#passed by several cars waiting for a red light while just fucking saluting while still focused and driving

[hanayanaa]

every time eternal dream comes on in the car when im with my friends we all start staring blankly ahead while saluting. One day i will salute so hard i will accidentally drive off a cliff

[freddiesaysalright]

Beautiful Mess Part 11

A Brian May x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader works in a bookshop. She meets Brian May and they have an instant connection. It seems to be a fairy tale romance. But, things are seldom what they seem.

Word Count: 3.5K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @mrs-jack-murphy, @not-john-watsons-blog, @simmisblog, @mirkwoodshewolf, @assembledherethevolunteers, @thosequeenboys, @lv7867, @maymacca, @rethought, @brianslittlepet, @jinxy93, @stephydearestxo, @mrcleanisthicc, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @readinghorn, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @reedusteinrambles, @borhapqueen92, @1204-moonchild, @bohemiansweede​ Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the epilogue!

A/N: The last chapter! There will be an epilogue though, so it’s not quite over yet! I love epilogues...I’m just trash like that

Warning(s): Some steamy stuff in there, but nothing explicit.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10

Part 11 here we go!!!

The only thing keeping your spirits up was the prospect of reuniting with Brian. The months apart had been difficult. Watching Richard deteriorate was nearly unbearable. You were almost relieved when he actually passed because his quality of life at the end was nonexistent. 

“Ma’am, what can I get you to drink?” asked the stewardess as she leaned over your seat, pulling you out of your thoughts before that memory could pain you.

“Red wine, please,” you told her.

She nodded before moving on to the person behind you.

You looked out the little round window of the plane. Rain pattered against the surface, soft and light. No real trouble for your journey. 

You were flying out of London to New York. Then from New York to Boston. That’s where you would meet Brian and the band on their tour. You decided to head out the day after Richard’s funeral. You needed to get away from everything for a while. The shop, the Kimballs, everything that reminded you of what you’d lost.

As a raindrop slid down the window, you thought of the irony that the day of Richard’s funeral was a rare, sunny day in London. It also made a comment from Charlie hit extra hard.

You watched Richard’s parents as they buried their son. The sunlight gleamed off his casket as the clergyman spoke. You couldn’t hear the words. You had all your love for Richard stored in your heart, and you didn’t need a spiritual meaning to it. Your eyes were fixed on Charlie and Susan.

Susan wept quietly into her handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes every few minutes. Charlie, however, seemed absolutely stoic. His face was expressionless, his eyes trained on the priest. His grief was apparently beyond tears.

You cried on and off throughout. You had cried with Richard and for Richard as his days dwindled, and you did it mostly alone. He asked his parents not to come to Switzerland, so they wouldn’t see him so weak. 

As the service wore on, you sniffled. In his first moment of action, Charlie took your hand. But he still looked firmly forward, even when he gently squeezed your fingers. You blinked and a tear rolled down your cheek. 

When they were lowering Richard into the ground, Susan began to sob quietly. As they covered him, she clung to you and her husband, and you supported her, fearing she might collapse. You tried to whisper some comforting words to her, but you were certain she never heard them. Finally, Charlie just wrapped her up in his arms and held her to his chest. 

With one final blessing, it was all over. Susan couldn’t stand to be there, so she laid a gentle hand on Richard’s headstone before following the crowd out of the cemetery. You remained behind, looking at Charlie, who still had a stony look on his face.

“Papa?” you said. “Are you ready to go?”

He turned his back to you, facing the headstone. With a trembling hand, he touched it, running his fingers over the engraved words, particularly the years of Richard’s life.

“Papa?”

“It’s going to rain,” he said, looking resolutely up at the cloudless sky. “It’s going to rain.”

His voice rang in your ears as you sat on the plane now. Was Charlie at last letting his grief out? So much so that even the sky wept with him? You hoped so. Only the sky could convey the actual depth of that kind of loss. And he needed to let himself feel it.

You took a deep drink of you wine to swallow the lump in your throat.

The plane began to roll down the runway. It picked up speed right along with your heart. At last, you were escaping this sadness and flying to the person who made your heart happiest. Brian.

It was in the wee small hours of the morning when you finally arrived in Boston. The band had sent a car for you, and you thanked the driver as he put your luggage in the trunk and helped you into your seat. 

You had never been to Boston before. You had visited the US years ago, but only New York City and Washington, DC. Those were extremely fun trips you and Richard had taken shortly after the announcement of your engagement. You were thankful the band had already been to those cities, and you would not have to face those memories.

Boston was beautiful. It was historical and unique. And much cleaner than you remembered New York being. The hotel was an upscale one in the heart of the city. You pulled up, and outside, you spotted Roger. He was smoking a cigarette and leaning over a girl who was pressed up against the wall. You heard her giggling as you emerged from the back of the car. When the door closed, he turned around and looked at you.

“Oh, evening, Y/N,” he said sloppily.

“More like good morning,” you returned with an amused smirk.

“What time is it?” he wondered.

“It’s four,” you said. 

He faced the woman again. “Well, then. Time to get to bed, eh, love?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she replied with a wide smile.

He flicked his cigarette away and started to lead her in.

“Wait, Roger!” you cried. “Could you tell me which room Brian’s in?”

“Six fifteen, I believe,” he said, wrinkling his brow as the thought. “Yeah, that’s it, ‘cause I’m next door and I’m in six seventeen.”

“Thanks, Rog,” you said.

He offered a mock salute. 

“Good to see you, Y/N.”

With that, he disappeared inside. The driver finished unloading your bags and closed the trunk of the car.

“Anything else, ma’am?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” you replied, and handed him a tip.

A bellhop from the hotel came out and took your trolley of bags, following you into the elevator, and then down the hall to Brian’s room. You felt a bit nervous as you approached. You wondered if he’d been missing you or if he was having too much fun to think much of you. You realized it was absurd to think that way because of course Brian missed you. You shook your head.

The door was just barely cracked open and you smiled. He was waiting for you. You lifted your bags off the trolley, tipped the bellhop, and then pushed the door open. 

The room was incredibly quiet, and you wondered if Brian was even there. Then, as you came further inside, you saw him. He was lying on the bed, fast asleep. The copy of Emma you’d loaned him was on his chest, his fingers just brushing the spine. You almost laughed. He must have fallen asleep reading.

You set your bags down and took a moment to just look at Brian. You had missed him so much these last few months that it seemed unreal to be in the same room as him now. You wanted to wake him and greet him properly, but he looked so at peace in his sleep. His mind was usually so active, you felt the only time he really got rest was when he slept. But you also knew that if you were in his position, you would want him to wake you.

So, you approached the bed. Kicking your shoes off, you crawled carefully over to him. He stirred, his head turning toward you and you smiled. You slowly put one leg over both of his so you could hover above him. Then you inched the book away from his hand and put it on the nightstand. In classic Brian fashion, the shirt underneath the book was mostly unbuttoned, leaving his chest exposed.

You pressed your lips to his warm skin, trailing from his collarbone all the way down to where the buttons were done, which was nearly to his belly button. He moaned softly beneath you and shifted.

“Y/N…” 

You kissed his chest again.

“Yeah, baby?” you questioned.

Suddenly, he sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes snapped open. He stared, wide-eyed, at you for what felt like several long minutes. You just smiled at him.

Without warning, he grinned, grabbed you by the shoulders, and flipped you onto your back as he rolled on top of you. He showered you with kisses as you shrieked with laughter. It hit you how foreign it sounded. You couldn’t even remember the last time you laughed. But it felt natural with Brian, especially since he was kissing you everywhere his lips could reach.

“Brian!” you cried with a giggle. “My goodness, baby!”

“I - missed - you - so - fucking - much!” he said between kisses.

“I missed you too!” you returned happily.

He slowed down, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He relaxed against you, his hips settling between your legs as your lips moved together in harmony. You moaned into his mouth before he pulled away.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he panted.

“I missed you too,” you assured him again. 

You put your hands on either side of his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so warm and comfortable. So beautiful to look at. He turned his face to press his lips into your palm before looking down at you again.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Perfect now that I’m with you,” you breathed back.

He half smiled, but looked hard at you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for the funeral,” he said.

“Don’t be,” you returned. “It was fine.”

He moved your hair off your forehead and your eyes fluttered closed to his touch. It was like coming home to be in his arms and touching him again. Just to feel him. Really there. His scent and the sound of his voice was like an old familiar tune. A song you knew by heart. You opened your eyes to see him again.

“What do you need from me, dove?” he asked.

You smiled. It was a question you appreciated. 

“D’you want to talk about everything?” he continued. “Or do you want to be distracted?”

“Distracted, please,” you said. “I don’t want to think about anything but you.”

He chuckled as he pecked your lips. “I can think of a few ways to make that happen.”

His tone sent a thrilling shiver down your spine.

“Well, by all means, get started,” you teased.

You hurriedly stripped each other of your clothing. Rushed, desperate kisses were placed across each other’s skin as the need to feel as close as possible took over. Your lovemaking was hasty and quick, chasing that release together after so much time apart. Brian was even a little rough with his thrusts, so you were seeing stars by the end of it. The absolute passion of being together again was overwhelming. You did forget everything except for Brian as he took you.

As you both came down from your highs, sweating and breathing heavily, he rolled off of you, but still pulled you under his arm. You rested your head on his chest. His heartbeat was quick and loud. 

“I love you,” you sighed. 

You felt him kiss the top of your head.

“I love you too,” he replied. 

As you lay in the afterglow, weariness began to creep up on you. Your eyelids felt heavy and drooped closed.

“Brian,” you said.

“Yes, dove?”

“Hold me.”

“I am holding you,” he chuckled.

“Tighter,” you insisted.

He squeezed his arm around you gently. You snuggled as close to him as possible. There, in your spot over his heart, you slept more soundly than you had in months.

Brian remained awake. He watched you as you slept, and he saw the effects of the past weeks etched onto your face. It was like you hadn’t slept at all since he left you in the airport that day, and were finally catching up on it now. While you were still incredibly beautiful to him, the bags under your eyes and lines on your face told him what you didn’t say. 

What you had been through was unimaginable to him. How long you were a nurse for Richard. What he must have looked like at the end. What his last words must have sounded like.

You told Brian over the phone that Richard passed away while you sat with him. You’d been holding his hand and felt it go limp. You heard his last breath leave his body. Brian shuddered at the thought. The pain it must have caused you. Brian would never forget the way you sounded when you called him. It was worse than a wounded animal.

He was relieved when you said you wanted distraction. As much as he loved being there for you, he wasn’t sure how much more tears he could take. It broke his heart to see you cry, so to see you now at peace was something he would hold onto. He was sure more tears would come. But for now, you could be happy. If not happy, at least content.

He dragged his fingers up and down your arm. He felt your body further relax into him as he did. That made him smile.

“Rest, dove,” he whispered into your hair. “Just rest now.”

Before too much longer, he drifted off behind you. 

You and Brian stirred awake at the same time a few hours later. You smiled lazily up at him. Being with him made it feel like more than your body was rested. Your soul was rested too.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Amazing,” you replied, leaning up to peck him on the lips. 

“Good,” he said. “I’ll have breakfast ordered to the room. Is that alright?”

“That’s perfect,” you said.

He started to roll over and reach for the phone, but you stopped him.

“Wait!”

“What is it?” he wondered, shooting you a puzzled look.

“Kiss me again,” you requested.

He happily obliged. You felt like you were being a bit annoying, asking to be held extra tight and then for another kiss, but you needed him. He grinned so widely, you were assured that he didn’t mind.

As he ordered the food, you leaned back against the pillows. You looked out the window and saw the bright blue sky and suddenly felt a bit of a lump in your throat.

“Alright,” Brian said. “Should be up in about ten minutes.”

You continued to look out the window.

“It’s going to rain, I think,” you said.

Brian followed your gaze. He didn’t argue that the sun was shining. It was like he read your mind. No. More like he read your heart.

“Well, it’ll help the flowers grow,” he replied.

You smiled at that.

Breakfast came and you enjoyed it together. You had real time to catch up now, and it was nice to feel sort of normal again. He told you he’d gotten you a backstage pass for the remainder of the shows, which excited you. Seeing Queen live was such an experience and you wanted to live it over and over again.

