#ryan starts to hunch forward right after this

[marinerainbow]

Wait In the Truck is an AU based on the song- Wait In The Truck (by HARDY and Lainey Wilson).

Kingston's driving around town one night with Rena and Ryan- maybe heading home, maybe going to do a job, maybe going to get late-night groceries- or maybe Rena was just bored and acting insufferable so they're taking her out for a walk XD Whatever it is, it all completely dissapears from King's head the moment he sees that hunched, tired-looking girl covered in bruises and some of her own blood wondering weekly down the street.

Usually a Look like that wouldn't bother King- bad shit happens in the city all the time, whether it's Vegas or Hollywood. If it was anyone else he'd just figure they got mugged and keep going. But, and this is cliche as fuck (but so underrated), Poppy was different. Something about her big sad eyes (still pretty, no matter how filled with tears) made him act like an idiot; Slamming on the breaks as hard as he can suddenly, making everyone in the car shoot forward and curse.

"Fucken 'ell- "

"Gah! King, my nails!! I was painting them back here, and you knew that!!- "

The other two complain, but King's already out of the car- rushing to chuck his jacket over Poppy's startled shoulders and ask her a million questions- shit are you okay?? What the hell happened here, darlin'?? You run into some thugs?? Here, please, let us get you home- Do you need somethin to eat?? Rena! Do you have any fucking water!?-

Poppy doesn't speak- she can't. She's in a state, and in shock of what's happening now, but something about King definitely sets her at ease so she let's him guide her gently to the car and sit her in the driver's seat so she can rest and takes the bottle of water waived in fromt of her face by a manicured hand coming from the back. Her legs were killing her, afterall.

Kingston assesses her injuries, taking care of the ones he can, but something about them is... odd. Something personal about them. "Hey kid... you're not fucked up in some gang activity, are ya?"

She shakes her head, and she copies her. Cuz, nah. Course not. Not this little sweetheart.

But then, how...

"... was this a guy, then, huh little lady?"

Her ears flatten against her head and Kingston's mouth immediately stretches into a horrible scowl- he hasn't known this chickie for 5 minutes but he already feels so fucking protective of her. And, besides- beating on your girl is just bad fucken taste. His girl actually deserves it sometimes, and he'd still never ever hurt her.

Kingston looked up past Poppy's head and shared a look with Ryan, who sighs; fully understanding. "At least ask the girls name before you go on a crusade for her, man."

"Oh, right. Uh- "

~

After some introductions XD (King holding both of Pop's hands in his delicately the whole time), King helps Poppy into the back-seat with Rena who starts to paint Poppy's nails a pretty red shade matching her own. Whether it was to distract her or for purely selfish Boredom reasons, Poppy's never sure.

King drives all the way to Ben's house, information he got out of Poppy obviously, tells Ryan to grab the wheel and drive the girl outta here, jumps out and RUNS into the house. The last thing Poppy sees before Ryan drives away is King using one strong leg to kick down the fucking door (he has no subtly).

~

Ten minutes later Ryan drives back by the house; he doesn't stop, but they do see Kingston with blood on his face having a smoke on the front doorstep, the rest of the house still.

Then Ryan took Poppy home, Rena deposited her at the door, and they left.

