen were occupied with one, is there a  need for another?”

Dean snorted again. “The only thing Sam and Eileen are “hunting” - fingers hooking the air for emphasis, much to Castiel’s amusement - “is a good place to play ‘hide the sausage’ somewhere not where his brother and ex-angel boyfriend are playing the same game.” 

Castiel nods in commiseration - the Bunker may be isolated, but it is not soundproof. However - “What if a hunt comes up?”

Dean waves a hand dismissively. “Plenty of hunters in the sea, Cas.” He strides over to Castiel, placing hands still cool from the refrigerated items he was recently handling around Castiel’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “We defeated Chuck, Cas. Let someone else handle the bit players.”

With Dean this close, Castiel can barely string together a coherent thought, let alone an objection. 

“I’ve packed beer, pie, condiments, sandwich makings, chips, and a loaf of the bread I made yesterday in there,” he says, pulling back slightly to tilt his head toward the cooler. “and clothes and stuff already in the trunk. Whadda ya say we hit the road, sweetheart?” 

Castiel stares into those emerald irises and can deny him nothing. 

“Where will we go?”

Dean shrugged, his thumbs caressing Castiel’s cheeks. “Thought we might head west, see what we can see. Get some coffee in Seattle, wine in Napa Valley, hit the beaches in Monterey, fish tacos in San Diego... I dunno.” He presses a swift, sweet kiss to Castiel’s lips, pulling back and leaving him wanting more. 

“Let’s just see where the road takes us. You in?”

Castiel nods dumbly. Of course he’s in. 

Dean smiles again, and with a brush of fingertips across his cheek, turns away from Castiel and ambles to the kitchen island, hoisting the cooler from the counter and heads out the door to the garage.

Castiel follows. He’s followed Dean to Hell and would do so again in a heartbeat if he asked him to. 

A road trip is definitely preferable.

[petrichoravellichor]

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 3 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 2., Chs. 4 & 5)

"When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But...there is one story about Cain that I might have...forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me...no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheese burger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester: what you're feeling right now—it's not death. It's life—a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

—Crowley to Dean, 09x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?"

**********

The following evening, there’s a knock on his door. “Crowley? Hey, you in there?”

Crowley looks up from his book. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that day in the war room, when they’d all returned from the Empty. From a tactical standpoint, it’s been very easy: all Crowley’s had to do is keep largely to his room during the day and save visits to any common spaces for the late night hours. This is the first time in a good long while Dean’s made it a point to seek him out alone, and it’s that more than anything that makes Crowley decide he actually wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Still, no point in making it easy on the bastard. “That depends,” Crowley calls back, aiming for nonchalance. “What have you brought me?”

“Ha ha. Open up, asshole,” says Dean, but the epithet contains about as much malice as the bitch he occasionally lobs at Sam. “We, uh. We need to talk.”

Crowley arches a brow; is it just him, or does Dean sound nervous? He sets his book aside and shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s open.”

Dean enters, and Crowley sees that he was right: Dean does indeed look nervous, perhaps even guilty. He nods sheepishly in Crowley’s direction as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Dean says, smiling slightly, and the gesture stirs a painful kind of longing in Crowley’s gut. Looking at Dean has always felt to Crowley like reaching for something without knowing what it is he’s grasping at or why, the way a weed arches without thinking towards the sun. It’s maddening in a way Crowley doesn’t have words for, because he knows, in the way he supposes a weed does, that the light isn’t there for his benefit; experience has shown him that much.

And yet, for as much hurt and anger Crowley’s felt because of Dean, he’s also realized that he just...can’t find it in himself to hate Dean, not in any way that lasts. They’ve been through too much together, and maybe none of it mattered to Dean, but it matters to Crowley. He wishes it didn’t, but it does; it always has. And he can no more deny that than he can the sun.

But he can’t very well say all that to Dean, so he pushes his thoughts aside and schools his features into a neutral expression. “Hello, Dean,” he says evenly, rising to stand with his hands in his pockets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean reaches up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You, uh. You settling in okay?”

Crowley snorts. “Surely you can do better than that. Go on, let’s have it.” He takes a step towards Dean and flashes a smirk. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...That’s kinda what I came to talk to you about.” He gestures at the desk next to the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?”

Crowley shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks over to the desk and turns to lean against it, not quite sitting but also not quite standing. Crowley stands next to the bed, waiting.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. “So, uh. Cas said the two of you talked—”

He expects his words to get a rise out of Dean, to throw him off kilter so their conversation is easier to manage.

“Oh for the love of—Is that what this is about?” Crowley grumbles; just how much of their conversation had Castiel felt the need to share? “Allow me to save you some time, then. You and your long-suffering Angel of Thursday have my blessings, for what they’re worth. Slow clap, mazel tov, etcetera, etcetera. If you like, I could even pull a few strings, see if I can get you Hell as a venue for the wedding.” He smiles darkly, adding, “Although based on recent events, your influence there probably exceeds my own.”

Instead, Dean just raises a brow and says mildly, “So you and Rowena still aren’t talkin’, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, just figured I’d let you finish first.”

Still aren’t—?! “Really?” Crowley sputters angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” Crowley sneers.

“I try.”

“You really think I didn’t miss you when you were gone?”

“Well, try to get to the bloody point!”

And whatever barb Crowley was about to hurl dies on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then closes it, shifting awkwardly under Dean’s level stare. Eventually Dean sighs; he pushes up off the desk and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Crowley sits down without a word.

“Listen,” Dean says, once Crowley is settled, “I don’t know how much Sam told you, but you weren’t the only one we lost that night. Cas died, Lucifer made off with our mom, Kelly didn’t survive the birth, and Jack bolted after I took a shot at him. Which...yeah, in hindsight, I’m not proud of, but that’s where I was at the time.” Dean looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t good. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and been a dad, things with Jack woulda turned out different, and not in a good way. If it’d been up to me, if I’d known how...I probably woulda killed the kid.”