“So, how’d Cat take the parting?” Brian asked as he sipped his coffee.

“Honestly, he was more cross with me for leaving Switzerland,” you said. “He loved it there. But, I think he’ll be happy with grandma and grandpa for a while.”

He chuckled. “I’m assuming that’s Charlie and Susan?”

You nodded. 

“Is that what our children will call them too?” he wondered.

You stopped, mid-bite into your bacon, and looked at him.

“Our children?” you repeated.

“Yeah, when we have them,” he said with a shrug. 

You smirked. “When were you thinking of having children?”

“What, you don’t want them?” he asked.

“No, I do - especially your children - I just didn’t realize you thought about things like that,” you admitted.

“Of course I do,” he replied as if it were obvious. “I think about our future together a lot.”

Your smile widened.

“To answer your question,” you said. “Yes. Mama and Papa will be grandma and grandpa to our children.”

He kissed your cheek. 

“I think that’s wonderful.”

After breakfast, you made love again, and then showered together before joining the band for the day. You went with them to the venue, which was massive, and Brian explained how the whole lighting rig worked and the behind the scenes aspect of the show. You were  thoroughly impressed. 

The whole tour was impressive. Travelling with the band was thrilling. The best part was spending every night with Brian and growing in your relationship even more. He was attentive to you throughout. Your grief for Richard came up at odd times. It was like a window you tried to keep closed, but every once in a while, it sprung open, letting in the wind and the rain. In those moments, Brian just held you close and let you feel it. As time wore on, the window was easier to close. 

Brian had unknowingly restored your hope. When Richard died, you felt like everything was pointless. But when Brian talked about your children, or getting married, or mentioned anything about how your lives might look going forward, you felt purposeful again. Life was still to be lived, and you had an excellent one in store with Brian at your side.

When you returned to England after the tour, you and Brian decided to live together. He moved into your flat with you, and you found that having him there made it feel more like a home than just a place to live. You had Cat there as well, and you both agreed he truly ran the household. You marveled at how much this little cat affected your life. You owed him a lot.

Your sorrow for Richard began to ease, especially once you started helping Charlie out more. Your primary job was still at the bookshop, but you filled up a lot of the space that Richard left. It oddly made you feel closer to him. Once your life found its rhythm again, the pain subsided, and you let yourself feel the joys you experienced.

A year and a half after Richard died, you and Brian were lying together in bed. He was preparing to go on tour yet again. This time, you would not be joining him. You had nothing you wanted to be away from now. As fun as your last trip was, it was too long to leave the shop again.

“I’m going to miss you,” you told him, running a hand through his curls.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” he returned.

“You’ll be the one having all the fun,” you teased. “Seeing all the cities and going to all the parties…”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he protested. “Parties are sort of awkward without you.”

“Because women come on to you?”

His face flushed and he looked away.

You laughed. “Brian, I trust you,” you said. “Although, I can hardly blame them.”

The red on his cheeks deepened and you giggled. You traced his nose with your finger, trailing over his cheekbones as well.

“You are good looking,” you said. You regularly felt the need to remind him of this.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“If only there was a way to tell those women I’ve snatched you up already,” you sighed, a light tone in your voice.

“We could get married,” he blurted out.

Your heart skipped a beat and your hand went to his chest. You stared at him and he met your gaze, looking hopeful.

“Before I go,” he continued. “We could get married.”

“Brian, are you...are you proposing?” you asked breathlessly.

“I - yes, I am,” he said.

He sat up. You followed suit, a smile spreading across your lips.

“Think about it,” he said. “We already live together and that’s great. We’ve been together for nearly two years. We’ve been through so much and we know we can -”

You cut him off by grabbing his face and pulling him in for a deep kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and held you against him.

“You don’t have to pitch me,” you assured him. “Nothing would make me happier than being your wife.”

He grinned and kissed you again. You smiled into his lips. It was freeing to have this choice. He wasn’t forced on you. You wanted to marry him. You had found absolute love and you wanted to declare it to the world. Brian once told you that he was yours. Well, you were his too. By your own free will, with your whole heart, you were his.

“I don’t have a ring or anything,” he sputtered when you broke apart.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “We’ll pick out wedding bands and go to the courthouse this week. I just want you, baby.”

His eyes searched yours for any doubt. Any hesitation that might linger. He found none.

“I love you,” he said.

Tears stung your eyes. This time, happy ones.

“I love you too, Brian,” you replied. “I’ll love you forever.”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Forever.”

And you did.

[bookish-nerd9]

At Long Last: Chapter 4

Despite himself Andrew woke up excited for today’s meeting with Neil, he kept replaying the events of the previous day; Neil pouring over the books hair falling in his eyes, auburn hair that Andrew itched to touch and see how it felt between his fingers. The intent focus he had when he was explaining something complicated to Andrew that he perfectly understood but making it hard for Neil was kind of fun, and if Andrew forgot to mention the fact that he had photographic memory and he only needed things to be properly explained just once well who was to blame him!.

Then there was the unexpected trip to the Waffle House, Andrew didn’t plan on taking Neil there or anywhere else for that matter but he found that he wanted to spend more time with him and to get to know him a bit better, that’s why before he could stop himself he suggested going there and the baffled and excited look on Neil’s face was totally worth it.

Getting dressed never took Andrew long but for some reason today he sat shirtless after his shower just staring at his forearms the ugly red slashes staring right back at him as if in mockery, and right then a rogue idea crossed his mind “what would Neil think if he saw them and knew why he did that to himself?”. At that Andrew shook himself and got dressed quickly “stupid” he told himself “so fucking stupid actually, get it together Minyard”, he kept repeating this to himself as he made his way out of his room to look for some breakfast and to his unpleasant surprise everyone was up and about their business already.

Heading for the coffee pot avoiding making eye contact with anyone, waking up in a pleasant mood really made him angry and he wasn’t in the mood to make niceties with anyone today, not that he ever was.

“Did you come by the court last night? I think I saw your car, and what are you doing dropping Neil off? How do you know each other? Why didn’t you come in aren’t you going to grace us again with your presence in the court? You know we need you Andrew”

This apparently was Kevin’s way of saying good morning and Andrew was already starting to get a headache from the bombard of questions. As a way of replying Andrew stared Kevin down and dropped an unceremonious amount of sugar in his coffee.

“Look I’m just saying if you’re going to come to court anyway why not come in for a bit even just to observe the new goalkeeper.” Kevin pushed on.

“Drop it Kevin.” Andrew warned with a glare that ought to shut him up.

“Well someone is in a particular merry mood today.” Nick snickered as he made his way to the kitchen.

Without replying to any of them Andrew grabbed his stuff and headed out because god forbids him being able to enjoy a perfect cup of coffee in piece. He didn’t have to meet up with Neil until later that day after his classes so he waited for Renee outside her room as he always did to go about their day together.

“Morning Andrew” Renee greeted him with the ever sweet smile she always had that never stopped to baffle him, “Renee” he greeted her back with two fingers to his temple in salute as she fell into step beside him, this was easy and familiar to him Andrew never had a problem knowing Renee or letting her know him she was the only person other than Bee who knew everything about him and strangely that sat very well with Andrew.

“So how was your first session with Neil?” she asked with a smile that now had a hint of mischief in it.

“Don’t start with me Renee.”

“What! I’m not starting anything I really want to know, I also want to know how the infamous Andrew Minyard with his photographic memory needs any tutoring at all.” She said with a chuckle, Andrew really couldn’t argue or discourage Renee as he does any other person so he begrudgingly said

“It was fine, I understood everything thanks to that little math wiz, and I need tutoring because you know perfectly well that our beloved professor already has a foot in the grave and can’t form a whole sentence, honestly how you understand anything from him is beyond me.”

“Oh don’t be mean he’s cute” she said laughing; they kept at it until they reached the lectures hall and they went their separate way.

The rest of the day passed in a blur until Andrew was seated in the library waiting for Neil who was late again! As Andrew pulled out his phone to text him Neil made his way slowly to where Andrew sat but something was different about him the way he moved and held himself was all wrong as if he was trying so hard and failing to disappear into himself and as Neil stood right in front of Andrew he was sure something was really wrong, Neil was more disheveled than he normally is with deep dark circles under his too red eyes that didn’t seem to be able to focus in one place and Andrew knew that look all too well, the look of someone scouring the place looking for all the exists and possible escape routes.

Andrew waited as Neil heavily dropped in the chair next to him and started pulling his things out of his ridiculous duffle bag, “you look terrible” Andrew said; it took Neil a moment to focus on Andrew and process what he said “umm yeah thanks I have a mirror, let’s just get started” Neil retorted.

They spent the next hour tripping over the material that they were supposed to go through Neil couldn’t seem to focus every now and then his eyes would wonder looking for someone or something that wasn’t there and he would flinch at every little sound around them.

“Alright stop! That’s enough for today” Andrew said flipping the books closed and shoving the notes aside.

“Wait what! Why??”

“Well there is clearly something wrong and I’m not wasting my time like that so you either tell me what the fuck is wrong with you today Josten or we leave now.”

Neil said nothing he only looked down his hands and started tapping his leg furiously, “well fine we’re leaving then come on.”

Neil stuffed hiss stuff back in the duffle and headed out without waiting for Andrew who was now jogging after him to catch up to him “and where do you think you’re going?” Andrew asked Neil’s back.

“Well what do you want huh, what the fuck do you want Andrew, my performance isn’t up to your standards today so I’m leaving report me if you want or do whatever you want, I don’t care just don’t push me not today.” That took Andrew by surprise and in that minute Neil started moving, again Andrew caught up to him, “god Andrew what do you want!?”

“Nothing you’re headed to the dorms right, well so am I” and with that they walked in silence until they reached Neil’s room and before he could reach out to open the door Andrew stopped him “there’s something that might help I think come.”

Begrudgingly Neil followed him as he made his way up the stairs until they reached the roof, Andrew nudged the door open and stepped inside with Neil following hesitantly after him “Is that even legal?” Neil asked but Andrew only shrugged as he reached behind the door for something that Neil found out that it was a bottle of wine, a very expensive one.

Andrew sat at the ledge with his legs swinging on the side of the building and Neil followed suite, they sat like that for a while none of them talking and just looking at the sun dipping and bathing the campus in its warm golden afternoon light.

“Thanks for bringing me here it’s beautiful, and umm sorry about before I’m really having a bad day” Neil broke their silence.

“Don’t”

“Don’t what!!”

“Say that “sorry” don’t say it I hate that word”

“Well umm thanks still, it’s beautiful up here how did you come by it?”

“Same as the Waffle House, was looking for someplace quiet and here I am.”

They fell quite again gazing out at the campus and then Andrew said “well I guess it’s my turn now”

Neil looked at him a moment too long and Andrew was shocked by the intensity of Neil’s too blue eyes then said “what do you mean?” Andrew rolled his eyes and answered “our deal remember? Question for question!”

“Oh yeah right, well shoot”

“What’s wrong with you?” “but don’t ask me what’s wrong” they both said at the same time and Neil laughed for the first time today and his face lit up which made Andrew want to punch him in his too handsome face.

“Okay fair enough, how about ummmmm, why are you keeping that hideous thing you call a cat?”

Neil chuckled and said “Well I found kitten as I was headed to the dorms, he was this tiny little fur ball abandoned near the building soaked and shivering from the rain and the whimpering sound he was making really undid me, and he’s not hideous kitten is magnificent you know.”

Andrew blinked at him several times then said “You’re telling me you called him kitten that’s not a name you know!”

“Why does everyone keep saying that, it’s a perfectly good name that describes him well, he is a kitten after all.” Neil retorted.

“For someone who’s good with math you are unexpectedly dim witted Josten.” Neil looked at him and started saying something but right then a car’s engine backfired and Neil flinched soo hard at the sound he must’ve pulled a muscle.

Andrew looked him over body taught, hand gripping the ledge too tightly that his knuckles turned white, frantic eyes looking around for the source of the sound and breath coming in short heavy pants. He thought this isn’t working at all he meant to bring Neil here in order for him to unwind a bit, so without really thinking what he was doing he hooked his finger in Neil’s collar and tugged until Neil finally looked at him and the look Neil gave him sucked the breath from his lungs, he looked like a wounded animal looking for shelter, his eyes kept roving Andrew’s face and after a minute he started to relax as if he found what he was looking for in Andrew which was completely and utterly stupid Andrew thought.