Thus ends the most exciting night of Poppy's life. She never expects to see those people again, half thinking that was a dream when she wakes up the next morning, when she sees the news the next day that her... ex... boyfriend was found with a bullet hole in his forehead. And that the guy (*cough* the very handsome guy) would be found guilty and get 50 Years in prison (with possibility of parole after 40).

~~~

Poppy visits him every week for those 40 Years. Gratefulness turns into genuine like and that turns into mutual feelings as Kingston flirts and falls in love with the pretty girls eyes turning happy.

So the first thing that King does when he gets out is kiss Poppy hard.

(I hope this was coherent and isn't too choppy XD I'm doing laundry and watching The Librarians at the same time here XD 😅 I also hope work is good!! ^^ Rest when you get home ^^ )

I NEED MORE OF THIS MAN!!! I NEED THIS ANIMATED! I NEED THIS IN A BOOK!!! I NEED THIS!!!!!!!!

I will not apolagizee for the thought dump imma drop on this ask like a BOMB-

Ohhhhh my god. Ok ok ok. I hope this is coherent XD I'm way too excited!!! Though first off; I got so sad when you said Kingston was in prison was in jail for 40 years. If he's 50 and she's almost 30, that means she'd be 70 and he'd be dead in prison! But then I remembered the line 'her ears pinned back' and realized that they're their immortal toon selves here and was relieved again XD (though it did get me thinking. If toons are immortal, does that mean their prison sentences would be much harsher in terms of years? Would that take part in toons striving for equality in the future? 🤔)

I wanted to write Poppy's POV of meeting Kingston so bad!!! But I don't have enough time XD but- Poppy would be panicking in the truck as Ryan drives away, fearing for Kingston!!!! (Yes, King comes off as strong and sweet, even to her shocked state. But when you've lived with an abuser, they can make you think they're untouchable). I can just see Ryan calmly assuring Poppy that King will be just fine, knowing exactly what's gonna happen. And Rena says it in a more sinister way, "It ain't Kingston you should be worried about, sweetheart~"

And- usually Ben doesn't go that far. Even when drinking. Usually, he talks a lot of shit. Verbal abuse (though if Poppy stayed with him, she would have been slapped *side eyes the weasel step-father timeline). But here? For one, it's an AU and Ben is awful no matter what, so I'll say he went that far. But also I'm imagining a day or two before that night, when they were on a date that was just leaving Poppy exhausted, a guy was flirting with her and she didn't turn him down right away. If anything, she actually lit up. Even though she had no intention to cheat or anything, it felt nice to have someone say nice things about you (though as you can imagine, Ben made her guilt feel worse. His anger festered, until he 'dealt' with her 'acting like a whore'. Thank God Kingston shows up)

Alright let's get onto the main thing here; Poppy seeing Kingston in prison!!!!

For starters, she wanted to thank him and apologize for getting him arrested. He wouldn't be separated from his friends and wife if it weren't for her (I NEED TO KNOW HOW KING RESPONDS TO POPPY TRYING TO APOLOGIZE! PLEASE HANNAH!). But, just from the first visit, along with remembering how kind he was to her despite not knowing her, she wants to see him again. And keep visiting. It's partially a way to try to repay him; check on him, make sure he's safe and doing ok in prison, but also because she wants to know him. Poppy wants to know who this marsupial is.

She'll also try to keep in contact with Rena and Ryan. And it's through them that she learns even more about their lives and Kingston! Ohhh boy I can imagine all she's gonna learn.

Ok I better do the rest in dot points XD

Poppy asking Kingston how he did it. How he was able to just take another person's life, even if they were horrible. To her, it's unimaginable. Even if it is for another person. She doesn't ask him angrily, but rather genuine curiosity of this man. How would Kingston react to not only her question, but her explaining her own views on killing?

Even though they see each other once a week, Poppy likes to write him letters. The guards check the mail, so she doesn't put in how his gang is doing (I'll get to that trust me-). But just happy little things about her life, Ryan and Rena, and Toontown. Just trying to give Kingston hope for these long years ^^ she'll even put some photos in the envelope ^^

THE LYRICS 'I don't think he's an angel; an angel wouldn't do what he did' BEING POPS' EXACT THOUGHTS!!! She's talking to Ryan in private, because she can't see King and Rena would tease her, and she tells him, "An angel wouldn't do what he did. What he has done... But he's that special to me."

Imagine that as Poppy falls for Kingston more and more, she tries to subtly talk to Rena about it. She sees by now that they have a... Complicated open relationship. But she doesn't want to tear a marriage apart, either. And Rena just smirks and goes "I get it. You wanna fuck my husband." She doesn't usually refer to King as her husband, but she did it then to make Poppy feel the discomfort and guilt 😅 also! "Do you always fall for guys who kill for 'ya?~" Needless to say, Poppy knows she has Rena's blessing 😅

Imagine Poppy and Rena hanging out together, and Rena is being herself as usual; looking for her next prey. And then she sees a guy approach Poppy, but gets shocked when she kindly turns him away? Did that girl really just give up a nice ride?? And Poppy simply just shrugs, "I'm in love with Kingston. I don't want anyone else.". How would Rena respond to what loyalty looks like? XD

POPPY'S CONFESSION!!! I also wanted to write this, but again; no time XD but here; feeling all giggly and happy with all of Kings' flirts, feeling encouraged by his reciprocated crush and Rena's lack of care, she hesitates before they fully depart. She gestures for King to come closer to the glass separating them. Closer. Closer. And when he's nearly pressed against the glass, she presses a loving, lingering kiss to where his lips would be. She pulls away and feels anxious, but also excited as she watches Kingstons reaction.

Poppy showing up to the jail in more nice dresses, wanting to look nice for her jail bird love 🥰🥰🥰 she can ignore the looks she receives. As long as she has her kangaroo (hopefully he can ignore them while behind bars 😅)

Their visits growing from flirty friends to pure love 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 the guards and prisoners can see the difference in Kingston before and after every visit Poppy makes. How much the two adore the other and desperately want the glass to just disappear!!! Kingston getting to see how bubbly and sweet Poppy is now that she's no longer with Ben!? Poppy being the reason Kingston behaves himself so he can get out of jail early!? My heart!-

Poppy becoming a bigger part in the gang, in a way. It's not really a secret that the little bunny has been visiting the boss. Not to mention getting closer to Ryan and Rena, the current bosses while King is in jail. She hasn't done anything, and yet these giant, tough-as-nails thugs are scared of upsetting the little lady XD

And now, the moment I've been waiting for... Poppy and Kingstons first kiss.

The drive to the jail had been so nervewracking. Poppy had to resist pacing as she waited for Ryan to return with Kingston. She couldn't pinpoint why she felt so anxious, her mind and heart had been racing too fast for her to focus. But the second her eyes locked with the marsupials, seeing his dark eye wide in recognition and love and dressed in his former black suit once again, it felt like time itself had stood still. Seeing her love here, truly here...

Anyone watching, a guard, prisoner, or even the taller kangaroo that had escorted King out in the first place, couldn't have seen the two toons move. In a blink of an eye, within a heartbeat, Poppy was in Kingstons arms, legs wrapped around his waist, and two sets of lips locked together in a desperate, passionate first kiss.

Poppy couldn't believe it, even now. She didn't even feel fear of this all being a dream; all she could focus on now was her darling kangaroo and finally being able to touch the love of her life. Being able to feel his coarse fur under her fingers, his strong and protective arms finally pulling her close like he did all those years ago. The way he held her so close and kissed her- Oh god, the way he kissed her. One of his hands tangled in her hair and pulling her even closer, hot lips crashed onto her own, sucking on her tongue as if he was trying to commit her flavor to memory?? It was almost worth the four decades of being apart.

"I- I love you!" She managed to breathe out in-between kisses, not wanting to part from Kingston but needing to tell him what was in her heart. Even if she had told him so many times from the other side of the glass wall, she needed him to hear her say it now. While they were finally, finally together and could love each other freely, "I love you! King, I- Oh god, I love you so much!"

Ohhh this took me way too long to answer. I was hoping to offer more 😅 I'm so in love with this AU!!! We need to discuss this more!!! If you have more thoughts, please do not hesitate to tell me more!!!

[angstyaches]

“Someone shyly asking, “Could you rub my tummy?” while groaning with pain because who doesn’t love that?” This scenario for Felix and Elliot please. With Fee being the sickee

Here it is! It was supposed to be a drabble, but in true Flick fashion I could just Not Stop. I might even write a part two about the car ride back to the townhouse (if I feel like it / if anyone expresses an interest). Also, I can’t believe I’ve written like ten sickfics for my vampire boys but in not one of them (?!) have they actually been sick because of drinking blood?!

CW: blood, slaughter of an animal, vampires drinking blood, spice (?!), nausea, drowsiness

___

Felix’s stomach felt like it was being pinched from the inside, caught in the grasp of something with claws that wanted to drag it right out of his body. It was impossible to tell anymore whether the discomfort was from nausea or prolonged thirst, because the former almost always accompanied the latter. He’d have pressed his hands to his belly if they’d been free, but they were working on another ache.

His fingertips were pressing into his face, just above the edges of his lips. He let out a low groan as he tried to massage away the throbbing pain that had gone from dull to distracting in the space of a few minutes. Pressure piled up on the roots of his upper canines, and to a lesser extent, his lower ones.

Ryan stood up from where she’d been crouched, feeding, and looked over her shoulder, rubbing at the red stain smeared across her pale white cheek. Her sleeve was white too, and as the blood soaked into it, Felix could already hear Nancy yelling about it as soon as they got back home.

“You should have a wee drop,” Ryan said smoothly. Her eyes were golden yellow and practically glowing after the hunt and the kill and the blood. It was always about the blood, wasn’t it? Her white hair looked brighter out here in nature too; back in the townhouse, it just matched the walls. “Just to tide you over.”

Felix looked down at his feet, getting momentarily distracted by his hands, which were trembling horribly by his sides. The ache in his belly was increasing from the sight and the sound and, indeed, the smell of feeding. The pressure building up in his gums was growing more and more intense, and it almost felt like his fangs were jabbing upwards, scraping at the bones below his eyes and making them water.

He knew he could refuse if he wanted to, and Ryan wouldn’t say another word about it, but he did need to drink, and it would be a while until he could get his hands on anything other than blood in its rawest form; warm and straight from the vein. Ryan knew he didn’t like it, so she would never suggest it if she didn’t think it was the best thing for him.

Fingers pressing even more deeply against his gums, he slowly approached the beast that had been breathing minutes before but wasn’t anymore, trying his best not to look it in the eye. He sank to his knees beside Elliott, whose back was so hunched over it looked like his spine had been bent in half. He was slurping and sucking at a wound he’d opened in the creature’s neck.

He didn’t notice Felix sit down next to him, not until Felix reached out to touch his leg, automatically seeking physical contact. He was nervous, and he was in pain, and Elliott understood him better than anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t stop to consider the fact that Elliott was currently a hundred miles away, in feeding mode, and probably could have turned and ripped his arm off without hesitation.

But when Elliott’s head snapped around, all he gave was a sound that was halfway between a snarl and a question. Hmmph? His eyes were practically blazing gold, his lips were furled back over sharp fangs, and his teeth and chin were painted brightly with blood. Spatters of it dotted his face and had gotten into the strands of hair he liked to wear by his face.

Felix, trembling and clean in comparison, couldn’t tell if the sight of his boyfriend giving in to his bloodlust like this was terrifying or beautiful. Either way, he didn’t flinch or move, besides the violent quivering that suddenly set into his lower lip.

The hungry look in Elliott’s eyes softened slightly, and his fangs began to ease back from over his lower lip. He unclenched one hand from the dead beast’s neck and laid it on the hand Felix had put on his leg.

The eye contact didn’t break until Elliott had leaned in close enough for their lips to press together.

Felix inhaled sharply, the sweet, metallic smell of the blood on Elliott’s face already making him dizzy with lust. The pressure inside his skull shifted, almost like a cork had popped deep inside his gums, and he felt his fangs beginning to contract and lengthen.

He let Elliott pry his mouth open for a deeper kiss, tasting blood on his tongue until he didn’t anymore. Their teeth clashed, and there was a trickle of blood that wasn’t animal blood, but Felix didn’t know if it was Elliott’s or his own. Either way, it didn’t put him off.

He needed more. He sat up higher on his knees and sucked the animal’s blood from around Elliott’s lips, barely aware of the low, desperate noises rising in his throat as his body demanded more –

“Whoa, hey – here,” Elliott half-laughed, leaning back and pulling Felix with him, so that the younger boy could drop against the open wound in the animal. Felix sank his teeth into the beast’s still-warm flesh, gasping and drawing in mouthfuls of liquid.

It tasted unbelievably sweet, almost unbearably so, and once he started, it felt like he would never want to stop. His body seemed to ripple with instinct and pleasure and relief. His stomach grew warm and heavy. He didn’t stop until his lungs ran out of air and he began to see stars. He ripped his teeth free and scrambled back on the forest floor, gasping. Elliott put a hand to his back to stop him from toppling over.

“Jesus, that was…” Elliott’s voice was close to a growl. “So fucking hot.”

Felix gave a shuddering sigh. Elliott was a lot more present and coherent now, it seemed. He was grinning breathlessly, jerking his shoulders slightly like he did when he had excess energy. “Are you okay, boo?”

Felix glanced down at himself and gave a shuddering sigh at the sight of his second-favourite skinny jeans and third-favourite green sweater patched with blood.

“I’ve got blood all over me,” he mumbled unhappily.

Elliott laughed at that, but Felix barely reacted. He felt like his brain was hovering somewhere outside his body; his eyes too, so that he was staring at himself in horror. The only thing that brought him back to reality was the loud gurgle that came from deep inside his body, a thing that he both heard and felt.

“Oh, gosh,” Felix gasped, folding his arms gently over his belly and leaning forward.

“Fee?” Elliott asked, leaning in a little closer. “Does it hurt? It probably shouldn’t hurt. Hey, Ryan, is he okay?”

Ryan appeared in front of them, dropping to a squat and lowering her head to get a look at Felix’s face. “Felix, are you going to vomit?”

Am I going to vomit? he asked himself very sincerely. No. Or, at least, he didn’t want to. An animal had lost its life, and he’d taken its blood, and that meant something; it meant he had to hold onto it.

Felix slowly shook his head, gulping hard and wishing he had something to rinse his mouth out with.

“Probably just drank too much too fast,” Ryan mused.

Elliott gently helped him to his feet, but as he stood, it felt like the contents of his belly were still down on the ground somewhere, dragging and weighing him down. He had no idea how Ryan sprang so delicately to her feet, like a pixie on puppet strings. He had no idea how Elliott looked so beautiful when he was such a mess.

He didn’t know anything except for one fact; his stomach was starting to ache. A lot.

He winced as he felt something shift in his gut, but instead of a gurgle, this was a deep, clenching rumble that made his knees feel a little weak. He pulled away from the hug so he could put his hands on his belly. He stared down at it as it cramped again, imagining his organs weren’t quite sure what to do with this amount of blood when he’d only ever consumed a fraction of that amount in the past.

His throat tickled with panic, and a different kind of pressure was building around his eyes.

Elliott hovered a few feet back, like he still didn’t trust Felix not to going to puke all over him. Not that it would have mattered, since he was already soaked in blood.

“You keeping it down, boo?”

“I – I hope…” Felix said weakly.

“I’m a bad influence, aren’t I?”

Felix grimaced through the faint sting of tears. Considering that Elliott was the reason he was half-vampire in the first place, he’d have said that was an understatement. He didn’t say it though, because his stomach and his jaw both clenched in unison, and all he could let out was a strangled whimper.

“Oh, boo,” Elliott sighed, finally coming close again so he could tuck some of Felix’s bangs behind his ear. The tips of his fingers were so gentle against the side of his neck that he shivered and sank his head against his chest again, desperate to be held and comforted.

