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firelonewolf · 4 years

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Barrier

Summary: Mallory had a friend in the CIA request for you to impose as a worker at Vought. You were chosen for your skills and abilities by Mallory herself. To where you had to gain intel on the company to gain dirt against them for the Boys. Not all of it goes as plan.

Pairing: Homelander x CIA!Supe!Reader

A/N: I don't know why I wanted to do this. But I thought it would be a good idea for the reader and Homelander for some reason.

Being part of Central Intelligence wasn't easy. You're a CIA officer, handpicked by Grace Mallory herself. Why? Because of your power there more mental and unique compared to most. You couldn't start a fire from you're hand, or even shapeshift, no you could do something more suitable for the corporation. Five of your main powers are simple and easy to understand, you can mind link, telepathy, and astral projection. Your mind link allows you to hear someone's thoughts from miles away, you can choose who to link with and who to break it with. But sometimes you're mental link automatically does itself. You could always mind control, but never figured you had to use it half of the time. Then you can mind walking, understanding the person from the outside through the inside of there past. Mind walking was terrifying for you though, the places you entered were dark and world-altering for you because of it.

CIA never bothered to get you to mind walk, knowing how traumatizing it could be, but it was all for you're will. You couldn't do much physically but you certainly make a great officier. Now your mission was to work under Vought, it was one of the most special missions yet to you. Sure, you did jobs outside of it, but this was you're the main one. Somehow you became one of Madelyn Stillwell's assistants next to the other one Ashley.

It was easy for you, you went into Stillwell's head, and answered what she wanted slickly. She thankfully was convinced and gave you a higher-up position by her side. Knowing what she was thinking was easy, especially when you know she's not on to you. Now you made sure not to use your powers at "work," but at times you couldn't help it.

Stillwell had you work closely with the Seven assisting in whatever they needed. This was easy, especially when you could hear all of there thoughts. One time you caught the Deep feeling down, so you gave him casual advice without him hearing it. He grew deeply attach to you for you're kindness and for you just know. Another time you ordered something for Black Noir and claimed you saw him trying to get some food but they ignored him. He was convinced and hung out with you at times because of it.

Sure you could hear his thoughts, but his thoughts were way louder than him. Mainly commenting on what he thought of people around him. Then you gained A-Train's trust, by doing another simple task which was helping him on a script. Queen Maeve seemed to be in an inner debate with herself, you helped her to which you kept between yourself and her. Yeah, shes you're a friend to because in her words you act like a human being. Translucent on the other hand was just interested in you, mostly because you told him to get out of the bathroom once when he was invisible.

Somehow you sensed his presence. But managed to start joking with him, which brought it to an end. Starlight you both talked about normal things, now she was your favorite because of how sweet she was. But you don't tell Noir that. Lastly, there was Homelander the biggest hurdle to climb and gain a connection with.

You've managed to gain a mental link with all seven including Stillwell. You made sure block you're the end of the mental links which was exhausting. Sure, it would hurt your head at times but you could handle another one. This one had to be like a tether compare to the rest, Mallory wanted the main link to be with you and Homelander. He was the big fish in the pond she wanted, this was the hardest for you.

Until you found him being overly emotional in his head, wrath consumed him the point you could feel the tension. Now in order to make the bond stronger, you had to gain intimacy. Much to you're dismay this could be easier with time added to it. Like always you approached Homelander calm when he was isolated. "Hey, you okay?"

"Why do you even give a flying fuck?" He remarked staring back at the city of New York. Yeah, you knew he was a tough one to cross the borders, if it became necessary you'll have to mind the walk.

"Because I can feel the tension?" You claim at him. He turns with his cape swaying at the speed of the rotated. "Not to mention, you look like you could use it." Those blue eyes of his darted down at you seizing you up.

"I bet you would like that, for me to be vulnerable with you too," he hissed. There was no way he could hear you're heart rate increase, the CIA and Mallory trained you for it. To manipulate it easily to get pass a lie detector test. She's stupid if she thinks she can convince me to trust her, you heard from his mind suddenly.

"Yeah, because bottling everything up isn't healthy." You start by trying to sound as concerned as possible. "Leaders even need help at times you know? That's why in nature the alpha male usually has his alpha female. In other words, it's why the king has his queen. But it's not always a female, at times the king has a council to decide what he wants. It's also why a CEO has there assistants in general. To assist, which is why I'm here." Hopefully, that sounds convincing enough for him. He still wasn't convinced but his mind was silent at the moment. A pregnant pause overtook the two of you before pressing your lips together in fake defeat. "Whatever, you can believe me or not, you're choice. I have to go meet Noir anyway, for some reason he wants me to introduce him to the artist MISSIO and Panic! At the Disco? I'm not sure. Nice talking to you, I guess."

If this didn't work you had a second plan on what to do that could bend the situation to you're will. Whether you liked it or not. Okay maybe you favored both Black Noir and Starlight equally, but you couldn't tell either one that, or the other Seven they'll be jealous. But you walked out with somewhat hearing Homelander's guilt at this. Let's just say you introduced Black Noir to alternative and indie music. He jammed out with you as you both enjoyed the music. That was the most fun you had without going out or without talking really. You introduced him to more bands that he ended up enjoying.

Going home you had a plan for the pull a string to tighten the knot to have a mental link. When recording the whole situation on paper you hid where you usually did. Somewhere no one with X-ray vision would bother to look, up on the ceiling. Well, you hoped no one would see it. Never a guarantee in that department.

You went to your bed and laid down on your back and began to relax facing parallel to the ceiling. Playing nature sounds made you relax more until you felt a lightweight come out. You were almost faded well transparent. In your astral projection form, you began to head out. Walking through the streets of New York, passing by people as you did.

The six members of the Seven heads became quiet including Madelyn Stillwell, indicating they're all asleep. Running through the streets of New York you felt free somewhat each time. Perhaps it was because of the middle of the night, and you felt unstoppable as you wandered. Coming to Vought Towers took a while until you glided up to Homelander's penthouse. Entering it was strange, maybe because you've never been here?

Schemes of blue and some navy grey all over the place. On the wall were pictures of baseball and all American things. Even a couple of himself smiling. Then you walked to his bedroom to see him in a fetal position asleep. Except you see his bare skin of his arms with the closet open you saw the suit.

You had to admit, for someone so bad he was attractive especially with his blonde hair being a mess as he slept. He asleep though, and his thoughts are so low and quiet despite the dark ones. Half heartily you touched his cheek, you know he can't feel it not if he's not awake. But then saw his hand open a bit as if he was less guarded. Ghostly you took his hand in yours, you sat on your knees on the side of the bed. Now, this was the weird part of your ability, it worked at times with a focus handhold, other times it took pressing your temples.

It's part a form of intimacy sort of? But you needed more for the mental link, this was to connect into his mind it was different. Flushed sort of embarrassed at the moment despite no one seeing you, it still was for you. Tapping in your power you blinked now you felt something. Warm presence of the sun.

Dirt grinding between you is toes as you wiggled them. Opening your eyes you saw the woods. Tall trees with green leaves with songbirds chirping their tunes. As you stepped towards the forest you saw a little boy. Giggling as he chased the birds and the butterflies. Who was this child?

Unsure you began to walk over as the grass brushed your naked ankles. But you still wore a loose lavender button blouse with black leggings. He chased whatever it was observing the world before him. Walking you smiled warmly at the sight it was actually precious. Was this a version of him?

"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find a man here? Point me in the direction if you could, please?" You asked kindly the boy turned towards your smile dropping. You were confused at this but maintain you're composure.

"You're not here to hurt me are you?" Your heart dropped at this. You felt bad for him, you knew how superheroes were made. Dosing pregnant woman with Compound V, you always know Homelander was raised in a lab. But you never bothered to think how cruel these scientists were to him. "Please don't." He begged, you sort of wanted to cry at this.

How bad were they to them? Did they restrain him and inject needles into him? Did they beat him? You commanded your mind to shut up, sympathizing with the enemy is something you can't do. He's your enemy, not a person to humanize normally. He's killed thousands mercilessly. And here you were allowing his head to affect you. Emotions can't cloud your judgment whether you like it or not. "No, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I'm a bit lost. New here actually, I'm just looking for a man about five-eleven, strong-looking with blonde hair and blue eyes. He sort of looks like you."

"(Y/N)" he said tasting the name. "(Y/N)," he repeats still seeing how it felt coming out of his mouth. "I'm John," he suddenly says with a toothy grin.

"John that's a nice name," you remark back to him. You sort of remember the meaning of the name at some point. "I love your name. So did my mom, she loved that name a lot." You see a bright smile still grace his face at that.

"Thank you. I love your name too!" He cheerfully comments. He's sweet, he's not like the Homelander you know at the moment. It's as if there two different people.

"Now have you seen a tall man around?" You inquire to which he bobs his head at this. "Can you take me to him?" You ask to which he nods.

"He's scary though. Will you protect me?" He asks you nod you're head. John takes your hand, his hand was small compare to yours. But he began to guide you into the woods. Twigs snapped both of you walked through it. Before birds tweeted their tunes loudly but the further deep you went the more it became quiet. Just like that with the sunlight, it was darker and cloudier the deeper you went. John guided you through with ease until you came across the rain. Drops of water hit both you as you went through and thunder rumbled.

Thunder and lightning soon consumed the sky. John hugged your arm as you walked through he was six and reminded you of yourself at some point. Scared of the dark just like anyone else. You felt bad that whatever was up ahead he was terrified of.

Then you came across a cabin with a light glowing in the middle of the thunderstorm and pouring rain. Sitting on the porch in thought was Homelander. His hair soaked and his suit as he stared darkly at the ground. Horrific in its own way that made your stomach turn. Sorrowfully though you stared at this adult version of John.

Why did they have to hurt him? Why did they have to dehumanize him? Stripping him of his own childhood to in the process. Why did they have to be so cruel to him? He probably would've been stronger if he was taught kindness and be a human being. You held back you're emotions once more you couldn't get lost in this as well. Too late to fix anything with him internally. Some say it's never too late, but he needs someone truly good to do that for him. And you think you're not the person for it.

Meeting the blue gaze of Homelander you felt shivers down you're spine at this. John hid half of himself behind you at this. Those eyes of his are full of chaos and destruction and it sort of made sick knowing how it got there. "What the hell are you doing here?" He hissed at the sight of you. "Both of you." He states taking a stand with a faint of red in his eyes.

Sucking in a breath you couldn't let him know your power so you had to play coy at this. "How should we know? This is you're dreaming. You're head." He can't hurt you here, not physically at least. He can't do anything he doesn't really have power here especially since he doesn't know how to face your kind of power.

"Don't play dumb against me," he growled taking a couple of steps forward. His eyes were beginning to glow a furious red. "You know exactly what's going on!" You felt John flinch at the sudden rise of voice from the Homelander. Throwing a finger accusingly directed at you.

But your heart ached at this, it's sad. He's depressing when you get to know his past. And knowing in reality he's a terrified child inside of a beast. "You know its sad," you start off in a monotone voice at this, "you're hurt. Physically and emotionally, and you fight those who want to hurt those who want to help. It's crueler than you abuse yourself for things you can't control." Poking him where it hurt was the only way to reflect himself to him. Breaking down a wall like this one can allow yourself access into actually building a connection with him.

Unlike the other members of the Seven, he was the toughest one to break the barrier with. "Shut up! I'm the Homelander, I do not harm myself. No one can touch me! Not even myself. You're just a pathetic insect in this world. Lowest of the low!" He was trying to hurt you, and most of it stung but you had acted like steel.

Be a person of steel against his aggression towards you. "I may be, but as low as you feel to yourself." You remark back which made his eyes glow more furious. He wouldn't laser you, he was bluffing acting like a child in the middle of a temper tantrum. "You know, you don't have to act like this. Instead of sabotaging everything that comes your way that can possibly love, why not accept it? The actual love of a person." Before see how he flinched from that response from you. "It wasn't you're fault, you know? How they treated you? You could act better than what they taught you. Prove them wrong," the redness in his eyes stop before he shut them. Turning away from you, to face off to the side. The thunderstorm in the sky became more peaceful and the rain stopped pouring. "Vulnerability isn't always a bad thing, John. You don't have to be scared, just trust somebody enough to love them. Just like you can only be brave when you're scared."

John the small one peeked out and lowered his hands from his ears. He loosened his grip on you before you moved over steady. Carefully taking steps over to the Homelander as he remained silent. Hesitantly closed enough you debated whether to just touch his shoulder or give him a hug. This was the last step to break a mental barrier for him. Ghostly you enveloped over his left and the side of his upper arm wrapping it. You placed your temple on the back of his neck.

Instead of tension, you felt as he relaxed within seconds of your touch. As if a bunch of weight was coming off him in a matter of seconds. Before you felt a migraine coming along, oh no, you thought to yourself. Last you felt was the material of his suit against your face.

You blinked to his blue eyes shoot open. You jumped back but felt the migraine overtaking you. He shot up glancing around the area somewhat terrified of what he "dreamt" about. You could understand why, but it was a pull closer to tightening the knot between you two. Heading back to your apartment you stumbled a bit on your way there. Until you fell back into your body. Just to sit up and see the blood oozing out of you're nostrils. "Well shit." Your comment, it was four am and you still had four hours before "work." You popped in two pills for your migraine and cleaned your bloody nose. Boy, that was a well, mind-altering.

Sleeping after that felt incredible. But you did cry a bit for mental relief before passing out. Four hours later you woke up and dressed not caring while wearing black shades to cover your hooded eyes underneath. You picked up a large iced latte with some mocha in it. Walking in the office wearing a white blouse and black leggings and a leather jacket with nice dress shoes. Today you didn't care outfit wise, you decided to bring a jacket that had a hood to cover yourself when its break time, you planned on napping in your office.

But you built a bullshit story luckily. On your way, you ate your breakfast sandwich and got the Seven muffins. Through the mental links, you heard them mention you. Showing up at Vought you couldn't help but laugh at the funeral jokes thrown at from your coworkers.

Entering through the elevator Madelyn sent you to them to discuss what they needed. All lite up at the sight of you well, not really Homelander. He seems in his deep thought. You tossed Black Noir his pumpkin muffin than Deep his strawberry, Starlight her chocolate muffin. Queen Maeve got her peach and cream muffin. Translucent had a pecan. Than A-Train liked having oat. Then you gave Homelander had a chocolate chip. Then you had a blueberry, almond with white frosting on it. "Wheres the funeral out today, (Y/N)?" Maeve teased as she took a bite of hers.

"You look like you going to one and then a rock concert after," A-Train comments to you. You gave a chuckle at this.

"I was up and out late last night," you grin as took a sip of your coffee.

"Oh, who was it this time? Some guy you met a bar? Because the last one you talked about seems like a nerd." The Deep remarks.

"Brains are attractive! I rather not be with a dumb guy. Besides, I ran into an old friend from college. She got me drunk and bet I couldn't ride the mechanical bull for six solid minutes. I managed, then vomited after." Just to hear Maeve go 'ooo' at this.

"This is why you're my favorite (Y/N). You're nice and know when to have some fun." She grinned at you.

"Now what are you guys needed?" You inquire to them. Hearing there inner thoughts you knew it was nothing bad, but Homelander was contemplating from his "dream."

"Well, we are having an issue with deciding whether or not how to handle this video that surfaced of well, Translucent breaking a guy's nose." Starlight explained to which in a matter of seconds was resolved. This was until Homelander requested to speak to you alone.

Amongst all of them, they seem to tense up at this. Most of them questioned in their heads if he was mad at you. You entered the separate room away from them. "Everything alright, Homelander?" Immediately asked him. To which he paused facing you. No aggression was targeted towards you. "Something wrong?"

"I-" he paused. Pondering how to say this properly as possible. "I- you asked me yesterday what was on my mind, right? I blew you off. That wasn't right of me, you're just trying to help. I was wondering, can I talk to later about it? When you're not busy?"

"Of course," you said. You still felt bad for him. Despite all the spat you and how he is to humanity. But you have to remind yourself not to get attached to either one of them. Any can flip on a dime from something done wrong. But this was opening in the barrier, one step closer to creating a tough mental link between the two of you. The next step will have to be intimacy to seal the knot for you. Mallory's words stung in your head, repeating saying "do not forget what each of them has done to harm people. Don't you forget?"

#homelander x reader #homelander #the deep #the boys #the boys amazon #queen maeve #black noir #antony starr #starlight #translucent #a train #the boys season 1 #the boys season 2

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danny-williams · 4 years

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in sickness and in health

set immediately after s8.6, because i think Danny being worried about Steve’s health is literally the most married thing ever

1. change his diet

It doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t happen overnight because Danny knows that it can’t happen overnight - otherwise Steve will notice and all of his efforts into our sneaking the SuperSEAL will go to waste because he and Steve will fight, and Chloe made it very clear that he and Steve fighting was not good for Steve’s health.

Even if it significantly improved Danny’s mood everytime he got Steve riled up. His serotonin levels could take a hit for a bit (he’d just finagle more time with Charlie from Rachel).

It takes a lot of back and forth, and a promise to let Kamekona buy into their restaurant (currently un-named because he refused to have an italian joint named Steve’s) but Kamekona finally agrees to reduce the amount of butter he puts on his shrimp.

“But only for Steve’s plate bruddah,” he says, a frown on his face, “I’m not changing my recipe for anybody else. This is prime shrimp you’re messing with here - I hope you know that. This shrimp won me awards.”

Danny grimaces, “Technically, Chef Morimoto sabotaging your competition won you that award, but we’ll go with your version of things. As long as you keep this from Steve. I do not need him knowing that I’m messing with his food.”

“You got it bruddah.”

Everything else after that is slightly easier. Even with Junior home, Steve still comes over to Danny’s a lot - so Danny starts shopping smarter; buying low fat food and including more greens in his diet.

The jersey in him is crying, weeping for some good grease - the kind that slithers off the meat and onto your fingers, but he reminds himself it’s for a good cause. Besides, it’s not like he isn’t still eating good food - he’s just eating it less.

That’s not a terrible thing.

2. to do list

He’s in his office, finishing up the last reports of the drug bust they made earlier that day - when there’s a sharp rap on his door. Danny looks up to see Steve standing on the other side, clutching a piece of paper in his hand.

He waves him in, and Steve slams the paper against his desk. “What are you, some sort of caveman? Did they not teach you how to politely put things down in the Army -”

“ - Navy - “

“Why do you gotta,” he gestures at the paper, “now my ink is all smudged.”

Steve ignores him, which is par for the course at this time, “What is this?”

Danny looks at the paper, and then back at Steve, “What do you mean, what is this? How should I know? You’re the one that brought it in.”

Steve points at the paper aggressively, “Look at it, and explain to me what it is.”

He smoothens out the paper, “It’s looks like a to-do list. Are you getting old babe? Do we need to take you to an eye specialist, maybe get you fitted for some glasses? Reading goggles?”

“Danny I don’t need -” Steve cuts himself off, and honestly, Danny is really enjoying how worked up Steve is about this whole thing, “I mean, what is it doing on my desk?”

Danny bites his lips, spreading his hands out wide, “I don’t know maybe you uhh, maybe you decided that you needed to make a list, make sure you know everything you had to do for today. Did you hit your head or something during our drug bust today? Maybe get a concussion - lose a couple of braincells?”

“I didn’t write this Danno,” Steve says in a frustrated tone, “Lou sure as hell didn’t write it, Tani’s too new to even think of pulling something like this - and we both know Jerry doesn’t have the balls for this kind of thing. That just leaves you. So I’m gonna ask you again, what is this doing on my desk?”

“Okay look, we’ve both been really busy with the restaurant right?”

“Steve’s.”

“No, not Steve’s because I’m still undecided on the name - but the point is, we’ve both been busy. So I thought you might you know, benefit from having a list of things that we had to do for it. So that you could plan your day better.”

Steve opens his mouth and shuts it again, furrowing his brows at Danny.

“And that’s all this is? Making sure I keep up to date with the restaurant?”

“That’s all it is babe.”

“You’re up to something,” Steve grabs the paper, pointing a finger at Danny accusingly, “I don’t know what you’re up to - but you’re up to something.”

“Just making sure our restaurant doesn’t fail!” Danny calls after him, but waits until he’s out of sight to pull open his drawer and pull out the pile of unfinished to-do lists.

He’s going to have to be sneakier about them this time.

3. less bickering

Danny ponders over this one for a while, mainly because Steve expressly told him not to change. It would defeat the whole purpose of sneakily managing Steve’s stress if he notices, so Danny’s careful about it.

Mostly because after her day with Steve, Chloe pulled Danny aside and gave him enough of a scare to last him ten lifetimes.

“Look,” she’d said, “I don’t mean to tell you how to manage your relationship with your partner. From what I hear, you guys have been together for close to seven years, and I’m sure you worked out some sort of rhythm. But from what I can see Detective, you fight him on everything.”

“What do you mean I fight him on everything, I,I, I let him drive my car, I let him eat at my house, he even sleeps at my house on occasion - and what do I get for it? I get shot at and almost killed three times before lunch.”

“You guys don’t have an easy job, I agree. But I don’t imagine that for the Commander, someone who’s come from the Navy and is used to absolute obedience, that it’s easy when you question even his smallest actions.”

She had a point, which is Danny is now trying to figure out how to organically stop fighting with a man he literally punched just hours after they met.

“Okay here’s what’s going to happen,” Steve says, just as they pull up at the suspect’s house. They’re chasing the kidnapper of a twelve year old girl, so everybody’s a bit ramped up, especially Danny. He hates cases with kids. It makes it easier to take a backseat and give up control to Steve on this one.

“I’m going go through the front door,” he gestures with his hands, “Lou, Danny - I want you to get the back. Tani? I want you out here, in case our perp tries to make a run for it?”

Danny has to physically swallow back the words on the tip of his tongue, because asking Steve if they should wait for back-up would be questioning his actions - and Chloe said that was bad for his health.

Steve gives him a look, like he knows that’s something’s wrong - but before he can say anything there’s shot fired inside the house and everything goes to shit.

Danny and Lou turn the corner as quick as possible, just in time to see someone run outside the back entrance and jump across the fence.

“Lou, get back to the truck, see if you can cut him off like that,” Steve jumps after him, panting into his ear-piece, “Danny?”