“Come on we’re leaving” Andrew said and dragged Neil up with him finger still hooked in his collar.

“Where are we going?”

“Just come!”

They made their way outside and rode the Maserati, he drove in silence which he didn’t mind, for once no one needed to fill the silence and Andrew loved that. Soon they reached the exy court and Andrew asked “Do you have your keys?”

It took Neil a second to get what he was saying but as he looked out at the court he nodded to Andrew.

“Well come on then we’re not staying in the car obviously.”

They headed inside and as they reached the lockers Andrew told Neal to change as he headed for the court to wait for him, but why was he doing that, what is it about Neil that makes Andrew wants to know him, spend time with him, and above all comfort him when he’s in this state, to tell him that it’s okay, he’s safe and he won’t let anything happen to him, that he was willing to share his demons if only Neil wouldn’t run away if he saw Andrew’s.

As Neil came out and made his way towards Andrew who was lying on the floor with the exy racquet cradled on his chest he said “Now what? Why are we here?”

Andrew got up lazily and headed for the goal where he took his position and said “Try to score one goal and you get to ask me two questions.”

Neil raised his eyebrow in disbelief “you know that I will win right, I mean you must keep up with the matches.”

Andrew tapped the racquet twice against the floor and said “Bring it on Josten.”

They played for a full hour Neil trying and failing miserably to make one pathetic score against Andrew who defended the goal without breaking a sweat. After what must’ve been the two hundredth attempt Neil threw his racquet and lay on the floor, Andrew came over and hovered above Neil, from this angle with Neil sprawled on the floor, face flushed and hair sticking up every which way Andrew felt the need of kissing him, feeling Neil’s lips on his, would they be as full as they look? How would Neil taste like? What if he bit them what would Neil do. Instead he swallowed and said “Giving up already Josten tsk, what a shame.”

“God I hate you Minyard”

“Well good, I hate you too.”

Neil smiled a dazzling smile and Andrew allowed himself to flop down next to him. This close Andrew was itching to lean just a little bit forward to kiss Neil instead he turned his head and fixed his eyes heavenwards.

“I guess it’s my turn now” Andrew didn’t answer which Neil took as a sign for him to ask,

“Why did you stop playing exy”

“Ugh soo predictable Josten”

“Well I want to know and it’s my turn and it’s not like I asked you about your arm bands.” Sensing Andrew tensing about that last part he added quickly “and I will not I promise not unless you want to talk about them I swear.”

Andrew looked at him really hard eyes glaring which no doubt Neil interpreted as him wanting to punch Neil but not for mentioning his arm bands it was because he respected him to not ask about which was what Andrew bracing himself to be asked but nooo! He had the audacity to understand what the word privacy meant and actually respect it when no one else around Andrew seemed able to get their petty little heads around the concept.

“you’re an Idiot Josten, I stopped playing because I don’t care enough to play, I had a deal with Kevin and in order to honor it I had to play, now it’s done and I don’t play”

“Then why come here tonight when you clearly hate it?” Neil pushed

“First off I don’t hate it I just don’t care and secondly apparently being around you makes people stupid as well so here we are.” Neil smiled that sweet dizzying smile again and Andrew really wanted to wipe it off of his face, preferably with his own mouth, “good god you’re losing it Minyard” he told himself.

“Let’s go I’m not sleeping here, go change I will wait in the car”

In less than five minutes Neil was done and sitting in the car and they headed back in silence which neither of them seemed to mind. Andrew walked Neil to his room where Neil hesitated a minute before he turned on Andrew and lifted his hand as if to hold Andrew’s but thought better of it and said “thank you, really you helped, I don’t know if you meant to or not I mean I think you did but I don’t want to be presumptuous so thank you, I …I mean it really.”

“You’re an idiot Josten” that made Neil smile and not for the first time today nor the last Andrew suspected he felt like kissing that smile off of Neil’s face.

“Next time don’t be late or your kitten will pay the price” Andrew said as he walked away but not before he heard Neil’s laughter around him even after he made it to his room.

“Well, what a good fucking job Minyard, you’re screwed” he told himself as he flopped down on bed with blazing blue eyes imprinted in his mind.

Here is chapter 3

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn't counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn't expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, @cheapbourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

To quote straight from the source because I love this:

•Expedition leader/ survivalist guide Edge •Theoretical astronomer Rus •Location: Scott South Pole Station/South Pole Telescope •Guest stars: snow, cold, stars, & budding affections

I couldn't resist, so here we are.

Warning: I am not a scientist, sadly, and while I did some research on the South Pole Station and Antarctica in general, I can only assume I've made mistakes here. I also took a lot of liberties and I know it. This is all in fun, so, forgive me for my errors and since this is already an AU, let's pretend that it's an Alternate Earth where these things are correct and I didn't screw anything up.Here we go...

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Undyne slowed the sno-cat to a grinding halt, the treads sluicing a shower of snow. She leaned on the steering wheel and looked out the front window, taking in the sight of the port. The ship was already docked, one of the gangplanks lowered, and there were a few crewmen on the ground, stacking boxes of supplies. “There it is, a fresh group of eggheads and princesses.”

Edge, sitting next to her, only grunted as he flipped through the manifests, “Don’t call them that where they can hear you.”

“Never would, Boss.” She hooked a scarred thumb towards the ship. “Gonna check them out?”

“Yes, if you’ll look in on the supplies.” Edge folded the manifests and handed them over to her. “Count the bottles, if you will? Last time every other crate was shorted by one.”

“You got it.” She snapped her teeth in irritation. “Fucking thieves; anyone stealing booze deserves a punch in the face.”

Edge only lowered his goggles and braced himself for the upcoming rush of cold. “Keep your punches to yourself and report any shortages. Red?”

“yeah, yeah, i’m awake,” came grumbling from the backseat. “i’ll keep the car running, ‘dyne. have fun, you two.”

The wind was middling that day and it was a short trek down the dock, passing through the workers who either ignored him or offered a curt nod of greeting. Undyne could handle the supplies; his cargo was still inside.

The hinges screeched as he shoved open the door for the main hold and got his first look at the new selection of researchers for this rotation. The glaring overhead lights hid little and Edge pushed back his hood to get a better view, ignoring the few double-takes he got for it.

Anyone on the roster would have received an information packet and should know that a Monster was the expedition leader. If they didn’t, well, then they’d already proved themselves poor at research and the only thing they’d accomplish at the station was wasting their grant money.

This group looked the same as always. Ordinary Humans, most of them male, but it seemed a female or two had come along on this round. Difficult to say with all the layered clothing. They were milling around, waiting, and there was a low burble of chatter. Each of them had a few cases with them for their clothing and personal supplies, as well as any equipment they would need for their research outside of what the station provided. Most of them picked sleek, modern gear. A polar expedition was not a vacation and what was in sight was well within guidelines.

Except one. One pile of gear was far in excess of the allotment, a random mishmash of cases and luggage that wouldn’t have been out of place on a cruise ship, which included an oversized tube-like black plastic case with a long strap.

Edge sighed inwardly. There was always one. Every rotation they were told to only bring what they could carry and every rotation, he ended up with at least one fool who was convinced that they were the exception and surely their belongings were far more important than anyone else, and oh, won’t you just help me carry a bag or three? No? Then what am I paying you for?

“Whose gear is this?” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the murmur of conversation. Whoever it was, they could either leave their hairdryer behind or find a way to drag it behind them.

Silence descended, a dozen or so Human gazes falling on him but none of them volunteered.

“mine!” One figure cut from the outside of the crowd, almost stumbling forward. He was tall, taller than Edge, that was unusual in and of itself, but as he walked closer, Edge found himself staring in surprise.

To begin with, he was younger than Edge expected, closer to his own age. Most of the researchers who came to the South Pole Station were older with plenty of degrees under their belts, alongside their collection of grants and funding as it was not a cheap endeavor. Either his PhD was a recent acquirement, or he was a former child prodigy.

Unlike the others who were kitted in expensive cold weather gear, he was bundled into what looked like several layers of thermal shirts and hoodies, and who knew what lay beneath those sweatpants. Hardly the image of a well-funded researcher out to prove a theory.

But the main source of his surprise was less who and more what. It had been some time since he’d seen another skeleton Monster other than his brother. Most of him was buried in those layers but there was no mistaking his skull and thin, bony hands. Unless there was something very unusual beneath his mismatched clothes, he was looking at the first one of his own kind that he’d seen in years.

The symbol on his patched jacket put him in the science division for the Monster Embassy, and there lay another layer of mystery.

Despite his colorful array of clothing, any exposed bone was glossy pale and smooth, not so much as a crack or scar visible past the normal coronal sutures. Evidence of a soft life even before they’d come to the surface.

At least Edge had been wrong about the hair dryer.

“heya! well, it is certainly nice to meet you.” That blatantly visible once-over was worse than an actual Check and Edge bristled immediately. He ignored the hand the other held out in greeting long enough for his smile to falter and after a moment, he dropped it.

“Doctor—?” Edge let the word dangle, raising a brow bone.

“oh,” the smile returned. “nah, everyone calls me rus, except my bro but frankly, i don’t mind losing that nickname, i—“

“Everyone calls me Boss and that is what you will call me,” Edge interrupted, coolly. The other skeleton blinked, shuffling his booted feet uncomfortably. In direct contrast to the rest of his clothes, those looked to be top of the line, even if the laces were a knotted mess.

“um. okay. sure, i can go with that.”

“I wasn’t asking.” He caught the strap of one of the cases, dragging it over and holding it up. The outside fabric was of bright orange tropical flowers. “This is your equipment?”

“yeah, it’s got my name on it and everything, just like my underwear.” He winced as Edge dangled the case from two fingers, reaching for it hastily, “maybe be careful with it, some of it's delicate and—“

Edge handed him the case with exaggerated care. “That won’t be a problem since I’m not a porter and I won’t be carrying any of it. Anything that you want at the station, you get to carry, so good luck with that.”

The other skeleton was gaping by now, mouth open, before shutting it with a sharp click of teeth. “okay, now wait a minute—!”

They had something of an audience at this point, the other researchers watching with a certain morbid curiosity. No better time for introductions, he supposed.

Edge stepped back and called over the crowd. “All right, everyone, listen up! I’m in charge of the South Pole station and I’m here to get you to it. You can call me Boss.”

A faint titter went through the group. It faded as Edge looked at them stonily. “All of you signed an agreement when you chose to come conduct research at the station. That agreement says that you will obey the rules and regulations put forth. As I said, I am in charge of the station and I’m the one who makes the regulations.” The group clustered in closer, even though Edge’s voice carried easily. “If there are issues, I will handle them. The agreement I signed states that so long as you follow the rules, I will keep you safe.”

All of them seemed to be hanging on his every word, except the other Monster, who was glaring at him sourly, his pale eye lights narrowed to pin pricks.

“I expect my direction to be followed,” Edge went on, “for your safety and the safety of others and my word in any matter is final!” The word echoed around the hushed quiet of the hold. “If any of you has a problem with that, then I’d recommend staying on the boat.”

There was nothing but silence. His favorite kind of reply.

"Good.” He held up a gloved finger. “There is one vehicle here and it is for the supplies. We can't subject it to the wear and tear it would take to cart all of you to the station. You were instructed to bring only what you can carry.”

He glanced at the other skeleton and saw his chin go up at that, his sockets narrowing.

At the back of the hold, Undyne was standing just inside the door, slouching against a wall and smirking at him. She shifted to stand up straight, mimicked a polite clap. Edge resisted the urge to roll his eye lights and continued.

“If you’d like to turn around, you’ll see Undyne at the back. She is second in command and the only word higher than hers is mine.”

“Heya, boys.” She gave them a deliberate salute with her left hand, letting them get a good view of how many fingers she didn’t have. Not that she’d lost them here, but none of them needed to know that.

"All right,” Edge said, pulling their attention back to him. “You have all been provided with the necessary gear to walk from here to the station as well as keeping you alive for the duration of your stay. It is one mile to the station and you're all about to get a taste of what it will be like while you're staying here. So, get suited up and let’s get going!"