“You can take it easy for a few more minutes while I’m working here,” Ryan said. She was still licking subconsciously at her lips as she readied the syringe that she used to take blood home for future use. “Then we’re going to have to get a move-on back towards the car, before it gets dark.”

“Mmhmm,” Felix said, nodding weakly against Elliott’s ribcage.

Ryan turned her back and crouched by the dead animal. With his head lowered and with Elliott blocking his view, Felix didn’t see her work after that, but he reckoned she was concentrating enough not to be paying attention to him anymore.

“Elli, darling?” he asked in a small voice.

Elliott touched the back of his head. “Yes, gorgeous?”

“Could you rub my tummy?”

Without another word or a single beat of a pause, Elliott ran his hands down over Felix’s shoulders. His touch lingered along his waist for a second, fingertips careful despite knowing every slight curve in his body like a map he’d studied for decades. He brushed the palm of his hand gently over Felix’s stomach, pausing as he felt the pressure just below his ribs, trying to assess how much pressure would be too much.

He got his answer not too long after, as Felix whimpered again, tensing a hand around Elliott’s elbow.

“Sorry,” Elliott murmured softly, smoothing his hand down over the tight, achy spot and kissing the top of Felix’s head again.

The smaller boy just continued groaning and whining in discomfort. He felt his face flush slightly as his belly bubbled under Elliott’s hand, its contents sloshing unbearably into his oesophagus. Something pinched at the bottom of his ribs and inched its way upwards, and Felix opened his mouth, covering it quickly.

He barely lifted his head as Ryan came back over and stood in front of them, stowing her syringe in her bag.

“Boys,” she said shortly, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

Felix began to straighten up, turning in Ryan’s direction. Along with the pressure leaning down on his internal organs, his bones and muscles were beginning to respond more slowly to his commands, and there was a fuzzy feeling in his head that told him he would be asleep as soon as he was out of the forest.

He felt Elliott keep his hand pressed to his stomach and step around behind him, pulling his back against his chest. Elliott was so much taller than Felix that he had no qualms about letting him take his full weight, and his skin tingled in relief.

Ryan looked at them blankly. “This display is not very dignified.”

“Your face isn’t very dignified,” Elliott murmured with a smirk, now smoothing both hands delicately over Felix’s belly. He could practically feel the heavy liquid sloshing around under his hand, and could only imagine how uncomfortable his poor boyfriend must have been. If the groans he couldn’t manage to suppress were anything to go by, it was quite a bit.

Ryan’s eyes flicked about lazily, not quite reaching the level of rolling. Most people would be too afraid to insult her, even in jest, but Elliott knew she simply viewed that kind of thing as beneath her, and wouldn’t rise to it.

“Love you,” Elliott offered by way of apology, letting his smirk soften into a warmer smile. “Your face is very nice.”

Ryan blinked and began to walk in the direction they’d come from, jabbing Elliott gently in the shoulder with a long, black fingernail as she passed him.

“You can both sit in the back if you’re going to continue with this,” she said, “otherwise I’m going to be losing my well-earned lunch.”

“What do you think, boo?” Elliott asked gently, leaning down towards Felix’s ear. He worked his hand back and forth across the swell of his belly, careful as ever not to jostle it too much. “Are we going to continue?”

It took a few seconds for Felix to register the question and mumble a reply because it seemed as though that post-feeding sleep was creeping in on him much more quickly than he thought.

[pvremichigan]

Until We Meet Again. [Arc Drabble]

TW: Vomit, blood, alcoholism mention, murder mention, memory loss

“From the look of it, I think I only need one more. Does it have to be specific? ...”

“No... Alright, makes things a lot easier. Yeah... Yeah make sure you keep contact with him, keep trying. Do whatever you gotta do.”

The voice on the other line spoke back, giving Mich a short verbal response.

“I appreciate the help. I do. One more and... Yeah, I’ll head over. When?”

The woman looked outside the window, her heart sinking the more she thought about the outcome. This was now or never... And if she hesitated, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. It’s just her... Just her at this point. She can’t deny the fear that built up inside, but time was running too thin.

The house was nearly covered inside with sticky notes about reminders and tasks, labels and tips. It looked like a damn video game tutorial... Everywhere there was SOMETHING about something or someone. Names scattered the notes, scribbled the more she had to remind herself. This morning she had gotten confused and a bit startled at the sight of two wolves in her house. She had no idea what to do, especially considering they were following her. It took far more than a half an hour to remember that those are her own dogs... Not wolves. Their names slipped her mind more often than not.

She was a mess...

“... I’m going to shoot for tonight. Can’t stall anymore. Don’t wanna risk any of the souls losing value.”

She sounded so unsure. It was as if she was pulling away by the minute. Her brain screamed that she didn’t want to do this but at this point, she really has no choice. It’s either this... Or lose herself to the brink of death.

“Yeah- Yeah I’m still here. Just thinking. I know, I’ll uh...”

It’s getting dark.

“I’ll head out now. I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Carter.”

As soon as the call ended, the weight of Mich’s body seemed to drop her down on the couch. Her legs had given out and her hands began to shake. She felt extremely ill, blocking her mouth with her fist just in case. Her blood chilled her body, everything felt cold and numb aside from the sensation of a rapidly beating heart. Funny... Her heart doesn’t even do anything for her, yet it can still react to her mind and emotions. It certainly didn’t help the situation.

Her skin grew cold. Her face pale... All she could do was sit stranded on the couch with an anxiously bouncing leg. The sound of the world tuned out. It was only ringing... Ringing that grew louder and louder. For a moment she could’ve sworn she heard it outside of her mind. It sounded so close, so real... And so utterly loud. Her eyes stared forward in contempt, her entire being practically frozen in this loop of doing nothing but break internally. This was a prison for her, this fear had been the warden keeping her in place and refusing to let her truly approach her mistakes with vigor. The fear creating a cowardess she had to face in any reflection she walked by. The fist didn’t fix anything... A wave of blood forced it’s way out of her throat and past her lips, an unprepared silent wretch as she was forced to hunch forward, splattering onto the carpet. No bile, no mucus... Just pure blood. Her nerves got the best of her. The last time this happened... It was right after she had shot Ryan dead. She stared in shock, frozen yet again as the shaking grew worse. In that moment, flashes of that miserable night sparked in her mind. All six shots... The tears that dropped from her eyes... And the final view of Ryan desperately and weakly reaching to her before his body went limp... And he lay there dead. Since that moment, her life had spiraled downward. One mistake led to years of agony and misery.

The paralysis caused by her fear had broken as she ran her hands over her face, tired and stressed from everything that had to be done. There were too many thoughts of regrets and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only i’... But no matter the rate of those thoughts that haunted her in this moment, it still didn’t change the fact that what was done, was done.

It had been over 3 years now... Compared to her lifespan, it was such a short time to deteriorate her mind. She never recognized the importance of a soul until her actions truly came to bite her in the ass.

Now she has no choice but to risk everything to fix her biggest mistake.

The movement out of the corner of her eye had caught her attention. the larger dog... B... The larger dog... The big one... The older dog... Why couldn’t she remember his name? Mich felt the sting of tears burn the entire area around her eyes as she truly realized in that moment how far gone she was and how there was no turning back. Her own dog, her main boy and she couldn’t even remember his name. As the reality of the situation hit, her heart had shattered into pieces. Louder and harsher than porcelain could ever dream or glass could ever achieve. The strongest material out there had shattered within it’s final moments of stability. What could anyone make of a pile of rubble, sharp and dangerous to bother with? There’s no gluing that back together.

There’s no mending that object that had been beaten by the owner and those around her. There’s no salvaging what she had.

The woman got up, legs growing weaker as she slowly and weakly made her way over to the dog. The ears of the boy lowered a bit, noticing his mother’s energy was like nothing he had sensed before. The redhead fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around the dog. The dog she owned and knew... But could not name. Her silent tears dampened his coat as she continued to hold him. This was her physical apology for everything. Everything this dog witnessed through these years. He watched her heart shatter after Brandon... Then swell after Ryan. He met his new brother who he loves dearly. He noticed Mich fall into a habit of alcoholism... Smoking more often. Altercations happening frequently if not daily. There were people she had made mad pounding at the door. The casualties and violence had skyrocketed, and there was less remorse to be found in her actions. He watched his mother fall into the worst parts of her life... Watched her breakdown after that floating man came into the picture. He watched her begin to avoid Riley and stray away from him. He watched her flinch at Riley’s name... He watched countless nights of her getting drunk and crying herself to sleep. He even watched several weeks straight go by where she didn’t get up from the couch once. Then slowly but surely... He watched her forget everything she’s ever known. Her legacy, her empathy, her mind, her family, herself... And the most painful part, her own dogs. Beaux head seemed to push against hers, as if he were holding her back to tell her he forgives her... That he still loves her. He always will.

That’s his mom...

It had been a while that she had remained on the floor with Beaux. Nearly an hour of an unmoving embrace. During that whole time she tried her hardest to recall his name... She felt like a failure when the point came to where she just couldn’t. This was it. This was the final stage of it all. If she doesn’t get to it soon... She will never be able to finish what she started.

She’ll never be able to heal.

“I don’t know your name, I’m sorry... But if I come ba- ... When I come back, things will be different... I promise. I promise you, big guy. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be a better owner...”

“I’ll be a better mom.”

She nodded into his fur to assure him she’d return. Whether he understood her or not, the verbal promise was also a promise to herself. She will return. She doesn’t have a choice. She has things to do here... People need her.

But how long will it be...

“Take care of your brother...”

Sniffling a bit, she tries to break away to stand up, but Beaux kept his head locked around hers for just a moment longer. Strained whines nearly whistle tone whistled through his muzzle. He didn’t wanna let go... But knowing his time was up, he finally let her stand up. The whining still rang, as if his last plea for her safety. Beaux grew anxious, his paws adjusting and shifting as he sat. She gave him a tight smile, patting his head and bending down once more to give him a soft, loving kiss on the forehead. One more pet and she had to pry herself away. Not looking back, she headed down to the cellar to collect everything she needed. By everything, she means everything she needed. Because for a couple of months, or even years...

She won’t be coming back.

Jack hadn’t been home that day. It made it much easier for her to leave without a trace. She grabbed the bag full of things she needed, heading back up the stairs. Her gaze was glued to the door, her steps coming to a halt as her body forced one more hesitation.

‘It’s now or never.’

That was all she needed to break the concrete around her feet as she forced herself forwards to the door, grabbing the handle and forcing her body to twist it. As easy as a task that it was, her body’s fear was the biggest obstacle there was. A war had ensued within her, but the first battle was a success as Mich finally pried the door open and dragged herself out. She shut the door behind her, locking it up and taking a step away from the house to look at it as a whole. The memories she had... The pain these years have brought upon her. All that was to be left in the past. It’s time to finish this... It’s time to move on.

A shaky breath, she took one last good look at it. A long moment of preparation and perseverance... One last good look... Before she turned on her heel and took her final steps away. She can’t go back now. There’s no going back.

She didn’t look back.

‘Until we meet again.’

[voleurdesoleil-archive]

Lucky Escape

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Male Detective (Jonah Rafferty) x Adam x Nate

Word count: 2.6k

!! cW !! mentions of blood, insults and toxic relationship

read on ao3

Today could have been a peaceful day, and it was, at least until someone came in to report that their van had been stolen. At first, Jonah didn’t pay much attention to it as Douglas was doing a surprisingly good job taking the owner’s statement. The voice sounded familiar, but Jonah couldn’t place a name or a face on it, so he didn’t linger on it. That was until the man started making a scene in front of the whole station.

“Are you even listening to me!”

The guy was yelling in Douglas’ face who was throwing distressed looks at Jonah. As he rushed out of his office, the guy turned around and Jonah stopped right away.

“If it isn’t Jonah Rafferty!” The man said mockingly.

“Luke…”

“So it’s true? You’re the new sheriff in town?”

Jonah ignored the question and walked to the front desk. He glanced over the report that Douglas was filling, but didn’t see any reason for the scene Luke was making so he asked: “What’s the problem Douglas?”

The Mayor’s son opened his mouth to answer but Luke interrupted him. “The problem is that your secretary doesn’t take his job seriously!”

“Officer Friedman isn’t a secretary,” Jonah said, stressing Douglas’ function. “And for all I see, there are no mistakes in his report.” Jonah added, giving him a reassuring smile to which Douglas let out a sigh or relief.

“Of course you’re gonna defend him! Is he your little boy toy?”

A shocked silence settled on the station as the officers quickly went back to work pretending they weren’t listening when Jonah took a look around him. Jonah’s jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists as Luke looked all proud of himself, a smug grin settling on his face.

“If you cannot respect my officers, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave this station and start looking for your van on your own.” Jonah spoke each word clearly, trying to be as stoic as possible.

“Oh…” Luke let out, his grin growing even bigger on his face. Deciding to ignore Jonah’s warning he added: “So you’re the boy toy this time, aren’t you? Exactly like you were with that reporter! What’s his name again? Bobby something…”

“We have your report, I’ll put someone on the case.” Jonah stated trying to ignore Luke.

“Can you put that cute little chick on the case? No offense but I don’t want your deviant ass near my car -” if Jonah didn’t know him better, he could have believed Luke’s apologetic smile, until he gestured to Douglas and added: “-nor your little boy toy."

“I’ll put Officer Len on the case.”

“Oh come on Jonah! Be a sweetheart and put Poname on my case, I’ve been trying to land that ch-”

“That’s enough! Can you have some respect for the officers of this station? You don’t like me fine! I couldn’t care less! But those people did nothing to you and deserve to be treated with respect so if you can’t do that I’m gonna ask you once again to leave!”

There was a moment of silence after Jonah had finally bursted out, but the sneer that grew on Luke’s face told him he had only fueled his stupidity.

“Or else what?” He had gained everyone’s attention. “Do you want me to tell them how much of a slut you are? I know about a lot of your boyfriends, or should I call them boy toys?” He was turning the station into his own little stage on which he was strutting proudly. “I’m afraid that little reporter of yours is incapable of holding his tongue…”

Jonah knew that whatever Bobby had told Luke, it was probably lies, but nevertheless he couldn’t risk losing his colleagues’ respect. Not now. Not after he’d worked so hard to gain it.

“What do you want?” Jonah resigned.

But Luke wasn’t even listening to him. “So let’s see! There was Taylor, Lucas, Zeke, Ryan, the guy from the bookstore, the exchange student, the delivery dude, that one was very low Jonah, Simon, Chris, who else? Jack, Frank, another Taylor, Percy…”

Jonah stopped listening as Luke kept enumerating the names of guys who actually had just been his classmates, or guys Bobby cheated with. The only ones he had actually dated were the exchange student, whose name was Arthur, he was also his French tutor, one of the Taylors and Lucas.

“Are you done making a fool of yourself?” Jonah asked as Luke stopped talking. “If you’re done, I think you can-”

“Oh, but I’m not done sweetheart, there’s one last person to talk about…” Luke cut him. “How about we talk about Bobby Marks now? I thought he was a slut, just like you, but turns out he’s actually a really nice guy. He told me a lot of things about you that I probably shouldn’t talk about-”