“Right behind you buddy,” he says, even as he aims and shoots at the two guys who wander out behind their perp, clearly looking for him, “our friend over here had company over.”

Thankfully, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else coming out of the house, and when Danny makes his way in - 12 year old Danielle Rodriguez is tied to the radiator, shivering despite the constant sweltering heat that is the fine island of Hawaii.

“Hey hey,” he swings his gun behind his back and lifts his hands up, “my name is Detective Danny Williams okay? I’m with Five-0. I’m one of the good guys. Now how about I get you out of this and back to your parents?”

Later, when they’re back at HQ and Danielle has been reunited with her teary-eyed parents - Lou mutters to Danny, “so how come you didn’t ask Steve to wait for back-up?”

“I’m trying something new.”

4. well bred social behaviour

“Danny!” The door swings open, even though Danny is fairly certain that he locked in, but he doesn’t reach for his gun, because there’s only one person on this entire island who walks into his house like they own it.

“In here!” he calls out, and sure enough, Steve walks in a couple seconds later with coffee and a brown bag.

“Are those malasadas?” he asks, reaching out for the coffee in one hand, looking up briefly from floor plans to ensure that there’s contact between his palm and the coffee cup, “Did you bring me malasadas?”

“No I bought myself malasadas, but since I’m generous I’ll give you one or two.”

“What’s this?” he asks over a mouthful of malasada, peering over his shoulder and Danny bats at him because he’s dripping sugar all over the plans, “Is this Steve’s?”

“For the last time, we’re not calling the restaurant Steve’s I don’t know how many times I have to go through this with you. But yes, to answer your question, these are the tentative plans that our interior decorator drew up for the restaurant.”

“Interior decorator?” his voice comes out all muffled, and Danny sends him a withering look, “You’re disgusting you know that? Can you finish chewing before you talk? Please? Is that too much to ask for?”

Steve swallows obnoxiously, and grins at Danny. He’s got cream on the edge of his mouth, and it should disgust Danny - instead he’s thinking about leaning up and licking it off.

“Thank you, for the coffee by the way,” he says instead, “I appreciate it. That was a nice thing to do.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replies, and Danny can hear the surprise in his tone, but he resolutely ignores it - instead pulling Steve into a conversation about the booths.

5. sex

There’s probably a code of conduct somewhere, Danny muses, that involves something about not having your ex-girlfriend spy on your partner. Well, spying might be a bit extreme.

He and Melissa split months ago, because it was clear after two disasterdly Valentine’s Days, that it just wasn’t working between them. Her exact words were, and he quotes, “You’re never going to love me the way I love you. Not when Steve occupies all the real estate in your heart.”

She wasn’t wrong, was the thing, and after they’d gotten past the initial awkwardness that the fact that Danny was in love with someone that wasn’t her - they actually fell into a good friendship.

It helped that Melissa didn’t know a lot of people in Oahu except Danny, and that their relationship had been a lot like a friendship in the first place. Except with more sex.

Like a lot more sex.

Honestly, given that Steve was the reason they broke up, Melissa was surprisingly gamely when Danny asked her to stay in touch with Lynn, and let him know how things were going with her and Steve.

(He thinks it’s pity, but he doesn’t actually ask because then she might actually answer)

“They broke up,” Melissa says with little fanfare, over their weekly coffee, “Lynn won’t tell me much. But they split about a week ago. Guess she got tired of waiting around for him too.”

It might also be the fact that Melissa is convinced that Steve is just as much in love with Danny as Danny is with him, nevermind the fact that Steve has never showed interest.

“What do you mean they broke up?”

“I mean they’re over. Ended things. Done.”

“Huh,” Danny says, over his coffee, trying to figure out the best way to convince Steve to let Danny take him out for a guy’s night to get over Lynn without revealing how he knows that Steve needs a guy’s night to get over Lynn.

In the end, he doesn’t even have to be all that sneaky about it, because Steve comes to him - asks him out for drinks; so all Danny really has to do is play the dutiful wingman.

“I’m sorry about you and Lynn,” he yells over the music, after the alcohol has sufficiently loosened his tongue, “you guys were good together.”

“It was never going to work out,” Steve yells back, and gives Danny a significant look, “bit like you and Melissa.”

“How do you - how do you know about that?”

“What you think that you and Melissa are the only ones who engage in pillow talk? Lynn talks too, on occasion. When we weren’t you know, busy with other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Danny chuckles, “Is that what we’re calling it now? You can say sex Steve. This must, must put a damper on your whole two or three days a week thing. Oh wait no sorry, how many days did you say it was? Five?”

“I’ll have you know,” Steve says, staggering on his feet as he and Danny stumble outside the bar, “that me and Lynn had a lot of problems. But sex wasn’t one of them.”

“Well -” he furrows his brows, and stops suddenly, pulling Danny close to him, “Sex might’ve been one of them.”

“What happened? You need tips in bed? Smooth dog?”

“I am very good in bed!” Steve says, affronted, “It was not my skill that was the issue here.”

“Then what was it? No come on don’t clamp up on me now, I have to hear this. What was the issue?”

Steve turns bright red, “I might’ve - I might’ve said the wrong name in bed, a couple of times.”

“Babe, you are unbeatable. No really, you are. First you, you leave the engagement ring that you were going to give Catherine just lying around - then you take off with Catherine in the middle of a romantic dinner, and now you’re yelling her name in bed? Buddy I’m surprised she didn’t break up with you sooner.”

Steve’s giving him this look, like he can’t for the life of him understand what Danny’s saying. “No it wasn’t Catherine why would you think it’s Catherine. No it was - “

And that’s about as far as Steve gets, because a second later, he’s retching their dinner all over the side of the road.

+ 1: love him

They’re all out on his lanai: Danny, Tani, Junior, Kamekona, even Duke’s made it out - and Steve’s got the grill set up just a couple feet away from the chairs. Half his attention is on the grill, the other half is on Danny - the way he’s stretched out on the old chair; loosened from the beer he’s been nursing, and smiling at something Tani said.

“Keep an eye on that meat,” Lou says, startling Steve, “I don’t want my dinner burning.”

“I’m not gonna burn your dinner Lou jeez, have a little faith. When have I ever burnt your dinner before?”

Lou looks over at Danny, and back at Steve with raised eyebrows, “you’re a bit distracted today. Forgive me if I’m cautious.”

“He thinks I don’t know what he’s doing,” Steve says in lieu of a response, “but I found his list the other day. All the things that stress management specialist said, Chloe or whatever her name is - he’s got it all written down. He’s driving himself crazy, worrying about this thing.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider why he’s so worried?”

Steve turns to Lou with a frown, “it’s not that hard to put together Lou. He’s worried about my health. I get it, I am too - but I’m not running myself into the ground thinking about it day and night.”

“Look man, I’ve been with you guys for a couple of years now, and let me tell you something about Danny. Now I’m not pointing fingers or any of that, but I’ve seen that man care about a lot of things - but nothing the way he cares about you Steve.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but Lou just holds up his hand, “you didn’t see him Steve. The day you got shot? The day you almost died? You didn’t see him that day.”

“Danny was - he had broken ribs, and scratches all over his face. They told him to land the plane in the water did he tell you that?”

Steve shakes his head silently.

“The people in Air Control or whatever you want to call them, they told Danny that his best chance at survival was landing the plane in the water, swimming to shore. But he knew that landing the plane in the water meant that you might die, and it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. He didn’t even stick around long enough to watch you get taken in for surgery, he was already on his way out looking for the sons of bitches that shot you up.”

“And I’ve never seen anything like it Steve, I’m telling you - I didn’t know he was capable of that kind of violence. There was this one guy, their ring leader, who managed to limp his way over to the helicopter. When me and Kono got there, Danny was standing over him with his gun out, and he had this look on his face - I was worried if I stepped in, he might shoot him just to get to this guy.”

“And after all that was done, he marched right back into that hospital, barrelled right past all of us, and offered up his liver. There wasn’t even a second’s hesitation. Apparently he’d already had the blood-work drawn up, in case anything like this happened.”

Lou claps him on his shoulder, “I love you man, I do. But I don’t love you the way Danny does. I don’t think anybody does.”

“Would you -” he gestures at the steaks, “would you watch over the grill for me? Just for a bit. There’s something I gotta do.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Lou’s reply, just stalks over to Danny and grabs him by his elbow - hauling him up.

“Hey where are we - why’re we going inside, you Neanderthal I was in the middle of a conversation what’re you tugging me around for like I’m some sort of -”

The rest of Danny’s sentence gets lost against Steve’s lips, as Steve turns him around and braces him against the nearest vertical surface. His mouth is already open, which Steve uses to his advantage; pressing his full weight against Danny and licking into his mouth; memorising it with his tongue.

They break up with a wet sound, and when Steve opens his eyes, Danny’s pupils are blown black.

“What was that for?” Danny whispers between their lips, and Steve half smiles at him, “that was me saying thank you. I know what you’ve been doing, trying to manage my stress for me. This is me saying thank you.”

“Huh,” Danny slides a hand around his neck, squeezing, “Why don’t you run that thank you by me again one more time?”

Fin

#my writing #mcdanno #hawaii 5 o #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #developing relationship #5+1 #danny is worried about steve's health #fluff #taking care of each other

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the-sara-voe · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4: A Familiar Face

Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of bodily trauma and dead bodies.

Masterlist

"Look, I love Kobe, what a legend, but Dwight Howard-"

"Stop", Alvez orders, gesturing to Sena, "You can't compare Kobe to Howard, it's like comparing an apple to a carrot".

"No! Hear me ou-"

"No".

Tusa struts into the conference room, pursing her lips and furring her brows at the debate, "What are you two doing"?

"She is trying to compare Bryant to Howard", Alvez stated, "Which you can't. They don't even play the same position. And they had a long-standing feud".

Sena's voice becomes full of defense, "First of all, yes they did not play the same position. Second, it was not a feud, it was more of a sibling rivalry. But what I am saying is Howard had and still has the potential to be as good as Kobe. If Howard just got on a team that kept him long enough for him to get comfortable he would be great".

The two of them kept bickering, while Tusa says under her breath, "I don't get basketball".

"What was that about basketball"? Reid said, taking his seat at the table.

Luke and Sena told Reid their stances, prompting him to say, "Actually Luke, I think I agree with Sena. Howard has been traded or drafted to several teams, probably making him lose a sense of self-control. Loss of self-control correlates to ego deprivation, which decreases performance and impacts response to other motivational conflicts, like disputes with teammates. Couple that with most professional sports players being alpha male personalities, and that testosterone increases during physical activity, disagreement is bound to happen".

Luke and Sena stare at Reid, watching as he takes a sip from his water bottle, "Also, Howard's efficiency score is only about one-point-zero-seven points lower than Kobe Bryant's, and he may still have some time to raise it. If Howard can gain more self-control and get longer contracts, he would probably be just as successful as Kobe".

Byun glances at a frustrated Luke, proceeding to taunt him. Tusa shakes her head while she pours herself some coffee. She felt a tap on her elbow, turning to see Reid leaning back in his seat, looking at her.

"What does the case look like"? Spencer asked, flicking his pen between his fingers. His hair is tightly woven around itself, and pokes up in various directions.

"Unnerving, as usual", she said, shooting him a bemused glance. She asks "You forget to brush your hair this morning"?

Reid adjusts his position, nervously running his fingers through it to subdue its appearance. He turns back and asks, “Is it better”?

"I’m giving you a crap Reid you look fine", she answered, chuckling, “Get some more sleep though, yeah”?

He nods as Rossi and Prentiss walk into the room with Simmons, prompting everyone to settle in. As Rossi pulls out his chair, Prentiss goes to speak.

"I have an announcement to make before we get to the case", Emily started, fiddling with her fingernails, jagged from being bitten. She looks around the room at her teammates, who have become family to her. Despite the heaviness in her chest, she has a lightness in her eyes. She is ready.

"I am resigning; soon".

The air in the room fills with multiple emotions. Some joyful, some upset, some anxious. But the most overwhelming of all is confusion.

"Why"? Byun posed, a bit glum.

"Because I was offered an amazing position", Prentiss admitted, sharing a heartfelt smile with Sena.

Prentiss shrugs before saying, "I have been offered to be the Director of the FBI", she pauses, finalizing in a sigh, "Please don't take it personally, I love you all so much".

"Emily this is incredible" Simmons announced, opening his arms in celebration, "Don't apologize, we're proud of you"!

The whole group stands from the table, heading toward Emily to embrace her in a hug, until she spouts, "No, no. We can do the 'goodbye' at Rossi's at the end of the month. I am still here for a few weeks. No sad faces, especially for your new Chief".

"Wait they're here"? Reid quizzed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants.

"Yes, and something tells me you'll like them", Emily said, glancing toward the hallway opening behind her.

The heaviness of the steps increases the team's anticipation. Everyone stares at the doorway, the clunking becoming louder. As the heels stall, the guest's figure fills the door frame. The man wore a black suit and a striped tie, well-tailored and ironed. Their hair is longer than some of them remember, but the smile they wore remains familiar.

"Hotch"! Reid announced, gleefully darting to Aaron Hotchner and embracing him in a hug.

Rossi and Prentiss chuckle, grinning at Spencer's reaction. However, the four of them are enjoying the reunion so much, they forget there are two faces that don't recognize Aaron.

"Hotch, this is our Tech Analyst, Tusajigwe Selemani", Rossi states, as Tusa and Aaron shake hands.

"Call me Tusa, sir".

"I have heard about you through colleagues of mine at the DA", Hotcher informs, releasing his hand from hers.

"You have"? She replied, with a tinge of wariness.

Aaron releases a nervous laugh before saying, "Yes. Only good things, you make quite a first impression, apparently".

Tusa relaxes into the atmosphere of the room. Hotchner, Simmons, and Alvez greet each other again, the last time seeing each other being Gracia's goodbye party. After some catch-up, Byun clears her throat, clearly a bit apprehensive.

Emily notices Sena's discomfort and says, "Oh, Hotch this is SSA Sena Byun. She specializes in crime scene analysis".

"You were a CSI"? Aaron posed.

Sena adjusts her forearms, leaning them on the round table, stating, "In Houston, yeah".

"Did you work on the Ackles Case"?

"I took 'em down".

Aaron cocks his head and furrows his brows, reminding her, "CSI's don't arrest suspects, usually".

Sena looks up at the man, nodding her head with pride. "Yes", she said.

Hotchner gave Prentiss an inquisitive look, suspecting that she hired Byun. Sena has the same ridiculous ambition as Emily.

"Alright, I don't want to rush us, but we do have a new case", Tusa announces, taking the front of the room.

After a few clicks of the remote, images appear on the monitor. Wrists and ankles have lines of navy and a band of blue spans across the stomaches of these two women. The fabric had grasped so much blood, their shirts and the sleep bags they rest in were indiscernible. Perhaps most frightening, however, lies under the stained fabric. Though the details are thin, it is not hard to decipher the cause of death. Hidden under the shirts, no more than a centimeter thick, are gaping holes in the stomach of the victims.

Tusa, clears her throat before speaking, "These two women are Romana Marckus, age 23, and Daniella Cortez, age 25. Romana was found four days ago, and Daniella just two days ago. Both of them were found in alleyways in Houston. It appears that the girls experienced blunt force trauma to the head, were bound, and inevitably...stabbed to death".

Sena scrolls through her tablet, a wise whistle leaving her lips, "Hometown, you once again do not disappoint".

"They were dumped in sleeping bags"? Rossi asked, scrolling through the photos on his tablet.

"Yes sir, they were. Local police believe that the bodies sat in the alleyways for about a week", Tusa recounted.

Reid stared up at the screen, saying, "The public may have just assumed that the bodies were homeless people".

"Oh how delicious", Byun stated, jerking her face away from her tablet, and sliding it across the table.

"Are the women connected in another way aside from that they're both brunettes"? Simmons asked.

"No, not really. Houston PD determined that they were both going to college. Marckus at the University of Texas , but Daniella was a student at Berkeley".

"That's quite a distance for her", Luke stated.

"Her trip was planned, someone knows about her whereabouts before she died. Have next of kin been contacted"? Hotchner asked, earning an overseeing gaze from Sena.

"Yes, they are flying down today", Tusa finalized.

"Aaron join us on this if you don't mind", Prentiss informs, "Let's get down there, wheels up in twenty".

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spartanguard · 5 years

Text

sick of love (2/3)

Summary: If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

A/N: Onto chapter two!! As stated before, this story was inspired by this tumblr post. Thank you again to the organizers of @cssns for putting on this awesome event and to @sherlockianwhovian for making that AMAZING art up there! I’m planning to post the last chapter a week from now but that depends on how much writing gets done while I’m teaching at band camp...so if not then, then shortly thereafter. Happy reading!

Wrong.

See, Emma had told herself that under the assumption that she’d only be seeing Killian once a week, in the controlled setting of Snow and Dave’s house, with them and Henry as buffers. That they’d be able to keep it completely chill and casual—sharing conversation over beer, maybe someday discussing their apparent shared aversion to soulmates, and who knows, getting drunk and having a makeout they don’t remember the next day. You know, keeping things safe.

Okay, maybe that last one was just something that had happened in her dreams—ones that were usually populated by whichever Marvel character was the focus of Henry’s obsession at the time, because damn did the women in their casting department know what they were doing. However, in the days following that first encounter, Killian’s face had replaced that of Thor in her fantasies, without conscious thought.

She was sure a therapist could have a field day with her, and would probably say that by fantasizing, she was keeping things in a risk-free environment where she had control. Which she was vaguely aware of. But honestly? It was a little annoying how easily he slipped in there, because the things she imagined and dreamed them doing...if she didn’t blush the next time she saw him, it’d be a miracle.

But she had until Friday to get that under control, and it was only Wednesday. That was totally doable. (Just like him...oh god, she needed to stop.)

Fate had other ideas in mind, though; it always does. Because of course, the skip got a little too aggressive while she was trying to take her down. How was Emma supposed to know the other woman carried a can of Monster in her purse? Or that it made an excellent blunt object? Despite getting whacked in the head, Emma still managed to bring her in. But the arresting officer took one look at the growing bruise on her forehead, and the blood she didn’t even realize was pouring out of it, before sending her to the ER for stitches and to check for a concussion.

Emma grumbled the whole time they drove her over, but knew it was better to be safe than sorry; she’d do the same if it was Henry in her place. And while she’d normally be worried about going to any place that involved a lot of contact, at least they had to wear gloves there.

After dealing with the typical harried nurse asking the requisite questions—any allergies, what medications was she on, was there a chance she could be pregnant (ha!), could she have lovesickness (double ha!)—she expected to see the worn-out woman again, who would inevitably fix her up, lecture her about living dangerously and/or her unseasonable attire, and then send her on her way. She was not expecting the curtain to pull back and reveal Killian, reading at her chart, wearing scrubs and a white coat.

“I see you need stitches, Miss Swan...Emma?” He looked up at her, surprised when he saw it was her—which also made her realize they’d never exchanged last names.

“Hey, Dr.…” she had to squint to read the embroidery on his coat. “Jones.”

“Bloody hell, lass; what did you do?”

Like their first meeting, he jumped into action, tossing aside the clipboard and immediately inspecting her injury. She hated the deja vu this was giving her.

Even if this gave her a better look at the light freckles and the way his ears came to an almost elfin point.

Whatever.

“Just a hazard of the job,” she said, hoping to downplay it; this certainly wasn’t the first time a skip had sent her here, and wouldn’t be the last.

“Hardly seems like a safe line of work,” he tutted, gently poking the mess on her head with his rubber-gloved hand. He hit a particularly sensitive spot, drawing a wince. “Sorry,” he said softly. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to need a few stitches. I’ll be right back.”

He returned shortly with the necessary materials and got to work. “I’ll have to numb this, but that should be the most painful part, aside from getting smacked in the face with...what hit you?”

“An energy drink.”

“Huh; that’s a new one.”

“Really? I figured they see everything in these kinds of places.”

“Oh, we do; but people are endlessly creative.”

She giggled, but it quickly went away when the numbing injection came, turning into a hiss. “Did you distract me on purpose?”

“Aye. Figured it was better than surprising you like last time.”

Her hand throbbed at the memory; it was mostly healed but she was still keeping it wrapped up. “I guess this tells me why you knew what to do right away.”

“Yeah,” he said, but she could tell he was focusing on the task at hand, and could feel the gentle tugging of the needle and sutures as he started to work—though that was all she could feel, thankfully. “And I can see why you were such a good patient; I get the impression you’re used to it,” he tossed back, smirking a bit.

“Hey, I’m not THAT clumsy; only when it comes to beverage containers, apparently.”

“I’ll be sure to keep my flask away from you, then.”

“A flask? What are you, a sailor?”

“Former Navy, yes.”

Okay, she had to stop making these sweeping generalizations about him if they were all going to be proven true. “Wow; cool.”

“For the most part, yeah; some places were rather hot, though.”

She wanted to laugh but not if it meant moving while she was pretty sure a needle was in her skin, so settled for the stillest chuckle she could manage. “Did they teach you dad jokes in the Navy?”

“No, mostly just medicine.”

“This is the British Navy, right?”

“The Royal Navy of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, yes.”

“Then how’d you end up over here?”

There was another, rougher tug on her laceration, but then Killian pulled away. “You’re all stitched up,” he said, but then he swallowed. “The Navy doesn’t have a ton of use for one-handed doctors, unfortunately, but they will give you a decent pension with your honorable discharge.”

“Well, that’s awfully ableist of them.”

“You won’t hear me disagreeing,” he concurred as he took off his gloves and cleaned up; she noticed that his false hand did have some articulation, but not a ton. “So, there wasn’t much left for me there after that happened, and I figured there must be some reason the colonists rebelled. So, here we are.”

She could tell he was mostly telling the truth, but definitely leaving parts out. “That’s a pretty flimsy reason to pack up and move across the ocean. What did your family say?”

He shrugged as he wrapped up the last of the suturing kit. “No one left to talk me out of it.”

A pit formed in her stomach and she realized they had a bit more in common. “Yeah, I know how that goes.”

He cocked his head as he returned from disposing the soiled instruments. “What about David and Snow? And your son?”

“Oh, they’re amazing; but I grew up in the foster system. I didn't end up with the Nolans until I was 15.”