With that, he turned to walk over to Undyne, ignoring any whispers or possible grumbling behind him.

Catching Undyne by arm, he drew her aside, asking low, “How were the supplies?”

“All good, boss. Plenty enough for two months and the booze cartons are all full this time.” Her grin was sharp enough that Edge thought it better not to ask. She lowered her voice, nodding in the direction of the group. "Looks like you pissed off the fashion victim over there."

Edge didn’t bother to follow her pointed gaze. "Better that he gets used that it now. If he can’t, better to find out before the boat leaves.”

She snorted loudly and crudely enough for a few of the scientists to give them an aghast look. “That one? I know that type, Boss, you couldn’t chase that one away.”

“I doubt that.”

“Yeah? I’ve got 10g on it.” She spat and landed the wad neatly in a bucket by the wall.

Edge didn’t make bets, that was his brother’s game. He dared a glance at the so-called fashion victim, who was currently struggling into his gear. One of his boots caught on the dangling sleeve of his jacket and he tripped, almost toppling into another researcher. “You’re on.”

Her grin widened. “You should be hoping I lose, he’s kinda a cute one," she teased. She picked at her teeth with a sharp claw and inspected the findings. "Better than the usual. Not many pretty things like that make it out here."

"You're here." Edge smirked.

She rolled her eye vigorously. "Yeah, like I said. Maybe you should be nicer to him."

"I fear to ask why."

"Hey, you might not care about the science, but I bet he's useful for other stuff." With their backs to the others, no one could see her poke her index finger into the loose fist of her other hand, thrusting vigorously.

“Undyne!” Edge hissed. “That's enough.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. Those are some long legs and it gets cold at night. Nothing wrong with a bed warmer and he’ll be out of your hair in a couple months.” She reached out to rap her knuckles on his skull. “So to speak.”

Edge slapped her hand away. “He’s not going to make it to the station, much less last the two months.”

“We’ll see.”

~~*~~

At the halfway mark to the station, Edge began to think he might well be out 10g and couldn’t even be upset about it.

Despite his dour prediction, their fashion victim was keeping up and Edge was reluctantly impressed.

Edge always stated the distance from the boat launch to the station, just to see their expressions of disdain. It always showed on their faces. A mile? A mile was nothing. Many of them started a training regimen in the weeks before coming and a mile was an easy goal, or so they thought.

He would bet none of them had hiked a mile in subzero temperatures. The first shock of it when you stepped outside was like a blow, breathing felt like being stabbed with an icicle, even for someone without lungs. After a moment to adjust, standing there, you thought it wasn’t that bad. Then you started out into it and learned the true meanings of a word like 'arctic', in a way that wouldn't be soon forgotten.

Their goggles would protect them from the glare of the snow at least, not that there was much to see. In front of them was hard beaten snow and ice, unless they wandered off the path marked by a series whip-thin flag poles that led to the station. If so, they would end up hip deep in snow with a great struggle ahead of them to dig themselves out.

Walking through the snow in full gear carrying their gear was nothing like jogging down the block, checking their Fitbit along the way. A few of them would have been savvy enough to try hiking, perhaps carrying along a full kit. That would be closer but most of them would be lying in their beds tonight, aching from strain and cold, and wondering what they’d gotten themselves into.

Tomorrow, some of them would be angry to learn there were vehicles that could have carried them. Of course there were, it was ridiculous to think otherwise. They’d be using them daily as they did their research, going out to checkpoints and the different areas that surrounded them.

Edge was the one who’d come up with this small test. He wanted them to get a measure of what they’d be dealing with while he was close enough to help them and before the boat left.

At the back of the line, their fashion victim was starting to lag, not badly, but enough that Edge kept an eye on him. For all of Edge’s disbelief, the other skeleton had proven him wrong and every piece of his gear was carefully position, the weight evenly distributed in a way that spoke of careful planning. His first impression of a naïve, spoiled researcher who’d never taken his nose from a book was jarred loose by such preparation. Credit where credit was due, the other skeleton was carrying his own load and he was keeping up.

Or he had been, at the beginning.

Every few minutes Edge would glance back and get a quick headcount. All the others would be too focused on their own survival to notice if one of their teammates was lagging behind but that was all right. That was why Edge was here.

On one such check, Edge looked back in time to see the scientist trip and fall, his carefully balanced gear scattering, skidding across the hardpacked snow.

He was taking too long getting back up.

“‘Dyne?” Edge murmured into his sleeve, waiting to see her glance his way. “Keep them going.”

In his own earpiece he heard, “You got it, Boss.”

He couldn’t see her grin, but he could hear it easily enough. There was no point in smacking her when all the layers would soften any blow.

The others paused when they saw him start back, faltering unsteadily in their growing exhaustion. He waved them impatiently along, trudging back to where the skeleton was still on his knees, fumbling at his equipment.

“Come on, you need to get up.” He had to raise his voice to travel through the layers of clothing and the wind. Even on a milder day like today, it was critical to keep moving.

“i am!” He snapped it out with more fire than Edge would have thought he had left. “i am coming right now, i only tripped.”

“All right, then do it.”

Edge stood back and watched impassively as the scientist struggled to his knees and then to his feet. Gathering his gear was an arduous task but he never hesitated, hooking straps over his arms and head, and getting them back into that precarious balance.

The last case was eluding him, straining to get the strap over his head and Edge gave in, reaching for it.

“Give me that,” Edge said impatiently.

He was startled when the scientist twisted away, almost falling again and only barely managing to keep to his feet.

“i don’t need your help!” he snarled. His voice was hoarse; the cold was starting to get to him. “i can do this.”

“Can you?”

“yes!” he shouted, words cutting through the tearing wind. “i told off my advisor, my dean and my brother! i came up with the money on my own! you are not an obstacle, not even close!”

He glared fiercely, visible even through his goggles. Even through them, there was a faint glow of frustrated tears that didn’t fall, although whether that was determination or the cold, Edge couldn’t say. Even magic froze in these temperatures, goggles or not.

“you know, i wasn’t expecting you to carry anything,” he went on, raggedly. He took a step in the direction of the others, another, keeping his gear carefully balanced. “you’re the one who came over and started prodding at my equipment. i was afraid you were going to break something that i can’t replace, that’s the only reason i said anything.”

Edge let him rant; it kept him moving. Until he stopped again, uncertainly. The others were out of sight.

Abruptly, Edge strode forward and said, “Come on.”

“i am!”

“You are,” Edge agreed. “You’re doing very well. It’s not much further, Rus.”

The scientist blinked but Edge was already turning away, following the line of flags leading them to the station. It was in sight when Rus staggered and started to fall again, and this time Edge caught him by the elbow, holding him up until he caught his balance again.

The others hadn’t gotten too far ahead; they were still in the outer vestibule warming up and the group shuddered collectively as Rus and Edge came in through the outer door, letting in a rush of arctic air.

Close to the door, Undyne was already stripped down and she hollered to them, “All right, everyone has already been assigned a room. I’m betting all of you can read, so get the lead out and find the one with your name!”

Edge pulled off his heavy coat and raised his own voice to add, “Find your room, stow your gear, and get warmed up. Dinner is at 1800.”

The others shuffled wearily to the door, carrying their baggage and leaving the outer gear hanging from a variety of hooks. Edge hung his own on an empty hook, ignoring the triumphant look that Undyne sent his way before following the others.

Rus sank down on a bench that was against one of the walls, his cases littered around him. “thank you,” he said. For all that his voice was exhausted and hoarse, the gratitude was genuine. “for getting us here. me. for getting me here.”

“That’s my job,” Edge walked over to him and knelt down, working at the tangled knot of his boot laces. “And I’m sorry.”

He blinked once, twice, staring down at Edge. “you’re sorry?”

“For judging you before I even met you. I can admit when I’m wrong.”

“oh. well, it’s all right. i'm sure it's a rare enough occasion to mark on the calendar.” Rus’s smile hinted at something sly and he let Edge pull his boots off before he stood, stripping off the rest of his outer paraphernalia

Edge set his boots over next to his own. “Be sure to make a note.” He looked back at the soft groan behind him, seeing Rus leaning over to catch up a strap on one of his bags. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it,” Rus protested, though it sounded halfhearted at best.

“I know. Let me help, anyway.”

There was a moment of hesitation and Edge thought he’d refuse again. It was something of a surprise when he finally said, “all right.”

Edge gathered up a couple of his packs, waiting long enough for Rus to get the rest, and then jerked his head for Rus to follow him. The walk to the living quarters was a short one and Rus’s room was the second from the last. By now Rus was stumbling with weariness and Edge opened the door, gently guiding him inside. He set the bags down by the wall as Rus sank down onto the small bed.

“You’ve got some time before dinner,” Edge said softly. “Take a nap and get warmed up.”

“sounds good,” Rus blinked with glassy exhaustion and Edge resisted the urge to push him down to the mattress before he fell on his own.

Instead, he went to the door, hesitating with his hand on the knob. “See you at dinner, Rus.”

“sure, boss,” Rus mumbled, and as predicted, he sank down to the mattress without even pulling back the covers. Edge started to open the door, paused, and hung his head with a sigh before he turned back.

Carefully, he gathered up the blanket at the foot of the bed, spreading it over Rus. He made a faint sound, barely stirring, and snuggled into it.

Edge watched for the briefest of moments, then he turned away and out the door. And stopped.

Undyne was at the end of the hallway, leaning against one of the doors. She made a kissy face at him, and he scowled at her.

But he flipped her a 10g coin.

She snatched it out of the air, sticking it into one of her numerous pockets. “Thanks, boss. Wanna sweeten the pot? I bet another ten you’ll have him on his back in a week.”

Edge shook his head. “No bet.”

"Yeah?” Undyne licked her teeth, her grin widening. “Don’t like to part with your money that easily, boss?”

“I won’t bet on something like that,” Edge said shortly, “even if it were a possibility, which it is not.”

Undyne pushed off the door with a snort and poked a finger roughly against his sternum. “Oh, come off it, I saw how he was looking at you. You wouldn't even need to turn on the charm, which is good because you don't have any."

"He's here for two months and then he’s back on the boat,” Edge told her, letting his irritation creep into his voice, “off to publish his papers or continue his research, whatever they do when they leave.”

Undyne predictably ignored his annoyance. "That gives you a time limit, even better. You don’t have to beat around the bush, depending on what equipment he has downstairs."

"Undyne!" he hissed. Her grin was unrepentant.

“Speaking of which, my honey should be back from checking the monitors. See you at dinnertime, Boss.”

“If I allow you to eat,” he grumbled. She only laughed and tromped off in the direction of the crew quarters.

He did not glance back at that closed door where Rus was sleeping, curled into his blanket. In all honesty, he should have changed out of his clothes first; despite the cold a long walk outside often left one sweaty and shower tokens were a much sought-after privilege.

There was still time before dinner to get a few things finished. He needed to go over their newly acquired supplies with his brother, one of the solar panels was acting up and needed looked at. Always something to do to ensure not only their safety but as much comfort as possible. Edge shook the thought of Rus curled up on his bed away and went to his own quarters.

He had an allotment for a shower and despite what Undyne might think, it needn’t be a cold one.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Two

[carmenlire]

Color Me Blue

read on ao3

He’s waiting at the doors to the emergency room, checking his watch impatiently. The ambulance is two minutes out and Alec briefly runs down what he knows of the victim.

Little girl. Six years old. She was sitting on the side of impact and has a shattered leg, broken collarbone, and probably half a dozen other injuries besides.

From the preliminary call in, Alec knows that his double shift just turned into a triple. He hasn’t slept in over twenty four hours and he’s thankful that he’d had enough time to throw back a triple espresso at the hospital cafe right before the call came in.

The ambulance pulls up and Alec and his team are immediately opening the doors. Pulling the stretcher out of the back, Alec checks the patient’s pupils and sees that she’s awake and responsive. While Maia gets vitals, the girl looks at Alec.

Her eyes are full of pain and a lot scared but there’s a calmness in her gaze that Alec’s rarely encountered, even in adults.

“Hey there,” he says with his best bedside manner tone. “I know it hurts a lot but we’re going to fix you right up and in time for Christmas, too. Okay?”