“Then don’t!”

Jonah looked over Luke’s shoulder and saw Tina standing in the doorway. She was coming in to start her shift.

“Officer!” Luke exclaimed, embarrassed. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know you should probably be leaving.” She said, stepping aside to hold the door open. “Have a nice day, sir.”

She waited for Luke to get out and be out of view to step back inside the station. But before she even reached Jonah’s office, he had already left his gun in his desk and grabbed his coat.

“I need some fresh hair.” he simply said walking past her.

___

"Jonah! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Tina said-” Nate froze in the middle of the training room. “Jonah?"

Jonah was kneeling on the floor, his bloody hands laying on his laps. His ragged breath was interspersed with sobs. The punching bag above him, was stained with his blood and so were his clothes. He didn’t react when Nate called his name another time.

Nate wanted to rush to him but the intense smell of his blood made him scared to even take a step.

"What happened?"

"Get out…”

“Jonah?”

“Get out!” Jonah yelled. His teary eyes were filled with an indefinable mix of rage and despair as he turned his head towards the vampire.

The door burst open as the other vampires rushed to the training room. Seeing the bloody mess surrounding Jonah’s hunched figure, none of them dared to say anything, but Adam rushed to Nate’s side.

“Get! Out!” Jonah yelled one last time, almost pleading as Adam took another step forward.

Morgan walked to Nate and grabbed his arm. “Nate…Come on…” she said as Farah was pushing Adam out of the room, leaving the detective alone.

___

A couple hours later, Adam was knocking on Jonah’s door. He slowly opened the door, only peeking his head in the room. Jonah was sitting on his bed, trying to bandage his left hand. Bo was sleeping next to him. “Can I come in?"

The detective simply nodded.

Adam walked to Jonah and sat at the foot of the bed. Seeing that he was struggling with the bandage, Adam scooted closer and took Jonah’s left hand in his. “Let me help you…” he whispered, to which Jonah gave a grateful smile.

Blood was already seeping through the layers of gauze and, as he gently wrapped Jonah’s hand, Adam couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been in that training room, punching that bag, before they found him for his knuckles to be as bloodied as they were. Jonah winced as Adam wrapped his hand one last time.

“I’m sorry, did I wrap it too tight?” he instantly worried.

“No, it’s okay.”

Adam could feel Jonah’s pulse under his fingers as he was holding the bandage in place while Jonah was cutting a piece of medical tape. Even though he could hear his heartbeat, feeling it, feeling its irregularity when their hands brushed over the piece of tape and exchanged a gaze, was a wonder for Adam. It was something so simple and yet something he would never get used to.

His hands lingered on Jonah’s after he was done and they stayed like that for a while, not saying anything, simply holding each other’s gaze and hands as a comfortable silence settled around them. The world blurs and blends together until all they can feel and sense is each other.

"How are you doing?” He eventually asked. To which Jonah only shrugged. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He was once again given a shrug as an answer.

Seeing Jonah like that made his heart clench in his chest. His mission was to protect the human but he had failed so many times already. He felt so helpless. “Is there anything I can do?”

That’s when a tear rolled down Jonah’s cheek, quickly followed by way more and Adam, in a blurred movement, immediately closed the gap between them to envelop him in a reassuring embrace.

His hand softly rubbing Jonah’s back as he was slightly rocking them on the bed. He could feel his tears crashing on his skin and his cheeks becoming hot from the crying against his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss on his hair, right above his ear.

“Je suis là, tout va bien,” Adam whispered, holding Jonah a little bit closer.

He held Jonah until the sobbing stopped and when the detective pulled away, Adam’s hand remained on his waist. Jonah rubbed his eyes and, with the back of his hand, wiped away his tears.

"I’m sorry…” Jonah said, his voice hoarse.

“No please, do not apologize Detective…"

Jonah chuckled upon hearing Adam calling him Detective and a smile grew on the vampire’s face as he heard that sound he loved so much.

"Are you feeling better?” Adam reached out to wipe away a stray tear but his hand lingered on the human’s face, cupping his cheek. Jonah leaned in the touch and, putting his hand above Adam’s, kissed his palm.

Jonah nodded. “Thank you…” he whispered against the vampire’s palm.

After a kissin on Adam’s knuckles, the detective grabbed his phone on the bedside table, and after quickly typing, threw it on the bed. The motion drew Adam’s gaze to the bandages wrapping both of his hands.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Jonah said as he noticed Adam’s worried gaze.

“I just wish you would have come to us instead of hurting yourself like that…” Adam’s voice was filled with regret.

“Adam… You being here right now is more than I could have wished for… ” Jonah reached up, gently cupping the vampire’s cheeks. “You are more than I could have wished for.”

Slowly, Jonah closed the distance between them, until their forehead touched. Until he could feel Adam’s breath tingling on his own lips.

Adam was the one to lean forward and capture Jonah’s lips. The kiss was surprisingly soft despite its intensity. The minty taste of Adam’s lips contrasted with the heat taking over Jonah’s body as his whole being was set on fire and that any remnants of sadness was instantly replaced with pure bliss.

Jonah’s heart pounded in his chest as Adam’s hand slided down his back, sending a shiver down his spine as his fingers barely grazed his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Slipping his hands on the back of Adam’s head, Jonah pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and slightly parting his mouth a bit more, wanting, needing to taste more of the vampire.

But the kiss was cut short by a soft knock on the door. Adam let out a frustrated groan against Jonah’s lips before parting as the door opened revealing Nate.

“Am I interrupting something?” The vampire asked as he felt the electrified atmosphere of the room.

Despite his desire to send him away, Jonah answered that he wasn’t and Nate closed the door behind him.

He waited for Nate to sit with them on the bed and took his hand while he gave a gentle squeeze to Adam’s. He knew why he asked Nate to join them, but having them both in front of him, looking at him expectantly, Jonah wasn’t so sure he had made the right decision.

“First of all, I want to apologize for what happened earlier. Today wasn’t a good day but that wasn’t a reason to take it out on you.” He pulled them both into a hug. “I’m really thankful to have you both and I know you just wanted to help, so I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Hey!” Nate cupped his cheek. “It’s okay, you needed some space, I think we can understand that.” The vampire said, to which Adam nodded in agreement.

Jonah nodded in return. “I cleaned everything, not sure if the smell is still there though…"

"We’ll take care of it, don’t worry about that.” Adam said.

“Now, apologies are great, but I think you at least deserve an explanation to my being in such a state."

"Jonah, you do not have to give us any explanation if you don’t feel like it.” Nate said sensing the uncertainty in Jonah’s voice.

“I know, Nate, but I want to.”

Upon those words, Nate gave him a gentle smile, which was all Jonah needed to gather up the courage to finally speak but, as Jonah started retelling the altercation he had had with Luke, everything he had tried burying deep down came back into ravaging waves.

Everything he had been planning on saying for the past hours was thrown out the window. His structured speech came out to be an overwhelming mess. Things he had told only to Tina and things he had never told to anyone came barreling out of his lips before he could stop them and through a curtain of tears he told them everything.

He told them about his high school band and his best friends outing him out in front of the whole town after kicking him out of the band for being polyamorous or as they would call him for the next few years “for being deviant”.

Adam and Nate weren’t saying anything. Adam’s gaze was completely focused on Jonah and Nate’s fingers were drawing incoherent forms on the back of his hand.

He told them about his hard time with the town and his hard beginning in the Wayhaven PD because of that. About being the talk of the town. About his colleagues giving him crass because he was only a slut in their eyes. About the people of Wayhaven yelling insults at him when they discovered he had been assigned to their case.

A worried frown immediately appeared on both their faces as Jonah stopped to avoid choking with his own tears. Adam and Nate both reacted at the same time and hugged their little human until he couldn’t breathe.

And he told them about Bobby. That still open wound. He told them about Bobby’s manipulation, about him using Jonah’s polyamory to explain his infidelities, about Bobby taking away pieces of himself so slowly that he never noticed until he was left with nothing.

Jonah could feel Adam’s grasp on his hand tighten as he told them about his past with Bobby and, both looking for comfort and to reassure Adam he made some space in between his legs and wrapped Adam’s arms around him like a blanket. With his back against Adam’s torso, he pulled his other boyfriend to him. Nate laid on the human’s laps who instinctively started raking his fingers through his hair, the vampire melting in his laps as he did so. They all chuckled when Bo started whining and came to sit on Nate’s stomach seeking affection.

They stayed like that for a while, until Jonah fell asleep. Nate held the human in his arms while Adam was opening the bedsheets. He gently laid him down before they both crawled under the sheets to cuddle their boyfriend. Pressing a kiss on Jonah’s they both sworn to protect the human so dear to their heart.

[voiceless-terror]

Prompts? This is a happy day! If you wish! I'm writing something similar but I need more cakes in the flavor and you write emotions so well! But early days in the archives and Tim and Sasha are giving Jon the cold shoulder and maybe there's an accident or something Jon really needs help with but he doesn't think he can go to either of them and he doesn't know Martin. And the next day he rolls up sick, or beat to hell, or has a cast, or a black eye, and Tim and Sasha are like WAT? And then feels!

Here you are! How do you know EXACTLY what to prompt me??? This is so my speed. So here you go- I hope you like!

“You’ve survived your first month in the Archives! That’s cause for celebration, Martin. Drinks on me!”

Tim’s cheerful tones weren’t hard to miss. Perhaps he didn’t notice Jon standing in the doorway, small and timid. He realized it was the middle of a rather stressful work week, but he just needed a little bit of help with some boxes. He’d been tired and worn out for the better part of the week, and the small ladder in Document Storage was rickety at best. Martin and Tim were both much taller and stronger than him- hell, even Sasha could’ve probably gotten the job done. Just a few minutes and then they could be on their way, to wherever they planned to go. Without him. 

Sasha was the one who noticed him. “Oh- hey, Jon. Did you need something?” 

He looked at the other two, twitching with clear impatience. Martin opened his mouth to speak but Tim made some sort of hushing motion with his hand. A sinking feeling made its way through Jon’s chest and to his stomach- the thought of asking for even the smallest of favors filled him with anxiety. He didn’t think he could bear seeing their faces when they said no. 

“Er, no, just- have a good night, yeah?” His voice sounded off, even to him, but they didn’t seem to make much of it, nodding awkwardly.

“You too!” Martin called after him as Jon scurried down the hallway, biting down whatever sadness stuck in his throat. He’d be here all night most likely. 

It didn’t bother him.

______

Jon stared up at the boxes looming tauntingly on the shelf, filled with statements that were likely just as disorganized as the ones on the shelf below. But these were labeled with the most recent dates in the Archive, and that’s what he planned on going through for the rest of the week.

Back in research, Tim used to prank him by putting things on the highest of shelves- books he needed, tea he wanted. It irked him but Tim would always be right around the corner to lend a helping hand and a teasing word. It got Jon out of his head for a moment, something very few people could accomplish. 

Tim still put things on high shelves in their break room but it just felt cruel, now that he wasn’t comfortable enough to ask for help. Now that Tim was never around the corner.

He put a tentative foot on the step ladder, grimacing as it leaned to the side. He’d put in an order for a new one at the beginning of his tenure but Elias never responded. He felt bad bothering the man with such a petty request when he could just ask his assistants for help. What was he supposed to tell him? ‘Hey my assistants seem to hate me and I’m too scared to ask them’ didn’t inspire much confidence.

Jon took another step forward, willing the ladder to stabilize. He needed to get to the fourth step to even have a chance of reaching the box, high up as it was. Just a bit further.

He made it to the fourth when everything went to hell. As soon as he reached his hands toward the box the ladder creaked and listed dangerously to the side, throwing him wildly off balance. He flailed right off the side, landing with a yelp and a crack on the cold concrete floor of Document Storage. 

The pain emanating from his left arm was almost paralyzing-it had taken almost all his weight in the fall and was lying awkwardly across the floor. It brought tears to his eyes as he tried to move it so he just laid there for a bit, willing himself not to pass out from the pain. How ridiculous he must have looked, lying prone on the ground, defeated by a fucking stepladder. 

When he finally decided to sit up his head spun- he only got as far as scooting back and leaning his head onto a shelf, trying to control his breathing. He had his phone in his pocket. If he needed help, he could just call Sasha or Tim or even Martin. His arm didn’t feel right and he would probably have to go to a clinic or the A & E, something he hated doing. He didn’t think he could brush this one off.

But what if they didn’t answer? He thought about the three of them at the bar, laughing and talking. Tim would be regaling them with some ridiculous story, his phone would ring. He would glance down at it, see Jon’s name and flip it over, ignoring it. 

Or worse, they would come, see him huddled on the floor and laugh. They would try to hold it in at first- they weren’t that rude. But as they helped him to his feet they wouldn’t be able to contain it. How embarrassing he was, how ridiculous. Jon couldn’t bear to be laughed at.

Two weeks ago he had walked past the upstairs break room on his way back from a meeting with Elias. It was entirely unproductive; he could sense Elias’s growing frustration with his lack of progress. Jon wondered if he regretted making him his Head Archivist, if he was already thinking of suitable replacements. Jon wouldn’t blame him.

And that’s when he heard it- an odd, mocking voice that he knew belonged to Ryan from research. Ryan and Jon never got on- Ryan was talkative and prone to gossip, and every attempt he had made to talk to Jon had been shut down by his inability to carry a conversation. On the odd times they were paired together to work, Jon took the brunt of it with utter silence, unwilling to complain about the man lest he be deemed more difficult than he already was.

But the voice he put on- stuffy and posh- was a caricature of Jon’s own. And sure enough, when he glanced in the doorway he saw Ryan hunched over a table, someone else’s glasses on his face as he screwed it up in a scowl and carried on as “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute” to his captive audience.

His captive audience which included Sasha and Tim. 

He felt his heart shatter as the group laughed at the impression. It was accurate, why shouldn’t they? God, why hadn’t he realized how much everyone hated him here? Any respect he thought he earned faded quickly with this showing. He found himself sprinting down the hallway and locking himself in his office, ignoring Martin’s concerned inquiries as he desperately tried to blink back tears.

Remembering the incident brought the shame and embarrassment back tenfold. No, he would deal with this himself. That was the best course of action.

He took fifteen minutes to properly wallow but once his heart rate lowered and the pain was at manageable, dull roar he got to his feet and staggered down the aisle, constantly searching for a handhold. He had everything he needed on him- it wasn’t so cold that he couldn’t go without a jacket, and he knew he wouldn’t get any work done this evening. 

Making his way down the hallway and up the stairs was almost tortuous; he paused several times and took deep breaths to avoid passing out and making the problem worse. By the time he got to the lobby Rosie was already gone for the day and Ed, the janitor, was idly mopping by the front door.

“‘Ave a good night, sir,” the man said without looking up. “Careful though, s’slippery over-whoa there, Sims!”

He must have looked as awful as he felt because the man dropped his mop and made his way over to his side, his face the picture of concern. Jon was holding his arm at an awkward angle so as not to jostle it. “S’fine,” he wearily started. “Have a good night, Ed.”

“Don’ look fine to me, Jonny.” Jon hated this nickname, but he never let on. He didn’t want to upset the one man who still greeted him day and night, no matter how stressed and irritable Jon looked. It was a nice, comforting routine. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Just took a fall, nothing serious,” he lied, well aware that his palm was scraped and crusted with blood. “I’ll just be going, got a train to catch-”