“Ahh, you’re another lost one.”

The casual way he said it took her aback briefly. “I guess that’s one way of putting it. Are...are you?”

He pulled his little flashlight thing out of his coat pocket (she had no idea what it was really called) and fiddled with it a bit. “My mum died when I was young; dad left a few years later. So it was just me and my brother, but I entered the system when he joined the Navy. Then followed him in a few years later.”

His somber tone, paired with the previous revelation about no more family, was enough to let her know that wasn’t quite all of it. “Can I ask what happened to him?”

“After I check you for a concussion.”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Yes,” he commanded.

She rolled her eyes, but let him perform the exam; better safe than sorry, right? “You’re clear there,” he told her, after a few simple tests that included pointing that damn flashlight in her eyes. And in a quieter voice, continued, “IED in Iraq. Head injury. I tried, but...I couldn’t save him.”

Well, that explained why he was so insistent on the concussion exam. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is,” he said, in a tone that suggested he was convincing himself of that as much as her, as he pocketed his flashlight and grabbed her chart again. “At least I can still help save other people.”

“Wish you’d been there when Neal came in,” she blurted, thinking out loud. Then mortification washed over her as she realized what she said. She never talked about what happened to Neal—only with Henry, and only when he asked.

“Guess it’s my turn to extend the condolences, then,” he said softly.

She let go of the breath she’d been holding; most people were quick with empty platitudes, so it was almost refreshing to hear something sincere. And there it was again—that same intense, understanding look in his eyes from the other day; it felt like he was reading her like a book, and it was more than a little unsettling—but not in a way that scared her, oddly enough. Still, it was overwhelming enough for her to avert her gaze. “Don’t we make a pair, huh?” she scoffed.

“I wouldn’t let Snow hear you say that if I were you,” he jibed. She could hear the laughter in his voice but didn’t dare look up just yet.

“She’s probably already got the wedding invitations on order.”

He laughed for real this time, a deep, hearty chuckle. “Hope they aren’t nonrefundable.”

“Same.”

He excused himself to go write up her prescriptions—an antibiotic and some extra-strength headache medicine—and returned a few minutes later with an easy smile on his face. He went back into doctor mode as he gave her care instructions for the next few days and weeks, and then asked, “Any questions?”

“Yeah, but it’s not related to any of that.”

He tilted his head in question. “What is it?”

“How exactly do you manage to do all this and...not touch anyone?” She’d been wondering it ever since he came into the room the first time. “It seems like a job like this would put you at higher risk of skin contact.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it does, to some extent,” he explained. “But when you’re already down a hand, that cuts the odds in half. And I just double up on gloves the rest of the time.”

She I thought his glove looked kind of thick. “Gotcha. Thanks for telling me; I was just curious, is all.” A slightly awkward silence settled over them; she felt like she needed to divulge something, after everything he had, but after dropping a Neal reference, she was kind of spent in the emotional backstory department. “So...no one has tried to claw at that pretty face of yours?”

He smiled at that, arching an eyebrow in apparent amusement. “No, thankfully; I’ve gotten fairly good at evasive maneuvers, ever since my brother gave me this,” he said, pointing to a faded scar on his cheek.

“Yeah, that was something I figured out pretty quick, too. But I guess my training never covered giant soda cans.”

“Well, that’s something to work on, then. Just not until this heals, okay?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she said with a salute

“Please, I was only a Lieutenant.”

“Eh, Captain suits you better. And thank you for this again.”

“Again, it was my pleasure, Swan.”

She casually hopped off the exam table, but apparently, her head wasn’t as ready for that as the rest of her body, and the room began to spin as soon as she was on her feet. She could feel herself swaying, but before her knees had a chance to buckle under her, a firm grip and strong arms stabilized her.

“Woah—easy there,” he cautioned. “You may not have a concussion, but that’s still a nasty bump.”

She took a deep breath as the vertigo dissipated, but the next one caught in her throat when she realized that he was the one holding her—and that she kind of liked it. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his hand and prosthesis, the way they were curled around her arms and holding her in place, but were still gentle.

He must have taken her staring for shock, because he quickly let go and stepped out of her space. “You okay now?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, shaking her head to clear the momentary fog—and to try to get rid of the sense of loss she felt as soon as he’d moved away. “I guess I better get going with these,” she said lamely, nodding toward the prescription slips she’d shoved in her pocket.

“Yeah; the pharmacy closes soon.” His voice was a bit rougher than it’d been a minute ago, and that faraway look was back in his eyes. “See you Friday?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she said, then left as quick as she could.

Shit. How was she going to be able to keep things casual if he continued to have that kind of effect on her?

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

When Friday rolled around, she almost wanted to feign sickness to get out of going. His steady hand had also found its way into her dreams, as well as what was surely a strong, warm embrace. There was no way she could face him now.

But she knew Henry would see through any excuse she tried to throw at him—he had inherited her built-in lie detector to some extent—so she just swallowed her pride, grabbed her usual bottle of wine, and they headed off.

“Whose car is that?” Henry asked as soon as they pulled up.

“Killian’s,” she answered grumpily.

“Is he why you didn’t want to come? Is he a dick?”

“Hey, language!” she scolded. “And he’s not; he’s...I dunno, the opposite, or something. You’ll see.”

Her brother had finally bowed to the summer heat and turned on his air conditioning, so everyone was seated around the living room when they got inside: Dave and Snow on their respective recliners (Emma joked they were their Carl and Ellie chairs), and Killian on one end of the sofa, leaving the rest of it open for her and Henry.

David and Snow got up and exchanged the requisite hugs, complete with Snow fussing over Emma’s stitches, but Killian hung back, understandably. Seeing him back in his leather jacket and dark wash jeans again was almost a jolt from how soft he’d looked in his scrubs, but she knew why he’d default back to his armor; heck, she’d even put on some more tonight, opting for a long-sleeve crewneck instead of the v-necked t-shirts she’d been wearing.

He gave her a simple “Swan” as a greeting, and she nodded back, before introducing Henry to him. “A pleasure to meet you, lad,” he said, offering his gloved hand. Henry studied it a minute, then cast a curious glance at Emma before taking it. Knowing Henry, he was already putting two and two together; with any luck, she’d be able to keep him out of Snow’s plotting, at least.

Emma left to the kitchen to pour wine for her and Snow, but when she got back, Henry was giving Killian the full 21 questions: where was he from, what did he do, all that jazz.

“How did you lose your hand?”

“Henry David,” she said in warning—he knew better than to ask stuff like that—but Killian didn’t seem fazed.

He leaned toward Henry conspiratorially. “Well, don’t tell anyone else, but...a crocodile took it!” His voice was full of childish humor and even his eyes sparkled with it. Henry gasped and then laughed, aware it was a joke but no less entertained.

“So does that make you Captain Hook?” he asked.

“Perhaps; my ship is named the Jolly Roger.”

As soon as that came up, Henry’s attention was completely taken by the fact that there was a potential pirate sitting next to him and all thoughts of more personal questions went out the door, thankfully. And bless Killian, he answered all of Henry’s questions seriously (excluding the first one) and didn’t seem put off the boy’s endless curiosity like a lot of adults were; this was a kid who had to transfer classes in first grade because his old-fashioned teacher couldn’t tolerate all his questions. But Killian handled it with ease.

The only thing that could take Henry off the thought of high seas adventure was food, and he made a mad dash to the table once dinner was ready. “Thanks for that,” Emma told Killian after they were left in Henry’s dust. “I know he can be a bit much.”

“Nonsense; he’s a brilliant lad,” Killian waved off. “You should be proud.”

“Oh, I am.”

It didn’t go without notice that Killian had provided the beer for this meal. She stuck to her wine while they ate, but afterwards, as she watched David and Henry throw around a football in the front yard from the double rocker on the porch, she gave his a try. And yeah, it was significantly better.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Killian was standing by the door, leaning against the brick siding and sipping from his own bottle. One long leg was crossed over the other, highlighting just how well those skinny jeans fit him. Something about it was insanely hot, both literally and figuratively.

And it only got worse when he pushed off the wall with his hips and sauntered forward. “Much better than David’s alcohol-flavoured water, no?”

“Oh, for sure,” she agreed. “Definitely what you need on a day like today.” Granted, she probably shouldn’t be drinking booze at all with how much she was sweating, but she’d long since learned how to make sure she didn’t dehydrate in the summer—and, given the fact that he wasn’t keeling over, either, so had Killian.

“Is this seat taken?” he inquired, nodding at the empty half of the rocker.

“Go ahead.”

For a few minutes, they just sat there in companionable silence, watching the continued passes in the yard, until Killian finally said, “They know that’s not real football, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna show up next week with a soccer ball, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think I don’t already have one in my car?”

“Why am I not surprised?” she chuckled. “But that’s another thing you’d have to fight David over.”

“I figured as much,” Killian sighed. “He’s as stubborn as my brother.”

“Must be a big brother thing, then.”

“Aye, probably.” He took a long pull on his beer. “David’s great with Henry, it seems.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “He was kind of born to be an uncle; he’s been there since day one. I can only imagine how great a dad he’ll be someday.”

“If you don’t mind my asking—where is Henry’s father?”

It wasn’t an uncommon question; more than one snoop-nosed PTA mom had asked that and sneered. Killian was the first to ask it in a non-judging way. “He’s gone. Neal—the guy I mentioned the other day; that's him.”

He nodded, understanding. “I probably should have guessed from your tone. What happened?”

She swallowed; it had been so long since that night.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he was quick to assure her.

“No, it’s fine. He...well, we were something of teenage delinquents,” she started to explain. “We ran away, kind of shoplifted our down the East Coast. He was older and dreamy, especially to a 16-year-old girl who’d never had much. I thought he was the one, you know? Everything just seemed...better with him.” She hadn’t known exactly what being soulmates entailed, but for a touch-starved orphan growing up in the foster system—moreso, in a society that placed so much emphasis on physical contact—once she had finally discovered that bliss, she’d given herself over to it fully. The first time he held her hand, she swore there were sparks. When she saw the love in his eyes, it filled her with a warmth that she’d never known before, deep in her soul. He filled her dreams so often, she thought they had to be shared. And making love? To be fair, he was her first, but—damn.

“Aye, I know that,” he added, and that distant look was back in his eyes.

“So, yeah, we’re in love and making plans and just need a bit of extra cash to get us to Florida, where we planned on settling down.” She snorted. “Settling down at 16; god, I was dumb. Anyways, he tried to sell some watches to make up what we needed for a plane ticket, but the deal went sour and...he got shot.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, softly. She could still clearly remember what went down in that ambulance, as they tried to revive him and couldn’t, then her being the only one available to identify the body. “And the rest, I guess, is history.”

Killian chewed on his bottom lip a bit; there was still something on his mind. “Was...was he your soulmate?”

She swallowed again; this was the really personal part. “I don’t know.” The only people she’d admitted that to were close family, and even they remained a bit skeptical—how could she not know? “I thought I was getting lovesickness a few weeks later, but then I found out I was pregnant, so I’ve never really been sure if it was or not.”

Killian’s eyes grew wide for a moment and he studied her solemnly. “So that’s why you cover up? In case he wasn’t?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. It was a little unnerving that he’d figured it out so easily.

“I...uh,” he stammered, nervously scratching at a spot behind his ear. “Um, same.”

“Same?”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t expected that; she’d never met anyone else who shared her uncertainty. While covering up wasn’t an odd thing, it was usually only done by people who truly hated the idea of the system altogether—not those who had been potentially burned by it.

He took her silence as an invitation to continue. “Her name was Milah; she lived near the base. We met in a pub and it was...a whirlwind, honestly, but she was incredible. And it was like you said: everything felt amazing; I had no reason to believe we weren’t soulmates, save for one minor problem.”

“What was that?”

“She was married.”

“Fuck. Was he hers?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I never got a chance to find out for sure. Once he learned she was cheating on him with me, he messed with her car. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but we were in it and she lost control; hit a tree. She died on impact; I...well, this.” He held up his prosthetic.

“Oh my god, Killian—I’m so sorry.”

He gave her a sad smile. “The Navy took care of me as best they could, but I was still out of it for a long time as I healed, and dealt with infection and whatnot. I think it was three months or so? So I have no idea if I had lovesickness or not in there. And I...I wasn’t sure I wanted one if it wasn’t her. Thus...” He nodded down towards his attire.

“Yeah.” She definitely understood.

It took a bit for the weight of the conversation to settle on them; they were quiet for a few minutes, until Emma got fidgety, as if she needed to move to make her thoughts come to a rest. Seriously—what were the odds she’d literally stumble into someone who actually got her? It was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.

She shifted in her seat to relieve some of the tension building within, and that’s when she realized just how close they were sitting—she’d barely moved when her thigh brushed against his, heat radiating from it that likely had as much to do with the ambient temperature as her own heightened awareness. As casually as she could muster, she pulled it back, but couldn’t tell if he noticed or not.

“Who knew we’d be trading tragic backstories after only a week?” he finally commented, giving her a gentle smile.

She smiled back. “I’d repeat what I said the other day, but Snow is in earshot. So...cheers?” This time, she was the one to offer up her bottle.

“Cheers,” he echoed, clinking the lip of his against the neck of hers, which gave her some other thoughts she didn’t really want to entertain long at the present moment.

They were both taking long pulls from their drinks when Snow herself came out, almost as if she was summoned. “Don’t you two look cozy?” she commented, unable to hide the twinkle in her eye at the thought.

“Ew, no, it’s too hot to think about that,” Emma threw back. Between the humid air and whatever had just passed between her and Killian, she was almost thinking about taking off her jacket. Almost.

“Well, how about coming back into the AC for some pie?”

“Sounds perfect, milady,” Killian answered for both of them; Emma usually hated that but couldn’t really find it in her to complain.

Snow shouted at the other guys and headed back in; David and Henry immediately followed, pounding up the stairs to the porch and hardly giving a passing glance to its current residents.

“Shall we?” Killian asked as the screen door banged shut, a sound that was quickly followed by Snow yelling at Dave.

“Yeah; if we dawdle, Snow will get ideas.”

“I’m under the impression that anything will.”

“Also true.”

He chuckled as he stood. The motion made the chair start rocking under Emma, making her jolt—they’d kept it still while they were sitting on it.

Wordlessly, he held out his false hand to her, and just as unconsciously, she took it and stood. She didn’t even think about it until she was back on her feet, and then found herself staring at their joined hands. Even though his was fake, even though hers was gloved, she swore she felt heat.

Her eyes darted up to look at him, to see his reaction—and he too was staring at their joined hands with a bit of awe. Did he mean to do that, and expect her not to take it? Or was it as instinctive as her move was?

Either way, she quickly pulled her hand back and stuck it in her jeans pocket. “Uh, thanks,” she blurted, then turned to head in the house; his heavy footfalls followed her, as did a sense of deja vu.

The rest of the evening went without incident—unless Henry losing his mind to the sound of Killian’s ringtone (the theme to Pirates of the Caribbean) counted—until Killian got called into work and Emma decided they should head out, too (but not before he insisted on checking on her stitches).

She’d honestly never met anyone that threw her so off balance as Killian. It was so nice to finally have a friend that understood her, so maybe it was just that novelty that was throwing her for a loop. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on, and she wasn’t sure it was welcome.

Oh, well. Once a week—she only had to see him once a week, barring any more emergency room trips. She could do this. They could do this.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

And they did, for a while. The next few weeks, she only saw him at the Nolans, with his charming self and his good beer and his soccer ball, which Henry unsurprisingly took to quickly—her son had the incredible knack to learn anything with ease. Other than a jab at her usual doctor for not taking more care in the way he removed Emma’s stitches, they managed to avoid any other close calls, physically or emotionally—and he seemed just as keen to stay away from those as Emma.

They fell into a pretty casual friendship, and when they weren’t inadvertently baring their souls to one another, she genuinely enjoyed his company, as well as the buffer it gave her against Snow’s constant fairy tale romance ideals. They’d chat about music, movies, books, sports, and he was great with Henry, too—actually, he was almost better with him than she was when it came to what might be classified as Henry’s nerdier interests, like comics and role-playing games. She was dangerously close to being roped into a game of Dungeons and Dragons, with Henry as the DM and Killian as a rogue (or so she was told—she didn’t quite know what that meant).

(Although the idea of Killian as a pirate on an adventure? That was definitely an image that stuck with her, and had been ever since his Captain Hook reference...she kept that private, however.)

Everything was easy until the day she got on the train much earlier than usual, exhausted after an all-night stakeout (that thankfully landed in a nab) and desperate for a seat—and the only one open was right next to a weary-looking Killian.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, standing in front of him.

His eyes darted up warily, but his face broke into a grin when he realized it was her. “Of course, Swan; have at it. I didn’t know you rode this train.”

“Almost every day,” she said as she plopped down. “Just usually not so early.”

“You got the bail jumper that quick?”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “More like it took way too long. Overnight job.”

“Same; you must be beat. At least this one didn’t go for the face.”

She snorted. “Thank god. I almost considered starting to wear a ski mask, but it probably wouldn’t look good if I started dressing like the criminals I’m supposed to be catching.”

He laughed. “Maybe you can in the winter.”

“Maybe. God, I can’t wait for it to get cold again so I can wear scarves without anyone looking at me weird.”

“Right?”

They traded stories about adventures and misadventures they’d had with the way they covered up; his mostly had to do with patients tearing his clothes, although there was one story about a woman who tried to get admitted to the lovesick wing after claiming he’d kissed her when, in all reality, he’d treated her for the flu a week prior and she was just still sick—not an altogether uncommon phenomenon.

“I had a guy try to do that to me once, too,” she told him. “It was several years ago when I wasn’t wearing gloves yet and made the mistake of shaking hands with a furniture salesman; when I went to pick up the stuff a couple weeks later, he was clearly ill and tried to convince me we were meant to be.”

“And you felt completely fine?”

“Obviously.”

“Some people are just that desperate.”

“It’s ridiculous!”

She’d been so caught up in the conversation that she hardly noticed they were at her stop. Nor did the train conductor, apparently, because the brake came on hard. Emma had to grip the pole next to her to avoid being completely thrown into Killian’s side, but was able to lean away enough that only her hip bumped into his. His scrubs must have been terribly thin, because she could feel the heat coming off his body even more than the day they’d been on Snow and Dave’s porch.

“Well, this is me,” she said as she stood. “It was nice seeing you!”

“Wait,” he called, then stood up with her. “This might seem a bit forward, but I was wondering...could I take you and Henry out to dinner sometime?”

She was a bit stunned at the request; she hadn’t been asked out in...well, not since creepy Walsh tried to tell her they were soulmates. But she knew Killian wasn’t looking at it that way. She also knew she had to answer before the train rolled off with her still on it.

“Uh, yeah, sure—we’d love to; when’s good for you?”

“Tonight, tomorrow?”

“I really don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

“Tonight it is. You know where the Regina Pizzeria is on Cambridge?”

“Of course.”

“6:30?”

“Sounds perfect. See you then!”

She managed to get off the train right as the doors were closing, but glanced back and saw him smiling at her as the train pulled away; she couldn’t help but return it, especially with the way his hair was adorably hanging in his face. He really was cute.

And friends can be cute. Platonically cute. Yes. That’s a thing she’d been reminding herself a lot over the past few weeks.

She immediately passed out when she got home, only waking up to the sound of Henry arriving back from his sleepover at the Nolans. He obviously loved the idea of going out for pizza and seeing Killian, but apparently had some concerns.

“Are you sure he meant both of us? I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

“What the—what?” Where would he get that idea? “Yes, he specifically said your name; and you’re my kid; you’re not a third wheel.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to cockblock Killian.”

She was stunned. The only admonishment she could come up with was, “Henry David.”

“What? He totally likes you and you totally like him. I may be a kid but I still have eyes; you’re both so obvious.”

That definitely left an impact on her. Henry knew everything—what happened in the past and why she wrapped up; she assumed he’d figured out that Killian was the same. That that was exactly why they got along: there was no pretense, no double entendre—just two people being friends. (Really good friends, it was turning out to be.)

Was she sending mixed signals? Was Killian sending some that she wasn’t picking up on? Was she so far out of the game that she didn’t even know what the signals looked like anymore?

This was not the kind of thing she needed on her mind when she was supposed to be having a casual dinner with a casual friend.

“Stop overthinking it, Mom,” Henry called from his room, where he’d retreated. “Just be normal.”

Easier said than done. She walked into the pizza place ready to be a bit more reserved, but then he smiled when he saw them and any resolve she had was left at the door.

And any lingering traces of it disappeared when Henry, in his excitement over something that happened in his last game of D&D, knocked over her water glass—and Killian was the one to rush forward with napkins. For her lap. He set a few on her thigh before realizing what he’d done—and where his hand was—before backing away.

Part of her wanted to tell Henry, “See? He’s not interested.” But that would involve telling him where hands on thighs usually ended up and she wasn’t ready for that conversation anytime soon.

But from then on, Killian was a constant presence. It wasn’t really done by conscious effort; it just kind of...happened.

Like their weekly tradition with the Nolans, pizza night with Killian became a thing, too, especially with the discovery that he didn’t live all that far away from them—his apartment was just a handful of blocks from theirs. They didn’t stick to just pizza—Chinese and Mediterranean found their way into the rotation regularly, among others—and the day varied depending on work schedules, but they ended up sharing meals at least a couple times a week.

Every few days, she and Killian would find themselves on the same train, and their 20-minute chats covered everything. He shared stories of growing up in England with Liam; she talked about the revolving foster home doors of her upbringing. He described the oppressive heat and constant fear during his deployment in the Middle East, but the incredible sense of camaraderie with his crew mates; she relayed how scared she was staring at the positive pregnancy test at 17, and even more so during delivery, but the immediate relief and joy at holding Henry for the first time. They discussed their jobs, too—how watching his mother die of illness first pushed him into medicine and the challenges of being a one-handed ER doc, and how she kind of fell into bail bonds when she helped catch the guy who shot Neal after he skipped bail; how now, it helped her bring other people to justice.

And they traded the tales of their lost loves, which were almost eerily similar in their whirlwind nature and tragic end—not to mention the scars left on their hearts.

“Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice, though?” Killian asked her one day; he’d just treated a couple brought in after an accident and it was obvious it had hit close to home. “Like...do you ever doubt yourself? With all this?”