While he’s talking, Alec checks out the leg and curses internally. It’s turning purple which means not only is there some type of internal bleeding but bone might be lodged against the artery.

They need to get her into emergency surgery before she loses it.

Alec starts barking out orders, hurrying to the OR.

“Prep her for emergency surgery. Call Dr. Herondale to assist and reserve operating room two. Notify her parents or next of kin that barring complications, surgery will take a minimum of four hours.” Alec turns his head to where the med student in his first semester of residency is hurrying along with the gurney and frowns. “Focus, Lewis,” Alec snaps. “A patient is a patient and she can’t afford for you to get lost in your own head. And neither can I.”

Pausing just long enough to see Lewis shakily nod, Alec gives a few last minute instructions as they approach the OR and it's time for the nursing staff to take the girl into the room for prep. He’s startled, though, as he feels something slide into his hand just as he’s about to head toward his own prep area to put on new scrubs and get cleaned up for surgery.

He looks down and smiles as he sees the little girl has latched onto his hand, holding with all of her not inconsiderable strength. Leaning over her, Alec takes a second to smooth her hair back.

“Am I gonna be okay?” Her voice is soft and uncertain and Alec sees hope warring with doubt.

His smile grows gentler as he nods resolutely. “Wanna know a secret?” She nods. “I’m the best damn doctor in this hospital and I already promised you’d be back home with enough time for Santa to stop by your house. I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetheart, alright?”

She nods again and so does Alec, to seal the promise. She lets go and doesn’t have time to say anything else before she’s being wheeled into the operating room. Turning away from the doors Alec blows out a sigh, shaking his head to clear it.

The truth is, Alec doesn’t know what’s waiting for them on the other side of surgery. He’ll work like hell to save the leg but his biggest worry isn’t just that-- if there is pressure against an artery, then it wouldn’t take much for a blood clot to form and migrate to her lung.

They need to start surgery.

Fray, an intern in the neurosurgical department, holds out operating scrubs for Alec to slide his arms into and he’s putting his mask on. He strides over to the sink, turning on the faucet and lathering up his hands all the way to the elbow with the hospital’s soap that’s astringent as hell. When he turns, Clary is already holding his gloves and helps him slide them on.

Holding his arms out in front of him, he hits the swinging door with his back and sees the anesthesiologist just pulling the mask away from her. Jace enters the room just a few seconds later and Alec’s calling for the room lights to be shut off.

The next several hours are touch and go. Alec resets the leg, taking twice as long as anticipated. With the leg shattered, the bone fragments are a pain in the ass and Alec has to use several metal pins in a laborious process. He fixes the artery and blood flow and exhales deeply yet silently when color starts to return to the lower limb.

Things hit a wall halfway through the operation when the girl’s blood pressure drops. It’s a near instantaneous thing-- one minute Alec is stitching up her leg in a pattern he could do in his sleep and the next, the heart monitor starts screeching.

“Goddamnit,” Alec mutters viciously. He shares a look with Jace before he resumes stitching her leg. “Get 4ccs of .9NS in her stat,” he snaps and hears Lewis scrambling for a syringe with half an ear.

He barely hears it when Lewis says, “Done, Dr. Lightwood.” His total focus is on closing the incision and waiting the few critical seconds for the IV solution to work before he has to move on to other things.

The room breathes an imperceptible sigh of relief when the heart monitor calms down and her vitals resume normal levels. Alec’s expression doesn’t change as he snips off the last stitch and moves up to her collarbone. Jace, with the help of the assistants, immediately start wrapping a cast around her leg, toes to hip. Alec gently brings a brace around her shoulder to help the collarbone stay immobile.

There are a few minor wounds and injuries to see to but after another forty five minutes, Alec steps back and orders the room lights to be turned back on.

The little girl looks to be one big bandage but she’s alive and in no immediate danger-- with a full recovery expected.

Nodding to the team as they wheel her back to what will be her room, Alec takes his mask off with Jace as they leave the OR and start heading to the lockers to shower.

“You did good work today, buddy.”

Alec works out a twinge in his back from being hunched over so long as he throws Jace a cautiously pleased look. “We saved her leg and that was the biggest concern.”

Rolling his eyes, Jace punches him in the shoulder after discarding their gloves. “I’d think the ‘best damn doctor in this hospital’ would have a bit more of an ego.”

“I might play God for a living but I’m not him. Things could just as easily have ended with a casualty and a wasted operation.”

“No need to be so optimistic, Alec, Jesus Christ.”

Alec glares but doesn’t say anything else. The two of them shower and Jace changes into clean scrubs while Alec throws on his street clothes.

“How long have you been here, anyway?”

Alec narrows his eyes as he thinks and tries to hide his yawn. “I had a double shift but I’ve been on call for the past thirty six hours.”

Jace curses. “Fuck, Alec. You know that’s too long.”

“Catarina needed this weekend off and I didn’t have any plans, so,” Alec shrugs. “I’ve been at the hospital since Friday night.”

Jace sends Alec an incredulous glance. “It’s Sunday morning-- no afternoon.”

Shrugging again, Alec slings his bag over his shoulder and starts toward the door. “Don’t worry. I’m heading back to my place and plan on sleeping until this time tomorrow.”

“See that you do,” is all Jace says and Alec rolls his eyes again for good measure before sending a half-ass salute in his direction.

Before he leaves the hospital, though, he heads up to the tenth floor and checks in on his patient. She’s just waking up when Alec knocks gently on her door and her and her parents turn up to look at the interruption.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “I just wanted to check in on my newest patient.”

Holding out a hand for the parents, he introduces himself. “I’m Alec Lightwood, Head of the Emergency Room with a specialty in pediatrics. I operated on Amanda this morning.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor.” The dad’s voice is teary as he shakes Alec’s hand with a firm grip. “Her mother and I have been besides ourselves all morning but we were assured by the staff that our little girl was with the best.”

The mother nods along to her husband’s words. “The other car came out of nowhere, running a red light. There wasn’t any time to do anything. Thank you for saving her,” the mom ends, choked off.

Smiling warmly, Alec replies, “It’s my job and Amanda came through everything like a champ. I expect her to make a full recovery. She’ll be running around like nothing’s happened by summer.”

Making his way to the bed, Alec sees Amanda leveling him with a serious expression. “You kept your promise,” she says.

“I try to never break a promise.”

Sneakily, she reaches out. Her coordination is still off from the anesthesia and Alec lets his hand be grabbed again, resting it against her side on the bed. “I was really scared,” she confesses.

Alec hums, thoughtful. Choosing his words carefully, he says, “It’s okay to be afraid. Everyone’s afraid sometimes but what matters is that you try your best and face those fears. All’s well that ends well and I don’t see any reason why you won’t be waking up in your own bed with a tree full of presents waiting for you.”

“Christmas is in three days,” she exclaims.

Alec chuckles. “It is,” he agrees. “If you’re good, I think we might just be able to discharge you from the hospital tomorrow morning.”

Alec watches as her eyes light up and she looks at her parents who also look overjoyed at the news.

With a last round of thank yous and goodbyes, Alec heads out, nodding as he passes the nurse's station in the ER.

Sighing, Alec rolls back his shoulders and thanks Christ that today ended as well as it had. He's off rotation-- off call even-- until the 26th.

Alec walks down the busy street. He'd caught the subway to work Friday and halfway wishes that he'd driven instead, even if he knows he's in no shape to be behind the wheel.

The street is lit up and as Alec pulls out his phone, he's just a little stunned to see that it really is December 22nd.

He laughs a little and ignores the imperceptibly bitter edge that's easily drowned out by sheer exhaustion.

He loves his job. He's the youngest Head of the ER the hospital has ever had. He's thirty three years old and feels a hundred. He's been working at the hospital-- and publishing and teaching-- for eight years now and he feels a little burned out.

Maybe a lot burned out.

He picks up shifts for everyone else and lately Alec's started to wonder if he's destined to work at the hospital until he calcifies. The truth is that doctors are notoriously married to their work and Alec can't even remember the last time he had a date that didn't end with beepers and rushed apologies let alone anything else.

He looks up as snow starts to fall and huddles into his coat a little more, shoving icy hands into his pockets.

Christmas is his favorite time of the year but Alec has barely had time to buy presents let alone enjoy the holiday season. His apartment isn't decorated and there are no cookies shaped like snowmen waiting for him. December seems to have lasted the blink of an eye and Alec's shoulders hunch as he realizes morosely that most of this year is a blur of emergencies and rounds and consultations.

His gaze snags on a bakery display as he walks past. The window is dressed to the nines with multicolored lights and garland wrapping around the edges. The display case is full and Alec’s mouth waters just at the site. There are the standard brownies and strudel and cakes but most of the case looks to be holiday themed.

Alec can’t stop a smile at the sugar cookie cutouts in the shape of reindeer and Santas, ornaments and, yes, snowmen. There are cupcakes with Christmas trees and wreaths and ornaments, too. There’s even a little section devoted to Hanukkah-themed desserts.

Without conscious thought, Alec is reaching for the door. A little huff of laughter escapes him is it jingles when he pulls it and he sees bells attached to the door handle.

Inside, the place is warm and cozy and smells like toasted marshmallow and his grandmother’s homemade chocolate chip cookies. It takes him back to childhood and Alec’s instantly infatuated.

The interior of Bane’s Bakery-- Alec catches the name as he walks through the threshold-- is a veritable explosion of holiday cheer. There’s even a Christmas tree in the corner with a mountain of presents underneath.

Inhaling deeply, Alec feels his shoulders fall back, tension leaving him on a breath. Wryly, he thinks that the owner really knew what they were doing. Alec feels welcomed and warm and filled with just a bit of joy.

He’s looking through the display case inside now, absorbed in sugary treats and the promise of a hot chocolate, when he’s startled by a voice.

“Hello, there. What can I help you with today, darling?”

He straightens from where he was leaning over the baked goods and immediately loses every thought in his head.

“Hi,” he says and curses himself for sounding just a bit dumb.

The man’s professional smile widens imperceptibly. Alec takes in the dramatic makeup and hideously cute Christmas sweater and his infatuation immediately extends to the gorgeous employee.

“Good afternoon,” the man says. “Welcome to Bane’s Bakery. First time?”

It takes Alec a minute to process the words and unfortunately, he knows that he can’t just blame the attractive stranger. He’s officially been up over thirty hours and his espresso is wearing off. Still, he can’t help but smile back helplessly.

“Yeah,” he says, voice gruff. “I’m Alec.”

Like a dunce, he holds out his hand but the employee shakes his hand while his expression grows bemused.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alec. Short for Alexander, I presume?” At Alec’s silent nod, he continues. “My name is Magnus and I’m the owner of this establishment. Were you looking for anything in particular when you came in?”

Alec’s gaze drifts to the sugar cookies and without thinking he says, “Snowmen.”

Magnus claps his hands together once before rolling his sleeves up. He grabs a box, throwing a quick wink in Alec’s direction. “Ah, yes, my snowmen are famous around here. How many, darling?”

Alec stops to consider. Christmas is in just a few days. Izzy and Jace will most likely come over tomorrow evening with their significant others and fuck knows that none of them are going to bake.

“Let’s make it a dozen,” he says easily and Magnus grins as he starts filling the box.

It takes just a minute and Alec’s abashed to see that he’s taken all but one snowman. Magnus must see his look because he shakes his head ruefully.

“Please don’t worry about buying me out of sugar cookies. It’s my job, after all.”

Bringing a hand to rub at the back of his neck, Alec grins sheepishly. “I swear I’m not going to eat them all by myself.”

Magnus laughs as he moves over to the cash register. After checking that Alec doesn’t want anything else-- besides a hot chocolate, extra marshmallows and extra whipped cream-- Magnus looks up at Alec.

“Don’t you know, bakers are a lot like bartenders or therapists. We see all sorts of people and don’t ask questions. We just give them what they want and sometimes a willing ear.”

Alec is just about to answer when he cuts himself off with a yawn. He might black out for a split second but it’s no one’s business but his own. Shaking his head to clear it, Alec reaches for his wallet and hands Magnus his card.

“Sorry about that,” Alec apologizes. “I just got off shift and I’m dead on my feet.”

Accepting the card, Magnus runs it through the machine, making a sympathetic noise. “Are you a doctor then?”