“Let me get you a cab, son,” he said, a paternal hand on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t be on the tube looking like that, bound to make it worse.” Jon began to voice his protest but the man was already out the door, waving and stamping in the street. He would smile at the scene if he had the energy for it. Instead he just staggered after him, wincing with every step.

“Over here!” the man shouted, standing by a cab a little ways down the road. Ed opened the door and ushered him in, hands helpful and gentle and so kind that Jon has to blink away tears. “There’s a good lad. Take ‘im to the closest A & E, will ya?” Jon watched as he shoved a pocketful of bills in the cabbies hand.

“Ed, you’ve already done enough-”

“Nonsense,” he waved Jon off, still looking at him with that mix of warmth and concern that Jon so desperately needed. “You just get that checked out, y’hear? An’ come back in one piece!” With that, he shut the door and gave him a wave, standing in place until the car was out of sight.

Jon couldn’t hold back his tears after that.

_______

Jon comes in the next day, arm freshly broken and in a sling, medicated to the gills. He paused at first, considering not taking the pain medication but he eventually gave in as the pain progressed throughout the morning. He’s a little late and he’s going to have to march past his assistants’ desks and attempt to avoid questions. 

“Whoa there, boss! What happened?” Tim says immediately upon his arrival. Jon avoids his gaze and looks to the ground, walking as quickly as possible to his office and shutting the door. He deserves a bit of peace before the inevitable interrogation.

Of course, he would never be so lucky. All three assistants are soon hovering around the doorway, looking at him with a worry he doesn’t deserve. He sighs as he casts his eyes to the desk and slumps down in his chair.

“Took a spill yesterday, nothing serious,” he mutters in as staid a tone as he could manage. “Now, if you could please get back to work-”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Sasha says, coming over to his desk, Tim not far behind. Martin stays in the doorway, ever polite. “You were fine we left!”

“It happened shortly afterwards. I advise none of you to use the stepladder for the time being.” He manages a weak smile that none of them return.

“Stepladder? Boss, I told you not to use that anymore!” Tim plops down in a chair, legs immediately going over the arm of it. Jon always imagined them talking in the office like this- a stupid fantasy he entertained when he first got the position. No one had ever sat in those chairs, they just stood in his office and counted the seconds until they could leave. ‘Why didn’t you ask us for help?”

“I-I was going to,” he begins, feeling instantly guilty at the thought of making them feel bad. “But- well, you looked like you had plans.”

Tim and Sasha exchanged a look. “You should’ve at least called us when it happened,” Sasha says, a hand on his desk. Jon aches to take it. “We were right around the corner.”

“I know,” he says. He feels out of it, vulnerable and loose and unmoored. Likely from the meds. 

“You knew and you still didn’t call?” Martin this time, his voice incredulous.

“I didn’t think you would come,” his voice is no more than a whisper and his chest aches something fierce. His hands tighten into fists at the silence that follows; he nervously starts to fill it.

“I know-look, it’s fine we’re not friends any more,” he starts, trying to keep his voice level. “But it- it just seems like you don’t want me to be your boss either?” His voice goes higher in pitch and he can’t seem to stop babbling. “I just- I need to know where I stand. So I know what’s okay to ask. I know this isn’t ideal but I- I need help sometimes. Not a lot, just...just sometimes.” 

“Jon,” Tim has a hand on his arm and an urgency in his voice. “That’s not- of course we would have come. Of course.” 

“I didn’t want you to laugh at m-me.” Christ, could he not get a handle on his emotions for five goddamn minutes? Why was he still talking?

“We would never laugh-” 

“But you did!” The words burst forward, almost a yell. “I-I saw you the other day. With Ryan- laughing at me. You know I don’t-” The breaths come quick and he can feel the tears coming down his face. God, what a mess he was. “I don’t understand where it all went wrong. If- if you don’t like me, why did you accept this job? Why are you here? What- what do I need to do better? Why were you laughing at me!” Jon dissolves into a mess of sobs as he slams his chair back from his desk, desperate to put as much space as he could between himself and his assistants.

But Jon never gets what he wants. Tim has his arms wound gently around his body, taking care to avoid the sling. And Sasha is there, a hand on his back as well.

“We- we weren’t laughing, Jon,” Tim tries, but Sasha cuts in.

“But we didn’t exactly tell him to knock it off, did we?” Her voice is angry and Jon doesn’t know who it’s aimed towards. He feels so stupid, so childish for breaking down like this but he knows what he saw. What he heard. “Ryan’s a jealous dick, he was just being mean. And...I guess we were being sort of mean, too.”

Tim takes over from there. “Look- things have gotten messy since we came down here, yeah? We’re...adjusting, that’s for sure. And I’m sorry that we made you feel like you did something wrong.”

“I- I did though, I must have-”

“No- Jon, look at me,” He hazards a glance at Sasha’s face, looking anywhere but her eyes. “You know me. Emotions aren’t particularly my forte. It’s- it’s a lot easier not to talk about things, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. It was a lot easier to hold onto my anger at being passed over, y’know?”

“If you told me- I would’ve had Elias switch us, I swear-”

“We don’t have to switch. To be honest, I don’t think I know how the fuck an Archive is supposed to be run either. At least not one like this,” She gestures to the room and Jon manages a weak smile. 

“I’m not very good when things get messy, either,” Tim admits, leaning awkwardly on a file cabinet in order to keep an arm around him. Jon hopes the gesture is genuine, and not just an attempt to placate the man having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the office. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’ve been a right ass. So while I’m trying to make it up to you, how about you let me and Martin handle the top shelf from now on, yeah?” The joke feels familiar. This is territory Jon can manage.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon wipes a hand across his face, finally feeling a bit more stable. “S’fine. I forgive you.” He takes the tissue Sasha offers. “Sorry for being so- er, dramatic. The pain medication is quite something, to be honest.”

“Oh God,” Sasha is suddenly all business. ‘“You shouldn’t be at work right now. Not like this- Tim’ll take you home, right?” Tim nods, tightening his arm around Jon’s shoulder.

“Yeah- you’re not going to get anything done like this, Jon. Have a rest, Sasha’ll tell Elias what’s going on, yeah?”

“Of course.”

There it is again- of course. Maybe if they keep saying that, it’ll make it true. 

Jon doesn’t argue as he’s ushered out of the Institute- whatever that was took a lot out of him, and he knows he’s useless to his team like this, dazed and unstable. Martin follows them outside- Jon had almost forgotten he was there. He had slipped out of the office during the worst of it, kindly giving them some space. He wants to thank him but he doesn’t know how. Instead he listens as Martin rattles off all the things Tim should watch out for, like a nervous mother hen.

“I got it, Martin,” Tim says patiently. “But I’ll call you if anything happens.” Martin reluctantly backs off, giving the two of them a wave as they drive out of the parking lot.

“Jon,” Tim begins, putting a special emphasis on his name. He missed being called Jon. “You know I’ll always come when you call. I promise. I’d- I’d never laugh at you, not like that.”

You know. Of course.

“Okay,” Jon responds, staring out the window. He hopes it’s true. If not, well- the words are a start, right?

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334912

[zyalahmiscfandom]

How Well Do You Really Know Him? (The Master x Reader)

Summary: You’ve been travelling with The Master for six months now, and an attempt to celebrate makes you realise just how little you know about the Time Lord. 

Word Count: 1944

AN: First time ever writing for the master or anything doctor who, so sorry if its way too OOC

It was supposed to be a nice relaxing trip. A sweet way to celebrate your six month travelling anniversary with the Master. You hadn’t expected this, you weren’t even keeping track of how long you’d been with the Master. So when you had come into the console room of the TARDIS this morning to a beaming and excited Master, rambling on about how amazed he was that you had lasted this long with him, and how he wanted to show his appreciation to his favourite pet, you weren’t going to say no. Not that you had ever wanted to say no to your Master.

That’s how you ended up on The SS.Fairfax. The 32nd century’s most expensive and high class Space Liner. A cruise ship that only the best of the universes 1% was permitted to vacation on. But your fun day out had been ruined when you had ran into The Doctor and her quote ‘fam’.

The Master had told you a little about his best frenemy. You knew that she was a Time-Lord like him. That they had grown up together, and had even spent some time travelling together recently. Though he said he was a completely different person when that happened. But the main point you had gleamed from his vague stories was that she was his complete opposite, where the Master strode through the universe enveloped and reveling in the chaos he found, and often created. The Doctor was cautious and vigilant, trying her best to be a calming safety net for the universe and even beyond.

So when you found yourselves all in the Celestial Solarium on the 55th Pleasure floor an argument quickly rose up between The Doctor, Master and the 3 people the Doctor was travelling with. You had no idea what the hell was going on. During the fight you could only gleam a few things like;

“I thought you were dead!” “Gallifrey exploded!” “What are you doing here?” “Is the ship gonna explode?”

And most importantly,

“Who is she?”

A question that didn't get answered because the Fairfax security dragged you all to the brig, and to your surprise, The Master surrendered easily, he didn’t even fling a snarky hidden threat to your captors. The only time he protested was when they split you into gendered cells.

The guards didn’t care, and they threw you into a surprisingly posh jail cell, with The Doctor and the girl she had been travelling with.

And that’s where you sat.

Staring almost unblinking at the sealed door. Waiting patiently for The Master to burst through and take you back home to the TARDIS. You made a mental note to never celebrate anniversaries again, or maybe if you did, you’d suggest that you stay in an watch a movie or something.

You sigh, finally tearing your eyes from the door, to quickly glance back at the women behind you.

Awkward eye contact ensues.

“Uhhhhh...” You creak out just seconds before The Doctor bounds forward hand extended, beaming smile plastered across her face.

“Hi there, I’m The Doctor.”  She grabs your hand and vigorously shakes, whilst keeping unbroken eye contact with you. Clearly she was searching for something in your eyes. You just didn’t know what.

“Uh. Y/n.” You reply. Shaking your hand limply after she finally lets it go.

“Nice to meet cha’ Y/N. That’s Yaz by the way. Say hi Yaz.” You looked past the energetic blonde to her younger friend.

“Hi.” The beautiful girl beamed, as she gave you a little wave.

You were starting to question if people this extroverted really existed when The Doctor grabbed your shoulders tightly and gave you an almost too serious look.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I’m gonna get you home.”

“What?” You questioned. Taking a step back from the Time-Lord and shaking of her prying hands. Confusion swept over your face.

“It’s okay,” Yaz smiled, taking a tentative step forward. So she was directly beside The Doctor, she had an aura of helpfulness around her, though you knew it was misguided at the moment. “The Doctor’s here to help. We both are.” The Doctor and Yaz shared a look and a smile before placing their attention on you again.

“Help. Why would I need help?” You stated. Firmly standing your ground against these ‘helpful’ strangers.

“Well, first your in prison.” The doctor playfully remarked, to which your rolled your eyes.

“It’s a cruise liner not Guantanamo.” You retorted, your sass palpable in the air. You obliviousness to the seemingly serious situation seemed to irk The Doctor a bit, as you saw her eyebrow twitch.

“Second, you are travelling with THE most dangerous man in the universe.” Her tone was low, almost unnerving.

“I know.” You stated back. A statement that seemed to take both women aback.

“You know that he’s The Master?” Yaz inquired confused.

“Who else would he be?” You found their puzzled expressions amusing. Normally you wouldn’t be this antagonistic towards people you’d just met, but they where starting to push your buttons. Not many things did, but The Master was one of your buttons. You hadn’t realised it until now. But all your confrontations recently had been because someone (normally the alien The Master had come to destroy) had insulted your friend. You didn’t have much good in your life, and The Master had taken you to the stars and given your life more meaning that it would have on Earth. He could have left you behind after your first encounter, but he hadn’t. He’d seen something in you. Something he didn’t see in other humans, and so what if it had only been 6 months, you couldn’t deny he was so important to you now. He was your best friend, your family, your home. And the idea that someone was going to try and take you away from someone you loved was incomprehensible to you.

“Emil Keller, Martin Jurger,” The Doctor started pacing, rambling off names in increasing displeasure, “Professor Yana, Harold Saxon, Missy…”

“Don’t forget O.” Yaz chimed in.

“Exactly. The Master may have told you his real name Y/N. But how well do you really know him?”

“How well do your companions know you, dear Doctor?” The Masters voice sang out from behind you. You could hear the smirk in his voice before seeing it, and you couldn’t stop the beaming smile from taking over your face.

You spun instantly, coming face to face with the one person you wanted to see. The Master leaned casually on your open cell door, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching his TCE nonchalantly.

“Master!” You practically squealed out. You had to restrain yourself from hugging him right there on the spot. Your predilection for hugs had gotten you in trouble with the Master before, and you had come to an agreement that you can hug him all you want, as long as it’s in the TARDIS.

You quickly positioned yourself by The Masters side. The place you felt the most safe and most comfortable. The Doctor however had anger burning behind her eyes.

“Where’s Graham and Ryan?!” Yaz demanded.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The Master teased. You sensed a history there, and a small pang of jealousy hit you. Which was new. You didn’t like it.

“Master, I’m warning you.”

“Oh I’m so scared Doctor.” The Master pressed a hand to his chest and feigning fear. “Come on, show me that Oncoming Storm.”

His goading was interrupted, by who you assumed was Graham and Ryan, though you didn’t know which man owned which name, bursting into the increasingly cramped room.

With the two men bursting the tension bubble. The Master seemed to become incredibly bored with the situation.

“Well, now you have your friends back,” The Master stressed the word friends out, “I’m taking what’s mine.”

Without warning The Master grabbed your hand, and took you away. Not stopping or caring when The Doctor yelled after him.

The walk back to the TARDIS was silent, and so was the take off. You sat silently in the soft brown leather chair in the console room. The Master was purposely avoiding your eyes. Something was off. You knew it, and he knew it too.

You realised how little you actually knew him, you only had his side of events, if he in fact told you anything about his past. And any adversaries you crossed with him, never lived long enough to tell their tales of The Master. You knew he had a dark past, one filled with pain, and death. You knew he had hurt people, that probably didn’t deserve it. But he never went into specifics. And you had been fine with that, but you realised now, that you had told him everything about you, anytime he’d wanted information from you, you’d given it. Did he not trust you, or did you mean so little to him that the truth wasn't worth you knowing.

“You were Harold Saxon?” You mumbled out quietly.

“Don’t.” The Master’s eyes met yours in a silent plea. As he clenched his fists on the controls.

You had started down the road of truth, and you weren't about to back down now. You slowly got up and went over to the man who was seemingly still a stranger. You gently placed a hand on his clenched fist, causing the man to flinch. His eyes filled with fear, or maybe regret. You couldn’t quite tell.

“Like…Prime Minister Harold Saxon?” You probed.

“Y/N I’m warning you. Don’t.” His steely face was turned to you. His expression deadly serious.

“Why?” Self preservation be damned, you needed his to trust you. More than you expected too.

“Because!” The Master yelled, yanking his hand from your grasp, and turning his back to you. His shoulders hunched, his breath heaving his short frame.

“Because is not an answer!” You yelled back, surprised at your rising anger. “Master tell me!” You demanded.

The Master snapped, twisting round and slamming your back against the console. Pinning your there with his surprising strength.

“Because I’m a monster.” The venom in his voice was tinged with despair. “I’ve bathed in the blood of stars and danced across the barren fields of the universe, and loved every minute of it.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as the man who had been your saviour showed his hidden rage. Though you were sure it wasn’t entirely aimed at you.