Dean snorts softly. “Yeah, maybe, only you were too busy offing yourself to keep Lucifer locked over in Apocalypse World. Man, you don’t even know how huge that was, do you?” Dean looks up at him then, earnest. “You think everything would be the way it is now if Lucifer had gotten his hands on the kid before we’d figured things out?”

Crowley swallows. He tries to think what he would have done if his and Dean’s places had been reversed, if Dean had died that day instead of him, and comes to only one possible conclusion. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, quietly, “I’d have done the same.”

Crowley can only stare back, stunned. He’d sacrificed himself to thwart Lucifer; that his death had also made it possible for Jack to grow up in the Winchesters’ charge, free of Lucifer’s poisonous early influence, and thereby helped shape who Jack was, who God was...It’s honestly never occurred to him until now.

A protective sort of rage boils up in Crowley on Dean’s behalf. Sam hadn’t gone into all the gory details during his explanation, but Crowley knows enough. “Michael.”

“Anyway,” Dean continues, when Crowley says nothing, “then Jack brought Cas back, which we didn’t even know was possible. Thought maybe it was just a fluke, but we didn’t have time to really think about it because we had to go get our mom back, and then there was all the crap with Lucifer, so we had to deal with that, and then...” Dean trails off, his jaw tight.

Dean inhales steadily, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that. And then...after…” He sighs. “Jack lost his soul and killed Mom, and I damn near killed him, and then everything with Chuck...Man, it was just non-stop. Then we finally beat Chuck, and with Jack all souped up, we had a way into the Empty, and hell yeah, we were gonna get Cas out, but the plan was always to look for you, too. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that,” Dean says, frowning at Crowley’s shell-shocked expression. “You’re a royal pain in the ass, and there’ve been plenty of times I wanted to stab you in the face, but you think that means I don’t give a damn what happens to you? Like it or not, man, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind, not when we can help it.”

Crowley studies Dean carefully, looking for the lie...and not finding it. Then, that means...Is he really...?

“Family,” murmurs Crowley, experimentally. “You know, I’ve never had much luck with that word.”

Dean gives him a sad sort of smile. “Yeah, me neither. Not the one I was born to, anyway, 'cept for Sam. The one me and him made, though…” His smile turns genuine. “That one’s pretty damn awesome.”

They sit in silence, neither speaking for several moments; then—

Crowley clears his throat. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“That first day, after you brought me back, Sam said I should talk to Mother, said she has...regrets.”

Dean regards him thoughtfully. “You thinkin’ about giving her another chance?”

“I honestly don't know what I’m thinking,” Crowley admits. “There’s a lot of bad blood there: hers, mine, both of ours. When I saw her here, in this room, she said she’d missed me, that she loved me, and...”

Crowley feels his throat tighten, and he doesn’t know how to say the rest: that for all he hates himself for it, for all the times it’s blown up in his face, for all the horrible things Rowena has done to him—

“You don’t know if you should believe her,” Dean finishes quietly, “but you want to.”

Crowley sighs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says firmly. “It’s not stupid to want to be loved, not by family: that’s kinda how it’s supposed to be. The stupid part is that it doesn’t always go that way, and then we gotta deal with the fallout.” Dean hesitates, then adds, “And...and sometimes that means we think we don’t deserve love when we do, and other times, it’s people sayin’ they deserve our love when they don’t.”

Crowley mulls that over. “Does she deserve it, do you think?”

“From you?” Dean shakes his head. “Man, that ain’t for me to say.”

Bollocks, thinks Crowley, barely managing to suppress a groan of frustration; if only there were a way to know which decision was the right one ahead of time...“How did you decide?" he asks after a moment. "With your father, I mean.”

Dean looks taken aback, and Crowley thinks perhaps he shouldn’t have asked; but before he can change the topic, Dean sucks in a breath and says, “Look, my father was an obsessed bastard. He left me and Sam alone for weeks on end, and when he was around, he was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Some of the shit he pulled...” One of Dean’s hands closes into a fist. “It’s not the kind of stuff you just...forgive.”

Then Dean lets out a slow breath, and the fist relaxes. “Thing is, though, a lot of the crap he put us through, raisin’ us the way he did...He was tryin’ to protect what was left of his family, and...and I get that, you know? I’ve done a lot of really messed up shit for the same reason, for family. Doesn’t mean I forgive him, it’s just...complicated.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Like, really freaking complicated. Honestly, I’m still kinda trying to figure it out. But, yeah...all that to say, I don’t know if Rowena deserves your love or whatever else you wanna give her. She’s done a lot for me and Sam, helped us save our mom and Jack, and then her whole swan dive into Hell and all that, but when it comes to the two of you...That’s something you gotta decide for yourself.”

Crowley studies his hands. His left palm still bears thin scars from that day in the war room, when Sam had told him Rowena had changed and Crowley had gripped his fist tightly enough to draw blood. He still isn’t sure he believes his mother is actually capable of being anything other than what he's always known her as. Maybe she isn't, and if that’s the case, then she doesn’t deserve his love. Crowley can live with that; he has his entire life. If Sam was right, though, if his mother has changed...that’s something Crowley needs to see to believe.

And there it is, Crowley realizes: he needs to see her.

“I think,” he says, after a moment, “that I’ll meet with her and hear what she has to say, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to bugger off, this time for good.”

Dean gives a hum of approval. “Sounds fair to me." He claps Crowley on the knee and stands. "Okay, then, I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lemme know if me or Sam can help with the Rowena thing, okay? You don’t gotta deal with her on your own.”

“I will,” Crowley says; then, as Dean’s about to leave, “and Dean?”