Nodding, Alec takes his card back and signs with a signature that could be literally anyone’s, full of illegible swirls.

“I work in the ER at NYU Hospital a couple of blocks away. I’ve been at the hospital since Friday.” Alec winces as he says the words, realizing that it isn’t an inconsiderable amount of time to be at work, even for him-- even if it’s not a record by far.

Magnus sends him an incredulous look. “And just a few days before Christmas? You must have a very understanding family.”

Alec smiles faintly. “They’re busy with their own lives. Make no mistake we’re close, but my siblings have significant others that demand a lot of their time.” He shrugs. “It’s to be expected that I’m usually busy.”

Humming, Magnus looks thoughtful. “I hope that you’ve had time to pause and smell the holly. It’s the happiest time of year, after all.”

“I barely remember my name most days, I’m always running around like my ass is on fire. I was just thinking that it’s been ages since I did anything besides eat, sleep, and breathe work. Truthfully, even when I’m not working I just want to sleep.”

“Well, I hope the hot chocolate keeps you awake until you get back home.”

Alec watches Magnus as he turns his back to him to prepare his drink. “You and me both,” he says absently.

It’s just a few moments later that Magnus is putting the finishing touches on Alec’s drink. He raises a brow but faithfully pouts about a million mini marshmallows into the cup and Alec can’t help his grin.

“Thanks.”

Sliding the cup over the counter, Magnus smiles at Alec. For a second, Alec is struck by the smile. It’s friendly and welcoming. It’s everything that it’s supposed to be but Alec hopes that he’s not imagining the genuine look of interest. Distantly, Alec figures they could be friends one of these days or even another life.

He curses internally. He really needs to go to sleep before he starts voicing these asinine thoughts.

“I hope this isn’t the last I’ll be seeing of you, Alexander.”

Alec takes his drink, blowing against the lid to cool it a little before taking a tentative sip. As soon as it hits his tongue, he’s grinning, looking up to see the pleased look on Magnus’s face.

Gathering his box of cookies, Alec takes a step back. It’s just him and Magnus in the bakery and Alec blames the sleep deprivation for his unusual boldness.

“Something tells me I'll be back,” he says and turns around to the front door. He just catches the smile that widens on Magnus’s face at the words and the way he looks away from Alec.

Alec leaves without another word and opens the door a little clumsily since his hands are full.

The jingle of the bell above the door makes him happy and with a sigh, Alec continues his commute home.

Maybe there’s joy in the little things after all, Alec thinks. Maybe he has to grab his spots of happiness when he can and if that means visiting a bakery that beckons him inside with an owner that makes him forget his name, then he’ll just have to become a regular customer.

Alec walks home, cursing the snow and the cold but feeling more lighthearted than he can remember being in years.

[nimpnawakproduction]

Mafia/baker au: Origins story part 1

Heya AA fandom! You thought you seen the last of me? Surprise 8D !!! Here’s the next part of the AU. I don’t have the energy or the time to draw the entire story so it will be in a fic form from now on. Thanks to @punxbarton for the beta-reading ;D

Note: You need to have read the first comics to understand what is going on. Here’s the link: OwO

The day he buried his father was a sunny day. In all of the movies or the books he had read, funerals happened with a storm raging outside, with big and heavy drops of rain falling from the sky. Everything was grey and sad, family and friends gathered together under black umbrellas. But on that day, the weather was wonderful. Miles didn’t know what to make of it. Everything seemed rather dull lately. As for the crowd around the coffin, he didn’t know a third of them. People from the police department, fellow attorneys and strangers sorry for his loss that he couldn’t even remember meeting ever before. At least, Lieutenant Badd had come. He hadn't stayed long because of a big case coming up, but had brought the biggest bouquet of flowers Miles had ever seen. Uncle Ray had put it at the feet of the tombstone. The roses were especially pretty. His father would have loved them. Miles was lost in the contemplation of one of them when a thought occurred to him.

“Uncle Ray, can I take one of them?”

Lost in thought by his side, his godfather started a little at the sudden question. He was doing a lot of that lately, looking surprised nearly every time Miles said a word. To be fair, he barely spoke most days. So he humoured him.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

Miles picked up one of the roses. A white one. It didn’t have a lot of petals, not quite fully bloomed yet, but he liked the shape of it. Then he began to stride away, flower in hand.

“Where are you going?” Ray asked, a worried expression on his face.

“Not far. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Not waiting for an answer, he continued his pace along one of the paths crossing the cemetery. After some time, he finally found what he was looking for. The tombstone of Lucy Wolff was shiny and immaculate, just like his father’s. The flowers at its feet still looked fresh. She had certainly been buried a few days prior, or maybe even just hours ago. With great care, he put the rose down among the others. Lieutenant Badd had refused to give him more than her name, but she looked very young on the photo published in the newspaper. At least no more than 30. Maybe she was still a student, just passing by this small street on her way to school. Wrong place at the wrong time, as Lieutenant Badd had said. He sat down on the ground, hugging his legs in front of him, his eyes fixed on the golden letters engraved on the tombstone.

Thank you, Miss Wolff. Thank you for saving my life, he said in his head, hoping she could hear him from wherever she was now.

I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.

He held an imaginary conversation with her for a long time. He felt a little better, after. His task accomplished, he stood up and began to go back when he heard his father's name in a conversation held by two men standing a few meters away, their backs to him.

“What a shame really. A good man like him,” one of them said.

“Well, that's what you get when you dig a little too far,” said the other. He sounded like the older of the two.

Intrigued, Miles hid behind a mausoleum near him. The men walked on, oblivious of the presence of the boy.

“You think that he… discovered something, Sir?”

“That's one way to put it.”

He sounded pensive for a moment. Then the older man said: “That idiot. As if a single man could make a difference.”

The men walked away afterwards, heading in the direction of his father’s grave, not saying anything more. Miles didn’t move for a couple of minutes, processing what he had just heard. They knew something. Those men knew what had really happened. And one of them sounded almost…glad. Still thinking about it, he went back to Uncle Ray. Those men were talking with him. Noticing his presence, his godfather greeted him: “Oh Miles, I was wondering where you were.” He then turned to the men besides him. “This is Inspector Shady and Mr Damon Gant, the Chief of Police. They were kind enough to want to come and greet you, Miles.”

The older man crouched in front of him so they would be at eye-level and held out his hand. He was wearing a black costume with a red tie. His hairstyle was… interesting, in place of a better word. Glasses with pink lenses perched on his nose, while a severe expression stood on his face. After a slight hesitation, Miles took the offered hand.

“Hello boy. Your father was a remarkable man. My deep and sincere condolences.”

Instead of thanking him, Miles simply nodded his head in acknowledgement. The man continued: “What happened was a true tragedy, but if it can help you feel better, hold on to the thought that the culprit is now behind bars and will never harm anybody again.”

Then the man smiled. It was a crooked grimace. Miles didn't need anything more to confirm his suspicions. He stared at the man, storing his face in his memory, and calmly declared: “Yes… Thanks to you and all of the police task force. I hope you will always be as efficient so something like this never happens again.”

He didn’t know what face he had made but the man in front of him looked uncomfortable, his smile dropping a little. But it quickly came back on full force and the man shook his hand vigorously before giving him a hard slap on the shoulder.

“Exactly, my boy!” he said with a booming voice. “This is what we all need: optimism! I promise all of this to you, little man!”

He then stood up. After giving farewell to both him and his godfather, the two men walked away. When they were at a reasonable distance, Inspector Shady turned to his colleague. “Something the matter, Sir?”

Damon Gant suppressed a shiver and said: “This child's eyes… I had the feeling for a second that he would have killed me on the spot if he could have.”

Later that day, on the way back home, Miles felt better. After days of agony, a new-found serenity was coming into his heart. He was no longer lost in the dark, looking aimlessly for answers. He finally had a lead: the first face and name on what was going to become a very long list.

Tyrell Badd was a busy man. Years could pass without him noticing, his schedule always hectic and filled with more and more cases with each passing day. He had even become inspector, which added one more layer of responsibilities on top of all the others. But today, he took the time to take his car and pay a visit to two of his old friends. Stopping at a traffic light, he took his eyes off the road to look at the box sitting on the passenger’s seat. The big “DL-6” filling one side of the box was bringing back a lot of painful memories. With a long sigh, he focused one more time on the road. He couldn’t let the precinct simply call Ray, after so much time, and ask him to come and fetch this. No, it was definitely something that you had to deliver in person.

After a short trip to the edges of the city, he pulled his car to the side of the road and made his way to the door of a small two-floor house, box secured under his arm. The microscopic garden in the front was getting wilder and wilder each time he was passing by, overrun by weeds. It seemed that Miles didn’t have the same love for gardening as his father. He climbed the few steps leading to the front door and knocked. A moment later, Ray was at the door. It was always astounding to see what a few years could do to a face. He had lost the little softness you could typically find on the face of a teenager, his eyes a lot sharper and his jaws more defined. He even had the beginning of a goatee growing on his chin.

Seeing who was at his door, Ray greeted him with a small smile “Oh, hello inspector. What gives us the pleasure?”

“Hello Ray. I came to bring you this.”

He took the box into his hands and held it out to Ray, who took it with a pained expression.

“Are those..?” the younger man asked.

“Gregory’s things yes. The ones he had back there.”

Ray clenched his hands tighter around the box, bringing it closer to his chest. He looked furious. “And the police finally gave it back.” he spat out. “After 5 fucking years.”

A heavy silence settled between them, the two of them staring at the box for several moments. Ray closed his eyes and sighted, his shoulders dropping a little. Anger gave way to sadness, and a moment after, he just looked resigned. He took a step to the side, asking with a motion of his head if Badd wanted to come inside.

“Want to have a coffee?”

“Nah, I’d better be going,” said the inspector. “Say hi to Miles for me. Take care, Ray.”

“Yeah. You too.”

After a two fingers salute, Badd jumped over the few steps of the stairs and went back to his car. Ray looked at him ease back into the traffic before closing the door. A few seconds later, Miles made his appearance at the top of the stairs. Ray made a quick note in a corner of his mind to go shopping and get the teenager new clothes. He was having a bad case of growth spurt lately, leaving him with pants and sweaters way too short for him.

“Who was that?” the young man asked.

“Inspector Badd. He came with this.”

Miles looked at the box for a few seconds before recognition flashed in his eyes. He furrowed his brows, sadness obvious in his voice.

“Is this..?”

“Yeah.”

A long silence filled the room. As much as he was relieved to finally have Gregory’s things back, Ray was terribly afraid of Miles’ reaction. After years of failed psychological therapies, the boy was finally coming out of his shell a little, starting to look happier and more lively. If digging through this box meant digging out enough bad memories to erase all of the progress they had made, Ray was almost ready to throw it in the nearest bin and put it on fire. “Do you want to look through this alone? Or…” he tentatively offered.

The boy jumped a little, lost in his thoughts. “No…. No. Let’s look at it together.”

He walked down the stairs, took the box out of Ray’s hands with absolute reverence and made his way into the living room. They sat at the table. There was a moment where Miles looked lost in contemplation of the container. (Ray suspected he was gathering his courage.) Then he opened the lid. They were greeted by Gregory’s signature hat. Miles took it, brushing his finger along the rim. He sighed, and put it aside. Then came his clothes, insignificant things he had had in his pocket at the time, and his coat. Shaking any dust that could have gathered out of the clothes, Miles said with a bitter smile: “At least they had the decency to clean them before giving them back.”

Ray had to think for a second before understanding what Miles was talking about: of course, the clothes should have been covered in blood back then. He shuddered and put his attention on the rest of the things lying on the table. They got at the bottom of the box, the only thing left was a book. Miles picker it up, intrigued, and looked at the title. “The Hound of the Baskervilles”. One of the most popular Sherlock Holmes’ stories.