“But you saved me, you took me with you.” The tears finally fell. “Was…was everything a plan, a ploy? Some kind of sick game to you?”

“No.” The Master eased off a little, no longer pinning you in place, but not letting you go either.

“Then why not tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t want you to leave me.” He sounded so, so broken. It killed you. Without thinking you pulled him into the tightest hug you’d ever given. His arms hung limply at his sides as he continued, “I wanted to pretend, see what it would be like to be THEM. To just have someone I...”

“Master, if I didn’t leave after what you did to that Anoxil General, I’m not gonna leave now.” You tried to make a joke, it was after all one of your defence mechanisms. “I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I want you to trust me, I need you to trust me Master.”

Slowly his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose nuzzled softly into your hair.

“If I tell you, you have to stay forever.”

“Deal.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash I think the drabble we all need but didn’t know we needed is Danny and Nate each telling Dr. Rosa about their first time since Bram. (Pre bad arc)

CW: References to noncon/dubcon, therapeutic discussion of the aftermath of prolonged captivity/conditioning/noncon.

TIMELINE: Approximately two months prior to the beginning of the Bad Arc. 

Tagging the Danny crew because this got long and Danny is a delight dumbass in it: @finder-of-rings, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @burtlederp, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps, @swordkallya

Tagging the Danny crew: @finder-of-rings, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @burtlederp, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps, @swordkallya

“Nate, we are at forty-five minutes of our hour,” Dr. Rosa says patiently, leaning over with her arms resting lightly on her open notebook, reading glasses perched at the end of her nose. “There is something you came in here to tell me, and you have spent three-quarters of an hour telling me everything but that thing. What is it?”

Nate shrugs, swallowing hard. She’s right - he really has. He’s talked about Danny’s recent strides forward - but not the one he’s actually here to talk about - like how he walks by himself to the coffeeshop now, ran two miles the other day and came back sweaty and breathing hard but then he ate an entire meal’s worth of food all at once, and it was… it was normal.

He’s talked about his own halting steps - how he has fewer bad days, lately, they’ve finally found the right dosage to mostly even out the swings between feeling okay and feeling unable to move… and he feels more able to push down the inevitable wash of guilt if he sits still for too long. He even told her about how he took Ryan’s car by himself to the grocery store, and bought everything on Danny’s list, and he’s fairly certain no one looked at him twice.

But he hasn’t talked about the thing that he’s been thinking about since, oh, about nine-thirty Wednesday night.

“I, ah…” He swallows again, compulsively, leaning forward himself where he sits on the couch. “I. Um. Wh-what I came to… what I was th-thinking about-… ah.”

His face is burning red, and he tilts his head forward so at least some of his straight black hair can cover it. He rubs at the stubble along his jaw with one hand, closes his eyes, and forces the words out.

“Danny and I, um, h-had… we… sl-slept together. Wednesday n-n-night.”

There’s a pause.

“From your reluctance, may I gather that when you say you slept together, you are not referencing any type of restful unconsciousness?” Dr. Rosa asks, a lilt of teasing in her tone. Only when she jokes does her island accent start to slip back in, a hint of the Caribbean lacing her tongue. 

“Y-Yes I mean. I mean, n-no, I… yes. We, ah-”

“You had sexual intercourse with Daniel.”

“That… that s-s-sounds… so fucking clinical. It wasn’t l-like that.” Careful, and slow - probably the longest amount of foreplay he’d ever done, with constant check-ins and the edge of Danny’s nervousness twining in and around every motion and movement. But Danny had been the one to pull the condom from the side table, and Danny had been the one to hand him the little bottle, and Danny had been the one to say Please, I think I can tonight, I want to. 

Was that taking advantage? Was he taking advantage of how Bram had broken Danny for him? Is that all last night was? It had felt like more, it had felt… so right. 

“I know it wasn’t, Nate, but I am a professional and I don’t usually allow myself the use of, shall we say, colloquial phrasing with my patients. You know…” Dr. Rosa taps her fingers lightly on her notebook and then sits back, smiling. “If you don’t have anything else to do in the next hour, my 11 o’clock canceled and I’d be happy to stay with you and keep discussing this, since we ran so close to the end of our hour before it came up.”

Nate rubs his hand over his eyes. “I d-d-don’t even know if I want to, it just… I just feel like… it s-seems like… I w-worry.”

“Mmmn. What do you worry about?”

“I’m w-w-worried… I’m worried that he’s t-trying to heal faster th-than he really should… for m-me. And that I… t-took advantage of him.”

Dr. Rosa nods, her expression calm and compassionate but a touch solemn. “We’ve hit on this topic before, Nate - your feeling of guilt and responsibility for Daniel and your concern that he is fitting into a mold that your captor made for him rather than his own natural recovery and inclinations. That his role was meant as a kind of companion for you-”

“I mean, that w-w-was one thing,” Nate mutters, without looking up or lowering his hand from his eyes. “

“Was he consenting?”

“I… y-yes, of course.” Danny’s eyes, wide and clear, focused on his. Oh, fuck, please, Nate-… please, n-now, please, in… in me, please-

D-Don’t beg, please, D-Danny, you never have to beg for m-me…

Can I? If, if I want to?

“Was this consent informed and enthusiastic?”

Nate blinks, finally looking back up at her. She smiles at him, relaxing and serene. “Uh… y-yes. Yes. I… I think so, yes. I mean. As s-sure as I can b-be of it… h-he wasn’t… he wasn’t s-s-subtle…”

“What transpired to make you think you were taking advantage of him?” She doesn’t sound judgemental, more… curious. Still compassionate. He’s been coming to see her for most of a year, now, and she probably knows him better than anyone else alive but Danny.

“N-Nothing, I just… how do I know? He… seemed like-… I mean he sounded like he was having… a good time, I just-… How do I kn-know if it’s about me, or if he’s… just r-r-repeating patterns? Doing what I want h-him to do? If he’s doing this because he st-st-still thinks he b-belongs to me, like he did when w-we first came back from C-Canada?”

“Have you asked him?”

“I… don’t w-want to ruin the night for him, if he d-did… but… No. The answer is no. I haven’t asked h-him yet.”

“Perhaps you should try.”

***

Danny has been sitting in the waiting room tapping one foot, slouched in the hard-backed waiting room chair with his legs kicked out in front of him, beat-up old Converse and ancient blue jeans he’d found in a box in his closet, for twenty minutes maybe. The jeans don’t fit anymore unless he belts all the way to the final hole in the belt, but he’s done just that today.

His shoes, his pants, and one of his old band shirts. He feels like himself, as long as he doesn’t look at his scars. He’s brought Dracula with him, dog-eared already and with all the lines he likes best underlined in red ink. He’s rereading the part where Jonathan Harker climbs the castle wall all by himself, thinking about what a brave motherfucker it takes to do something like that, when the receptionist grins at him and tells him Dr. Rosa is ready.

Ryan, sitting next to him, nudges him with one elbow. “Go get ‘em, tiger. I want to flirt with the receptionist.”

“Of course you do.” Danny’s grinning even as he says it. He slaps the book closed, jumps up out of his seat, and heads down the hall with the shy smile already growing on his face. 

“Hello, Mr. Michaelson.” Dr. Rosa greets him at the door and sweeps her arm out. They start every session exactly the same way, comfortable, a routine Danny can trust. “Are we having a Danny day or a Red day?”

“Danny day, one hundred percent,” Danny says brightly, grinning as he drops onto the couch cushion with only the slightest hint of hesitation, only a moment’s glance at the floor where you belong but he didn’t belong there, absolutely not at all. Not after last Wednesday. 

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosa smiles widely, then - she is as happy for his Danny days as he is. “So, last week we spent quite some time working through some concerns you had-”

“I have something else I want to talk about,” Danny says, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged on the couch. “Can I, can I talk about something else?” His face begins to burn, a little, and he sees Dr. Rosa note his flush with a twinkle in her eye and an expression of genuine amusement. 

“Absolutely, Danny. You set the pace, in this room. If you need to perhaps have a change of topic, I know that last week went into some difficult spaces for you-”

“No, last week… helped. Last week was good. But, it’s not that-… I want to-… Um.” Danny grins at her, nearly hiding behind his own hands like a child playing hide-and-seek. “I’m going to just say it.”

Dr. Rosa sits calmly in her armchair and opens up her notebook. She seems to be trying, and failing, to hide a smile. “All right then.”

“Um, ah… Nate and I, um, slept together last week.”

Dr. Rosa sits slowly back, but she doesn’t look as surprised as he had expected her to. “We’ve discussed before that you and Mr. Vandrum have been sexually active since three months after your return-”

“Not… not, ugh, I hate that phrase, but… I mean we… we had actual sex. Well, I mean, it’s all sex, I guess. Uh. But I meant the kind I couldn’t… um.” Danny groans. “Please tell me I don’t have to, um, explain the… the logistics of gay guys having-”

“I am a lesbian, Daniel, not ignorant,” Dr. Rosa says with quiet affection, and Danny rewards her with a laugh - bright and sparkling, it’s a hint of the way he used to be. A drop in the nervous hunch of his shoulders. He flashes a wide smile at her, finally dropping his hands.

“Okay, f-fair… fair, um, fair enough. So, so we… so last Wednesday I was… ready. I think our talk on Tuesday really helped me, you know? We, when we talked a little bit about the stuff Abraham would say, afterward, about me, about my, um, my body, I just… I don’t know. It felt… less true, when I left, than it used to feel. And Wednesday night I was, I was brushing my teeth and I thought, um… I thought… I can have sex with Nate and he can’t stop me anymore. And that thought… it felt… it felt really good, Dr. Rosa.”

“You felt fully in control of your choices when it came to your sexual expression,” Dr. Rosa said softly, but she was still smiling. 

“Um… yeah, I just. Yeah.” Danny looks down at his hands, at the scarring tracing up his arms to disappear finally under his T-shirt sleeves. “I don’t… I don’t feel like my body belongs to me, very much. Because it was always his. He used to make me say it, over and over… and last Wednesday, I came out of the bathroom and got into bed with Nate and I just… I just felt like… like my body was mine. One hundred percent totally mine. And I could make my body do whatever I wanted.”

Dr. Rosa nods, waiting. 

There’s a pause before Danny speaks again, smiling shyly down at the floor. “What my body wanted was, um, to… to do that. With him.”

“Have you told him that?” Dr. Rosa asks, quietly, jotting something down on her notebook. Danny can’t quite see what it is, from here.

He frowns. “I… I guess I sort of thought, when I said I wanted to…”

“Communication is an important part of rebuilding relationships after long-term trauma, especially one that so deeply impacted your ability to communicate without feeling constrained and restricted in the first place.” Dr. Rosa was speaking carefully. “I often suggest reliance on a rule of communicating profusely with your partner during a time of rediscovery.”

Danny’s silent for a moment, taking that in, gnawing on his lower lip in thought. He rubs absently at the scar along his jaw, and Dr. Rosa’s eyes move there, but after a moment he drops his hands back into his lap. “So you… think I should tell him, about all the thoughts I had? In the bathroom, before we… um… did that?”

“I am not telling you what to do,” Dr. Rosa reassures him. “Only suggesting that more communication, in instances like this, may be better than leaving anything to inferences and implications.”

Danny nods quickly. “Okay, okay, okay. Um.” He sits slowly back against the couch. Then he grins at her, his face red but his eyes sparkling and bright. “What if I say we did, um, again on Saturday?” He pauses. “And then Monday? I mean, it was him… to me. I c-can’t, still can’t… you know. The other way.”

“Full recovery takes time. I would say I’m very glad that you feel safe, Danny,” Dr. Rosa says, with a soft, warm laugh. “That’s important. And I am delighted that you are taking ownership and agency over your body.”

Danny tilts his head. “Are… are you proud of me?” He asks, shyly. “For, for being able to… to want something, and ask for it, and then just… just, um-… just do what I want?”

She smiles at him, again, and writes another line in the notebook. “Daniel, you’re not here because you want me to be proud of you. That is not the purpose of therapy.”

“No, I know, but I just… I guess… I’m kind of proud of myself? So I wondered if… you know. I should be. I know it’s not… it’s not something to be proud of, normally, but I just…”

She considers, tapping her pen on the page, and then sighs, shaking her head with affectionate good humor. “What matters, Danny, is that you have taken pride in yourself. In something you’ve done. What matters is that you are in a place where you feel proud of yourself.”

He sits back, staring at her, thinking. Then, slowly, Daniel Michaelson’s smile brightens until it nearly fills the room.

“You’re right,” He says, sounding wonder-struck. “You’re right. I’m proud of myself. I wanted something, and I asked for it, and I got it and I had fun. I wasn’t scared. It was my body and it did what I wanted. And… and I’m proud of myself for it.”

“Good.” Dr. Rosa turns to pick up the mug of tea that is steeping on the table next to her armchair, sipping lightly. “Good. Danny, you have every right to take pride in this. I know it was embarrassing to tell me, but I want you to do something for me. Call it therapy homework.”

“Sure. What should I do? Another worksheet?”

“No. I want you to go home, from this appointment-… I assume your brother drove you today?” Danny nods. “Okay. When you go home, today, I want you to sit Nate down, and practice the open communication that we’ve been working on for the past months or so. I want you to tell him what you told me. Assuming you’re comfortable with that.”

“… that we had sex?” Danny blushes. “Uh. He knows.”

“No, Danny.” Dr. Rosa laughs again. “No. I want you to tell him that your body did what you wanted, and that you feel accomplished, in this. That you feel proud.”

She leans over to meet Danny’s eyes. 

“I want you to tell him that it was your body and it did what you wanted.”

“My name is Daniel Michaelson,” Danny murmurs. “And my body belongs to me.”

Dr. Rosa sits back, smiling. 

“Precisely.”

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: post games 3

whg tag list: @ratracechronicler (Alvira) @concealeddarkness13 (Zenith), @nightskywriter , @rhikasa , @the-moving-finger-writes , @aeslin-writes @knmartinshouldbewriting , @pen-of-roses @timefirewrites 

(skipping right to the stealing part cause I couldn’t think much to add to the practice scene)

###

Shine gave us the directions to the facility where the shockers and other equipment were stored. It stood non-descript and heavily guarded just outside the main part of the city. Zenith and Elvira had gone ahead, leaving me hidden in a little dark alley just outside the loading bay. I peered out as far as I dared as nerves crawled up and down my skin. How long had they been gone for? Did something happen?

Someone stepped out into the street and I ducked my head back in with a sharp gasp, but then I recognized Elvira’s voice. A moment later they rounded the corner, Zenith dragging a struggling guard with him. I scrambled back, gesturing for him to bring the man down to the far corner of the alley.

I turned to face our victim, curling my fingers at my sides. “Sorry about this.”

He didn’t have time to react before I snatched the soul from his chest, holding it tight in one hand, tighter than what had to be comfortable, but I didn’t want to drop him. Didn’t want to make Zenith hold him down again. The guard flared cold against my skin, panic shooting up my arm and quickening my heart.

Now Zenith. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

I plucked him into my other hand. Stiller, calmer than the other, he still buzzed and chilled the blood running away from my hand, running up through my shoulder and into my heart until I pushed him into the guard’s empty body. As soon as he started to move, I steadied myself and forced the guard’s soul through the wall of my chest, working him through the muscle and bone to settle beside my heart.

 #

Immediately, I winced as the guard flared out from my chest, pushing against my lungs and trying to claw back out through the muscles binding my ribs. You! You’re that, that tribute, shit. I hunched over, holding a hand over my chest as I fought to catch my breath, to take it back from his attempt at control. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it. Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me. I won’t. You’ll be fine.

I took a deep breath, pushing him back beside what was left by my own half soul. He protested, but slowly succumbed enough for me to look back up with a nod and a quiet thumbs up. Zenith nodded back and started to slip out of the alley, but Elvira held back.

She glanced back at me. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Right. I nodded again. I forgot sometimes how it must look from the outside. Shaking and sweating with uneven breath and clenched teeth. She didn’t look fully convinced, but there was a plan we had to follow, so she left, following Zenith out towards the building.