It wasn’t hard for her to answer. “Yeah, I do.” The more time passed, the more she wondered if she’d been right in her initial assessment—if there really had been evidence that Neal was her soulmate, or if she’d been off base. “But what’s worse—knowing you had a soulmate and losing them, or never finding them at all?”

Killian nodded. “Too true, lass—too true.” He furrowed his brow in thought, though, as if working up the courage for his next statement. “But what if they were still out there?”

Her heart skipped a beat; was he talking about himself? God, she hoped not (...or did she?). Regardless, it was definitely something she’d thought about, too. “If they are, I’m still not sure. I’ve had enough of being passed over and pushed around for one lifetime; I want to be chosen by someone, not just fated to be with them. So at least I know I had that—for a little bit, anyway.”

He studied her, seeming to soak in her words. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought of it that way, but...you’re right.”

She never would’ve thought some of the most intimate conversations of her life would take place on a public train, but the way Killian gave her his undivided attention, with understanding in those bright blue eyes, somehow made it feel like they were the only people in the car.

And he was always so...close. Physically. It was almost as if in their dance around each other trying to avoid touch, they only ended up waltzing closer. There was the time she nearly slipped in Snow’s kitchen after Henry spilled water (again) and he grabbed her by the arm to keep her upright. Or the night he nearly stepped into traffic as they were leaving their favorite sushi place and she had to tug him back by the bicep. Not to mention when they nearly hugged in farewell as they left the Nolans’ one night—especially after Henry had given him a fierce one. It had just felt natural to do the same, but they caught themselves at the same moment. Awkwardly, she offered up her elbow instead, which he gamely bumped with his own, but it was a near miss on both their parts.

(Emma was still pretending she hadn’t heard Henry mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “oh my god, just kiss already.”)

He was the one to give her a boost when a slip kept evading her. “I’ve yet to see you fail, Swan,” he assured her, and she couldn’t help but believe it.

She returned the favor when he was upset over losing a young patient. “Trust me—you’ve got more than one mark in the hero column.”

His laugh became one of her favorite sounds. His smile never failed to brighten her days. And she’d never seen someone so good with Henry other than her brother.

Without anyone really noticing, they’d become part of each other’s lives seamlessly—a fact that finally hit her when he was the first person she texted when she finally caught the elusive skip, not David or Snow like she used to.

Emma knew that should freak her out in some way. What would happen if Killian got a job out of town? Or if he actually did like her-like her, but didn’t want to deal with her emotional walls and/or possible rejection? (She had no idea how’d she’d respond to that.) Because by late summer, he’d become such a constant that she was having a hard time remembering what life was like before he was in it.

That was a lie; she knew exactly how it’d been: lonely. She knew she didn’t “need a man” or whatever, or even romance, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been severely lacking in the kind of companionship he provided—someone outside her family she could be close to.

On one of the last Saturdays of the summer, she and Henry were taking Killian on their own version of the Freedom Trail—all the parts they found coolest, at least. They started at Boston Common and had worked their way over to Faneuil Hall, giving Killian plenty of time and opportunity to curse out the statue of Sam Adams for “irresponsibly condemning this city to a lifetime of inadequate, tasteless ale”, before showing him the marketplace. Emma’s heart did a strange stutter when she saw his eyes grow wide at the spectacle ahead of him—it was too adorable.

And then Henry was shouting something about one of street performers and grabbing Killian’s prosthesis to drag him off to see them. And then Killian, in turn, took hold of her hand at the last second, nearly yanking her arm from her socket as she got pulled away.

She didn’t yelp or cry out, though—she laughed; screamed, even, in surprise and joy as she was dragged along by two of her favorite boys. Killian glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure she was still there, and gave one of the biggest grins she’d ever seen.

The three of them nearly crashed together when Henry came to a sudden stop; she instinctively grabbed Killian’s bicep to brace herself from smacking into him. It took a minute for them to catch their breath, and at the end of it, she realized she was still gripping Killian’s hand in hers. Her palm was sweating in its leather confine, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the way their fingers had so easily intertwined.

Killian must have taken the way she was staring as something other than awe, because as soon as he noticed, he let go and stepped away. He scratched behind his ear—what she’d come to identify as a nervous tick—as he turned his attention on the busker, so she too tried to play it cool.

That was the most physical contact she’d had with someone outside of her family in literal years—that she actually wanted, at least. And she was pretty positive the same went for him.

Despite the heat, she shivered. Was she really considering something that was vaguely romantic? She firmly believed in platonic relationships—in particular, the platonic-ness of theirs—but it wasn’t hard for her to imagine more, especially if her dreams were any indication (they almost exclusively featured him nowadays, and in far less fanatastical settings than they once had). So deep down, she knew there was a (very small) part of her that wanted it.

She attempted to ignore it; it was, after all, just another in their long line of weird clashes that sent sparks through her body, another of which happened later that day when they were eating at Regina Pizzeria (again) and their fingers brushed when she handed him a plate.

And whatever that weirdness was, it didn’t affect their friendship, or his with Henry. As they sat there at their table, enjoying the meal and listening (and laughing) to Henry’s stories about school, the only thing she could really feel was happy. And, she had to admit, happier than she’d been in a long time.

Outsiders would probably make some inferences on their familial appearance, and maybe there was a slight chance it could be like that some day, once she had more time to warm up to the idea; but what they had was perfect, and didn’t need to change.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

As has been stated in the past, however, the universe is a dick.

It was the Sunday before Labor Day, but the standard work week doesn’t mean much for people working in emergency medicine and bail bonds. At least Emma had wrapped up early for the day—nabbed her mark as he was leaving mass, ironically—and hopped on the crowded train, filled with people heading home from church.

“Swan! Over here,” came the familiar shout from the middle of the car; Killian was standing at one of the poles in the middle, his right arm holding it tight and with just enough space next to him for her to slip in. Her left hand came to rest on the pole just below his, and the train shuddered off a moment later; she had to bend her knees to keep from falling into him.

“Well, did you get your man?”

“Yup. And his priest saw the whole thing.”

“Ooh,” Killian winced. “Hope he’d already gone to confession.”

He caught her up on the craziness of his last shift, as had become habit at this point, before moving to his usual simple request for “So, dinner?”

She was ready to say yes, until she remembered. “Oh, sorry—Henry has a sleepover tonight. Last one before school starts.”

“Ahh,” Killian nodded understanding. “Well,” he started, and then his nervous tick came out again, as he scratched behind his ear with his prosthesis and stared at the floor. “My invitation still stands, if you’d like.”

She swallowed. She hadn’t been alone with Killian...well, not since the first day they met, when he cleaned her hand in the Nolans’ half bath. There’d always been someone else there as a buffer.

Not all that long ago, she would have been terrified at the idea. But now...she was kind of excited by it. Or maybe “intrigued” was the better word. She certainly didn’t hate it.

Her walls wouldn’t let her be so obvious, though. “Are you asking me out on a date or something?” she teased, smirking; she also had a bit of extra endorphins running through her system after that morning’s takedown.

“Do you want it to be one?” he tossed back, except he was serious.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a bit; despite all their conversations—despite the fact that he knew basically everything about her—this was the most exposed she’d ever felt with him. “Would it be okay if I did?” she said quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.

A slow smile took over his face, starting in the corners of his eyes and lighting up his whole face. Those butterflies in her stomach began to flutter again at the sight of it, and she could feel her face involuntarily mirroring it—until she was rudely jolted.

Looking back on the moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The train slammed on the brakes, which was nothing new, but the car wasn’t usually packed like a sardine. The man behind Emma hadn’t been holding onto anything, so he was sent reeling forward, crashing into her back and pushing her toward Killian, who instinctively put his free arm out to catch her.

She didn’t have time to grab his arm, though, before her chest was colliding with his. Logically, she knew she should be feeling a shock at the collision and no doubt have her wind knocked from her, but all she could feel—emotionally, at least—was a completely foreign rush of worry and, stranger still, love.

Fuck, she thought.

«Bloody hell,» was the echo within her mind—but that wasn’t her voice. It was Killian’s.

In her brain.

She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d been squinting them shut, only to realize her cheek was pressed up against Killian’s and he still had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

Holding her.

Against his skin.

Oh, no.

The train came to a stop just as she jumped away from him; people would probably say it looked like she’d been burned, and she supposed in a way she had been. This couldn’t be happening.

“Emma?” he breathed, eyes wide and incredulous.

“I—I—” she stammered. “I...can’t.”

Not wasting another moment, she turned and ran—off the train, out of the station, halfway home. He’d shouted her name as she was leaving but she didn’t stop. Her phone buzzed several times but she ignored it. She didn’t stop even to breathe until she was in her apartment, with the door locked behind her.

She’d just imagined it, right? He must have said it out loud. She only felt those things because he was hugging her. That was why he was surprised; it had to be.

There was no way that Killian Jones was her soulmate.

Right?

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

thanks for reading! Hope to see you for the last chapter!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt@cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @fergus80@pirateherokillian@bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @distant-rose @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose@snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @let-it-raines @shireness-says @courtorderedcake @its-okay-killian @captainsjedi @a-faekindagirl

#cs ff #cssns 2019 #cs soulmates au #cs modern au #sick of love #my ff

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anubislover · 5 years

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Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 6: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

“The Grand Ballroom” was certainly an apt description. The marble dancefloor was inlaid with veins of gold and sparkling quartz, its flat surface so polished it hurt to look at. Plush, wine red carpet lined the perimeter, perfectly matching the cushions of elaborately carved loveseats and couches. Six-foot tall, solid gold candelabras were scattered throughout the room, the flickering flames dancing as gracefully as the guests. Enormous, stained-glass windows depicting hedonistic scenes stretched from floor to ceiling, the colored glass obscuring the view of the outside world. Burgundy velvet drapes trimmed in gold were artfully hung throughout the room, their heavy material casting deep shadows in private nooks perfect for illicit rendezvous.

To the side was a massive buffet, the tables straining under trays of assorted meats, exotic fruits, decadent pastries, tartlets, brie, beef wellingtons, deviled eggs, and more. A literal fountain of wine stood at the center of the smorgasbord, cherubs pouring the intoxicating liquid out of decanters into the guests’ crystal glasses.

The ceiling was the most impressive aspect, though. Above the crowd hung eight massive, golden chandeliers in the shape of octopi, each winding tentacle clutching a light the size of a human head. Multi-faceted crystals dripped off their bulbous bodies like drops of water, making it appear they’d just emerged from the sea and casting shards of light and prismatic rainbows dancing about the walls and floor.

Not to be outdone, the guests that milled about wore their finest costumes, with ballgowns, doublets, tailcoats, hats, capes, masks, and jewelry made from silks, satins, chiffon, precious gems, and exotic furs and feathers. Maids clad in short, tight, copper uniforms wove through the crowd, offering drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and petit fours. A small orchestra was set up in the far corner of the room, filling the air with their slow, elegant music.

It was exactly the kind of party that had Nami salivating. Rich men with thick wallets and wealthy women wearing expensive jewelry were laid out more temptingly than the food.

Still, the décor did bring up a few questions. “If the Baron hates seafood so much, why all the octopi?” she asked curiously, studying the ceiling.

Behind the mask, Law looked thoughtful. “I’d assume it’s a vanity thing; according to my intel, he was touted as ‘The Golden Octopus’ during his time in the Navy.”

“Why?”

“Probably a reference to the number of organizations he was involved in, though there were also rumors about him having an octopus-related Devil Fruit. That seems unlikely, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No Devil Fruit user would keep his important files in a Seastone safe. Just touching the damn thing would drain his energy. Besides, don’t you think the World Government would have made that common knowledge to strike fear into pirates? They’ve never exactly been shy about bragging about their officers’ powers.”

Nervously checking her cat mask to ensure it was tightly secured, she said lowly, “You’d better be right; if it turns out he can turn into an octopus or something I’m charging you for shitty intel.”

Casually, the pair meandered through the crowd, giving polite greetings and sizing up potential prey. The Cat Thief had already picked out a few marks; men who’d cast her salacious leers, despite her being on another’s arm. They’d be easily distracted by her cleavage and flattery and wouldn’t even notice their pockets getting progressively lighter. Even better, Law’s presence would also give her the ideal excuse to turn down their inevitable, unwanted advances. Nothing fended off creeps like a jealous boyfriend, after all, and in high society, you never wanted to risk causing a scene. She’d just have to make sure he knew when to step in.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Law murmured in her ear, “I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight, so if you need me, adjust your hairpins and I’ll come to your rescue.”

“‘Rescue’ is a strong word, but I appreciate it,” she responded, tone dripping with false affection as she straightened his lapels, acting as the ever-attentive beau. “Tell me, Adrian, are you the type to tolerate other men flirting with your girlfriend?”

“Of course not. What’s mine is mine, and men challenge that claim at their own peril.” His reply was smooth as polished obsidian, one hand possessively resting on her waist as he steered them over to the side of the dance floor. The thick leather of the black glove shielded her from the heat of his palm, but the weight and press of his fingers into her delicate flesh made up for it.

Teasingly, she tapped the tip of his beak. “That doesn’t sound very doctor-like. Isn’t there a Hippocratic Oath you’re supposed to be following?”

“There are exceptions to every rule.” Long fingers gently lifted her chin so he could gaze deeply into her eyes. “There’s no oath I wouldn’t break to keep my woman at my side.”

Damn, that line should not be so hot, she thought, the faint blush painting her cheeks visible just beneath the bottom of her mask. It was surprising how easily Law managed to turn on the charm and hide the far creepier meaning of his words. If she were an average woman with no knowledge of his criminal activities or identity as one of the most feared up-and-coming pirates of the current generation, she might swoon a little bit.

Nami really needed more practice dealing with handsome men flirting with her. She was far too used to friendly, harmless perverts like Brook and Sanji, or disgusting lechers like Absalom. Besides being physically attractive, Law’s flirtations were harder to brush off because she completely believed him when he said he was pickier about his women than the rest of his crew. Perhaps that was why he got her so flustered; he didn’t wear his desires on his sleeve, so his attention felt more…focused, like sunlight through a magnifying glass, burning away her defenses.

“And what about you?” he coaxed, lifting her hand to delicately press the tips of her fingers to his lips as his eyes bore into hers. Electric shocks tingled up her hand as heat coiled within her belly. It was way too easy to imagine him giving her that look in a dark bedroom as he slowly stripped off her clothes. “Are you the type to play with a man’s heart? The type to stray? Or are you just so naturally charming you don’t realize the kind of thoughts you put in men’s minds?”

It took her a moment to realize he was asking for the sake of the cover; to establish his reaction when he barged in on her flirtations with other men.

His interest and sensual actions were solely for the sake of the cover. For business, not pleasure. None of it was real, and she grasped that fact like a lifeline. It was so much easier to remain in control if she remembered that it wasn’t Law that was flirting with her, but Dr. Goodheart Adrian, Chaton Bellemere’s surgeon lover. Hell, he was wearing a mask—she could easily pretend that he wasn’t her dangerously attractive temporary captain, but another mark she could tease and deceive with no consequences.

Lips quirking in a saucy, mischievous grin, she leaned in close, breath ghosting across his throat as she replied, “I’d never cheat, but I am the kind of woman who likes to see if she can get her boyfriend jealous. There’s something so arousing about seeing such a normally composed doctor so worked up over little old me.”

Her response made Law pause, blinking owlishly in surprise before his grip on her hand tightened ever-so-slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “How jealous do you want?” he rasped, giving the pad of her middle finger a light nip. “I’m happy to break a few jaws before I carry you off.”

A tiny hiss of pleasure escaped between her teeth before she regained control. Pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his sharp jaw, just below his ear, she murmured, “I’m sure these men don’t want any trouble; just come up with an excuse to lead me away. A little decorum goes a long way, after all.”

She’d planned on flouncing away and getting to work mingling and stealing, but her whole body froze as she caught a familiar scent.

Tobacco smoke, thick and sweet wafted up her nose, and as her heart stuttered in her chest, Nami slowly turned her head to the side, following the grey trail to a large, imposing figure glowering at the crowd as if he’d like to arrest half the people in the room. His formal suit was as white as his hair, his forest green tie and matching domino mask the only pop of color. With the long scar down his face and signature cigar, the mask did nothing to hide his identity.

“What the hell is he doing here?” she squeaked, panicked and already trying to figure out the best way to escape.

“Hina, what the fuck am I doing here?!” Smoker growled, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Beside him, a beautiful woman with long, sakura pink hair and a cigarette dangling from her full, red lips sighed. She was dressed in a stunning, form-fitting silver gown embroidered with fluttering blackbirds, the silk flowing down her figure like mercury. Her mask, also silver but with a black feathered plume, hung absently from her fingers. “Because you owe me. After all the strings I’ve pulled over the years to keep you from getting demoted back down to Chore Boy, this is the least you can do.”

“Look, Hina, I know I owe you, but you could have asked me to do your paperwork for a month or something. Fancy crap with stuffed shirts isn’t my thing, especially when it means playing nice with that bastard. Why couldn’t you take someone Fullbody or Django? They’d be happy to shower you with attention and ask you to waltz and that other gentlemanly shit.”

Shoulders tense as she carefully observed the crowd, she stated, “Precisely because this isn’t your thing. I need you to stand next to me looking grumpy and miserable to keep stupid ass-kissers and perverted old octopi from asking me to dance. Hina hates that old creep.”

Though his teeth ground against his cigar, the corner of his mouth lifted into the barest hint of a smile. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I am the perfect man for the job.”

“Did you know they were going to be here?” Nami asked under her breath, pressing close to her partner. Smoker was only about fifteen feet away, but the din of the crowd and orchestral music helped mask her voice. Her every instinct screamed for her to run, but she knew any sudden movement around the pirate hunter would capture his undivided attention, like a rabbit trying to escape a wolf. Inwardly, she seethed; if Uni had managed to modify the guest list, surely he would have known a certain Marine was coming, right? Why didn’t anyone warn her? Everybody knew there was nothing Smoker would like better than to capture and imprison the Straw Hats.

Her anger ebbed slightly as Law pulled her a bit closer, doing his best to shield her with his body. Though his poker face was still in place, she could feel the tension coiled in his muscles. “I knew Black Cage was invited, but her RSVP was a ‘no.’ I’d assumed she was cleaning up the mess of the war or helping track down the prisoners Mugiwara released from Impel Down. White Chase was definitely not on the guest list.”

“What do we do?”

“Keep calm. It’s a big party, and it shouldn’t be too hard to avoid them. Even if they notice us, our disguises should allay suspicion, and there’s no way they’d expect the two of us together.”

He was right; even if they did somehow recognize Law, they’d never expect the navigator of a rival crew on his arm, meaning she might be able to make a break for it. She wasn’t too worried about his safety; he was a strong fighter and could teleport himself to the other side of the island in a heartbeat. She was the one who would be screwed if she caught a Marine’s eye.

Surreptitiously, Nami peeked around Law’s chest to watch the pair, hoping for some sign they’d move on to another part of the ballroom, but soon found herself staring at the beautiful captain. Bad as her experiences with the World Government were, she couldn’t help but admire a strong Marine woman. And though the hairstyle was different, the color and cigarette briefly brought visions of her adoptive mother, and she wondered if Hina had heard of Bellemere. There weren’t too many female officers in the Marines; had she been renowned enough for someone like Hina to look up to? Or was her decision to give up military life to raise two orphaned girls treated as a disgrace? The Navy hadn’t offered any financial assistance or seemed to care when she’d been murdered by pirates, so the latter seemed more likely.

Of course, a trained soldier would sense she was being watched, and Hina inclined her head towards the incognito couple. “You’ve been staring at me. Why?” she asked suspiciously, taking a long drag of her cigarette as her dark eyes narrowed.

Luckily, years of swindling, being a member of Arlong’s crew, and generally always needing to get herself out of trouble had made Nami a pretty good actress, even under pressure. “I was just admiring your dress. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” she gushed, making her voice as airheaded and overexcited as she could under the Marine’s scrutiny. “Wherever did you get it?”

Apparently, her ruse worked, as she gave a small but pleased smile. “Thank you. There’s a shop in Alabasta that carries beautiful silks. I stumbled across it while on a mission and decided to treat myself. When I learned I’d be attending this…party, a dressmaker on Sabaody made them into a custom gown for me.”

“Alabasta! How exotic! Oh, darling, can we go there on our next holiday?” she asked, looking up at Law, wide brown eyes begging him to play along. “I simply must have a dress like that!”

Catching on, the doctor once more pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her hair. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Nothing’s too good for you, sweetheart.”

She gave him a dazzling grin, wrapping her arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug. “Really?! Oh, thank you, cuddle bear!”

Internally, Nami cheered in victory as his jaw tightened and blue tint came to his cheeks. She might not get to kick his ass, but she could still make his night hell in all the little ways. “You’re…welcome,” he ground out.

“Hina-chan!” a loud, overly cheerful voice called out from the crowd, and an older, obese man strode over. His tuxedo was gold silk and embroidered with scarlet octopi, a long, crimson cape trailing behind him. His grey hair was thin, braided into eight little rattails, and slicked back with so much oil it gleamed like grease on the water. A gold octopus mask hung from his neck, the tentacles a writhing mass and encrusted with rubies for suckers. “How marvelous! You were able to make it after all!”

Both Marines noticeably stiffened at his approach. “Well, after your call, my superiors were convinced that attending your party was more important than attending to my duties,” she said, tone so frosty it made Drum Island seem like a tropical paradise.

“Oh, don’t be that way, Hina-chan,” Baron Harpin chuckled, giving her an appreciative leer. The way the captain tensed further made it clear the feeling wasn’t mutual. “Always so serious, even back when you were a trainee. Really, you should be grateful I pushed so hard to get you a night off—it pains me to think of such a beautiful flower wilting on the battlefield. I swear I’ll never forgive Sengoku for denying my request to have you as my personal secretary.”

“Hina’s too damn good a soldier to waste on some pathetic desk job,” Smoker’s deep, rough voice cut in, muscular arms crossed tightly over his massive chest. “And she ain’t wilting—she thrives out there.”