Dean looks back, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

And Crowley once again feels something stirring in his gut, but this time, it isn’t longing, but gratitude, gratitude that he has Dean in his life and gratitude that, at the end of the day, everything they’ve been through together, the good and the bad, it matters to Dean, too, and that's important. It's fundamental.

“Thank you,” Crowley says, and means it. “For everything.”

For a moment, Dean regards him in silence; then he smiles. “Yeah. You too.”

He slips out of the room and leaves Crowley alone with his thoughts, which are...actually rather optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Crowley feels alive. It’s a new kind of life, one with family, one where he matters, and Crowley doesn’t know for certain what it’s going to bring, but he knows he wants to see it, experience it, eyes wide open.

[ceealaina]

Title: You’re Feeling Just the Same Link: AO3 Rating: Teen Major Tags: MIT Era, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Shenanigans Summary: Rhodey's a softie at heart. So when he's walking to campus one day, and sees what appears to be a dead groundhog on the street, he goes to move it out of the way becauses he's just that kind of guy. Only it's not dead, it's just sunbathing in the middle of the road like a dumbass. 

He names it Tony. 

What follows is a series of ridiculous events in which one James Rhodes accidentally adopts a groundhog, and finds himself trying to hide both it and his feelings from the real Tony.  Word Count: 6,774

My long-awaited (by me) fic for the IronHusbands Big Bang. I had an absolute blast working on this. You can find Jay's incredible companion art here, and if you love yourself at all, you'll definitely check it out. Thanks, Jay, for being so wonderful to work with! 

And thank you to feyrelay for letting me scream about this story over and over again!

*****

It started, as these things always seemed to, on a Wednesday. Rhodey was walking to campus, lost in thought about how ridiculously, desperately in love he was with his roommate, when something caught his eye on the road up ahead. There was a small, brown shape on the pavement, still too far away to make out exactly was, but Rhodey had a pretty good idea. 

“Please be a paper bag, please be a paper bag,” he muttered to himself as he moved closer. He’d woken up this morning to Tony looking absolutely gorgeous in worn sweatpants and a threadbare tee. His hair had been a wild mess and his eyes had held a manic gleam behind those adorable glasses of his. Rhodey has wanted to kiss good morning him so badly that for a moment he had thought his heart might explode.

He couldn’t take anymore heartbreak today. 

But as he moved closer, his fears were confirmed. A small groundhog was lying on the road, sprawled on his back with his little feet up in the air. Rhodey felt a pang in his chest. He’d always had a soft spot for animals, and this little guy looked so innocent that it hurt to see him like this. Strangely there wasn’t a mark on him, no sign of blood, and Rhodey wondered if he had maybe scared himself to death instead. That felt even worse, somehow. 

The road was usually fairly quiet, but his location might make it difficult for cars to see him. Rhodey hummed a minute; the groundhog might already be dead, but the idea of leaving him there to be crushed beneath the wheel of a car felt wrong. Making a decision, Rhodey stepped off the sidewalk. He’d just move him off the road and into the grass, where he could rest in peace or whatever. 

He had just bent over to scoop him up — making a mental note to wash his hands very thoroughly the second he got to campus, and to start carrying a pair of work gloves in his bag — when the groundhog shot to life with a low ‘chuck-chuck’ noise. Rhodey yelped, equally startled, and the groundhog shot up onto the grass. For a long moment the two of them just stared at each other in mutual surprise before the groundhog chattered at him angrily and then waddled off into the bushes on the far side of the sidewalk. 

“Well, fuck you too,” Rhodey called after him, a little disgruntled. He hesitated a moment longer after it had disappeared into the shrubs, and then continued on his way to class. “Excuse me for tryin’ help. Not my fault you decided to sunbathe in the middle of the street like a dumbass.” He huffed a laugh to himself. “I’m gonna call you Tony!” he threw back over his shoulder before making at face himself. “Oh my god, I’m yelling at a groundhog. Pull it together, Rhodes.” 

***

Rhodey usually liked to vary his route to campus, but the next day he found himself heading down the same street, telling himself that it was just in case and that if there was no sign of the groundhog, he could stop worrying about it. But, as it turned out, he was right to worry because sure enough, in almost the exact same place, he found the groundhog again, lying apparently lifeless on the side of the road. 

“Okay, seriously?” he asked as he moved closer. This time he could hear actual snores, little snuffling sounds that were kind of adorable. “What, would you like me to bring you a little trifold mirror next time, so you can work on your tan?” 

The groundhog opened its eyes, blinked at him, and apparently deeming him No Longer a Threat, closed them and wiggled against the hot pavement. 

“You are one weird marmot,” Rhodey informed him, moving closer still. “Come on, get up you dumbass rodent. You’re gonna get run over by a car and then we’ll both feel bad.” The groundhog still didn’t move though, not even when Rhodey was standing right next to him. Wondering if groundhogs were people biters, he took a risk and nudged it with his toe. Looking very puto out, it finally got to its feet, chittering at him again as it wandered off into the bushes. “Ungrateful!” Rhodey called after it. 

That afternoon, after Tony had headed back to the lab with a “bye, Honeybear! Save me some dinner!” Rhodey found himself digging out the Yellow Pages, trying to find someone who could safely rehome his new little pfriendet. But apparently groundhogs were considered irrelevant at best and a pest at worst. The city’s animal services didn’t care, and after the fifth private company he called talked about gasses and poisons, he gave up on that route. 

Really all it came down to was tricking the groundhog into new habits. When Tony kept sleeping through his eight am Physics class, the one that demanded mandatory attendance, Rhodey had ‘trained’ him into getting up with coffee; he figured this wasn’t really that different. If he could figure out what the groundhog liked, he could lure him away from the road and then get him to associate the designated safe zone with food. Three weeks tops and the groundhog would be safe and Rhodey could stop worrying about it, easy peasy. 