I leaned back against the wall, resting my head against the worn cement. It was silent, silent besides the pounding of my own heart in my ears. My chest ached, heavy with the guard’s soul where it didn’t belong.

What are they doing? Where are they going? What’s going on? I turned my head, half my own idea, half his, blinking down the alley the way they’d gone. Panic knotted tight in my stomach, organs twisting in on themselves and my skin crawled up and down and up and down. I closed my eyes and forced my gaze ahead again. It’s fine, everything’s fine. They’re going to go in, take something, and come back. That’s all. That’s all.

Is it about that girl? The girl? The tribute, Lynne. Yeah, her and the other Lynn. I swore under my breath. I probably shouldn’t have told him that, but really, how hard would it have been to put two and two together. Not very hard. Exactly.

I sighed, letting my shoulders fall as my heart started to get a hold of itself, slowing, slowing enough to calm some of the tremors running up and down my arms. Without meaning too, I let out a groan and massaged closed eyes. Fuck I’m so getting fired after this.

Huh? I shuddered as disappointment crushed deep on top of my chest, heavy and guilty. I had one job, just one job and then one guy comes along and drags me away like nothing! I hunched over, resting my hands against crossed legs. My heart started up again, halfway back to it’s fast-paced panic. I took a deep breath, and then another. Easy, relax. To be fair, Zenith is very strong. Easy, relax.

I shook my head, hands starting to shake even as I opened and shut my fingers. I’ve never been fired before. What am I going to do? My hands went to my head and my eyes widened, staring, staring down at the cement, fingernails digging into my scalp. What am I going to tell my wife?

Come on, I shook my head out, taking control of my arms back and setting them back in my lap. It’s not like it’s the end of the world or anything. I counted on shaky fingers. I mean, I’ve been fired from like, five different places. It sucks, but it could be worse. I guess… Honestly you could probably do better than guarding torture devices anyway. I frowned. Torture devices? What else would you call those shocker  things, the ones fitted to Lynne and Lynn?

The guard stilled, settling quiet and cold just under the base of my throat. I could still see them, up on the screen and trying their best to act like they weren’t in pain in front of the entire country. Like nothing was wrong, and they weren’t in pain. Oh. Oh is that what was in there? Probably not the only thing but yeah, yeah that’s what we’re here to take.

There was a shipment, a small one. I stood at my watch in the loading bay as some of the higher ups chatted over the delivery. Boxes marked as an electrical hazard. My boss laughed,laughing along with the others, one a strange man I’d never seen before with silver hair and red eyes. Probably some new fashion I guessed. I strained my ears to try and hear what they were talking about, anything to chase away some of the boredom eating at the back of my mind, but they were too far away and too drowned out by the echoes against hard cement.

I can’t believe someone would do something like that. Really? I couldn’t help but laugh, just a little in spite of it all. You can believe they’d send tributes to fight for entertainment, but this goes just that little bit too far? Yeah, but… I sighed, letting my eyes slide closed. It feels different when I’m involved. My hands went up again, this time massaging the sides of my head. Fuck, I don’t even like this job that much and now I have to live with this. I blinked. Maybe this is for the best then, an excuse to find something better.

A grin spread across my face, wide and mischievous. What if you got hurt today, on the job, and were able to collect some kind of compensation while you look for a new job? Nerves jolted through my arms. What are you suggesting? I shrugged. It probably wouldn’t be out of the question to call this an injury. You were forcibly ripped from your body against your will after all. Maybe you need a few days to recover. Maybe this is something you weren’t trained to handle safely by your employer. I shrugged again. I don’t know, I don’t work there.

I sat up straight with a sharp breath. Shit that’s genius. Least I can do for putting you through this. If I could ask a favor though, could you let us get away before you put it in motion? Fine. I smiled. Thanks. My name’s Asher, by the way. Though he probably already knew that, with the whole being a minor celebrity for a few weeks thing. I laughed. Yeah, that sounds familiar. I’m Ryan.

Time went on, or maybe it didn’t take too long. It was always hard to tell like this. But my eyes  grew heavier, and my arms shook when they moved. It’d been a while since I’d taken someone in for this long, and then I hadn’t been running around in the snow for weeks beforehand.

Finally though, Zenith and Elvira returned. I smiled up at them, trying but failing probably to hide the tiredness weighing on my eyes. “All done?”

Zenith nodded. “We were seen, so we should probably get out of here quickly.”

Be more surprising if they hadn’t been seen. I barely stopped the joking grin he tried to put on my face.

“We got away with it for now,” Elvira added, almost as if trying to reassure me we weren’t about to be picked up and arrested right this second. “But I agree, We ought to hurry.”

I nodded. She was probably right. I waved Zenith other to his body. “When I put you back please stay quiet like we talked about okay?” Had I said that out loud? Yeah you did. I shook out my head. Lets just get this over with.

Hold still and it’ll be faster. Me? Yeah. Ryan stilled, drawing himself into the center of my chest, brushing up against my sternum. Perfect. I caught hold of him and he slipped smooth through my body and kept still as could be expected as I held him in my hand. I took Zenith out of Ryan and pushed both souls back into the right bodies.

For a moment, I watched them, leaning forward in case something went wrong, but when both opened their eyes and seemed to be more or less themselves, I leaned back against the wall with a sigh. It worked. My heart slowed, my breathing quieted, and every muscle felt heavy and tired and all I wanted to do was close my eyes. Was I this out of practise? No. I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand, bracing against the wall. It’d just been a long time since I had to do anything like this in this kind of situation, so far from home, away from everything I usually counted on. Usually people were already dead but did that matter?

I shook out my head and followed the two of them back, glad I didn’t have to do the thinking to find our way back. But even still I stumbled on the concrete, and my legs trembled. Zenith must have noticed, and he held his arm out to help me along. I didn’t think twice before taking the offer. If I leaned too much of my weight on him, he didn’t say anything.

#

When we got back I let Zenith and Elvira handle the debrief and slipped away back to my room. Curled up under the blankets it didn’t take long for me to fall asleep. When I woke later, it was quiet outside, and when I sat up I noticed an enveloped just inside the door, probably slipped under while I was out.

I picked it up and brought it back to the bed, opening it up as I settled back down. inside were two papers, one handwritten and the other typed.

The handwritten one was on top. Ginger sent this for you but I didn’t want to wake you. -Triel

Ginger? I scrunched my face as I unfolded the second note.

Hey Asher,

Triel tells me you and Cirrus survived. I’m very glad to hear it, I was worried. I hope you’re doing alright, and I wish I could be there to help you more but I have to lie low until the investigation concludes that I did not have a hand in any kind of illegal extraction cover up and the case is closed. They’ve already interrogated me twice so I don’t think I’m yet in the clear. This can’t be easy for you, and if you need anything you can reach me for now through Triel. She’s very good at staying covert. I have not told Striker that either of you are alive and I advise you to do the same until everything winds down. Look after yourself, don’t push yourself too hard, and I hope to see you soon.

So their cover story, that had been Ginger? I re-read the note, typed out in such an uncharacteristically impersonal font. She could be arrested for what she did, or worse if they’d decided to let the Shades try things out of her instead. All for me? I swallowed and rubbed my eyes with the back of my sleeve. At least she was being careful about it. But, did I really have to hold back on telling Striker I was alive? My shoulders fell as I found his nurse ID in my pocket. How long would he have to wait? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to stay away from him for his own safety, but, but this time… This time didn’t feel so certain. Last time he at least knew where I was. Last time we could talk over the phone, and I could see him once Charlotte had delivered Ginger’s webcam to the cabin. This time he was completely in the dark, mourning lives that hadn’t actually been lost. 

But Ginger was probably right. It was for the best to keep him out of it a little longer. I sighed and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. Just a little longer, then a little longer after that…

[crimsonbluemoon]

celebrity!au, childhood friends, “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.” - ohmtoonz

Last one for the night, and I went overboard…again. >.>

AU: CelebrityTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”

Pairing: Ohmtoonz 

“He really went and got famous on us, huh?” Ryan blinked away from the television he was sitting in front of, his attention floating to his mother’s face. He hadn’t been able to see her much when he went to college four years ago, since he’d ended up on the other side of the country for school. Coming home and spending the winter break with her for the first time had been something he looked forward to since November. Now, it was Christmas Eve, the night before his favorite holiday of the year. A comforting aura hung in the falling snow outside his childhood home’s window. He could smell the dinner cooking in the kitchen, bringing back fond memories of his childhood. The worn blanket from years ago still kept his frame warm, and he took another slow sip from his hot chocolate to avoid answering the question his mother had asked.

Because, as much as he wanted to believe everything was perfect, he knew one thing was still missing. 

“He said he would,” he finally mumbled, not needing to look back to the TV to know who was on it. The highlights of the Hollywood films awards from the previous week were playing, with a stunning young man sweeping several categories for the win. It was strange to see the bearded face, once chubby with baby fat and smeared with blue popsicle, holding the trophies that looked identical to the ones they’d cut out from cardboard or construction paper. 

“Luke was always a handsome boy, wasn’t he?” His mother’s knowing tone made his cheeks rise in color that he couldn’t blame on the wood stove beside him. 

“Momma,” Ryan whispered, hating the quiver in his voice. She hummed when she stepped closer to the couch, her soft hand gently patting his head. 

“I remember how he used to follow you around like a little puppy whenever you got mad at him for something reckless he did.�� The memories felt like they’d happened just yesterday, despite the decade that had passed. “He’d jump his bike on a dare, or he’d sneak into some abandoned house to win some money. Used to tell you that part of the fun was seeing your face turn bright red after finding out what he did. Sure did like pulling on your tail to get your attention, didn’t he?” 

“Toonzy never let me do anything dangerous.” His shoulders fell from his flushed cheeks when she pet his hair, her motherly presence pulling down the walls he’d forced up years ago. 

“Because he didn’t know how to handle you getting hurt. Remember what happened when that kid pushed you out of that treehouse and broke your arm in the seventh grade?” He didn’t know why she was dragging him down memory lane, knowing the road was paved with pain and heartbreak. She’d been by his side as he cried, sat on the phone with him each time he ended a relationship that ‘didn’t feel the same’, and never once pushed the boundaries he set up around his childhood friend’s memories. But now, in the low light of the fireplace in the living room he’d last seen Luke in person four years ago, she did. 

“He beat the snot out of him,” Ryan answered, his smile tinged with sadness even when hearing his mother’s soft laugh.

“He was still scrawny back then, but seeing you hurt gave him more strength than superman. I think that was why he started getting in shape; to make sure nobody ever pushed you around again. And now look at him; the first gay actor to win best leading role in an action movie. He didn’t hide it one bit; wore his pride like a suit of armor. His momma should be proud, she raised him right.” 

“You had a part in that, too,” Ryan replied, remembering Luke’s acceptance speech. He hadn’t forgotten where he came from, and hearing him thank both his own and Ryan’s mother for their support had warmed his soul behind his thick walls.

“Pretty sure I wasn’t the only one mentioned from this family.” The comment was soft, like she was speaking to a skittish animal ready to bolt away. Instead, Ryan buried further into his blanket, hoping the red of the threads would conceal his blotchy skin. 

“He could have meant anyone, really it-”

“I know I didn’t raise a fool, so don’t act like one. We both heard that nickname.” Ryan’s mother pinched his cheek before pulling away. Her words floated in the air when she walked out of the room. “Don’t think he would call anyone else that.” 

After a heartbeat of silence filled the living room, Ryan closed his eyes, hiding the tears that sprouted up from the truth. His traitorous mind didn’t give him reprieve, replaying the words from the awards he’d watched days ago.

“This award means so much to me, and I have so many people to thank.  First is my momma, of course, who somehow kept me alive through my crazy years to be here. And when my momma was too tired to handle my wild ass, she sent me to momma wrecker’s house for some tough love. I owe that woman so much more than words can say. My friends, my agent, the supportive cast and crew for this movie. Of course my fans, who can’t seem to understand that it’s them who make all of this possible for me. I hope you all know how important you are. 

“But there’s one person who…I haven’t gotten to see for a while. And damn, that’s been something I’ve regretted since the moment I walked out of his living room four years ago. You know, I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. I had a dream, I worked hard to obtain it, and now I’m staring at an award I always wanted with my name on it. I’m giving every kid who was told they couldn’t be something proof that they can change their own fate whenever they want. But sometimes…I sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different. If I hadn’t walked out on him like that, if I’d picked my other dream over this one. The one where I get to tell him this to his face. 

“I love you, Ohm. This award, and every one I win after it, will always be for you. Thank you.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Toonzy?” Ryan whispered, hating the hitch in his voice from the unshed emotion. He pulled his knees to his chest, read to bury his face in them, when a voice from behind him paused his movements.

“Because I’m a coward.” For a moment, Ryan’s body froze on the couch, unsure if he’d somehow fallen asleep by the fire. But he knew that wasn’t possible; even in his dreams, he’d never let Luke call himself that. Frantic to see the truth, Ryan pushed out of his blankets, turning quickly to face the figure illuminated by the kitchen light behind him. With his hands shoved in his pockets, Luke looked sheepish, his shoulders hunched forward and grin lacking its normal confidence. “Hey.” 

“Luke…” The breathless tone he used didn’t phase him, knees bumping into the couch from his nervous movements. “What-what are you doing here?” 

“I always come back to town for Christmas Eve dinner; it’s in my contract. Your momma’s orders; I haven’t missed a single one since I was seven, after all.” 

“When you were sick with pneumonia.” It was such a stupid thing to remember, but Ryan could almost taste the feeling of loniless on his lips when thinking back to the empty seat by his side that Christmas Eve. 

“You saved me mashed potatoes cause they were my favorite. When my momma wouldn’t let you come in, you pushed them through the mailslot of my door.” Heat flushed his face at the recollection, his hands waving in the air to disperse the memory. 

“Th-that was just cause I was little. I didn’t-how was I supposed to know the tupperware would burst open when it hit the floor?” 

“Because you were always smarter than me, Ohm.” The nickname suddenly shifted the air, and the moment of light fun burnt up quicker than the logs beside Ryan. Hearing it again reminded him of the speech, his hands slow to drop to his sides and fall limp. Luke seemed to pick up on the change, his movements slow when coming around the couch. “It’s really nice to see you. I’ve been…waiting a long time for this moment.”

“You come back every year,” Ryan deflected, eyes shifting away while he took a step back. His arms crossed over his chest protectively, to shield him from Luke’s approaching body or the surge of emotions that were quickly overwhelming him at seeing his childhood lov-friend up close again. “You come back and see your momma, my momma, our old friends, and probably the whole town. Not to see-none of them told me you came back. Did you tell them to stay quiet?”

“I did.” Luke spoke like he had no shame in his sneaky ways.

“Why?” Ryan flinched when a warm hand touched his face. 

“Did you see my speech?” 

“I…did.” He knew he couldn’t lie when his cheek warmed under the smooth palm still holding it. 