The Baron regarded him with undisguised disdain. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

“I’m Hina’s plus-one, or did you not notice that on the RSVP? Pretty sloppy for the head of Navy Intelligence. Sorry—ex-head of Navy Intelligence.”

The pirate hunter’s biting comment struck a nerve, as disregard turned into outright hatred. “Careful, Smoker; I may be retired, but I’ve still got plenty of pull with the Admirals, plus several other organizations. One word from me and your career is over.”

A threatening step forward was all Smoker was able to take before Hina held him back. “He’s not worth it,” she murmured before insistently leading him away.

“Just one moment, Hina-chan,” their host sing-songed. When the woman in question acknowledged him over her shoulder, he gave a haughty grin. “I know I permitted you a plus-one, but that’s because I’d assumed you’d bring along someone with more…class. I surround myself with only the finest things, after all. I’m rather inclined to have him escorted out for the sake of my invited guests; trash like him tends to ruin the ambiance.”

Turning fully towards him, though still keeping a restraining hand on Smoker’s bicep, she stated, “What do you want?”

His returning leer was as greasy as his hair. “A smile. Surely such a rare and radiant thing will counteract your…date’s foul appearance.”

“Oh, that fuckin—” Smoker growled, but Hina’s silent glare stopped him. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, the Marine captain plastered on a bland, completely hollow smile for their former superior before dragging her old friend out to the gardens to smoke in peace.

“Be sure to save me a dance, Hina-chan!” he called after them, entirely too gleeful to have the last word. As he beamed at his guests, his black, watery eyes fell on Nami, and she swore she could feel his gaze creep over her like a writhing mass of tentacles.

Not wanting to hang around lest Harpin decided to come over and introduce himself, she gave Law’s elbow a slight tug, and he willingly let her lead him away towards one of the little alcoves. “Well, he seems…yeah, he’s a total creep.”

“I feel like I need a chemical shower just being in his presence,” Law conferred lowly, grabbing them both a glass of champagne before ducking behind the curtains. The drapes mostly hid them from view, but he strategically positioned himself so his shoulder blocked the slight gap in the heavy velvet, yet still allowed him to notice anyone approaching. “Pity Black Cage didn’t deck him in the jaw.”

“I was hoping Smoker would make him eat his own mask.” She swiftly changed the subject, unwilling to risk one of their fellow guests overhearing them badmouth their host. “I was not expecting those two. I mean, not just here—do you think they’re dating?”

Law rubbed his chin in consideration. “I hope not. Any progeny they might produce would be an absolute nightmare to pirates the world over. The tobacco industry would be thrilled, though.”

Unbidden, a giggle escaped her as an image of a tiny Marine with Smoker’s scowl and Hina’s pink hair popped into her head, an oversized cigar comically protruding from the child’s mouth.

“Of course, that’s assuming they don’t both die of lung cancer before then,” he added absently, sipping his drink. Grey eyes swept the room over his shoulder, noting that most of the guests had the tact to look away from the alcoves, especially those occupied by couples engaged in private moments. A long arm wrapped around Nami’s tiny waist, pulling the gorgeous woman against his hip so he could murmur in her ear, “But enough about that. What else should I know about my lovely Bellemere? How did we meet?”

Playing along, she ran the tips of her fingers along his chest beneath his jacket. They should have discussed this earlier, but in the craziness of the mission prep, it had fallen by the wayside. “At an auction, of course,” she supplied easily. “There was a wonderful mermaid piece that I had taken an interest in.”

A low chuckle caressed her as he wound a lock of purple hair around his finger. The easiest lies to keep up were ones based on truth, and there was no hiding his amusement at how she’d spun the debacle at Sabaody. “Of course. You and your companions got separated, and I graciously offered to keep you company until you could be reunited. Not long after, I performed life-saving surgery on your friend, and you’ve been at my side ever since.”

His arrogant tone made her roll her eyes. “Does Dr. Goodheart have any notable achievements to his name? I can’t imagine I’d be interested in a mediocre doctor, and you must have gotten your medical license somewhere.”

“Gotten a what now?”

When she stared at him in open horror, jaw dropping to the floor, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I reattached a girl’s leg during my first year at Serenity Hospital in the North Blue,” he stated with a grin. “I was accepted into med school at fifteen and finished my surgical residency in only three years, and I also have several published papers on the effects of lead poisoning in children.”

“Really?” she replied, skepticism dripping from her lips.

“Of course. I could only learn so much through books and practicing on my friends, so I took on the identity of Goodheart Adrian so I could perfect my skills. ‘Trafalgar Law’ was a name I didn’t want gaining notoriety until I had the power and skills to protect myself.”

Well, that was quite the revelation. Frankly, she’d always figured he was only a doctor in the back-alley sense, since no hospital would be crazy enough to give him an actual license. But to have had a second identity for so long…

“Why?”

Grey eyes narrowed behind his mask at her inquiry. “Focus on questions relevant to our current situation, sweetheart.”

Cheeks puffed out indignantly, she let the topic drop, mostly out of irritation that he was right. Besides, she didn’t want to get to know the real Law, did she? “Fine. Where’d you take me on our first date? I’m sure a doctor’s salary could afford a fancy dinner, at least.”

As if a switch had been flipped, his charming persona returned. She knew it was all for show, especially given how the alcove didn’t completely hide them if someone really felt like being a voyeur, but did he have to rub those distracting little circles against her spine? “Since you have such expensive tastes, we went to the En L’iar Rose restaurant on Chardonnay Island. It’s known for its exquisite wines and decadent foods. You ordered the Pane Caldo while I had the stuffed mushrooms, and we shared a plate of assorted artisan cheeses, fruits, and chocolates for dessert.”

“That’s…an acceptable choice, I suppose.” A small, irrational coil of envy tightened in her belly. She wasn’t mad that Law had probably taken some other woman on such a romantic outing—just that no guy had put that much effort into a date with her.

His smirk was decidedly wicked. “You were such a tease with that fruit, eating it so seductively I nearly lost my mind. It took all my willpower not to pin you down and have my way with you.”

Memories of how she’d teased him with the mikans made her thighs clench, as she was suddenly all too aware that she’d been playing with fire that day. He’d definitely enjoyed her attentions and it so easily could have been turned on her. The tips of her ears turned pink as she instinctively tried to push him away, but his muscular arm kept her anchored to his side. “Too bad I’m a classy lady who doesn’t just give it up to a guy because he bought her a fancy dinner,” she snapped quietly.

“Of course you’re not; I wouldn’t have taken interest in you if you were,” he assured, tilting her face to the right and pressing a kiss to her masked cheek to hide her pissed expression. “I’m a man who likes a challenge—a woman easily seduced would bore me. And it’s intriguing how you’re so flirtatious one moment, yet easily flustered the next; makes me wonder what you’ll be like once I finally do get you in my bed.”

Face flushing to match her ears, Nami wasn’t sure if it was due to anger or embarrassment. She also wasn’t sure if he was speaking as Adrian or Law, and it was playing havoc with her sense of control. “Well, you’ll be wondering for quite some time—at the very least until you’ve gotten me a 300-carat diamond.”

A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he released her. “I think we’ve got enough of the basics down to pass as a new couple. Ready to get to work?”

It took a moment and a few deep breaths to regain her composure. Her heart was beating too quickly for her liking, and she desperately needed some distance. “Hell yes. Time is money, and right now, I don’t have nearly enough of either.”

XXX

Over an hour later, Nami was immensely pleased with her haul. She’d swiped the wallets of six dance partners, along with a gold wristwatch, emerald-studded cufflinks, and some rings. She’d been extremely careful not to steal more than one thing from each target, and plenty of her dance partners had left unscathed; after all, if every man she came in contact with found their wallets missing, she’d be the prime suspect.

Finding dance partners and wealthy marks alike had been easier than getting Sanji to bring her tea. Men had practically swarmed her the moment she’d broken away from Law, and though she could feel his piercing gaze on her back, he stayed out of her way so she could work her magic.

So far, he’d only had to step in once, when a man with a face like a horse and a unicorn mask to match had gotten a little too handsy, swooping in like a bird of prey and sending her victim scurrying off with nothing more than a sharp glare and a couple cutting remarks. Still, the way he’d clutched his cane told her he’d wanted to do a lot more, reminding her that the Surgeon of Death was not a man to be messed with. While a jealous boyfriend was a great creep deterrent, too much could put off her potential marks. For the sake of that evening’s profits, she vowed to only call him in as a last resort.

She would swear until her dying breath it had nothing to do with the thrill she got at hearing Law defend her honor in his deep voice or the way she could feel the muscles beneath his suit flex when he clutched her to him possessively.

It was nearly nine-thirty when a skinny man in an elaborate peacock mask and flamboyant suit to match lead her onto the dancefloor. He’d approached swinging an emerald and sapphire-encrusted pocket watch like a pendulum, strutting about in a way that instantly practically begged her to rob him. Only men with more money than brains walked like that.

“So, Ms. Chaton,” Kujakumaru began as he pulled her close, “what do you do for a living?”

As easily as Zoro drew a sword, she turned on the charm. “Oh, I’ve done a little modeling,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes. “Mostly swimsuits and the like.”

“Really? You?”

She blinked, brows furrowing behind her mask in confusion and mild annoyance. “Yes. Not in any big magazines, but I’ve only just started, after all.”

“Ah, no wonder I hadn’t heard of you,” he stated, looking her up and down, eyes lingering on the swell of her chest. “I’ve dated quite a few models, actually. I suppose when you surround yourself with the most gorgeous women in the world, you don’t notice those who are less than a perfect ten.”

An annoyed tic formed on her forehead, thankfully hidden by the cat mask. Sure, he couldn’t see her face, but the way his eyes were practically glued to her cleavage proved he didn’t find her hideous. And what right did he have to call her less than a ten? Her bounty poster was ogled by pirates all over the Grand Line! “Well, sorry I’m not up to your usual standards, Mr. Kujakumaru,” she ground out as politely as she could.

At the brief display of temper, he quickly backtracked, “Oh, I never said that! Of course you’re beautiful, but I’d only rank you less than a ten because you’ve still got a few more years to go before you’ve fully bloomed!” he insisted, gaze flickering between her face and breasts pointedly.

Oh, nice save, she thought sarcastically. It was all too easy to catch onto this idiot’s game; he was trying to bring down her confidence in hopes preying on any insecurities. Women who knew their worth were much harder to lure into bed, after all. “Well, my boyfriend hasn’t had any complaints,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m sure he hasn’t; after all, looks aren’t everything.” When her hazelnut eyes narrowed, he continued, “You misunderstand me; I mean that modeling is just as much about who you know as what you look like. Making friends with the right people and whatnot.”

“Of course.” It was almost funny; the whole night, she’d put up with men looking to get into her pants without so much as blinking, yet this guy was making her lose her cool. Then again, none of the others had tried negging her. People like that deserved a very special place in hell as far as she was concerned. If they’d been in a bar instead of some fancy party, he’d be unconscious on the floor for his comments.

“If you really want to be a model, I have some connections to the West Blue’s top agencies. Of course, I only pass along the names of people I’m personally close to.”

Though she plastered on a smile, inwardly she rolled her eyes. He was the third man that night offering to help her “modeling career” with his “connections,” but they’d at least done their best to stroke her ego first. He hadn’t even waited for her response before slipping his hand off her waist to slide across her rear.

That little grope just cost him eighty million belli, she thought, using his moment of distraction to carefully undo the chain of his pocket watch from his doublet. To disguise the action, she pushed him back slightly, looking away coyly. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you! Unfortunately, it’s more of a hobby than anything else; if I became some big star, I wouldn’t have as much freedom. I love traveling and shopping too much to waste my time in some studio.”

“Sounds like an expensive lifestyle,” he pressed, undeterred by her refusal, just like she’d anticipated. Nami was plenty familiar with men like him; born with a silver spoon in his mouth, raised to believe that he was entitled to anything he wanted and when a woman rebuffed him, she didn’t really mean it.

He was the kind of guy she would love to have Sanji kick into the sun.

Lacking the chivalrous love-cook, however, Nami settled for her current bodyguard. “It is, but Dr. Goodheart has been an excellent provider. His research takes him to so many interesting places, and he’s been adamant about bringing me along. He gets lonely without me.”

“Then I’m surprised he’s letting you dance with another man.”

A mischievous smirk touched the corner of her lips. “We have an arrangement—he doesn’t like to dance, but I simply can’t get enough of it. So, he lets me have as many partners as I please, so long as I never dance with anyone more than once.” As the last notes of the waltz floated through the air, she knew now was the time to make her getaway. Pushing up onto her tip-toes, she murmured in his ear as she carefully lifted the watch from his pocket, slipping it into the tight cuff of her billowy sleeve, “Otherwise, he gets terribly jealous. Normally, he’s so cool and collected, but he’s got a dark temper. It’s hot, if I’m perfectly honest.”

She felt Kujakumaru shudder against her as her hot breath caressed his skin. “Is dancing the only thing he gets jealous about?” he croaked, staring at her with obvious desire, hands impotently grasping at empty air as she stepped out of his reach. “Perhaps we could find a nice, quiet corner and continue our discussion about your modeling career; a beauty like you deserves to be shared, not hoarded away for one man to enjoy.”

Relieved that she could finally turn around and roll her eyes, she strolled towards the wine fountain, calling back over her shoulder, “I appreciate the thought, but I really must get back to Adrian.”

She halted as a thin, sweaty hand wrapped around her wrist. “At a party like this, a man’s never lonely for long. I’m sure he’s found some pretty young thing to keep him company, so why not do the same for me?”

Lifting up her free arm, she allowed the cold metal of the stolen watch to slide down her sleeve into her bodice, grateful that he’d grabbed her left wrist. It would have been disastrous if he’d stumbled upon the payment she’d taken for putting up with his bullshit. Absently, she played with the shimmering barrettes in her hair, making sure they caught the light like an emergency beacon. Surely Law would be there any moment; this was definitely serious enough to get him involved. “Adrian’s quite adamant that I’m the only woman for him, so I doubt it. And if a man’s not lonely for long, I’m sure you’ll find yourself in pleasant enough company soon enough.”

“I want your company. Your little boyfriend can wait until I’m finished with you.”

“He’s hardly ‘little.’”

“He must be if he can’t satisfy a woman as obsessed with ‘dancing’ as you. In fact, how about I invite a few friends to join us?’ You said he doesn’t care how many ‘dance partners’ you have, right?”

Brown eyes darted about nervously, desperately trying to catch sight of her raven companion. She was certain she’d left him by the window next to the fountain, so he should have been at her side already. What, had he wandered off to take a leak? If he didn’t show himself in the next five seconds, she was going to have to do something drastic, like pluck the peacock’s feathers herself.

“What was that you were saying about him not looking at other women?” Kujakumaru crowed, roughly turning her towards the dancefloor.

Her jaw dropped. His height made him easy to spot on the dancefloor, casually leading Black Cage Hina in a foxtrot.

That absolute bastard! Nami thought, rage bubbling up inside of her. He abandoned his partner to deal with some clingy creep so he could dance with a Marine? Was he trying to get them caught?!

“Well, since your boyfriend is otherwise occupied,” the man beside her sniggered, pulling her against him, “what say you and I go someplace private—”

The hard point of a cane slammed into his foot, causing him to yelp ungracefully and release Nami from his clutches. Gratefully, she turned to her liberator, hoping Law had abandoned Hina to finally come save her, only to find herself face-to-face with a rotund, yet rather elegant-looking gentleman dressed as a knight, complete with silver shoulder pads, royal blue cape, and plumed helmet. The faceplate was up to reveal piercing black eyes and a disapproving frown made even more exaggerated by his bushy grey mustache.

“I believe this young lady made it quite clear that your time with her is over, nephew,” he said sternly.

Kujakumaru looked like he wanted to argue, but when he reached for Nami again, the knight brandished his cane like a sword. “Oh, please, do try. Beatrix may spoil you rotten, but I’m certainly not above turning you over my knee right here and now.”

That threat was all it took to send the peacock flying off into the crowd, managing nothing more than, “I’m telling mother!” over his shoulder before he disappeared.

Relieved to finally be free of such sweaty clutches, the Cat Thief studied her wrist to ensure no perspiration had leaked into the luxurious fabric of her sleeve. A handkerchief entered her field of vision, and she smiled thankfully.

“So, did you pick your costume intending to go about rescuing young ladies, or was that just a happy accident?” she asked, wiping off her hand.

He savior’s hard frown morphed into a smile as he offered her his arm. “I had hoped such services would be unnecessary, but it never hurts to come prepared, especially with my family is involved. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She allowed him to lead her away from the whispering crowd. If she gathered too much attention, it’d be harder for her to sneak away once the plan was in motion, and until Law finished his little dance with Hina, she’d rather not risk being confronted by more creeps who couldn’t take a hint.

Her natural suspicion only briefly entertained the thought that her hero could turn out to be just as bad. Whether it was his protective aura or his mustache, he reminded her of Genzo, and that would always earn a man the benefit of the doubt. “I’m fine. I suppose I should have been clearer that I wasn’t interested.”

“From what I overheard, you made yourself plenty clear,” he huffed. “That boy’s never learned a speck of respect. My sister spoils him, and he takes entirely too much after my brother.”

“Eh, men like him are hardly rare. I appreciate you scaring him off, though.”

“Happy to be of assistance. I hope you don’t mind if I linger a bit? I’d rather avoid the inevitable argument Beatrix and I will have for a little while longer, and I think I should have a talk with your boyfriend about leaving his lady undefended.”

“Oh, no need for that,” she growled, clenching her fist as a murderous flame crackled in her eyes. “I’m happy to do it myself.”

Surprised, the knight let out a full-bellied laugh. “I’m starting to think my rescue was unneeded; you seem plenty capable of handling yourself!”

“Damn right I can!” she snarled before remembering herself. Swiftly plastering on an innocent smile, she amended, “I mean, I wish I could, but a delicate thing like me wouldn’t stand a chance without a big, strong man looking after her.”

Laugh simmering down to a chuckle, he waved off her excuse. “Relax; a lady with spirit is a great thing. You remind me of my granddaughter, actually!” With a deep, proper bow, he introduced himself. “Harpin Reginald, at your service.”

“Harpin?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “Are you related to our host?” If he was, she was in so much trouble. Puzzle pieces began to connect in her head, and the picture they were forming was not pretty.

His massive mustache waggled side-to-side in distaste. “Alas, he’s my elder brother. I don’t particularly like either of my siblings, but our mother asked us on her deathbed to try to get along, so he’s bound to invite me, and I’m obligated to attend. The rest of the time, I put as much of the Grand Line between the three of us as possible.”

“So, was that the Baron’s son?”

“No, my sister’s, though Gerald was the one to teach him such wonderful manners.” He glared disdainfully across the room to where their host was casually groping one of the maids. “I swear, he threw a masked ball simply because he knows how much I detest these things.”

“What, you don’t enjoy the opportunity to dress up as a white knight?” she managed to tease. Her heart was still quaking at the revelation that she’d inadvertently pissed off a former Navy Intelligence officer’s nephew—when she found Law, she’d have to warn him that she’d earned some problematic attention.

After she kicked his ass for abandoning her, of course.

Whether her was ignoring her nervousness or simply failed to pick up on it, Reginald chuckled at her comment. “Well, that I don’t mind, but you’ve seen how outrageous these people get when they have anonymity—Kujakumaru is a perfect example. I doubt you’re the first woman he’s tried to coerce tonight.”

“You have a point, but I’m starting to think every high-class party is a masquerade in its own way.”

A grey eyebrow raised inquisitively. “How so?”

She shrugged, adjusting her cat mask so it rested more securely on her face. “Everyone’s still putting on a disguise; pretending to be more important than they really are, acting like they don’t despise each other with fake smiles and forced politeness, putting up with some creep’s innuendos because if they slap him like they really want to, the illusion’s broken and everyone will hate them for it.”

Reginald rubbed his chin, but a small, approving smile curled his lips. “You sound like you don’t enjoy these kinds of affairs.”

“Honestly, I always thought I would, but I guess I’m a simple girl at heart. I like expensive things, but this,” she pointed at the ballroom, “is disgusting. How much of the buffet is going to go straight in the trash? My friend’s a cook, and he’d have an aneurism over so much food waste.”

“I agree. I wish Gerald would at least send the leftovers to the town; every year, I swear those people look worse and worse. I tell you, I’d much rather be at one of the shindigs my wife’s family throws. Everyone comes for miles to sing and dance and share food, and it doesn’t matter what your status is; you’re welcomed with open arms.”

Nami smiled wistfully. “Yeah. I wish I was back with my friends—Brook’s music is way better than some stuffy orchestra, and Franky would show off some bizarre new move or hairstyle, and Lu—” she caught herself, realizing that she was getting too close to outing her identity as a Straw Hat, “—cy would make up ridiculous games and do stupid impressions, and we’d drink and laugh until dawn.”

“That sounds a hundred times more fun than any affair my siblings have thrown. Perhaps next year I’ll claim to have a prior engagement and seek out your friends’ party,” he joked.

She grinned, elbowing him playfully. “If you can find us, you’re welcome anytime. Heck, you can even say we kidnapped you if you need a better excuse. Consider it my thanks for the daring rescue.”

The playful glint faded from his black eyes. “Speaking of excuses, you’ll probably want to come up with one to leave—even if Kujakumaru doesn’t go crying to his mother, by midnight, this place will be nothing short of an orgy.”

She nearly choked on her own spit. From his dry tone, she doubted he was exaggerating. “Good thing my boyfriend and I already planned to be out by then.”

“See that you do. Why the Navy ever employed a hedonist like my brother, I’ll never know, much less as head of Intelligence.”

From what she’d seen that night, she couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. “Well, you don’t get rich enough to own your own island by not having connections; maybe the Navy felt they were useful enough to excuse his…lifestyle.”

With a huff, he nodded. “Probably, though I also have no doubt that’s why he was eventually convinced to ‘retire.’ He never would have left on his own volition; they would have had to pry it from his sticky, greedy grasp. Gerald’s always hated giving anything up, even if he doesn’t really want it.”

Nami wanted to pry further—this was a goldmine of intel on the man she was about to rob—but she was distracted by a certain man in a raven mask approaching.

Rage once more bubbling up like a geyser, she whirled on Law. “Oh, have you finished dancing already?” she asked sarcastically. “Good thing I didn’t need your help fending off some creep!”