Problem number one was, of course, that he had no idea what groundhogs even liked to eat. One trip to campus later, and he found himself immersed in the reference section of the library, sitting at a table with three different ‘G’ encyclopedias, two ‘W’ encyclopedias, and a handful of possibly relevant farming and gardening books that he’d been directed to by a bemused looking librarian -- he supposed that groundhogs weren’t the biggest research topic at MIT. 

By the time he made it back to the apartment, it was dark out, Rhodey was exhausted, and he knew more about groundhogs than he’d ever planned. But he also had a good idea of how to lure Tony Jr. away from the road. There’d been a few different ideas about what groundhogs liked to eat, but he planned to start with apples, carrots, and -- weirdly -- cantaloupe (five different sources had sworn by it). He let himself in the door, distracted by planning when he could make a trip to the grocery store, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he was greeting with a, “Fucking finally!” from the kitchen.

“Jesus,” he muttered, glaring as Tony came out of the kitchen.

“Where the fuck were you?” he demanded. “You weren’t home when I got back, no note, no nothing. I was worried , Rhodey. I thought you’d died .” 

“Drama queen,” Rhodey grumbled with a fond eye roll. “Chill out, Stark,” he added, shrugging off his jacket.

Tony huffed, striding back into the kitchen. “You laugh, but it only takes a minute to get kidnapped, Sugarlumps.” 

“Yeah? Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Rhodey said, following him down the hall but detouring past the kitchen to flop out on the couch. 

“Uhh… Only the one time. I don’t know, I think that’s kind of an outlier though. They weren’t very competent kidnappers. Like five stars for the actual snatch and grab, and 0.001 stars for managing to hold on to the target.” 

Rhodey shook his head; he couldn’t tell if Tony was kidding, but he had a funny feeling he wasn’t. “Your life is weird, man.” 

“No shit.” Tony reappeared in the kitchen doorway. “Hey, where were you actually though. This is supposed to be your free night.” 

Rhodey ignored the warm little thrill that lit up his belly at the thought that Tony knew his schedule. It didn’t actually mean anything, Tony’s brain was just… Like that. He may not always know what day it was, but he did know what was supposed to be happening at any given time. “At the library,” he told him honestly. “Last minute research project. I forgot all about it.” 

That was at least mostly true, but Tony still squinted at him suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like you…”

He shrugged. “Happens to the best of us, right?” 

Rhodey felt like the fact that he was hiding something was written all over his face, but after another moment of suspicious staring, Tony shrugged too. “Yeah, guess so,” he acknowledged, sliding back into the kitchen. “Still, leave a note next time! I was expecting dinner.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes, grinning up at the ceiling since Tony wasn’t there to see the besotted look on his face. “Ain’t your housewife, Tones.” 

“Luckily your sugar daddy’s got it covered,” Tony retorted, returning this time with two plates piled sky-high with Chinese food. He passed one over to Rhodey, who took it with an appreciative groan, before flopping onto the couch beside him, leaving almost no room between the two of them. (That didn’t mean anything either; Tony had never had a sense of personal space.) He held up a forkful of food, pointing it in Rhodey’s direction with a crooked grin that he couldn’t quite interpret. “To last minute research projects.” 

***

Rhodey wasn’t even surprised when he arrived the next afternoon -- after a detour through the grocery store -- to find his groundhog friend sleeping on the road again. “Dumbass,” he muttered under his breath, pretending he didn’t hear the fond note in his voice. “Okay Tony,” he announced in a louder voice, waiting for the groundhog to open his eyes. “Here’s the deal.” He slid his backpack off his shoulder as Tony watched him warily, reaching in and pulling out a fresh bunch of carrots. Tony’s nose wriggled in interest. “You get your dumb ass off the road, and in exchange you get a nice juicy bunch of carrots. Sound like a fair deal?” 

Tony made a couple of interested grunting noises that Rhodey chose to interpret as a yes. Snapping the first carrot into haphazard, uneven pieces, he put the first one right by Tony’s head, the next one a little farther, then a little farther until he had a trail of carrot pieces leading to an empty lot that had overgrown into something resembling a meadow. In the middle of said meadow, he dumped the rest of the carrots in a little pile. 

It took a few minutes, but Tony’s nose wiggling increased and slowly he rolled over onto his stomach and wandered over to the first carrot piece. Still eyeing Rhodey a little suspiciously, he bit into the vegetable, eating it quickly. Rhodey held his breath, but when nothing happened Tony wandered over to the next carrot and then the next one. Rhodey followed him from a few feet away as he slowly moved over to the field. When he found the pile of carrots in the middle, he made a startled squeaking noise that sounded like nothing more than pure delight, running over to the pile and shoving his face into them. It was adorable, and Rhodey beamed, feeling entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Phase One a success,” he crowed, whistling all the rest of the way to campus. 

For the next week, Rhodey showed up every single day with some kind of snack for Tony. He’d follow the same routine, luring him safely to the field where he’d leave a whole pile of treats waiting for him. It seemed to be working, and even if it was wreaking havoc with Rhodey’s schedule a little, he figured it was only for a few weeks. 

“Okay dude, what the hell?” Tony hissed as Rhodey slid into his typical seat beside him, late for the third time that week. “Why are you always late to labs now?”

Rhodey busied himself with pulling his notebook and pencils out of his bag. “Reasons,” he hedged, not meeting Tony’s gaze. Sure, he could probably just tell him the truth, but he could just imagine the jokes that Tony would level him with. Somehow it was easier to just… not. 

There was a moment of silence from Tony, long enough that Rhodey started to get a little nervous. Did Tony somehow know? Had he seen him with groundhog Tony, and now he was going to get made fun of extra hard for not even being man enough to own it? But then Tony made a sudden noise of understanding. 

“Did you meet someone?” he demanded, a note of delight in his voice. “What’s her name? Ohhhh. What’s his name?”