“This book” Miles said, surprised as a wave of nostalgia hit him. “I completely forgot about it… I never had the chance to know the end…”

After a moment lost in his memories, Miles put the book on his lap, along with his father’s coat. Ray was holding the hat, feeling nostalgic as well. Miles always loved that hat. When he was little, he was always saying that once he’d become an attorney, Gregory would have to lend him the hat, claiming that you couldn’t be a good attorney without it. Ray was a hat lover himself, never leaving the house without one on his head. But he had never had a hat of this quality. It was probably handmade. He lightly brushed against the rim with his thumb before holding it out to Miles. The teenager took it and, after a moment of consideration, gave it back to him. Ray looked perplexed as the young man started in a gentle voice: “Uncle Ray, I’m sure my father would have been very happy if you kept it. He knew that you love hats, I remember he was planning to buy you one back then.”

Choking on emotions, Ray had to hold back tears. He held the hat close to his heart and only managed a soft “thank you”.

Some time later, back in his room, Miles hung the coat in his wardrobe and sat back at his writing desk. He had been writing a paper for his history class, before going downstairs when he had heard the knock on the door earlier. He looked at the book in his hands. Sherlock Holmes… An idealistic detective who always managed to solve the mystery in the end, no matter how indecipherable the enigma first appeared. He looked at the cover for long minutes before throwing the book in the trash can under his desk. 

[usagijimin]

Reach For The Sky-Narry

Niall’s spending his summer working for the Space and Rocket Center.

Today Niall is assigned a group of noisy ten-year-olds from the next county over. They're all dressed in the same matching royal blue t-shirts, the ones handed to them when they stepped inside the building, and they've got their names written big in sharpie on small rectangular name tags. From what he's seen of them already they're more enthusiastic than the group of twelve-year-olds he had yesterday, and for that he's thankful. 

He starts by leading them to a shaded patch of grass outside, the same patch he chose yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that. He waits for a minute while they look around and loudly gawk at all the rockets and other various things they've got displayed outside (he'd done the same his first day at the center), before he urges them to settle down in a kind of misshapen circle. 

He clears his throat and smiles wide. "Good morning to you all! I'm Niall and I'll be showing you around the center today. Before we begin, does anyone know anything about the center? It's history? It's purpose?"

The kids stare up at him blankly and he waits only a few seconds before he begins his spiel, before the silence has a chance to stretch out and out. 

He'd applied for summer positions at John F. Kennedy Space Center, Johnson Space Center, and Huntsville Space and Rocket Center as a way of putting his foot in the door so to speak. Huntsville was the only one who'd responded, and even though he would've preferred something at JFK or Johnson, he'd still been happy to pack his bags and make Huntsville his temporary home for the summer. 

He gives them all a general rundown of the early history of the town, "whose main focus used to be cotton," before he moves on to the great Space Race. Every time he brings it up he distinctly remembers underlining that term three times in his notes weeks ago in one of the training seminars as if he didn't already know all about it from a childhood full of watching Apollo 13 on his couch, and begging his dad to go take him to visit John Glenn's hometown. 

Once the history has been established and some of Niall's favorite space fun facts have been shared, they move onto the fun part. The center has several simulators. These are made to help the kids see what it's like in space. 

At lunch they stop at the Mars Grill, the cafeteria in the main building. The kids pull out small ziplock bags of money and fill their trays with food. Harry and his group are already sitting at one of the large red tables. When he sees Niall, his face lights up and he waves. 

Once all the kids have paid, he leads them to Harry's table and takes the empty seat beside him.

"Good morning," Harry says, voice all slow and sweet. 

"It's noon," Niall replies flatly. 

"Well...regardless of that, I still hope you had a good morning."

Today Harry's got his brunette hair all carefully styled off his face, save for this one curl by his ear. Niall imagines leaning forward , reaching out and tucking it behind his ears. It takes a moment for Niall to realize Harry's staring at him, still waiting for a response. He quickly swallows. "I did."

"Good."

Like him, Harry's a college student. A theater major from the University of Alabama back home with his parents for the summer. He's really good with kids, likes to make cringeworthy space related puns, and really likes the series Firefly. And that's really the extent of Niall's Harry knowledge. Yet he always looks forward to lunch with Harry.  

"You know," Harry starts, eyeing the burger in Niall's hand, "you really shouldn't eat burgers every day."

Niall looks him straight in the eye and takes a big bite. "I'm not going to let you shame me into buying a salad. No matter how hard you try. Especially since I know you frequent the dipping dots vending machine." 

"That was one time."

"Three times."

Harry's cheeks turn pink and he spears a piece of lettuce and shoves it in his mouth, quietly mumbling "lies". 

They both know Niall's telling the truth. 

They make small talk for another few minutes before Harry gets up to move on to afternoon activities. Niall lifts his hand to wave him off, but Harry pauses. He chews on his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed. Oh no, Niall thinks. He said something wrong. Did something wrong. 

"We should hangout some time. Outside of work I mean."

"I'm free tonight," Niall says without hesitation. Harry immediately relaxes, his lips quirking up in a smile. 

"So am I. Where should we meet up? I'm assuming you don't want to go to my parent's place."

"We can go to mine." 

"Cool. I'll see you when our shift is over."

 "I've got three roommates. Two of them work night shifts, so they won't be around, but we'll just stick to my room if that's okay." Niall pushes his key into the lock and motions for Harry to follow him as he shoulders the door open.

"You can go ahead. My room's the one with the poster on the door." 

Harry gives him a tiny salut and takes off down the hallway.

Niall goes to the kitchen and grabs a roll of paper towels and a few paper towels. 

He finds Harry spread out across his bedspread, his arms tucked behind his head. "This is a nice room you've got here."

"Make some room will you. And most of the stuff's not mine. I'm just subleasing."

Harry sits up and pats the seat next to him. Niall takes it and hands him a plate. They eat their Wendy's in silence. Harry's eyes wander all over his room as he bites into his spicy chicken sandwich and reaches for a Niall's fries like they're his own. Niall wonders what he's thinking. "What is yours?" Harry finally says, breaking the silence.

"The bedspread, the clothes, some of the posters."

He smirks. "Are all the space posters yours?" 

Niall can feel the blood rushing to his face. "Uh...yeah they are." He shoves a handful of fries in his mouth and chews slowly, counts the bites. 

"Don't look so embarrassed. It's not much of a secret. You work at a space center after all."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to work for NASA?" 

"I'd like to. Not sure if it'll actually happen."

"It will. You're a hard worker," Harry replies, voice all confident and matter of fact like he's known Niall for more than a month.

Niall snorts. "How do you know? We only see each other at lunch."

"I saw all the notes you took at seminar and I've seen how organized you are. It's impressive."

"Thanks." Niall smoothes the edge of his comforter with the palm of his hand and then adjusts it.

"Tell me an interesting space fact. Something they didn't teach us in seminar?"

"About what in particular?"

He shrugs. "Anything."

Niall goes with the first thing to pop in his head. "Jupiter has the shortest day of all the planets. It's roughly ten hours long."

"Interesting," is Harry's reply, his ringed fingers (the second they had climbed into Harry's car, Niall had watched as he pulled the rings out of the cup holder and slid them on) tapping against his chin like he's deep in thought. "Don't usually think about how long days last on other planets."

"What about you? What are you going to do with your theater degree?"

"Well, I'm going to move to New York City, live in Central Park, and recite Shakespeare to passing pedestrians."

"Is that right?" Niall says, trying to hide his smile. "You don't strike me as a Shakespearean actor. You look more like the love interest in a rom com."

"Ouch." Harry presses a hand to his chest. "So what you're saying is that I'm only good for my handsome face and my ability to wear cozy looking sweaters?"

"Noooo." Niall feels a bit like a supernova. Like he might just explode.

"Wow. Here I spend all this time memorizing Shakespeare lines only to be passed over because I'm too beautiful."

"Harry-"

Harry closes his eyes and in a booming voice starts proclaiming, "doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move! Doubt-"

"Harry," he tries again, suppressing his laughter with the back of his hand.

"I do make a pretty good Kate Winslet though." Harry falls back against the pillows again, his arms stretched above his head. He fixes Niall with an intense stare. Niall bites at his pinky finger. "Niall, I want you to explore me like I'm a galaxy."

"I'm going to kick you out."

"Rude," Harry chides, popping himself up on his hands. "I'm only demonstrating my acting abilities."

"What is it about theater then? That draws you in?"

"I don't know...I never have a good answer for it. I think it's...um...really nice to be able to make people...feel things. Make them think about things. Nice to sort of forget about yourself and be someone else. What about you? Why space?"

"I've honestly never really sat down and thought about it. The ambitiousness of it I guess. The idea that there's always something new to discover, new to explore." 

Harry nods and then suddenly squints. "Wait, does that say Neil deGrasse Tyson's on the bottom of that poster?"

"Yeah."

"No way! How did you manage that?"

"Met him at a convention. Was pretty fucking awesome." It's still one of his favorite memories.

"You're so lucky."

"What did you want to do? Watch Netflix?"

"Sure."

Niall gets up and turns on the lights. After they've settled down with the laptop balanced on Niall's knee, selected a period drama Harry claims is really good, they fall silent. Niall feels Harry press closer as the film progresses. He sets his hand on top of Niall's. Harry's palm is all sweaty and when Niall looks over at him, Harry's eyes are very firmly fixed on the screen. Niall just squeezes his hand reassuringly and keeps hold of it the entire movie. 

[notsdlifter]

Kill Hollows: Chapter 0

CHAPTER 0

THE NIGHT OF THE SYNDEMIC

“We've got a bunch of calls coming in about smoke at the Pain Clinic. Johnnie, what's your 20?” snapped the radio between Officers John Brady and Susan McMillian in squad car three. There was a ride-along, a DTF trainee visiting from Kanas City, in the seat behind the officers in the cage. Officer Brady looked over at his partner in the passenger seat and wagged his eyebrows.

“It’s your favorite place, McMack. That clinic is a dumpster fire.”

“Probably a junkie pissed they wouldn’t write a script,” McMillian bit her lip and shrugged as she examined the smoke roiling in the distance.

“That clinic has never turned down a script,” Brady said with a sneer. “Never.”

Brady grabbed the handheld CB and clicked it to life. “Just passing Courthouse Square on Shilo Street. We’re on the way. Over,” Brady said as he hit the lights on the squad car, and bathed the dead, twisted limbs of the old oak tree in the center of town in a lurching, nystagmic pattern of red and blue. The siren’s hollow echo reverberated off the pillars of the limestone courthouse. The engine roared as the police cruiser raced up Shilo Street.

From the moment he woke up, Brady had an unsettling sensation in his guts; a queasy feeling his grandma used to call the “nervous shits.” There was something in the air. He had patrolled the streets long enough to know you listen to those feelings. A tension hung over Token-Oak like low-hanging funnel clouds in the middle of May. Between yesterday’s overdoses the and the dead trees everywhere, it gave Brady a chill. It felt like something was coming.

“By the pricking of my thumbs, “Brady thought, remembering a line he memorized for a school play years ago. He shook his head and tightened his grip on the wheel.

He saw a pillar of baby blue smoke roiling in the streetlights in the distance. Chemicals, Brady thought, damn. This was no gas fire or stalled car that burst into flames. This was something industrial.

“What the fuck is burning?” asked McMillian, her eyes locked on the sky ahead.

Of course, it was the Clinic, it was always the goddamned Clinic, Brady thought. For a town of seven thousand, Token-Oak had a Pain Clinic that treated thirty-five patients at a time and had a waiting room that could serve 200. Patients came to the clinic from the surrounding eight counties to get their prescriptions. Most days, the line for the clinic stretched around the building and down the sidewalk. It had the foot traffic of a methadone clinic in Chicago or New York not what you’d expect in some little town in the rolling hills of the Great Plains.

For years, Brady thought meth was the worst thing that could happen to a small town. Meth got a person high for days. Dopers made it with household chemicals. But only dopers took meth. Opiates, however, were legal and everyone from the local preacher to a handful of county commissioners was hooked on oxy. Some days, to Brady, it seemed like Token-Oak had just three types of folks: those addicted to the shit, those selling it, and the rest who didn’t leave their houses at night and slept with loaded pistols on their night stands.