Behind the mask, she could see an array of expressions cross his face; surprise, annoyance, guilt, anger, before finally settling on mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to gently run his fingers across her cheek. When she jerked back, glaring harshly, he sighed, “I saw another lady in need of rescuing and got distracted.”

“Yeah, sure, because Black Cage Hina would ever need to be rescued,” she scoffed.

“Actually,�� Reginald said from beside her, “if it’s from my brother, then yes, she would. He’s always had a…thing for her, ever since she was a recruit.”

Law nodded, though he did give the older man a suspicious glance. “I was simply helping her avoid the Baron. But I truly am sorry,” he murmured, hooking Nami’s fingers with his own and carefully drawing her to his side, brushing a kiss across the corner of her mask. “I should have made sure you weren’t in harm’s way, first; you’re always my top priority, and I promise not to leave you alone again.”

Nami really wanted to stay mad at him, but for the sake of both their cover and the job, Bellemere had to forgive her boyfriend’s chivalrous stupidity. The Cat Thief didn’t, though, and she vowed to give him an earful once they were alone. So, she forced herself to wrap her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze as she grumbled into his vest, “Apology accepted, but only because I was lucky enough to have a knight in shining armor to rescue me.”

“I guess so. Care to introduce me?”

Gratefully pulling away from Law’s heated body, she turned to her new friend. “Adrian, this is Harpin Reginald. Reginald, this is Dr. Goodheart Adrian.”

“Goodheart?” the old gentleman asked, eyes lighting up in recognition. “From Serenity Hospital?”

“Yes?” the surgeon replied, immediately on guard. He’d made the connection to their host even more quickly than she had, and the fact that her new friend could identify him didn’t bode well.

“You were the one who reattached my granddaughter’s leg!”

Law blinked in surprise. “Melody-ya was your granddaughter?”

Nami’s eyes widened at both the connection and the way the surgeon’s accent slipped. Even when it was just the two of them, he hadn’t added -ya to anyone’s name since they’d arrived.

Grasping Law’s hand in both of his own, Reginald shook it enthusiastically, tears of joy practically streaming down his face. “Indeed! I honestly can’t thank you enough!” He turned to Nami, smile shining brighter than his armor. “You have no idea how much I owe this man. Melody was involved in a terrible accident that tore off her right leg. The doctors were able to stabilize her, but they said she’d need a prosthetic replacement, and possibly never be able to walk again. But Dr. Goodheart was able to reattach her leg so perfectly, there wasn’t even a scar when they removed her stitches! It was practically a miracle!”

If you count the powers of a Devil Fruit as a “miracle,” she thought wryly, though she found it hard to stay cynical. As unlikely as it seemed that Law would meet the grandfather of one of his former patients here, she’d learned that fate had a funny way of bringing people together. She’d never expected to meet Brook, Laboon’s long-missing friend, on Thriller Bark, and yet he was now a member of her crew, sailing with them to the end of the Grand Line to fulfill his promise.

“I simply did what I could to the best of my ability with the tools I had at my disposal,” Law insisted, though his lips did lift in a slight smile. It was strange to see him acting humble, and somehow, it felt authentic. “How has she been? Any problems with the leg?”

“She’s well on her way to becoming a marathon runner, I can tell you,” Reginald said proudly. “Quick as the wind and eager to see the world! And it’s all thanks to you!”

“Any surgeon would have done the same in my position. I’m just glad she’s made such an excellent recovery; it’s the greatest reward any doctor could ask for.”

Reginald looked like he wanted to sing “Dr. Goodheart’s” praises further, but there was a sudden screech of “WHERE’S THAT WORTHLESS LITTLE BROTHER OF MINE” from the other side of the room, and the knight went rigid.

“Ah, it seems I can’t delay my argument with Beatrix any longer. Keep your heads down while I try to lead her off. Better yet, hide until some other drama occurs—maybe then you could sneak out more easily.”

Law frowned while Nami gave an appreciative smile. She was more than happy to run rather than get pulled into some family spat. “Thanks again for your help, Reginald. Best of luck with your sister.”

Pulling her partner deep into the crowd, the thief refused to stop until they were safe at the far end of the ballroom, the sound of the orchestra covering up their conversation.

“So, exactly what kind of trouble did you get yourself into while I was gone?” Law asked.

“Long story short—the Baron’s nephew propositioned me and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so Reginald put him in his place.”

Anger flashed in the Dark Doctor’s gaze before simmering down to annoyance. “Of all the people you had to piss off…”

“Well excuse me for being a loyal girlfriend,” she snapped. “Unlike you! Why were you really dancing with Hina?” she whispered harshly, poking his chest.

He raised a black eyebrow, and Nami blushed as she realized just how jealous she sounded. “You’re the one who thinks acts of kindness are a weakness,” she insisted, “so there’s no way you helped her out for chivalry’s sake. If it affects the plan, I deserve to know!”

“White Chase had to take a piss, and I noticed our beloved host making a bee-line for her. In the interest of the night not suddenly going to hell ahead of schedule, I figured I’d offer her a temporary escape. Entertaining as it would be, my plan doesn’t factor in the Baron getting murdered this early in the evening.”

“What if she had recognized you?”

“Worried about me, sweetheart?” he teased, stroking a gloved finger down the smooth side of her mask. “I’m sure you’d be able to make an easy getaway in the confusion.”

“If anything happened to you, your crew would be heartbroken and I’d be roped into breaking your ass out of Impel Down,” she argued half-heartedly. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not some powerhouse with more luck than brains like Luffy. You shouldn’t have taken such a risk!”

“Then I promise not to dance with another woman for the rest of the night,” he replied, pulling her close, hands resting gently on the small of her back, rubbing those distracting little circles along her spine. Leaning down, he whispered, “Seriously, I was doing it for our sake; Black Cage apparently has a rather unpleasant history with Harpin, so I dropped a few hints that she and White Chase should call it an early night. Things will go much easier with them out of the way.”

It was funny; despite the knowledge that Law was a sadistic, dangerous pirate and potentially one of Luffy’s greatest rivals to become Pirate King, being in his arms was beginning to feel…not comfortable, but almost normal. If anything, she should be more eager to escape his clutches than any of the handsy men she’d endured that night; at least they were weak enough to clobber if they got her alone. But she didn’t feel gross when Law touched her.

It dawned on her that, despite playing the role of her lover, his touches throughout the night had been relatively innocent. His hand went nowhere more inappropriate than her waist. His eyes stayed locked on her own instead of falling to the plunging neckline of her dress. Even though he’d kissed her several times, for the most part it had been to her wig or mask.

Deep down, she’d expected him to take advantage of their situation; to grope and kiss and tease her, using their cover as a couple as an excuse, secure in the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Why the hell did Nami feel so disappointed that he didn’t?

Shaking herself free of such confusing thoughts, she replied, “How much longer until phase two?”

Taking a glance at his pocket watch, he said, “It’s currently 9:40pm. Shachi’s team will act at 10:25pm, Ikkaku’s at 10:31pm, and Penguin’s at 10:37pm. Be ready to move no later than 10:15pm.”

“So we’ll just waltz into Harpin’s study?” She’d been sure to memorize the mansion’s blueprints, so she knew it was three floors above the ballroom. No matter what route they took, getting there would take time, and Law seemed fairly against using his powers unless strictly necessary.

“When we leave the ballroom, head towards the foyer but take the first right; about fifteen feet down that hallway, behind the red drapes between the painting of Dionysus and the statue of Venus is a hidden door the servants use. Those passageways lead all throughout the house, so we should be able to get around more easily. I’m sure there are guards or at least servants positioned to deter guests from wandering into certain parts of the mansion, but once our little distractions hit, it’s unlikely to be a problem.”

Even with his reassurance, Nami couldn’t help but be nervous. So many things could go horribly wrong, and even if Smoker and Hina left, she doubted they’d ignore the “distractions” Law had in mind.

Either he could see the tension in her shoulders or feel it in her spine, because he immediately set to taking her mind off such concerns. “We still have over a half-hour; I bet you can’t steal ten more wallets before showtime.”

Eyes flashing with greed and pride, she replied, “What’s the prize?”

“Me and the crew always have a party to celebrate a successful job, but I also take the time to treat myself to a nice dinner as a personal reward. Since you’ve been so instrumental to my plan, I was thinking about inviting you along.”

Immediately, she knew what he was proposing. “Loser pays for dinner?”

“Damn right.”

“You’re on.”

To the Dark Doctor’s surprise, she didn’t run off to find a new dance partner; instead, they milled about, wandering past small groups of guests, Nami occasionally stopping to apologize for bumping into someone or to compliment a particularly elaborate costume. By the time they reached the other side of the ballroom ten minutes later, she pulled him towards one of the stained-glass windows, turning them away from the party under the pretense of studying the elaborate scene of a satyr ravishing a forest nymph.

Reaching into the slit of her dress, the Cat Thief pulled out her haul, fanning herself haughtily with the wallets. “Seven down; three to go.”

Impressed at how quickly and subtly she worked, he smirked, patting his pocket to be sure she hadn’t added his to the collection. “Saying this now; my wallet doesn’t count.”

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine, but only because I already know how easily I could take it.”

“Careful, Nami-ya, or you’re going to find out how easily I can take everything you’ve stolen tonight.”

A strange, pleasant shiver ran up her spine as his dark baritone caressed each syllable of her name. Had he always said it like that? Or was she just noticing now because he’d been calling her “Bellemere” and “sweetheart” all night?

None of that mattered at the moment, as a shrill, angry shriek from behind them quickly soured the mood.

“You! You’re the wretch who insulted my precious Kujakumaru!”

Nami barely had time to slip the wallets back into her gown before five long, sharp, acrylic nails buried themselves into her clavicle. She let out a yelp of pain as she was aggressively spun around, coming face-to-throat with a tall, thin woman with a severe frown, red cheeks, and the same black, watery eyes as the Baron. She was dressed in a chartreuse silk gown, her hair done up in a tight updo, and she clutched a domino mask adorned with yellow and green sequins. But Nami barely noticed that, as her eye was immediately drawn to her necklace; three rows of small, exquisitely cut white diamonds hung around her neck like a collar, framing a heart-shaped yellow diamond the size of a peach stone.

The sharp sting of yellow-painted talons scratching the skin of her collarbone brought the thief’s attention back up to the woman’s face. “I’m sorry; I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Nami ground out through the pain.

“That’s because trash like you doesn’t even belong in my presence! You should be honored my perfect son even glanced your way you harlot!” Looking the younger woman up and down, she scoffed. “I mean, look at the way you’re dressed. Kujakumaru, did you ask this girl to dance out of pity? Such cheap, ugly jewelry for a cheap, ugly girl!”

“Yes mother,” the man in the peacock mask sneered, pushing his way to the front of the crowd, a look of righteous glee in his eyes. “It was an act of charity, and when I refused her advances, she made uncle Reggie beat me!”

Furious at both the insult and the blatant lies, Nami struggled to pull away, but that only made the claws sink in deeper. “Your son’s the one who came onto me,” she snapped, “and maybe if you’d bothered to teach him to respect women, he wouldn’t get so butthurt over a girl rejecting him.”

“How dare you?!”

The woman looked as if she might continue to berate her, but she shrieked in surprise as Law wrenched her hand from Nami’s shoulder, his large fist clenched around her scrawny wrist so tightly she could hear the leather creak. Or maybe it was the bones.

“Lady Beatrix, I presume?” the Surgeon of Death asked, voice cold as chipped ice as he glared with murderous intent. “Regardless of however your son was insulted, I’d appreciate it if you kept your damn hands off my woman.”

As the Baron’s sister trembled under Law’s scrutiny, Nami inspected her shoulder, dismayed to find that the psychotic bitch had drawn blood. No wonder he’d stepped in; regardless of whether or not the Cat Thief could handle herself, he’d paid for her dress, and it already stood to get ruined. Bloodstains were not easy to get out of gold satin, after all.

“U-unhand me, you brute!” Beatrix screeched, writhing about like an eel. “My brother—”

“—would only care if I got your blood on his million-belli carpet. If he actually did give a shit about you or your worthless son, he’d be confronting me himself.” With predatory intent, Law’s eyes swept over the small crowd that had gathered, landing squarely on the man in the peacock mask. “Speaking of, I’m not exactly pleased that he propositioned my lover. She did tell you she was already spoken for, right?”

Smug triumph melted off his face like candle wax, and Kujakumaru looked ready to piss himself. “Sh-she said you had an arrangement! That you didn’t mind her having as many partners as she wanted!”

“Dance partners!” Nami insisted, frowning at Law’s raised eyebrow. “I specifically said ‘dance partners;’ he’s the idiot who took it the wrong way!”

Nodding in understanding, he turned back to the trembling man. “Even if I was the type to share, a lady has every right to refuse a man’s advances. Either you don’t know how to handle rejection, or you’re so pathetic that you couldn’t even pay a woman to sleep with you. I’d put my money on the latter.”

Nami shrieked as Beatrix’s claw-like free hand lashed out at him, but Law managed to catch it mere inches from his face, his cane dropping to the floor with a dull thud. The look in his eye turned sadistically amused at the attempted assault, and Nami had the feeling that if she didn’t put an end to this now, their cover would be blown as the Surgeon of Death decided to find out if the mother and son really did have blue blood.

Grabbing his arm, she yanked as hard as she could, forcing him to release Beatrix’s left wrist. “Darling, that’s enough!” she insisted. “It’s not worth it!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied calmly, thought the dark aura failed to dissipate.

More people were gathering to watch, and Nami knew she needed to do something drastic before they managed to catch the Baron’s, or even Smoker and Hina’s, attention. Grabbing his chin, she yanked his face down to her level, cutting off his protests with a desperate kiss.

Law’s lips were softer than she’d expected. Life on the sea was rough, the salty air and burning sun resulting in chapped lips for almost everyone, but perhaps he was one of the few men smart enough to use lip balm. On top of that, they were dry and warm, the smooth skin pliant beneath her own. The man himself didn’t move for a moment, completely caught off-guard by her actions, but after a few agonizing seconds, he tilted his head to better slant his mouth over hers.

It was clear her plan worked when she felt both his hands cup her shoulders, and the harsh click of Beatrix’s heels as she scurried away, not wasting the opportunity to put some distance between herself and the man who dared threaten her.

Part of Nami was tempted to drag the kiss out, especially when she felt Law’s blunt teeth nibble at her bottom lip, requesting entrance. Heat pooled in her belly as his tongue swept over the seam of her mouth, but the sound of the clock striking ten doused it in ice water as she remembered they didn’t have time to waste.

Drawing on every shred of acting ability in her repertoire, she forced tears to well up in her eyes as she shoved him away. “I thought you were different, Adrian!” she sobbed. “You know how much I hate violence!”

“Wha—”

“I can’t believe you’d even consider harming someone, especially a defenseless old woman! I—I never should have come out tonight. I wish we had just stayed home!”

Tears streaming out of her eyes, she gathered up her skirts and sprinted away, weaving through the crowds, effortlessly dodging the concerned hands that reached out for her. Behind her, she heard another shriek, followed by exclamations of “Fire! Put that curtain out you fools!” and in the chaos, she managed to escape into the hall, guests and servants alike paying her no mind in favor of the ruckus that broke out. Nami chanced a glance over her shoulder, bright eyes widening as she saw not one, but at least four fires of varying sizes had sprung up throughout the ballroom, candelabras apparently having been knocked over by the panicked guests.

Not one to look the gift horse in the mouth, she dashed into to the hallway Law had spoken of, eyes quickly locking onto the curtain hiding the servant’s entrance. Hopefully, she’d be able to hide in there and wait for her companion. Not that she was particularly looking forward to being alone with him now; god, what had she been thinking, pulling him into a kiss? A slap would have been better, or maybe a swift kick to the shin!

Hand trembling with fear and adrenaline, she grabbed the corner of the drape, only to be halted by an arm coming out of nowhere to wrap tightly around her waist. Another hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her startled scream.

“You didn’t think you’d escape me that easily, did you?” came a dark voice at her ear.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 6)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are continuously the best, and I ask you to remember that not all things are resolved in one chapter :D

Found on ao3: beginning | current

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog

“So tell me, darling,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the concave of Emma’s breasts before he finds her left wrist and feels the thin bones beneath her skin, “what exactly is this little mark on your wrist? It’s not a freckle, that much I’ve gathered. I don’t believe it’s a birthmark either.” He looks up from her wrist to see her eyes trained on his fingers, lips parted in fascination. She’s so bloody beautiful, her hair mused from their activities and her cheeks flushed in pink.

“It’s a tattoo.”

He barks out a laugh, the sensation rumbling through his stomach before he looks back at her wrist and sees that the mark is perfectly black and perfectly round, like the needle touched her skin before she pulled away. “Is it really? What would that be? The world’s tiniest tattoo?”

“No,” she shakes her head, pulling her wrist from his grasp so that she can look at it, eyes narrowed in concentration. “It was supposed to be a buttercup, but I chickened out the moment the needle hit my skin.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.” “Yeah, well, it was my eighteenth birthday, and I was finally going to do something not under the control of my foster parents at the time. But then I was basically, like, holy shit I’m not sure I want this on my skin for the rest of time. I’d never really had anything in my life that permanent, and it just seemed overwhelming.”

He grabs her wrist back, pulling it to him and pressing a kiss to her skin, right over the dot. “I like it. You ever think about going and getting it finished?”

“Nah,” she sighs, scooting closer to him and pulling the blankets up over them while her freezing feet stick between his calves, “not really. I like tattoos and all, but I never could quite figure out what I wanted. Maybe one day.” She runs her hands down his arm, finding his bare wrist. “What about you?”

“I actually almost got one as well, but it was only when I was thinking about going into the Navy.” “What?” Emma laughs, the sound sweet in his ears as her eyes scrunch up in amusement. “I didn’t know that. When were you almost in the Navy?”

“Well, you know, Liam was in it back home, the Royal Navy, and when we moved here, I didn’t know what else to do so I looked to see if I could enlist with how my citizenship was. But I couldn’t and instead started working building sets.”

“How does one go from almost joining the military to building sets for movies?”

“With a hell of a lot of luck and an older brother who found the job listing in the newspaper.”

“Wow,” she laughs, whistling under her breath, “that’s old school. A newspaper?”

“Hey now,” he chuckles, leaning over and pressing the quickest of kisses against her lips, feeling her smile into it, “I am not old. You’re four years younger than me, darling. Did you not do the same?”

“Online, buddy,” she speaks against his lips before capturing his bottom lip between her lips and rolling over so that she’s half on top of him, her skin smooth and soft and warm. “When’s your birthday anyways?”

“Shouldn’t you know that in all of your googling of me?” He waggles his eyebrows, and Emma slaps his shoulder while her eyes roll. “I’m kidding, love. It’s May eighth.”

“Gotta keep that in mind.” “Yeah, you planning on being around?”

He’s testing the waters, seeing if Emma’s willing to say anything in the darkness of the night and the playfulness between the two of them right now. He knows that she’s still slightly unsure of him, of this, and he’s taking a risk pushing her. But if anything, this week has proven they work well together, that they are good together.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, breasts moving against his chest, “if I can be. Or if you want me there.”

He moves his hand from her back to tuck her loose hair behind her ears. “I do want you there, but it’s on a Wednesday.”

“How do you know that already?”

“Because I know everything.”

“Such a smartass.”

Emma falls back asleep before he does, curling off of him and around her pillow while he struggles to fall into the same slumber, eventually succumbing after scrolling through his photo roll from the last week, deleting anything that’s blurry or unfocused. He wakes to movement and a loss of heat, his eyes opening to find Emma’s bare legs moving above him as she gets out of bed.

“Hey,” he mumbles, rolling over and grasping at the back of her bare thigh, skin unbelievably warm, “where are you going?”

“Downstairs for coffee,” she answers while his fingers move up and down her leg to try to coax her back to bed, wanting this morning to last as long as possible, “but I need something to wear because your house is freezing.”

“I think your jeans are somehow over by the balcony door.” “Yeah, that’s not happening. Those are like wearing spanx over my entire body. Where’s your closet?”

“In the bathroom, on the right.”

Emma walks away then, swaying her hips in a way that he truly appreciates, and he watches her go until his phone goes off. He fumbles around to find it, seeing that Will texted him to ask about plans for the day. He can’t do anything. He’s got Emma and work, and Will’s going to have to wait to hang out until Emma’s not around, as sad as that makes him. While they’re texting, he mentions Emma, telling Will about her staying with him and saying they’ll talk later about all of the new things in their lives. It’s been awhile since they had a beer.

Now that he’s a little more sure with what’s happening with them, he’s got to tell the rest of his friends and his family. Really now, Liam is the only one who doesn’t know, and he makes a mental note to tell he and Elsa that’s he’s seeing someone new. Maybe Emma can meet everyone the next time she’s in LA, whenever that will be.

If that’s not too much. She might not be up for that.

He hears a cough before looking up to see Emma wearing the blasted ugly Christmas sweater he bought to match hers for the video. He barks out a laugh, unable to contain his amusement at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Bloody hell, darling, what possessed you to put that on?”

“What possessed you to keep it?”

His right eyebrow ticks up, and his hands find their way to her hips under the sweater, pulling her down on top of him so that she’s straddling his hips, her skin warm against his.

“What? You’re telling me you didn’t keep yours?”

“Only because we have a tacky Christmas sweater party at the office every year.”

He hums as his hands run up her sides over the sweater, finding their way to rest at her neck. “You know, the first time I ever saw you, you were wearing this sweater. I was actually in this very bed and thought you were beautiful.”

“That sounds a little pervy, Killian.”

His eyes roll, and he leans forward to press a quick kiss against her cheek. “Shut it, Swan. That’s not what I meant. Robin showed me your video, and he found you to be positively charming, just as I did.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like that video to be purged from the internet.” His eyebrow quirks again, and he smiles looking up at her, the sweater only making everything better. He can definitely understand her not wanting that to be online, but he’s rather fond of the video that brought them together. “Not that I’m not glad I’m here. I am. I know I said that last night but – I really…I really like you.”