Rhodey swallowed hard, going full dumbass in the face of Tony’s sudden interest, and his easy acceptance of the idea that Rhodey had a secret boyfriend. “His name is Tony?” he offered, before he realized how that sounded and his eyes went wide. “Fuck! I mean — not you. I mean, not not you, you’re very attractive, but…” 

He trailed off hopelessly, wanting to bury his face in his arms but feeling like that would make him even more pathetic. Tony was watching him with a strange glint in his eyes, but before he could say anything there was a throat clearing from the front of the room. 

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Rhodes. Unless you would like to teach the class yourselves…?”

Tony opened his mouth like he was going to offer to do exactly that, but Rhodey gave him a swift kick in the ankle first. He rolled his eyes but relented and didn’t bring the subject up again. 

***

It was on the second week that Rhodey realized he may have created a problem for himself. He and Tony Jr. had developed something of a… Working relationship. The groundhog seemed to know him now, had gone from perking up at the sound of Rhodey’s footsteps to actively waiting for him at the same time every day. The problem was, he was waiting for him in the road. And Rhodey had been so sure that his plan would work that he hadn’t bothered to think of an alternative. The luring him away part was working like a treat, but he had no idea how to get Tony Jr. to start waiting for him literally anywhere else. 

He had kept up with his routine in the meantime, hoping that maybe Tony Jr. would suddenly clue in and start waiting for him on the sidewalk instead. Which is why he was there on Friday, when the car full of rowdy, probably newly-licensed teenagers came flying down the road. 

He had been a few feet away, grinning when Tony sat up on his hand legs to ‘greet’ him, nose wiggling rapidly in anticipation of whatever the snack of the day might be. He heard the car before he could see it and reacted on instinct, racing to close the distance between he and Tony -- who, amazingly, didn’t run further into the road -- and snatching him up just in time. He lost his balance in the process, rolling to the far side of the sidewalk and ending up lying on his back in the grass, a very bewildered groundhog nestled against his chest as the oblivious car flew by. 

For a minute, Rhodey tensed. He and Tony may have had something of a rapport, but he also knew that groundhogs could be vicious little fuckers, even beyond being a wild animal. He was fully expecting a bite to his arms or chest, but after a moment Tony wiggled and yawned, stretching out on his chest like a damn cat, before shifting enough to nose at Rhodey’s backpack, squashed uncomfortably beneath him. Rhodey let his head roll back, staring up at the sky before he sighed. 

“Fuck it,” he decided. “Let’s go home.”

Rhodey would never say it out loud, but there were times when Tony -- the human one -- being the heir to the Stark empire worked in their favour. For example, he was pretty sure he had Maria Stark to thank for the fact that, when they’d started out looking at dinky, one-bedroom apartments, there had ‘suddenly’ been a nice, two-bedroom-plus-office available in their price range. Or how it was Tony’s last name that had given him unfettered, private access to one of the MIT labs, letting Rhodey claim that apartment office for himself. 

Or for Tony Jr, as the case now seemed to be. 

It had been surprisingly easy to get Tony Jr. set up in there. He’d built him a little cardboard box tunnel system, piled some hay and alfalfa in the corner, brought in a little kiddie pool and then some bunny toys he’d found at the pet store, because he figured a groundhog was still a rodent, right? He’d been worried that there wouldn’t be enough stimulation for him, but Tony Jr. had delved right into everything, and definitely seemed happy enough. 

So now he had a groundhog secretly living in their No Pets Allowed apartment with Tony carrying on none the wiser. What even was his life sometimes? 

***

Rhodey slipped out of the office after refreshing all of Tony Jr.’s supplies, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Tony waiting for him at the end of the hallway. “Jesus Christ, man,” he gasped, keeping an ear out for any strange, groundhog-related noises that Tony might be able to hear. “Don’t do that.” 

“Okay, twitchy,” Tony replied with an arched eyebrow. “What, were you watching weird porn in there or something?

“No!”

“Cause you know if you find weird porn you gotta share. That’s the rule, Rhodes.” Tony nodded like he’d made some kind of actual point, and Rhodey rolled his eyes. 

“I will keep that in mind. What’re you doing sneaking around like some kind of troll?” 

“I wasn’t sneaking! I was looking for you. Because I wanted to know what the fuck this is.” He hefted up the full cantaloupe that Rhodey had been storing in the fridge, lifting it up above his head.

“It’s a cantaloupe, Tones.” Rhodey didn’t hide the way he was laughing at him as he pushed past Tony, moving to flop down on the couch in front of the television. “How do you not know that?” 

Tony followed him, still cradling the melon in question and peering down at it speculatively. “I don’t know, I’ve only ever seen it cut up in fruit cocktail. I didn’t know it looked like this.” He frowned, lips pursing in that adorable little pout that Rhodey found absolutely irresistible. “It kind of looks like a brain.” He grinned then, holding it up against his forehead and taking wide, staggering steps toward Rhodey. “Yarrrrrrgh,” he groaned in what Rhodey was pretty sure was supposed to be his best impression of a zombie. “You’re going to eat my braiiiiiiiiins.” 

Rhodey blinked back at him, trying very hard not to laugh. “See, now I’m just confused. Are you the zombie, or the zombie victim?” 

Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “Spoilsport,” he grumbled, setting the cantaloupe down on the table and sprawling out beside Rhodey instead. “But really, why do we have a cantaloupe in the fridge? I’ve known you for three years, Rhodeybear. I’ve never once seen you eat cantaloupe… Oh shit!” He sat up, a manic gleam in his eyes. “Is it for your new boooooyfriend?” 

He dragged the word out like a 12-year-old girl at a slumber party, and Rhodey huffed, squirming a little. The only boyfriend he wanted was Tony himself, but it wasn’t like he could just say that. “Shut up, Tones,” he grumbled instead, turning on the television and missing the little frown that crossed over Tony’s features. 