Officer Brady looked back at the ride-along, Tim Forsyth, a Drug Task Force officer in training. Brady wondered if he even had to shave every day. The powers that be had sent Forsyth to the prairie to learn about small-town drug networks, and on last night’s shift, his first in Token-Oak, the kid got a crash course in rural drug interdiction: two meth explosions over in Boom Town, a drug related homicide in the trailer park, and even a flock of runners with several hundred gallons of anhydrous on MLK out by the Fair grounds. To top the night off, there were a half dozen ODs. Local addicts had mixed meth and oxy and were shooting it up with disastrous consequences: Six dead, and a dozen more lay writhing in hospital beds with their veins on fire. Brady saw fear in Forsyth’s eyes that night. The Big City cop came to little old Token-Oak to learn. Jesus, Brady thought as he looked at the kid in the rearview biting his lip and wringing his hands, welcome to Token-Oak, kid.

“Put your seatbelt on, Timmy,” Officer Brady said as he gunned the cruiser towards the blaze. The car sped through intersections and passed the bar crowd at the local Moose club, a collection of local drunks gave fascist salutes as the cruiser sped past.

“Will you look at that,” Officer McMillian said as the fire came into view.

Brady keyed the mic on the radio, altering dispatch, “We’ve got definite flames at the Clinic. Looks bad.”

The Pain Clinic was raging. Ten-foot flames were dancing into the night air through a small hole in the roof. Dozens of people packed the sidewalk watching the blaze. They didn’t run, officer Brady thought, because they didn’t want to lose their place in line.

As the cruiser rolled into the parking lot of the Pain Clinic, there was an acrid odor so overpowering that Brady had to cover his mouth with his handkerchief. His eyes watered and his lungs burned. He slammed on the brakes.

“What is that smell?” Forsyth said from the back seat.

“Fucking ammonia,” McMillian coughed as she hit the button to open the trunk. “I’ll get the respirators. We need to clear those dumbasses away from the fire.”

As Brady reached down for the CB, a torrent of hot air ripped its way out of a hole in the roof. A blast of flaming debris shot out a hundred feet in every direction. Chunks of flames rained down on the shuffling crowd as they stood watching the inferno. The ground shook, and a sinister hiss shrieked through the night air.

“Damn!” McMillian said, “why the hell are those people not running?” McMillian opened the passenger door and slid out of the cruiser and scrambled towards the open trunk. The backs of the crowd alternated in a strobe of red and blue.

Brady clicked the megaphone to life and shut off the sirens to the cruiser. “YOU PEOPLE, GET THE HELL BACK!”

A hundred faces snapped towards the police cruiser. They had their heads ducked and legs bent in a crouch. The image that flashed in Brady’s mind was of an attack dog: roiled, hackles up, ready to bite. Brady had seen a shit ton in his time on Token-Oak PD, but he had never seen anything like the way this crowd acted. His hand instinctively reached to the holster of his gun. He checked his belt for extra clips.

Forsyth, in a desperate whisper, said from the back seat, “McMillian should—she — she should get back in.”

The crowd lurched, suddenly, and in a singular movement. In disbelief, he blinked twice and pulled his head back to refocus his eyes. The crowd—every single person—broke into a violent sprint toward the cruiser. Their eyes were wide open and the fingers on their hands stretched out. All of them were screaming, mouths open and tongues churning around their teeth, veins on necks bulged and muscles stretched like taut cables.

___________________________

Susan put her palm on the edge of the trunk and slammed it shut. She looked at the clinic as she rounded the cruiser. There were a hundred faces looking back at her. Not just looking, glaring. She stopped and tilted her head. The respirators dangling from her left hand near the asphalt.

There in the middle of the crowd she saw her nephew, Parker. He had just turned seventeen and no one had seen him in over four months. Around his neck he wore the coral beaded choker that she brought him back from her honeymoon in the Dominican Republic. Out of all her nephews and nieces, Parker was her favorite. He was the type of kid so full of life that he radiated actual warmth. His laugh—that out-of-breath, squeaking gasp—could heal any wound. Parker, she was sure, was destined to move out of Token-Oak and pursue a career in something that suited his gregarious nature and inquisitive personality.

Looking at him now, Susan saw that warmth was gone. Parker’s eyes were blank. Whatever fire that had burned inside him had been extinguished. He breathed in heavy, panting gasps. And when their eyes met, he did not recognize her, she was sure of it. As he broke into a run toward her, his face contorted, tongue waggling through an open jaw while he screamed. Susan McMillian stood perfectly still as she watched the child she to read poems from Where the Sidewalk Ends until he fell asleep, close upon her.

She never even put her hand on her gun.

____________________________

“SUSAN!” Brady yelled.

But the edge of the crowd met Susan McMillian as she was returning from the trunk. They slung her onto the hood. She hit the black paint with a dull thud. A dozen sets of hands grasped at her body. McMillian screamed as a man grabbed her by the throat and pulled her windpipe free, parts of her tongue and trachea dangled in the night air. Officer McMillian gurgled as blood sprayed from her neck. The crowd engulfed her failing body. They gutted her like a freshly caught largemouth bass.

Brady pulled his service Glock and fired through his window. He emptied the magazine into a half-dozen people in the crowd. Bodies fell onto the asphalt of the parking lot. A middle-aged woman shot in the face spilled over the hood of the cruiser. He hit a young man in the chest three times, but he kept coming. They seemed oblivious to the gun shots. They leaned into the bullets, not one of them so much as flinched as they moved, always closer.

Brady hit the release on his magazine and reached for another, too late. Grasping hands pulled him out of the window and into the night. Fingers tore at his eyes and face as he squinted and screamed. His left ear was ripped from his head. A young woman, her face a smear of rage, grabbed his nose and split one of his nostrils in half. the explosion of the Pain Clinic. A hot blast of fire hit his skin. The car was blown backward. The cruiser tumbling over once, maybe more. The roof of the car coming to rest on Halstead Street.

He opened his left eye to a squint while lying in the upside-down cruiser. He felt the fire on his back and arms as the entire car burned. There were parts in the middle of the street: a hand, an arm, random pieces of clothing burning bright on the black asphalt. As he watched through the smashed windows of the cruiser, he saw flaming bodies sprinting down Halstead towards the center of Token-Oak. What the fuck is happening, he thought.

Brady heard pounding from the cage behind him. Forsyth, even though the cruiser was on fire, refused to open the door. It was unlocked, and all Forsyth had to do was roll out. Brady felt him slapping at the flames and jumping around the back seat. But the guy didn’t scream. He danced in the fire and the pain, too scared to leave the cage.

The CB on the dash clicked to life. A questioning voice demanded an update. There was another call, a fire at the High Rise. An officer in a different squad car responded in a desperate tone. There were gunshots in the background. It was happening across Token-Oak, Brady thought. It was happening everywhere.

As Brady pulled in his last breath, he felt his clothes meld in hot bubbles to the skin on his backbone. Through an avalanche of exquisite pain, he had the final thought of a man who gave twenty-two years of his life to protecting and serving his community. There were thousands of kids sleeping in Token-Oak. Most of those were little, just toddlers. As he watched the flaming backs of the crowd sprint down Halstead, he thought about protecting those little kids.

Suddenly, the pain was gone. Unable to move, he looked down Halstead Street and its mansions that lined the road. He looked on in breathless horror as the crowd gravitated towards the center of town. 

__________________________

Deputy Sheriff Jackson Gillatrout screamed into the CB sitting on his desk in the Token-Oak Police Station. There were four squad cars that patrolled the county that surrounded the town. He had lost contact with McMillian and Brady in squad car three at the Pain Clinic. A team of three officers went into the High Rise searching for a shooter. Two squad cars had driven to the overturned fire engine on MLK to investigate the wreckage. He clicked the CB and called for an answer, an update, anything but dead air. Not one of his officers was responding. It was the damndest thing he had ever experienced.

The lights in the police station flickered and then died. He heard a series of booms from outside.

He grabbed a tactical shotgun from the rack and hurdled the front desk. Jackson threw open the door of the Police station and stepped out onto Main Street. A few of the telephone poles on Main were laying down. Oddly, they were not stuck by a vehicle, they looked like chainsawed tree stumps. Every tall, wooden structure in town was burning: the High Rise, the grain elevators, the bell tower of the courthouse, and the steeple to Zion Lutheran were all on fire. Even the 400-foot cell phone tower in the field by McClintock’s tree farm was torn down into a flaming wreckage. Mother of God, Jackson thought as he surveyed the wreckage.

The Walkie-talkie on his belt crackled to life. It was officer Betty Ripsome. She was in the old Bronco out in Chickamaga Basin at the water treatment plant. Before things went to shit, the first call they received as darkness fell on the town, was an alarm trigger at the plant. Probably a break-in.

“Jack, its Betty out in Chicamaga.. There are barrels of chemicals poured into the water treatment pits. Jack, the water is poisoned. It needs to be shut off ASAP. Over”

Jackson didn’t answer officer Ripsome. His eyes were drawn to a row of houses just past Main. There was a group of people crouched outside standing around a burning home. A person from inside ran to escape the flames. One of the crouching figures grabbed the runner in a chokehold and cut the man from his intestines to his throat. Jackson watched as a group of three pulled the man’s organs out and threw them on the street. Jackson stood in frozen horror as the man died on the cement sidewalk, leg twitching gently, outside his burning home. The crouching figures stood over the dying man while he writhed on the pavement.

Jackson tightened the grip on the shotgun, and he thought about racking it. But as he watched, the group of people moved to the next house on the street. They lit porch of the home on fire and threw flaming debris in the windows. They all stood crouched waiting for the next runner.

As Jackson looked around Token-Oak, he saw flames everywhere. The telephone lines were down. The two major roads in and out of town were blocked. The gas station he could see was a smoldering pile. He realized there was no way out, and no one to call.

A vast shimmer northwest of town caught his eye. He saw a massive blanket of black move down from the rolling hills. The grass field that separated Token-Oak from the Hollows glimmered with the movement of metal flashes. It took Jackson a half minute to realize that this blanket of movement was people. Hundreds of them. And the metal flashes were the things they carried in their hands. And they were all coming from the dead trees of the Hollows. The Token-Oak Police had to fish a body out of that dead forest every few weeks for as long as Jackson could remember. An occurrence that was so common that the officers called the hills and all the dead trees surrounding Kill Hollows. He didn’t believe all the bullshit stories about Kill Hollows; the thousands of dopers living in the woods in makeshift shanties, or ancient Indian burial nonsense. To Jackson, it was a place where people went to smoke dope and cause trouble. Those stories where just spooky gossip that teenagers spun to their friends. Nonetheless, all the dead fingers of those trees gave him the heebie-jeebies. And he never investigated the place, even when it was his job to do so.

When he looked into Kill Hollows now, he felt something different. It was like he was seeing it all for the first time. Really seeing it. Just behind the people sprinting into town, up on the bald hilltop at the highest point of the Hollows, Jackson saw a fire on the rocks burning bold. It was a huge bonfire, and he swore there were little shapes dancing around it. He felt it then, the pressing suffocation of fear. And all those old stories rose in his mind again. 

Jackson slipped back inside the police station and locked the door. He threw the deadbolt and slid a few desks across the floor to block the entrance.

“Jack?” Betty Ripsome yelled into the CB.

Just then, a flaming bottle broke the front window of the Police Statio and broke into a river of fire on the wooden wall beside him. Outside the window, he saw the exaggerated shadows of crouching people through the flames. The fire on the wood paneling started to spread. In another minute, Jackson would have a choice to make.

He grabbed the CB, and clicked it to life. “Betty, don’t come back here,” Jackson said, “The town is burning. There are fires everywhere.”

The CB in his hand made a gurgling sound. There was a loud hiss of static with gun shots in the background. A hundred whispering voices bit through the white noise until there was a strange silence. Jackson held the CB receiver to his ear to listen. It sounded like a guitar amp, turned all the way up, right before the first cord was struck. It was a magnetic void of noise. In the middle of that void, a single voice started to speak. Deep and resonate, the voice said a single phrase. “Poison the water.”

Jackson blinked as he looked at the CB. The voice began again, even louder. “Cut the power, poison the water, light the gas, burn all the wood. Then peel the skin from their faces when they run from their holes. The lucky ones will die clutching their chest. Filet the rest.”

The whispers returned. Even more this time. Hissing a chorus of applause until the CB went dead. The fire on the wall hit the ceiling tiles and spread like sound. Everything was burning in the station. And Jackson, as he felt the heat hit his cheeks, looked at the crouching shapes waiting for him outside.