His thumb moves against her cheek and he swears he can practically see the affection in her eye. “I like you, too, darling. You need not worry about those affections being returned.” He rolls his hips to make a point, and she scoffs, laughter making its way through the both of them even with his ridiculously dirty move when his attraction to Emma is so much more than physical. “Obviously. I’d also really like that breakfast you were talking about before I see you off, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“You have to stop saying that.”

“Never.”

She climbs off his lap, adjusting the sweater while leaving the bedroom and walking down the hall. He takes a moment to calm himself down after Emma walks away, leaving an imaginary trail of green tinsel behind her. God, that’s the sweater that somehow keeps on giving when it comes to her. How dare she suggest he throw it out. He never would, especially now that he knows her so intimately, physically yes, but mostly emotionally. She’s bloody wonderful, and her telling him she likes him meant the world to him, even if he’s far past that stage.

But he’ll let Emma pace them, her walls built a little higher than his when it comes to trusting someone new with their hearts.

Groaning with the ache in his strained thighs, he gets out of bed, pulling on his sweatpants from work yesterday and brushing his teeth before walking downstairs, a bounce in his step he hasn’t had in awhile despite how tired he is, how much Emma wore him out last night. She’s leaving today, but he’s trying not to think about that too much, pushing the thoughts down knowing that he has to work right after she gets on her flight and that’ll distract him from his melancholy. It’s been a blessed week, and not just last night – or early this morning really – and his mind is already running through scenarios of him being finished with filming and able to fly to Boston to visit her near the end of April. It’s only a month, maybe a bit more really, but it feels a bit longer right now.

Even if he’s trying to push that thought to the back of his mind so that he can enjoy breakfast with Emma before he drives her to LAX.

He hears voices when he gets downstairs, and the moment he recognizes the one that’s not Emma, his pulse increases and his body heats in fear.

Fuck.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“I was invited. Killian invited me.”

“Why would he do that? Are you delusional? You asked him out through a video, so I’m kind of thinking you are. God, I should have talked to him about that, especially after I saw the photos. I should have never let it slide.”

“He’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“Liam,” he hisses, stepping into the room to see Emma shielding herself behind the island counter while Liam stands with his arms crossed by the stove. He looks pissed, but so is Killian. Liam can’t just barge into his home and accost his guests and then threaten to call the police like he knows what’s going on. “What the fuck, brother? You can’t just walk in my home and start yelling at someone I asked to be here.”

“What are you talking about, little brother? You asked her to be here? She’s a fan. Have you lost it?”

His blood boils, the rage setting in as he stares down his brother. “She’s…we’re dating. And she’s supposed to be here. You’re not.”

“I have a key, and I hadn’t heard from you in days,” Liam grits, straightening his shoulders in a move that Killian knows is an intimidation factor he’s perfected over the years. He’s not going to let it work today, not with this. “I was worried about you and walking into this didn’t exactly help my fears. How was I supposed to know she hadn’t broken into your house? She’s even wearing the bloody sweater.”

“I’m just,” Emma stutters, stepping backward until she’s standing beside him, her hand lightly brushing his, “I’m going to go upstairs and get packed to leave. I feel like this isn’t my conversation to be had.”

“Emma,” he cautions, looking down at her with pleading eyes, “you don’t have to go.”

She smiles. It’s soft, and it’s sad, something he doesn’t want to see grace her face when they were just so happy. So damn happy. Fuck, he should have already told Liam, but he was waiting to see where this was going and was going to tell him later this week. He was already planning it all out. He knew Liam would be protective, but he didn’t think he’d be like this. This is ridiculous. He’s a grown man. He should be able to make his own damn choices. Why the hell is his brother acting like this?

“No, Killian, I think I do.”

At that, Emma walks out of the room, leaving him with Liam and an anger that’s barely contained within him.

“What the hell was that? What do you mean you’re dating her?”

“I mean that she and I are seeing each other,” he explains, stepping forward and slamming his hands against the marble counter. “We talk, kiss, she stays at my place, all the things normal people do. You’re married. You should understand the concept.”

He doesn’t technically know if they’re dating, the words not explicitly said between them, but if anyone doesn’t need to know that right now, it’s Liam who seems to have a stick up his arse this morning.

“Very funny, brother,” Liam scoffs while rolling his eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, well, so you’ve said. I do, and it’s really not any of your goddamn business.”

“Killian, you could be making a mistake here. Think about what’s happened before.”

“You’re not my father, Liam. And I’m a grown man in my thirties, not some naïve kid who doesn’t know better. I can make my own choices without your judgment even if you don’t seem to think so right now.”

“I am the closet thing you have to a dad, and you need my help.”

“We don’t have a dad, Liam,” he spits, stepping closer to Liam so that their feet touch. “I sure as hell don’t need you to be one because you likely scared Emma away when that’s absolutely the last thing that I needed or wanted. I am willing to try again, to open myself up after not being with someone for so long, and you aren’t even giving Emma the benefit of the doubt. Hell, you’re not even giving it to me.”

Liam’s lips part before he scratches at his chin, his jaw ticking. “You’re bloody in love with the woman.”

“Of course I am.” He slaps his hands against his thighs before running his hands through his hair, making it stand up in a hundred different ways, and taking a few steps back as he shakes his head back and forth in frustration. “I love her, and you’re being an insufferable ponce.”

“She’s a fan, little brother. How could you be so blind? Have you not learned your lesson from the past? All I want is to protect you.”

“Younger brother, and while I’m younger than you, I’m not bloody stupid. I know what I’m doing here.”

“Do you?” He takes a step forward so that he towers over Killian. He’s not that much shorter, but at this moment, he feels about as big as a child. “She practically ran away when someone other than you knew about her, someone who could protect you. Doesn’t that seem a little suspicious?”

“For God’s sake, Liam. You walked in on her while she was barely dressed and then threatened to call the police on her. She’s embarrassed and likely pretty pissed that you berated her when you realized who she was. It’s not suspicious. Robin knows about her, so does Will as of this morning. It’s new and we’re figuring things out, and I don’t need you and your pompous arse ways ruining something before it even begins.”

“Killian – ”

“No, just leave. I’ll talk to you later when I don’t want to punch you, but I don’t want you here right now. And I’d rather you not try to talk to me until I call you. I’ll work things out with you later since you’re not flying across the country this afternoon.”

He doesn’t wait for Liam to leave before he runs up the stairs, his anger at his brother replaced with fear that Emma’s going to be in her room packing her bags and leaving without saying goodbye. She’s not in her room, her bag still unpacked with clothes everywhere, and he checks in the bathroom before jogging to his room and finding her sitting on the couch he has out on the balcony, the sliding glass doors open so that the ocean air travels in.

“Hey,” he whispers, cautiously walking outside and squatting down in front of her, taking her hands in his even though she doesn’t squeeze back, her hands cool against his, “you okay?”

She doesn’t look at him, her gaze trained on the water outside. She’s so bloody beautiful even with her hair all knotted and her makeup smudged while wearing a ridiculous Christmas sweater. But she’s probably pissed and upset, and he’s honestly surprised he wasn’t immediately berated for everything that just happened. He can’t even begin to imagine how she feels. It’s one thing for him to be pissed at his brother. It’s another for Emma to have been berated by a man she doesn’t know for doing nothing but existing. God, Liam, why of all mornings did he have to show up today?

He rubs his thumb over her knuckles trying to coax her to look at him, and when she finally does, he gives her a lopsided smile.

She doesn’t return it.

“Is your bother always such an ass? I thought you said he was your best friend.”

“He is, and he can be,” he explains, trying to think how to explain things to her. He knows Liam was wrong and an arse, and he’s right pissed at him. But he’s still is brother, and there has to be a way to work all of this out. He can’t – he doesn’t want any of these relationships to be suffering, but it might be too late now, at least with Emma. Liam can be easily fixed, their bond too strong not to make it past something like this. “Liam’s my brother, but he’s also like a father figure, as you know. He’s a little protective.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and yanking her hands away from his to cross them under her chest. “I don’t have a brother or a father, but that wasn’t protective. That was asshole. And I know I have no right to be a raging bitch to you about your brother but – ”

“You have every right.”

“Okay, then. Your brother makes a fucking horrible first impression, and I kind of want to shove a very pointy heel up his ass. How dare he accuse me of all of that. I’m an adult. I’m not some kid in a foster home who gets reprimanded for being out of bed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I sure as hell shouldn’t be reprimanded for being in a house I’m supposed to be in.”

He cringes, the thought that she’d relate that back to her time in foster homes not occurring to him. He should have known. He spent time in them himself, and she’s right. He knows what it’s like to be yelled at for being somewhere you thought was safe, and it’s not pleasant. God, this is all screwed up.

“I know.”

“And fuck Killian,” she uncrosses her arms and throws them in the air, “why the hell didn’t you tell him about me? What was this? Just some game? A week vacation just so you could sleep with me? Because I’m feeling like an idiot right now.” “Emma no. I lo – I like you so much. You have no idea.”

“Then what? Because all of my friends know about you. And don’t think I missed how Robin thought I was here for some kind of fan engagement. I’m kind of feeling like a dirty little secret right now, and that is not me. I’m not a plaything or someone to be ashamed of.” “Swan, I know, okay? I fucked up. My brother fucked up. We all fucked up. I’m not ashamed of you. I just didn’t know what to say. It sounds so stupid now, but I didn’t…don’t know what we are. And I felt like it would be odd for me to just tell them I’ve made a new friend who I very much like, but I’m now realizing I went about this all wrong. But Emma, love, never in my wildest dreams could I be ashamed of you. I am so, so sorry that I could ever make you feel that way. You don’t deserve it.”

Her eyes flicker up and down his body, the green not nearly as bright as usual despite the water that resides there. She’s studying him, using her superpower she shared with him one night during a phone call to see if he’s lying. He knows that’s what she’s doing, and he tries to steady his gaze. He’s not lying. Every word he said was true, and he hopes she sees that. She has to see that. He can’t lose her, not now, not after he’s finally feeling like things are going right.

But if she wants to go, if this bothers her enough, he has to let her. He can fight for her, but she has to want him. And if anything, he deserves for her to be furious with him. He did screw up. Liam certainly hasn’t helped matters, making everything an absolute shit show, but it isn’t all Liam’s fault. A lot of it is on him.

“I believe you,” she finally whispers, her eyelashes hitting against her cheeks before she looks him dead in the eye, “but I am pissed. That’s not just going to go away.”

“I know.”

“And I still have to go home.”

“I know.”

She wipes away under her cheeks before looking back out at the ocean, the sky suddenly dark and waves rough, as if a storm is coming. “I need to pack.”

“You have time.”

“Not really. I’m supposed to be at the airport in an hour, and if anything, I know that traffic is horrible here.” She gets up then, using the sweater to cover herself and then walking through the balcony doors into his bedroom and out of view.

He leaves her be while she packs, picking up her clothes from the bedroom and folding them before getting her shirt from the hallway, picking his own up as well. It’s all a mess, but he thinks that it has to get better. It can’t possibly get worse right now But he has to stop screwing up when it comes to Emma. Like she said, her coming here this week was a huge deal for her – for him too – and after so many days of bliss, it’s been mucked up in a matter of minutes.

Sighing, he takes the folded clothes and heads down to her room, knocking on the door even though it’s ajar. He doesn’t want to invade in her personal space if she doesn’t want him to. She’s changed into leggings and a sweatshirt, the Christmas sweater long gone.

“Hi,” he holds up the clothes, “I brought you these.”

She gives him a soft smile, lips slightly tugging up before taking the clothes out of his hands, her fingers brushing against his skin and sending pinpricks throughout his body. “Thank you. I, um, I need to go soon.”

“I know. Can I still take you to the airport?”

She nods her head in answer before turning around and finishing her packing. He stays at the doorway for a moment, watching her, before heading back to his room and taking a shower, letting the hot water hit his skin and burn out all of his frustrations.

He takes her to the airport, and as if the world has decided to turn against him, there’s no traffic on the way to LAX. He was expecting time with her, time to work things out, but he gets there in record time after a car ride full of awkward silences and stilted conversations. He needs more than this, doesn’t want to let her go quite yet, so instead of dropping her off at the curb he pays for one-day parking and pulls into the spot nearest to the building.

When he turns the engine off, neither of them move, silence settling between them while planes roar up above and car horns honk in the distance.

“I should – ”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Swan, I know you have to go. You have to be at work tomorrow, and you have this entire life at home. A life that is yours and wonderful, and I’m so glad I’ve gotten to be a part of it. But I don’t want this week to be it. And I know I fucked up, but I can be better. Do better. For you.”

“I’m not…it’s not that. It’s not you,” she fumbles, resting her head back against the seat and turning to face him, the corners of her lips tugging downward. “It’s…God, Killian. It’s just that I’ve had a bad day. This morning was like coming down from some kind of wonderful high, and I’m wallowing in it and in going home. I need some time to think things through. But it’s fine. We’re – whatever we are is fine.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles and nods her head before her palm find his cheek, fingers running over the scruff. “You and me, KJ, we are complicated, this relationship, us being together, and us on our own, but despite every fear that I have, I think things might be okay. If anything, I think me going home will allow us to calm down and help us figure things out. God knows I need it.”

He turns his head and kisses her palm, lingering there for a moment. “So you’re not going to get on that plane and never talk to me again?”

“You know too much. I can’t stop talking to you now.”

He barks out a laugh, the tension in the small space fading away, before leaning across the console and tentatively pressing a kiss against Emma’s cheek, lingering to see if her body tenses or if she’d relax into it, silently letting him know how she feels about more physical contact. She doesn’t tense and she doesn’t relax, but she does turn her head and press a kiss against the corner of his lips, almost there but not quite.

“I have to go.”

“I know,” he sighs, smiling down at her with their foreheads pressed together. “There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

“And yet I’m the stalker.” He laughs against her lips before kissing her again, a fleeting little thing that’s not enough, but it’s a real kiss this time. And she kisses him back. “Good.”

They get out of the car, and he gets her luggage out of the trunk, placing it on the ground and locking everything back up. He begins to trail it toward the walkway so they can go inside, but she stops him, her hand on his chest.

“I can go in on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“I do know how to take care of myself believe it of not.” She rolls her eyes before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug, the scent of her perfume invading his senses. She smells like flowers and the vanilla of her shampoo that’s lingering on his sheets. He’s going to miss that. It sounds insane, but he is. She pulls back and takes a step away, separating them and smiling. “I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, love.”

He nods and she turns around, walking away with her suitcase trailing behind her, and he feels like the most dramatic arse in the world. He is, isn’t? He shouldn’t be this upset, but he’s also watching the woman he loves walk away when they’re still unsure of everything. It’s a new relationship, and all of the thrills and fears spark through his body as he watches the blonde hair disappear around the corner.

The skies open up then, the storm he sensed earlier while out on the balcony coming into full effect, and it storms in Los Angeles twice in one week, water beginning to wash everything away while also nurturing new growth.

Killian drives to set after dropping Emma off, pulling through the guarded gates and parking before making his way to hair and makeup. It usually doesn’t take long, but he knows that they have to paint cuts and bruises across his skin today, making everything elongated. He closes his eyes as his makeup artists do their magic, occasionally taking a sip of the coffee that was already waiting for him when he arrived, and when he opens them up, he looks as if he’s been slashed across the face, blood escaping his skin.

“Bloody hell,” he grimaces, testing out his facial movements, “this is fantastic but also terrifying, Kendall.”

“Thank you. I’ve been practicing on your mannequin.”

“Love, I’ll never quite be over you having a realistic copy of my face. It’s damn creepy.”

“Yeah, well, it helps. Don’t get wet when you’re going to costume, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.”

He’s dressed in his worn and battered clothing, rips and blood stains covering his body before he spends the next three hours shooting the aftermath of the fight scene they begin yesterday. It’s like torture, his body aching with every movement, and he knows half of it is from the physical exertion of the stunts yesterday but the other half is from him rutting himself into Emma for half of the night. God, how the hell does being sore make him think of her? That’s ridiculous.

But the scene is eventually finished, and while he’s sure they’ll make them do reshoots later, he’s glad to get to sit down and have his makeup removed before a few new, lesser scars are added to show his healing as days past while the rest of this scenes for this episode are filmed throughout the rest of the day and far into the night.

He lets a driver take him home, leaving his car there to pick up tomorrow, and by the time he gets into bed, he’s nearly asleep, eyes fluttering closed until he remembers that he hasn’t talked to Emma, his phone staying in his trailer without use all day.

Emma: Just landed. It was a long flight, and the woman next to me talked the entire time.

Emma: I know all about her son’s problems in his marriage, and she asked for my advice on what young women want out of relationships.

Emma: There was very long conversation about sex. I have still not recovered.

Emma: Anyways, I’m home, back at the apartment and everything. Maybe you could call me when you get these?

He checks the time stamps and sees that these are all from hours ago, and while it’s four in the morning here, it’s seven back in Boston and Emma will be up getting ready for work. Pressing her number, he calls.

“Hello?” she answers, yawning into it.

“Hi, love. Sorry I missed your texts earlier. It was a crazy day of filming, but I’m glad you’re home safely.”

“Me too. Don’t you need to be sleeping?”

“No, no,” he protests even as he curls himself into bed, “tell me about your flight before you have to go to work. I want to hear all about this sex talk of yours.”

“Of course you do.”

“Yeah, well, can you blame me? You’ve painted an interesting tale.”

“Okay,” she begins before weaving him the tale of her flight home and her time in the airport, lulling him into a sense of comfort he hasn’t really felt in the past twenty-four hours. He didn’t think she’d be open to so much talking, but he can hear the smile and the laugh in her voice as well as the sounds of traffic behind her as she moves through the streets of Boston. Things are messed up, repairs still needed to be made and conversations needed to be had, but for this moment, he thinks he and Emma are going to be okay.

#betting on the bullseye #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

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THE ULTIMATES #7-13 SEPTEMBER 2002 - APRIL 2004 BY MARK MILLAR, BRYAN HITCH, PAUL NEARY, ANDREW CURRIE AND PAUL MOUNTS

SYNOPSIS (FROM MARVEL DATABASE)

Hundreds are dead after the 'Hulk incident', and Janet Pym is in the hospital after getting sprayed by bug-spray and stampeded by hundreds of ants controlled by her husband, Hank. Bruce Banner is in isolation, so depressed by what he did, but no one even knows Banner is the Hulk. A doctor tells Banner that the Hulk cells are not leaving, and never will. Cap is greeted by Gail and Bucky Barnes, after the memorial service. Now that all the Ultimates know that Hank did it, Cap is in a rage, since he has feelings for Janet. Fury is calling on Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton to complete a mission. Cap calls a transport to Hank's location.

To introduce the new team of Hawkeye and Black Widow, the two go on a mission to kill a whole building of enemies. After a energetic battle, Hawkeye is almost killed but Black Widow saves his life. That night, Nick Fury has all the the Ultimates together, and with the new members; Black Widow and Hawkeye. Nick brought all the heroes together to tell them that an alien force, the same Nazi alien force that Captain America had to deal with in World War Two, is back and is wrecking havoc. Nick tells them that they think the aliens are preparing for a global annihilation. Meanwhile, Captain America is in Chicago, where he goes to meet Hank Pym, for personal reasons.

Captain America has just tracked down Hank Pym, and is with him, to teach him a lesson after Hank beat up his wife. Cap goes with the physical route, hitting Hank in places not too severe, but to make Hank need to increase his size. After Hank, having been hit numerous times, finally increases his size, Cap has a little fun. First, Cap goes to a higher floor to get a higher jump on Hank, and literally jumps on Hank's face, and pulls his head down, smashing it into a construction site. Hank tries to fight back, but Cap is too fast, dodging every swing by Hank. Cap finishes the job by dropping massive bars on Hank. S.H.I.E.L.D. came right after to clean the mess.

Back at the Triskelion, Bruce Banner, who hates Hank Pym because Pym previously stole Banner's job, is now happy to hear that Cap broke Hank's jaw. Betty, who is now with Bruce more than before, is telling Bruce about the possible upcoming alien invasion. The Chitauri have spent decades infiltrating Earth, and have been subversively planning a gradual "stealth invasion" ranging from sabotaging nuclear programs and (bizarrely) having children implanted with microchips. Banner questions how SHIELD is going to fight back. Betty explains that based on SHIELD's psychics they have examined the dead brain tissues of Chitauris leading to a "big push" that is planned for Micronesia. Importantly Micronesia possesses a hidden base containing a large number of alien soldiers and a wide selection of doomsday weapons, which means Nick Fury plans on invading Micronesia with a large invasion force. Amusingly, Banner explains that since the Chitauri's last invasion attempt in World War Two there were fifty or sixty of the aliens that remained on Earth. He then asks how there are more of them in to the present. Betty smugly reply that they have spent time reproducing.

Cap goes to Wasp's hospital room to see her, but Wasp is furious at Cap for what he did to Hank, even if Hank abused her. Wasp tells Cap to leave. Later, Nick gets his team together, and they head for Micronesia, a place rumored to be the alien's base.

In a flashback to 1944 Poland. As Captain America hangs from a train engine as his enemy Herr Kleiser taunts him for failing in his mission in intercepting a load of parts for the Nazis' super weapon, and allowing many of the Allied hijackers to die. However, Captain points out to him that he and the others didn't came to hijack the train but to "blow it up". Shocked, Herr Kleiser commands his men to shoot Cap but he manage to jump off the train before it explodes, killing everyone and presumably Herr Kleiser on board.

Twelve months later in Marrakesh, Morocco; Steven Rogers is briefed on the Germans of being ahead in their nuclear weapons program (again) and that their development is based from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, bringing the possibility of a nuclear strike on either London, New York, or Washington D.C. Cap questions if Herr Kleiser, in which rumors has it that he is alive, ever have any connections to the nuclear program in which General Eisenhower states that the alien has everything to do with anything, and also points out that Kleiser survives anything.

In the present, the Ultimates and S.H.I.E.L.D. forces heads to Micronesia via helicarriers. Nick Fury notice something wrong with Cap. Rogers only replies that the mission that they're undergoing is hauntingly similar to his last mission in Iceland. Nick assures him that this time he is "coming back."

Back at the Triskelion, Janet Pym notice that everyone in the sick bay are absent. She then finds several staff workers and questions them that she has been trying to call anyone for a drink but receive no answers. One of the staffers escort Janet back to her room and assure that everything is alright. As Janet turns her head around she notice a staffer dragging a body. Knowing something wrong she shrunk herself and avoiding a gunshot as it kills one of the staffers, who are revealed to be Chitauri agents. Janet quickly flees into the building's ventilation system.