***

Rhodey had heard about skunks, and raccoons, and even foxes being kept as pets before, but never groundhogs. As it turned out, there was apparently a reason for this. 

Tony Jr. liked him well enough. He perked up as soon as Rhodey stepped into the room, nose twitching in a way that was the cutest thing that Rhodey had ever witnessed, outside of Human Tony’s attempts at waking up before eight am. He’d started rushing Rhodey at the door, nosing at his pockets for whatever treats he’d brought him, and if Rhodey sat on the floor with him for a bit, Tony Jr. would snuffle around him before snuggling in with his back along the lengths of Rhodey’s thighs, sometimes munching on a snack he’d dragged over, sometimes just drifting off to sleep with soft little snores. He was adorable.

But he was also a destructive little fucker. And Rhodey hadn’t even known that groundhogs made sounds before, but he was loud. There had been a few times where he’d had to fake a sudden coughing fit while watching TV with Tony, so he wouldn’t hear Tony Jr. skittering around over the floor, doing whatever it was he did to entertain himself. On one particularly memorable night, Rhodey had picked up the phone while Tony was in the kitchen and proceeded to hold a very loud, very fake fifteen-minute conversation. He’d hastily mouthed to Tony that it was “a guy from his lab” and then, feeling incredibly stupid, pretended not to notice the way that Tony’s scowl grew deeper and deeper as his TV watching was interrupted. 

Unfortunately, whatever Tony’s suspicions were, Rhodey didn’t manage to do much to assuage them over the next few weeks. It was a few days later that Rhodey slipped out of the office, locking the door behind him (just in case) only to turn around to find Tony leaning against his bedroom door, watching him with an expression somewhere between suspicious and confused. 

“You don’t usually lock that, do you?” 

His tone sounded more curious than upset, but Rhodey felt himself breaking out into a sweat anyway. “Uhh. I have… Gifts in there. For… People.” 

Tony’s expression shifted, going blank. “People,” he repeated, clearly disbelieving. 

Rhodey winced, but if living with Tony had taught him anything, it was to dig in his heels. According to Tony, show enough confidence and you could get away with anything. (Funny how that always seemed to work out so much better for Tony than it ever did for Rhodey.) 

“People,” he repeated anyway, as confidently as he could manage. “For… Christmas.” 

Tony’s eyebrows arched. “Wooow,” he drawled. “The first week of October. Look at you go, Rhodes.” 

It was probably a sign of just how far gone he was for the other man that Rhodey recognized the exact tone of Tony’s voice, the ‘hurt but trying to mask it with sarcasm’ edge that he usually only reserved for conversations with his father. Rhodey wasn’t sure what about his dumbass behaviour would cause Tony that much pain, but he hated being responsible for it with every fibre of his being. For a minute he almost caved and confessed everything then and there. But while he was working out where to even begin, Tony just sighed and shook his head. 

“Sorry,” he told him, like Tony had absolutely anything to apologize for when Rhodey was secretly hiding a groundhog in their apartment. “I’m just having a day. I’ve gotta run though. I’ve got a meeting with the engineering department -- apparently they don’t know if I’m making use of my excess of lab time responsibly.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, back to being Rhodey’s Tony, and the moment passed. 

It was a couple weeks after that that Rhodey, alone in the apartment, had gone in to check on Tony Jr. only to find him happily munching on one of Tony’s spare EuroAV cables. 

“Oh shit,” Rhodey yelped, lunging toward him because he was pretty sure there was no way that was part of a healthy, balanced, groundhog diet. He was starting to wonder if his groundhog was part cat though, because the second he saw Rhodey coming his eyes went wide and he started to back under the chair in the corner, dragging the wire along behind him. 

What followed was a truly embarrassing twenty-minute wrestling match in which Tony Jr. got the better of him many, many times. Rhodey’d had no idea that groundhogs could be so fast. Or so crafty. 

Eventually he’d emerged victorious -- or as victorious as he could consider himself when he was flushed and sweating and was going to have to buy Tony a new EuroAV cable -- and locked the cable’s remains away in the cupboard while Tony Jr. went to sulk in the corner. He went back out for some water and very nearly screamed when he came across Tony, standing there and staring at the door. 

“Tony!” he yelped instead, resisting the urge to grab at his heart as he narrowly avoided a heart attack. “Jesus Christ, man. What are you doing here? I thought you had class.” 

Tony shrugged. “Dr. Campbell cancelled.” He paused a moment, considering. “I heard noises,” he told him, looking Rhodey up and down. Rhodey followed his gaze and fought back a wince when he saw how rumpled his shirt was, and how a couple buttons had popped off, letting bits of chest peek through the fabric. “Everything… Alright?” 

“Oh yeah,” Rhodey said airily, internally panicking. “Just… Physics problems. You know how it is.” 

Tony stared back at him, unimpressed, but before he could speak Tony Jr. decided to wreak havoc with something, a large crashing noise echoing from the room behind him. Rhodey tried to keep his expression from revealing anything and Tony’s face fell, whatever he was thinking left unsaid. 

He stayed suspiciously quiet the rest of the evening, stuck in his head, and Rhodey tried to push down the guilty feeling pooling in his stomach. He ordered in the barbeque ribs that Tony liked for dinner, hoping to make it up to him a little, and Tony at least joined him to eat, the two of them camping out in front of the television. 

There was an old Star Trek rerun playing, and they watched in relative silence until halfway through the episode when Tony, apparently, just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me his name!” he burst out. 

Rhodey startled, so caught off guard that for a moment he couldn’t even parse what Tony was talking about. “Who??” 

This seemed to bother Tony even more; he huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Your boyfriend! The ‘guy from your lab’ that you’ve been seeing. The dude you were fooling around with in the office earlier. Honestly, Rhodes, we’re supposed to be best friends. It’s getting a little weird that you haven’t even introduced us.” 

“Oh. Uh…” Taken aback, Rhodey scrambled for any kind of explanation. “It’s not… I mean… There’s not really any introductions to make. It’s nothing, really. It’s not… Like that.” 

Tony stared back at him for a long moment, squirming like he wanted to say something else, but all he did was lean back into the couch cushions again, arms still folded across his chest. “Right. Okay.” 

Rhodey didn’t know why Tony would be so invested in meeting his supposed hookup, even if he actually had one, but bringing it up didn’t seem like that best plan either. He wanted to get Tony as far away from subjects that could circle back to the groundhog residing in their apartment as possible. 

The thing was, Rhodey was a mission oriented kind of person. He could compartmentalize, focus on one thing at a time. And he became All. About. The groundhog. (Because, if he was truly honest with himself, focusing on Tony Jr. meant he didn’t have to think about how desperately in love with Tony he was, how his feelings were only getting stronger every day despite knowing there was no chance in hell of them being reciprocated.) So it was easy to put it aside when Tony started acting… Quirkier than usual, to tell himself that it was nothing, just Tony going through a phase. 

He started to worry a little, when on the nights that it was Tony’s turn to cook, he started making (or ordering) food for one. The first time he figured was a one off -- he’d had a late appointment with one of his profs, and then a meeting with a project group, so he’d given Tony a heads up that he might not be back until late. He probably just hadn’t known when to expect him. And Tony’d never been great at figuring out portion sizes anyway, always cooking either far too much or not nearly enough. It wasn’t a big deal; Tony always bought too many groceries too (although Rhodey had a feeling that was slightly less accidental), so it wasn’t too difficult for him to scrounge up a late meal for himself. 

But then it happened again. And again. And again after that. 

After the fourth time in a week, Rhodey was feeling panicked. Maybe Tony had heard the scratching or the little squeaking noises that Tony Jr. made sometimes, and thought they had rats or squirrels or something. Maybe he was trying to avoid leftovers, so he didn’t encourage them. He was hesitant about asking Tony about it; if that was what he thought, he wasn’t sure it was the best idea to draw further attention to it, in case Tony started to wonder why those noises only ever seemed to come from Rhodey’s suddenly locked office or something. Rhodey never been one for avoiding, though, and he couldn’t fix it if he didn’t know what was happening.

But when he finally asked him about the lack of dinner, mentioning it as casually as he could manage, Tony just gave the wall over Rhodey’s shoulder a very pointed look. “Oh sorry,” he told him, a forced, off-hand tone to his voice. “I just didn’t know if you’d be around to have dinner here. You know, with your active social life.” 

“Uh…” Rhodey scratched at the back of his head; Tony clearly had his knickers in a twist over something, but he was fucked if he knew what. He hadn’t mentioned the groundhog at least, so he probably hadn’t found that out. Maybe he’d had another hiccup with the robot he’d been working on for the last few months. “Sure man. Active social life, right.” He considered asking, but honestly the last few weeks had him exhausted and if it was anything serious, he knew Tony would end up telling him eventually. He wasn’t great at keeping things to himself. 

And sure enough, a couple days later, Tony seemed more or less back to himself. He’d locked himself in his room for all of Friday night, while Rhodey had holed up in the office with Tony Jr., blasting Star Wars at high volume as his rodent friend tore around the room, chasing the tennis ball that Rhodey had picked up for him. 

Presumably Tony had solved whatever coding issue had had him all wound up in the meantime, because when Rhodey got up on Saturday morning, he met him with a triple batch of pancakes (only a few of them burned) and a sheepish smile. They didn’t talk about it -- they never did -- but Tony made a point of being extra nice, letting Rhodey take the syrup first and grabbing him the juice when he moved to get it from the fridge. Rhodey just beamed back at him and some of the guilt evaporated from Tony’s face. 

They talked about nothing for awhile, just normal, mindless Saturday morning stuff until Tony cleared his throat and shifted a little. Rhodey arched an eyebrow, watching him expectantly. 

“Uh, you know… I heard you watching Star Wars last night. We could all watch a few movies together, if you wanted? I’ve had my shots, Rhodey, I promise.” 

Rhodey felt his eyes go wide, knew that panic was written all over his face. His shots? Was Tony talking about rabies? Did he know? “I…” He croaked out the word, trying to figure out what to say next, but almost immediately Tony seemed to reconsider, his face falling a little. 

“Unless you guys are like… Doing stuff. You know, while the movie, and… Okay, never mind.” He cleared his throat again, awkward now, and took his empty plate to dump in the sink. 

Rhodey blinked at him, head spinning from the whirlwind that had just occurred. “Who’s we?” He was pretty sure they were talking about two completely different things.

Tony just rolled his eyes. “Haha,” he drawled, “You’re hilarious.”

And before Rhodey could tell him that he hadn’t actually been joking, Tony was heading back down the hall for his bedroom and leaving him even more confused in his wake.  

***

They continued on like this, Tony running hot and cold -- but definitely veering into cold territory more often than not -- as Rhodey threw himself harder into caring for Tony Jr. in turn. Mostly that went okay, but Tony Jr. would go through phases where he was just the worst (not, Rhodey supposed, unlike his namesake). Which was how he ended up spilling an entire can of soda on himself one evening when Rhodey was just trying to hang out and watch a movie with him. Rhodey sighed hard, staring back at Tony Jr. as he blinked up at him with the sugary drink dripping from his snout, startled into stillness. 

“Come on, man,” Rhodey protested. “You’re not helping me out here at all.”  

Tony Jr. just made a soft little chuck-chuck sound, something that Rhodey thought sounded almost apologetic, and he couldn’t help grinning a little. 