Meanwhile, the helicarrier fleet arrives in Micronesia as the Ultimates and S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers storm the Chitauri facility. However, Thor and Iron Man, who were ahead of the fleet, informs that they have scoured the entire place and find it entirely deserted. Despite this Nick Fury orders an entire sweep for any clues and weapons.

Back at the Triskelion Janet desperately attempt to contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Ultimates that they are in a trap.

In Micronesia Captain America immediately notice something is wrong and calls out Iron Man. In the facility a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers find a nuclear bomb and it is immediately detonates engulfing the entire island and destroying the helicarrier fleet.

At the Triskelion, a defeated Janet talks to one of the Chitauri who admits that he has manipulated S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Psi-Division into giving false information to the organization in killing their enemies. He then informs Janet that he has blocked all her communications and sealed all the vents, and advise her to "sit tight". In the last panel the 'man' reveals to be Herr Kleiser.

With all the heroes and soldiers dead thanks to the Chitauri, Herr Kleiser goes after the Wasp, who is in a locked room. Kleiser easily captures Wasp, and puts her in a test tube. As Kleiser walks with Wasp to a helicopter, he elaborates about how and what people will think and know about all the deaths and what's to happen. He says that the Ultimates' story was that they died in a plane crash, or possibly a terrorist attack, and the soldiers did sign a contract which risked their lives. Kleiser then tells Wasp that parts all over the entire universe has some alien beings like them, who are just 'cleaning' the universe.

After they fly away, they land in the Arizona Desert, where the main site is for the attack. Another alien introduces Wasp to some 'gamma-butyrolactone', which suppresses humans thoughts. He says that by the end of the decade, not even one person will be able to form one independent thought. Wasp then asks why all the Chitauri have German names. Kleiser tells her that in that past a human named Kleiser was one of the many who surrendered themselves to the aliens. He tells Wasp: "One must consume to become, you know..." He gives Wasp a hint that he will be her soon.

Out of nowhere, partially damaged Chitauri spaceships enter from the atmosphere, startling everyone in Arizona. Many other huge ships, hundreds of times bigger than a jumbo airplane, are flying over Arizona. Kleiser goes to see the 'head' alien. He asks why the Chitauri aren't using cloaking devices. The alien tells Kleiser that it doesn't matter anymore, because the entire Chitauri race is being fought back at from every part of the universe by their enemies forcing themselves to retreat to Earth's solar system (derived as the "backwater" part of the universe), so there is no time to 'harmonize' Earth, only to blow it up and retreat in "the lower fourth-dimension". Wasp yells at Kleiser that he can't destroy the world, and Klieser responds by correctly telling Wasp they are going to destroy the entire solar system. Suddenly, another Chitauri drone inside the Triskelion tells Kleiser that they picked up something from Micronesia. A bolt of lightning comes out of nowhere at the Arizona base, killing some Chitauris. Kleiser goes to get ready (freeing Wasp in the process), as the Ultimates, and hundreds of SHIELD soldiers appear from the smoke. It is revealed that Iron Man's force field helped saved many of the soldiers and Ultimates from the nuclear blast, allowing Thor to transport everyone all the way back to Phoenix with his hammer, Mjolnir. Cap tells Iron Man and Thor to go into the sky, attacking the Chitauri ships. Nick Fury tells everyone to cover Cap, as Cap runs into the enemy forces. Cap sends a message to all of the Army, Marines, Navy and the Air Force, to fight for their lives and country. Cap pushes an alien out of a plane, saying: "Your country needs you."

Thor and Iron Man are causing chaos destroying every alien aircraft they can see. Herr Kleiser tells Captain America from a communicator to start the fight. Cap agrees, and drives a jet into Herr Kleiser, ejecting out of the plane before the jet and Kleiser smash into some oil tanks. A huge explosion erupts, and Cap immediately gets bombarded by Kleiser, and they start fighting. Cap starts to get the upper hand right away, slashing Kleiser with his shield across the head. Kleiser attacks back, hitting Cap several times before Cap can finally get free. Kleiser starts to rant, annoying Cap, forcing Cap to lose focus and just try to hit Kleiser. Kleiser again gets the upper hand, kicking Cap's head into the ground.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye is shooting at Chitauri soldiers from a humvee, when his car is hit by a smashed alien aircraft. Hawkeye yells at Iron Man for the alien wreckage raining on the ground. But Iron Man says it's Thor, who's just swinging his hammer around, destroying everything randomly. Thor tells Iron Man to get low, so Thor can blast a dozen spaceships in one time. All the ships drop to the ground, as Thor continues his attack.

Nick Fury sees Kleiser beating Cap down with debris. Fury calls S.H.I.E.L.D. to activate a invisibility sequence. As Kleiser beats down Cap, Fury shoves his gun next to Kleiser's eye, shooting, and dropping Kleiser. Kleiser again gets up, with a huge hole in his head, which heals, and Kleiser starts to beat down on Fury. Meanwhile, a huge ship is falling straight down over Phoenix, and there is nothing to do. Suddenly, Iron Man comes in the picture, flying under the ship, and bringing the ship away from the city. Unfortunately, Tony Stark has lost all his power, and his confidence. As U.S. army soldiers help Tony out, Tony continues to tell the soldiers that he can't be Iron Man anymore. That he can't do this anymore. A soldier replies: "Well, if you can't, who will? Tony thinks about it, and decides to continue. Using a power grid from a nearby street light, Tony recharges, then flies back into the action. Underneath everything, Wasp and Black Widow are killing Chitauri deep inside the base, and are trying to figure out how to stop the Chitauri's bomb. But when they realize: The instructions are in alien language.

Above ground Kleiser is strangling Fury, and then he pushes Fury away. Kleiser focuses again on Cap, telling Cap he should surrender already, because he can't win. Kleiser wants Cap to tell him to surrender, and this enrages Cap. Cap head-butts Kleiser, then hits Kleiser in the head, while grabbing his shield. Cap gets over Kleiser, screaming: "SURRENDER??!!", and stabs his shield into Kleiser. Cap pulls out the shield from Kleiser's chest and walks away with Fury. Fury contacts a soldier in a helicopter to traumatize Bruce Banner (who is also on the chopper), and the soldier begins to beat down on Banner, hoping to turn Banner into the Hulk, so Hulk could help above the chaos. Banner tells him that he put so much antidote into his system that he could never turn into the Hulk even if he was paid a "million bucks" to do so. Fury tells the soldier to go to "Plan B", and the soldier throws Banner out of the helicopter.

Banner is dropping hundreds of feet from the air, in hopes to turn into the Hulk. Cap orders the soldiers to fall back, as their Weapon of last resort is about to be dispatched. Banner screams, and he smashes into a warehouse, creating a huge explosion. Out comes the Hulk. Cap tells Nick to get out of the area, as Hulk charges in. Kleiser is again alive, and prepares to attack Cap, but Hulk gets to Cap first. Hulk gets ready to kill Cap, remembering that Cap previously kicked Banner in the head. Cap tells Hulk that the "naked guy" (Kleiser) was cheating on Hulk with Betty while Banner was in isolation. Hulk throws Cap away, and attacks Kleiser. Hulk throws Kleiser at a truck, and Kleiser picks it up, throws it into Hulk's face, but only in making Hulk even angrier.

Wasp and Black Widow are wondering what to do about the bomb, when the Black Widow comes up with the idea that Iron Man, the smartest man on Earth, must know what to do. Wasp calls Iron Man, but Iron Man says he can't help, because he and Thor are the only ones helping with the air support. However, the Air-Force arrives along with a fleet of SHIELD Helicarriers, providing the needed air support.

Hulk is punching Kleiser down, beating him senseless. Kleiser gets beaten until his camouflage is gone, and his alien self is shown. Kleiser gets ready to congratulate Hulk, when Hulk tells him to "shut up" and rips his head off. Cap and Fury go into a helicopter, and fly over Hulk, who is eating Kleiser's remains. Cap tells Hulk that the alien spacecrafts told Cap that they think the Hulk is 'sissy'. Hulk goes crazy, and attacks the Chitauri ships.

Iron Man doesn't know what to do either about the bomb, so he gets Thor to send the bomb to another dimension. Thor comes in, and smashes his hammer into the bomb, creating a blast of electricity. Everything is dark and raining, as Thor comes back and explains that he sent the bomb to the dimension homed by his enemy Fafnir the Dragon. A ripple is felt from the bomb's blast.

Meanwhile, Hulk is still destroying everything. Hawkeye is in the air, getting ready to shoot the antidote into the Hulk. While Hulk is running, he destroys an American helicopter. Hawkeye comes in with another helicopter, and gets ready to shoot. He shoots the Hulk, but the Hulk doesn't stop. As the Hulk jumps into Hawkeye's position, Hawkeye closes his eyes in fear of being eaten. Banner lands into Hawkeye, unconscious. With all the Chitauri dead, the heroes and the army celebrate. Banner is again in isolation, having to remember the Hulk eating Kleiser. Now that the Ultimates are world-famous heroes, and everything is back to normal, except that Kleiser might come back if he heals again from Banner's digested food, everyone gets ready for a party at the White House. Hank Pym finally gets the courage to call Janet, but Janet hangs up on him. At the party, Steve and Janet are dancing, and the two finally kiss. Fury watches, stating: "Well, ain't that nice? I thought that guy was never gonna get some." Fury then goes into the Oval office, telling the guards to pour a glass of champagne for themselves, "Ain't every day we save the world."

REVIEW

I wonder how french people feel about Americans letting them know that WWII only got worse after they lost. I mean, I guess such a comment makes sense from this Captain America... but the rest, I assume should have forgotten that.

I also feel some toxic masculinity, but because it is coming from Hulk, I guess is justified. (Captain America tells him people are saying he is a sissy and this angers Hulk, who screams he is straight). On the other hand, it would make sense for Hulk to have this kind of personality.

The one thing I wasn’t really excited about was Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. They are working in the shadows, so well, you only see them twice (and not during the climax of the series).

This second part of the volume wasn’t as emotional as the first. Perhaps because most characters already know each other. And adding Natasha and Clint doesn’t really change the dynamic that much.

Another thing that I found pretty odd, is that it took two years to finish these issues. I am not sure what happened, my guess is that Mark Millar was busy setting the foundation of Millarworld, but it could have been a delay from Hitch as well.

I give these issues a score of 9

#marvel comics #comics #review #2002 #2003 #2004 #modern age #bryan hitch #avengers #black widow #thor #quicksilver #scarlet witch #iron man #captain america #hawkeye

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moragmacpherson · 7 years

Text

Bodhi Week, Post-Scarif AU

General Audiences, Bodhi/Luke It comes down to a simple issue of supply and demand: the Rebel Alliance has very few supplies, which translates into little demand for cargo pilots after the Yavin evacuation. Which is sort of fine with Bodhi: he has developed a few other skills in his time, and once they've all resettled on Thila the skill the Rebellion seems to need is his gift as a mechanic. "Red squadron just put in a petition to rename themselves 'Rogue squadron,' in honor of your team, would you mind being assigned to them?" Bodhi can't help but feel a bit honored, so he agrees and sits down with several pots of caf and the technical specs for the T-65 X-Wing, determined to learn everything there is to know about the ships that managed to exploit Galen's sabotage and destroy the Death Star which destroyed his home.

Compared to their Imperial counterparts the T-65s are marvels of durability and simplicity. There are a few… interesting design choices that Bodhi notes here and there, but they're definitely not seemingly-disposable death traps like most TIE fighters. Which is an especially good thing because Bodhi starts to get attached to the Rogue Squadron pilots pretty quickly, from helping Janson with a few pranks to wiping the smirk off of Antilles' face during a sabacc game to…

Well, Luke's different. He's the Hero of the Rebellion, the poster boy, and even Bodhi has to admit that the Alliance has lucked out in that because there's something eminently likeable about Luke Skywalker that's apparent from the start to pretty much anyone lucky enough to meet him. Luke's the one who destroyed the Death Star— everything in Bodhi's life up to now seems to have happened so that Luke would be allowed to take down the Empire almost single-handedly, and Bodhi's… okay with that. Luke's a nice enough person— he'd been so sweet when they first met, he'd been excited to meet Bodhi, which is something Bodhi still doesn't quite get, and ever since Luke's done nothing but go out of his way to be kind and helpful, even bringing Bodhi caf when he's up late making repairs to Luke's X-Wing.

Which is a blasted good thing, because Luke's X-Wing… Bodhi understands that Luke is a Jedi, has an ability to manipulate the Force in ways beyond even Chirrut, but still: technology has fundamental limits. Luke appears to have no regard whatsoever for these limits, yet somehow manages to fly his ship home in… close to one piece every single time. Somehow. Not even Wedge's perpetual dings in his armor due to an overly light hand with his deflector shields causes Bodhi quite as much dismay as the number of times he has to replace the power couplings and rerouters in Luke's sublights, or the day Luke comes back in missing the better part of an s-foil but nonetheless emerges from the cockpit with a grin on his face, even as Bodhi rants at him about how it shouldn't even have been possible to fly the blasted thing in space, much less land it in atmo.

Making the situation even more infuriating to Bodhi, the Rebel Alliance is not exactly in the position to purchase as many replacement parts as Bodhi would like. But he and his mother hadn't had a lot of money when Bodhi was growing up, and if there's one thing that Bodhi's become an expert in during his short life, it's making do. After the first few weeks, Bodhi's datapad is a mess of revised schematics detailing exactly how he's completely rebuilt Luke's T-65, with all of the modifications and customizations he's made along the way. The other mechanics don't even bother looking at it any longer, because it takes less time for Bodhi to just finish whatever else he might be working on before running Luke's maintenance and diagnostics than it does to explain why the fuel lines are in a completely different place or whatever else has them totally stumped. Artoo seems to tolerate the changes, and Luke's ship continues to return, mission after mission; all in all, it's an arrangement that works, and Bodhi's happy with that. Besides, if anyone else works on Luke's ship, they might move the notes.

Bodhi likes the notes. He tries not to think about how much he likes the notes. It's right up there with not paying attention to how much Luke seems to grin at him when he's ranting about physics, the cost of power couplings, and the tolerances of durasteel in the pantheon of things Bodhi tries not to think about too much.

See: especially in the weeks right after Scarif, Bodhi has had some… memory issues. They're not a huge obstacle in his work, but especially when learning how to maintain a completely new spacecraft, it sometimes helps to have visual reminders more immediate than yet another tab on his datapad. So he carries flimsi, a pen, and tape with him as well and isn't shy about labeling things he comes across— just little reminders to himself at first: things he's changed, things he's done, things he needs to do, that sort of thing. Bodhi's usually very thorough about making sure he's cleaned them all up when he goes, but there's this one note, less a reminder to himself and more just an exclamation to himself, "Is he using his 4L4s as engine brakes?" that he truly does forget to pick up out of the cockpit one day.

The next time he sets down to start diagnostics, the note's still there, but with a reply written beneath it. "Yes." Just the one word, but definitely not in his own hand, Bodhi isn't imagining it, and Luke has wandered off elsewhere, so Bodhi doesn't have the chance to explain to him face to face exactly why that's such a horrific idea. Instead he pulls out another little bit of flimsi, tapes it to the bottom of the existing note and scrawls out: "This explains so much. Knock it off."

And things sort of devolved from there. While Bodhi might have some residual guilt about yelling at the golden boy Hero of the Rebellion to his face (not that it ever seems to stop him from going off on his rants in the moment, but still, Luke Skywalker is also the reigning king of the kicked puppy look as well any time that Bodhi goes slightly too far and— that's just more guilt than he can handle), he has no trouble continuing the arguments through the notes. There are several tails of them now trailing through the cockpit of Luke's T-65. Some of them include little diagrams Bodhi's drawn to explain why Luke's breaking the laws of physics as well as the Rebellion's meager budget— Bodhi's sometimes tempted to add 'and my heart' but he doesn't because… well, because he doesn't want to see the kicked puppy look again and maybe because it's a little too close to certain truths that he's not quite comfortable admitting to himself yet, much less to Luke. Luke's added a few drawings as well— he's a better pilot than an artist, but Bodhi treasures every single one nonetheless. Bodhi likes the drawings and the notes, and they feel sort of… private, and so he's a little territorial about Luke's X-Wing, and has managed to fall asleep in it in the middle of repairs more than once, because fixing it is his job and no one else's.

Bodhi watches it fly into the hangar and finishes another mug of caf before grabbing his datapad and walking up to meet it. Luke's handing off that Artoo unit of his— it's a snippy, fiesty little thing that seems to thrill in getting into fights with Kaytoo over… whatever it is that droids could get into fights with each other about, Bodhi's not sure. What Bodhi does know, judging by the sounds of Luke's engines winding down, is, "You're using your 4L4s as engine brakes again, aren't you?" he groans, grabbing a diagnostic kit from his tool chest.

Luke winces and turns to face Bodhi, his hair a sweaty mess, cheeks flushed bright red, and those blue eyes of his twinkling without a hint of actual remorse, blast him. "I don't do it on purpose... usually," he adds, just to infuriate Bodhi a little bit more because it's one hell of a maneuver to be pulling off on instinct— though Luke's turning off his targeting computer at the Death Star was apparently instinct as well, but— who knows, it's still infuriating.

Bodhi has the total cost of rerouters that he's replaced thanks to Luke's bad habit pulled up on his datapad already, had been planning to add it to another bit of flimsi, but Luke's here now, may as well show him. "No one else shares your habits, and you're going to bankrupt the entire Rebellion on those rerouters," he says, pushing the pad into Luke's hands.

"I am not," says Luke, his face starting to turn a bit more red as he starts to read. If they were in the Imperial Navy Luke's habit would have more than just Bodhi getting after him about it… but the Rebellion isn't the Imperial Navy, that's why Bodhi's here in the first place. Luke finally looks up at him, "I promise I'll stop, okay? Kind of hard to forget with all the notes on my controls, now," he adds, a teasing grin on his face.

Bodhi shakes his head and grabs the datapad back. "Didn't stop you today, and those are supposed to be temporary— I'll clean them up, I promise." Luke actually reaches out and grabs Bodhi's shoulder. "No, no— I don't mind them," he says, ducking his head a little.

Bodhi blinks— apparently he's not the only one who likes their little notes— but they're still against regulation and Bodhi's trying to impress a little discipline on Luke. He breathes out a sigh. "Well, do you still need the reminders?"

"Clearly," says Luke, pointing at the datapad, the look on his face almost shy, which doesn't make any sense. It's enough to make Bodhi smile despite himself.

"Fine, flimsi's cheaper than most parts anyway," he says.

Luke grins at him again. "You should leave me as many notes as you'd like, then."

Bodhi shakes his head, turning around to start climbing into the cockpit— he's not really ready for a full dose of the Skywalker charm, not when he has so much work to do. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find something new you've managed to fly this ol' girl home in spite of," says Bodhi.

"Oh, I bet you will." mutters Luke from the bottom of the ladder.

There's something about his tone that strikes a note of fear in Bodhi's heart as he clambers into the cockpit, and he peeks back out of it almost immediately. "That's not-- please don't take what I said as a dare," Bodhi calls out. Skywalker's already looking up at him for some reason and Bodhi frowns. "Is there something wrong?"

Luke blushes a little and snaps his gaze away before ducking his head. "Nope! Fine, everything's fine..."

Bodhi shrugs— he really has no idea what's going on inside that man's head, does he? Rather than focus on the incomprehensible, he focuses on what he does understand, surveying the damage. "Oh, that's a rich thing to say, I'm starting to understand why that Artoo unit of yours is such a snippy little thing, how does he even survive this?" He glances down and picks up a doodled bit of flimsi, holding it up outside of the cockpit. "And is this supposed to be a sarlaac?" he asks.

It's several long seconds before Luke replies. "Uh... sure, yeah," he says, followed by a long sigh. "And hey, I always do my best to make sure Artoo doesn't get hurt, he's my friend, you know."

"Survive, sure but he must be going completely nuts rewiring this thing on the fly, he'll be crazier than the Falcon's mainframe soon if you keep this up," says Bodhi, tucking the sarlaac back where it had been perched.

Luke lets out a sound of disgust and calls up, "Please don't even joke about that."

Bodhi grins— apparently there are some impossibilities, like trying to talk to the Falcon that are beyond even Luke's understanding: albeit it seems like Han and Chewbacca are the only other mechanics around who can assist Bodhi in his rebuilds and actually contribute. Bodhi feels the need to give Luke a little credit. "At least you seem to have a dim idea of what your deflector shields are for, unlike Antilles..." Bodhi's voice trails off as he reads the addition to the engine brake note: "Your eyes are even prettier when you're complaining about the cost of re-routers," he reads aloud, all but dumbfounded. He peeks out of the cockpit. "Luke?"

Luke appears a little startled, all but frozen with his own eyes looking very bright as he stammers out. "Well... they are." Bodhi's 'pretty' eyes feel very wide right now and his cheeks are redder than Luke's. "Please don't bankrupt the Rebellion because you like my eyes when I complain, I'll find plenty of cheaper things to complain about, okay," he blurts out before he can stop himself, clamping his hands over his mouth for a couple of seconds before adding, "Could you go get me a cup of caf, please, it looks like I'm going to be in here awhile."

Luke's eyes widen a little as Bodhi rambles at him and he grins after a moment, pushing away from his position against the ladder and throwing Bodhi a lazy salute and a wink. "Yes, sir, whatever my favorite mechanic wants," he says because apparently he wants Bodhi to have a heart attack.

"You outrank me," Bodhi calls out as he settles back into the cockpit— oh, Luke's going to be the death of him. But still, as he pulls out his diagnostic tools, Bodhi can't help but look at the notes and smile.

#bodhiweek #roguejedi #bodhi rook #luke skywalker #awkward!boys verse #this is the first bit of that 100k+ commentfic astoria and i have written #seriously we've gotten through the entire war #but it takes some polishing and i'm not sure if it's a multichaptered deal or if it's gonna be a series of vignettes #but here it is nonetheless #could also be called the headcanon verse this is where we came up with most of them

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