“Alright, you twerp,” he sighed, picking him up. Tony was at the lab again, so Rhodey didn’t hesitate to take him into the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Tony Jr. waited patiently as Rhodey filled the tub, checking to make sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. He was a little nervous putting Tony Jr. in the tub, in case he lost his shit entirely and went feral, but he actually seemed to enjoy it, making happy little chittering noises and wriggling around as he settled into the warm water. Rhodey hadn’t wanted to add soap, worried it would disrupt a groundhog’s delicate little ph balance or something, but rinsing him off with fresh water seemed to do the trick just as well. Tony Jr. splashed around happily, and Rhodey found the entire experience surprisingly pleasant, laughing and talking away to the little guy as he got him all clean. 

He hadn’t heard the front door opening, too distracted with what he was doing, but he definitely heard the sharp, sudden knock on the bathroom door. Tony Jr. chirped but before Rhodey could respond, Tony was flinging the door wide open. 

“Okay asshole,” he announced without preamble. “I get that you’ve found the love of your life, and that he’s a million times better than me, and you’re a week away from leaving me forever because you’d never fall for me, but this is still a communal space and I would appreciate it if I could shower in a space that doesn’t contain a stranger’s come.” 

And then, as Rhodey was still trying to process what the fuck had just happened, Tony stopped and looked around the bathroom. Breathing hard, he took in Rhodey, crouched shirtless on the bathmat, and the full bathtub containing Tony Jr. 

“This… Is not what I was expecting,” he admitted. “Is that a groundhog?” 

“Yes it is,” Rhodey replied without hesitation. “But I’m a lot more interested in what the fuck you just said.”

“Oh, uh…” Tony was flustered now, all his bravado gone, and he edged toward the doorway. “I wasn’t, I mean. I didn’t… I wasn’t saying anything,” Tony finally managed to mumble out. “Just… Long day.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Rhodey told him dryly. And then, because there was no way he was letting it go at that, “What was that about me being a week away from leaving forever?” 

Tony whined under his breath. “Do we have to do this now?” he grumbled, eyes dropping back to the groundhog, still splashing around in the bathtub. “You seem… Busy.” 

And true, Rhodey probably had a lot to be embarrassed about here too. But Tony was shifting side to side in that way that meant he was feeling especially awkward, and so Rhodey called his bluff. 

“You explain what on earth you’re talking about,” he told him, folding his arms across his chest. “And I’ll explain, uh… This.” 

Tony huffed again, unconsciously mirroring Rhodey as he crossed his own arms. Hunching his shoulders up around his ears, he settled his gaze somewhere above Rhodey’s head. “I just… You’ve been so busy lately, with your new guy or whatever. And he’s here all the time, and I hear you laughing and you sound like you’re having such a great time and it's not like jealous, I’m just -- okay, I am jealous. I fucking love you, you asshole. And I’ve missed you the past few weeks, and I never see you, and I know we’ve both dated before but you won’t even tell me about this guy, and… I don’t know. It just felt like this time it was maybe something more serious. And I know it’s not like you were ever going to get that kind of serious with me but I just… I’m not ready to lose you yet.” 

Rhodey blinked at him, feeling a little like he was going to pass out. 

And the rest of what Tony had said caught up to him. “My guy?” he repeated, wondering what on earth Tony meant. And then Tony Jr. splashed the water, catching Rhodey’s attention. He looked over at him, back at Tony, over to Tony Jr. again, and his eyes went. “Oh,” he breathed, catching on. “Oh.”

And then he couldn’t help it -- he started to laugh. 

“Okay, seriously?” Tony burst out, staring incredulously at Rhodey, apparently over his inability to look directly at him. “Seriously ?” He grabbed a spare roll of toilet paper, throwing it at the other man who was bent in half on the bathmat, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. Tony Jr. chittered angrily at him. “I can’t believe I even like you. I just confessed my love and you’re fucking laughing at me.” He threw another roll of toilet paper at him for good measure. “You’re such an asshole.” 

Rhodey shook his head, still choking on his laughter. “I’m not… I’m not laughing at you.” He cleared his throat, beaming up at him. “You’re in love with me?” 

“I’m…” Tony shook his head, sliding back into a mumble. “Don’t make fun of me, man.” 

“I’m not,” Rhodey promised, getting to his feet and moving toward him. “I swear I’m not. Tony, the ‘guy’ I’ve been seeing? Is the fucking groundhog.” 

Tony wrinkled his nose, looking adorably confused. “What?” 

Rhodey just sighed. “I’m saying, I don’t have a boyfriend, doofus. You’re the only guy in my life. And, uh…” He stepped closer still, catching Tony’s hands to unfold them from his chest. “I’d kind of like it to stay that way.” 

Tony squirmed a little, a pleased smile crossing his features. “You would?” 

“Yep.” He nodded, running his thumb over Tony’s palm. “We seem to suck at the communication thing, so let me be very clear here. I’ve been embarrassingly in love with you for an embarrassingly long time. Forget asking you out. Tony, I want you to be my boyfriend. Are we on the same page?” 

Tony gave an adorable little giggle, and then he was standing on tiptoes, giving Rhodey a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. Rhodey let him, for a moment, and then he was looping an arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him up tight against his bare chest and kissing him properly. Tony made a startled little sound before he melted into it, giving just as good as he got. 

They kept kissing until there was another splash behind them, Tony Jr. chittering in annoyance at being ignored. 

“Ah, right.” Still grinning like a goofball, Tony leaned back and arched his eyebrows at Rhodey. “I think you said something about an explanation for the groundhog in our bathtub?” 

“Yup,” Rhodey agreed, stepping away first to take a towel and scoop Tony Jr. out of the tub. Tony watched in bemusement as the groundhog snuggled right into Rhodey, the other man slipping past him to take him back to office. “Just let get him resettled first. I don’t want Tony Jr. to catch a cold.” 

Tony nodded in understanding, then frowned as he watched Rhodey carry him down the hall. “Wait,” he called after him. “Tony Jr.? Rhodes, did you name your groundhog after me??”

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