“All the way until the end?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should know why I couldn’t face you yet.” The words finally broke Ryan’s resolve, and he looked up to the face that didn’t feel out of place mere inches from his. “I made a choice when we were eighteen to become an actor. You were going away to college, and I knew there was no way we’d be able to stay in touch with our lives going in different directions. I left this town, walked away from you, went after my dream, and got it. It was what I always wanted most, or…or I thought so. But I had that award in my hand last week, the one I’d always believed I needed to feel complete, and do you know the first thing that popped into my head?” 

“I don’t,” Ryan whispered, wondering if he was more foolish than his mother gave him credit for. 

“All I could think was ‘I’d give this stupid piece of metal away in a heartbeat to see Ryan’.” There was raw honesty in Luke’s voice when he peered down at Ryan, his thumb slow to roll under the lashed that had started to collect the unshed tears in Ryan’s eyes. “Ohm, I’ve loved you since the first time you called me an idiot for stealing old man Nanner’s flamingo lawn decoration when we were six. I didn’t know it was love until I realized how scared I was seeing you fall out of that treehouse. But two nights ago? That was the first time I’d ever admitted it to anyone out loud.”

“So you choose the whole world to tell?” Ryan asked, sobbing through a laugh when Luke grinned and shrugged.

“Didn’t really care about the whole world hearing it; just you.” He rubbed the tears away quickly, though Ryan knew a second set would quickly take their place. “And now, I’m here to see if there’s a chance you’ll make my second dream come true. Because this life? Being who I am, the fame and all the other stuff? It’s pointless if you’re not going to be there with me. None of this matters if I can’t kiss you for good luck or gratitude when winning another award. If I can’t just kiss you to show you I love you. I made it to the top to make sure that I was the man I needed to be when I told you this; Ryan, I am and always will be in love with you. Will you give me a chance to prove how much?” 

“You’re…You’re such an idiot, so impulsive and stupid and why did I fall in love with someone so reckless-” Ryan’s hands grabbed at Luke’s jacket desperately while he ranted over Luke’s laugh, yanking him forward to kiss him. His arms quickly wrapped around Luke’s neck, feeling his waist be yanked forward before hot lips pressed harder against his. They still needed to talk, to heal the wounds left on his soul during the years of silence between them. He needed to learn Luke again, like re-tuning a guitar left in the attic for years untouched. The damage was apparent, but not irreparable. 

Maybe this time, they could find a dream together.   

[slurrmp]

how about some cheeky fam (and reader) reuniting with the doctor in some miraculous world where she didn’t get captured right at the very end ya girl needs fluff okay

It had been an entire six months. 182 days, 4380 hours and 15 768 000 seconds. Not like you were counting or anything, but being dumped back on Earth after everything that you had been through was a bit jarring. You had wanted to follow the old man after he disappeared, but you weren’t quick enough and the alien ship had already started to take off. It had left you reeling, saying goodbye to the only person that you had known for the last two years was heavy, especially when you knew it could be the last time. An emptiness filled your chest and you felt like you were going to cry, like you had lost something so incredibly important.

But when you had all landed on Earth, the four of you decided that it would be best not to linger around the new TARDIS. It was meant to blend in and if seven idiots were lingering out the front staring, it would eventually cause people to wonder what was inside it. Blending into the street, you also agreed that it would be best for Ethan, Ashad and Ravio to live there and to call it a home, not only was the chameleon circuit working, but it due to it being bigger on the inside, it allowed them space if they needed it. Of course, it was a little difficult for them to settle, like you were expecting, but you knew that they much preferred your time over being hunted by Cybermen.

Eventually the three future humans had made a home, it was quiet scary at how well they adapted, you guessed once again that a little bit of normalcy was good for them. They weren’t calling on you four, for every little thing and you were pretty sure that Ravio had gotten a job and that Ethan was going to free classes about mechanics. You were glad that they were able to have the life they always wanted and it put you at ease when you saw that even after everything they had been through, they could go back ... or have a normal life.

So, finally after a week of moping around the house, you decided to go back to work and uni. It was hard not to mope, for all you know the Doctor did die on Gallifrey and you were waiting around for nothing. Though, you weren’t the only one who was still waiting, Yaz would come by every other week, just to check in. Have a cup of tea, or lunch, or get incredibly wasted on a Friday night and eventually turn up home on a Sunday afternoon. Ryan had gone back to school as well and Graham was back to work. It seemed weird that everyone had fallen into their old lives so easily.

Your parents were concerned, they wondered why you spent so much time out in the backyard, looking up at the sky. You had told them you were just watching the stars, truthfully you were waiting to catch a glimpse of the TARDIS, or at least something out of the ordinary. Your mum was supportive of you actually getting some night air, boy if only she knew what you had been doing for the past two years. She would come out with a blanket and something warm for a little midnight snack. Your dad hated the cold, but he appreciated the fact that you would sometimes take photos through your telescope.

He liked the different planets you could see.

It wasn’t until one Saturday afternoon (after your birthday), you had just gotten off your eight hour shift at work, ready to fall into bed and sleep until dinner time, when you got a frantic message from Yaz.

Need you over here asap.

You frowned and groaned as you rolled over onto your back and stared up at the screen, until another green bubble appeared on the screen.

Very very important.

Barely managing to read through her messages, another appeared.

She’s back.

You shot up into a seated position. Oh. Oh. Not even bothering to change out of your work uniform, you slipped your shoes back on your feet, grabbed your keys and called out a goodbye to your confused parents.

“Pick up milk on your way home please!” You could just hear your mother shout from the kitchen. You couldn’t remember if you responded or not, all you could think of was seeing the Doctor again.

It didn’t take you that long to get to Yaz’s, awkwardly parking in the car park underneath the apartments. You almost tripped over your untied shoes as you bounded up the stairs and banged on Yaz’s front door. Your leg started to bounce up and down, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip. You banged at the front down again until you could hear shuffling of someone behind it. Once it opened to reveal Yaz’s mum, looking confused, you rudely groaned.

Your name left her lips and you knew that Yaz wasn’t there. Turning on your heel, you peeled back towards the stairs and took two at a time, basically jumping off the last three steps. You didn’t go back to the car park, but to the front of the complex and there it was, sat in all her glory - plus a bit of aesthetically pleasing sunlight.

The TARDIS.

Your breathing started to get shallow and you had to swallow the lump that formed at the back of your throat. You couldn’t believe it, six months ... six whole months of wondering if she survived, of if she died and whether or not you would never get to see her again. The TARDIS doors opened and out popped Yaz’s head.

“Come on!” She waved you over, a massive smile crossing her lips. “We’ve been waiting for ya!” Pulling herself back inside, you sprinted over to the ship and bounded inside, almost tripping over once again as you remembered that ... well it was bigger on the inside. Your eyes were too distracted by the interior to notice the Doctor standing hunched over at the console.

“Ah, took your time then!” She called out, not even looking up from whatever it was she was doing. “Yaz said you’d just gotten off work, but honestly - thought I was more important to ... Oof. ” The sentence faded away as she was cut off as you practically slammed your body into her side. Wrapping your arms around her, you squeezed tight.

“I think someone missed you,”

“Yeah, got that Graham thanks.” You tried not to cry, even going as far as squeezing your eyes shut, when the Doctor eventually got herself working again, you felt her shift - moving in your arms so that your head now laid on her chest and your arms wrapped around her waist. The steady four beat pattern of her hearts were comforting. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She mumbled into your ear, feeling hair tickle against your forehead. Opening you eyes, you noticed that you could barely see through your tears.

“I thought you were dead.” Her slender hand moved to brush through your hair. Fingers carded against strands that had fallen out of your ponytail, you could feel her chin resting on top of your head and everything just suddenly felt right in the world once more. “Thought that was going to be the last I’d ever see you...” A shuddering intake of breath moved through your body and the Doctor tightened her arms around your shoulders, other hand cradling the base of your skull.

“Nah, not me.” She responded. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Swallowing, you lifted your head, licking your lower lip.

“Promise?” You questioned and her eyes shone with amusement that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Whatever she had found on Gallifrey must have fixed her bad mood.

“I promise.” Leaning forward, the Doctor placed a kiss on your forehead and she couldn’t help but linger. Cradling you against her and you weren’t going to let go anytime soon either, not even caring that the others were watching with an amused look of their own. You were just glad to have your Doctor back finally.

[poc-movie-supremacy]

Hold me close, protect me darling

Shane gets attacked in a ghost investigation, luckily he has Ryan to protect him. 

Song fic to Love me Tender featuring Ryan with wings

Merry last day of November. Enjoy!

----

Take my hand

It was an honest mistake. Shane didn’t think this place was haunted. It didn’t feel haunted like they usually do so he relaxed. He had fun taunting air and spooking Ryan. He felt invincible, untouchable.

That confidence lasted until he was halfway through his one on one sesh in the supposedly haunted bathroom. Shane had started upping his taunt game thinking he was safe. The air turned to ozone and the ground started to shake. Fear paralyzed Shane to the spot. He was aware of Ryan trying to get in but was helpless to help him.

A rotting figure of blood and bones rose from the floor. It was hunched over with disproportionate limbs. It’s teeth were narly and sharp.The creatures was a black as night, blending in with the shadows save for its pure white eyes. 

Flashing Shane a smile, he rasped, “You wanna rock and roll? It’s on.” 

It’s hand looked like a tree branch. Uneven and dented and rough. It seemed to grow forward enough to claw at Shane’s cheek. In turn, Shane let out a pain-filled screech. Ryan’s furious assault on the poor bathroom door grew ten-fold. 

“What’s wrong now shane? Where’s all that bravado you packed in your speech?” It’s words were high pitched static that resembled human speech. A passing thought in Shane’s brain stated that it sounded like the spirit box.

Still completely immobilized, the demon gave a deep laugh and grabbed his wrist. It’s touch was strong and icy. At the same time, Ryan kicked down the door. Forcefully, he yanked Shane back behind him and spread his wings. The red and yellow wings were so large they practically shielded Shane’s entire person.

Ryan growled at the demon who glared back. Shane tried to calm down and comes back to his senses. When the demon tried to taunt Ryan like he did Shane, he just broke his arm off and blazed him to death. Shane has never been more grateful for Ryan’s lazer eyes. Quickly, Ryan grabbed Shane’s not broken hand and flew them quickly out of the house. His warm soft hand felt grounding. It was a great relief, a great soother. Shane clung to Ryan tightly as he flew them quickly to the car. They quickly got in and gunned it all the way home.  

Take my whole life too

As they drove Ryan was stewed, focusing on their first meeting in an effort to calm himself down.  

It was a nice warm November day. The leaves were changing color and the air was getting colder. Ryan was in the park, exercising. He was shirtless leaving his wings unfolded. Taylor Swift blared from his phone as he lunged. The burn of breathing felt nice. The stretch of his muscles was a relief. 

Ryan was unaware of anyone else until a slightly deep voice pulled him back into the real world. “You, your wings, you’re gorgeous.” 

When he turned around, a tall, lanky, white dude was gaping at him. He looked a little cute, the wide eyed mused hair look. Ryan smirked then used the tip of his wing to close his mouth. 

“And you are staring.”

A deep red blush raced up the man’s face. Words raced over and jumbled over each other when the white dude opened his mouth. His long fingers scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just your beauty… I thought the autumn leaves were pretty, they were nothing compared to your wings. They…” His words seemed to die on his throat. Nervously he scratched the back of his neck and avoided Ryan’s eyes. 

Ryan laughed at his words. “What a charmer. Most people seem so superficial when they compliment me, you act like you mean it.”

The strangers nodded furiously. “I do, I do.”

“Well then, why don’t you tell me more over coffee.” Ryan grabbed the stranger’s arm and wrote his number on his wrist. “Name’s Ryan, I can’t wait to see you there...” Ryan trailed off to give the stranger a chance to give him his name.

“Shane! My name’s Shane.” 

“Nice to meet you Shane.” Ryan flashed him a nice smile. It made Shane’s blush return full force. With that, Ryan flew away leaving behind a stunned and flustered Shane in his wake. 

For I can’t help falling in love with you.

It seemed like love at first sight. They decided at a little coffee shop that sometimes held poetry slams. Ryan blow dried his hair and left it curly. He found a nice pink shirt and a pair of blue slacks. At 7:30 he left his apartment for the coffee shop. 

Soft jazz filled the coffee shop. It was darkly lit by multi-colored stage lights. Shane was waiting for him at a table tapping his fingers nervously. He had on a starched white shirt and a pair of black slacks with matching black suspenders. Ryan took a moment to watch him softly before heading in. When Shane caught his eye a bright smile erupted on his face. It made Ryan flush as he pulled out a chair. 

“This spot’s nice,” Ryan remarked casually. 

“Yeah, they sell the best popcorn on poetry nights. I like to listen to the poets while I munch.”

Surprise etched onto Ryan’s face, “You like popcorn?”

“Oh yeah, baby, best treat ever!” Ryan let out a laugh as they started going into an hour-long in depth discussion about popcorn. It was, it felt comfortable, nice. He liked the way Shane’s mind worked. 

Currently, right now, as Ryan pulled into their driveway, he did not like the way Shane’s mind worked.  He led Shane to the couch while Ryan found the medical supplies. Luckily they still had the brace from the last time one of them sprained a wrist. Ryan got some painkillers and the first aid kit before heading back over to Shane. His boyfriend had a vacant look to his eye. He wasn’t speaking, barely moving except to cradle his broken wrist. Ryan took a seat by him and Shane turned himself towards him. 

Quickly Ryan put the wrist in the brace before getting to work on the nasty face cuts. The bleeding had stopped considerably since it was cut. Shane’s shirt wasn’t salvageable, but better a lost shirt than a lost Shane. To lighten the mood Shane attempted to make a joke, “Least I’ll have a cool scar after this.” When he tries to laugh he hisses for the pain of the disinfectant. 

Ryan stares him dead in the eye with a look that could’ve been neutral if it weren’t for the anger tinged sadness in his eyes. He says nothing and opts to keep cleaning his husband’s wounds. Shane sighs and squeezes his husband’s bicep. “I’m sorry,” Ryan quirks an eyebrow, confused. “I shouldn’t have made that joke or taunted tht demon.”

“I’m not mad, big guy, just scared the shit out of me. I’d tell you to be careful, but I think we both already know that.” 

Shane tries to nod his head, but he forgot Ryan was still stitching up his wounds. He hissed in pain as Ryan took his chin in his thumb and forefinger and gently pulled it back down to eye level. Ryan let out a soft chuckle as he got back to stitching up Shane’s wounds. 

“Thanks baby, I love you.” Shane whispered to his husband when he finished. 

“I love you too.”

[angstyaches]

Feverish puke for felix and elliot? You choose the sickie I can’t decidee

Hi anon! Sorry this one took so long, but this really helped me develop what’s been going on with these two. 

CW: emeto, fever, bodily changes, anxiety, mention of deteriorating condition (maybe?), food mention, (un)death mention

Part of the Plan

Felix’s ears felt like they’d been filled with cotton wool. He could see that Ryan’s lips were moving, he could tell there were words coming out, but it wasn’t until he heard Elliott say his name that he managed to snap out of it.

He jumped and looked down to see that he’d been digging his nails into the back of Elliott’s hand, leaving tiny half-moon dints along his boyfriend’s warm, slick skin.

“Are you alright?” Elliott asked, even as something dulled the yellow fire that usually sparked behind his own eyes, making him sit with his shoulders sagged. Felix laughed out of disbelief and nervousness, because if he didn’t laugh, he thought he might burst into tears. 

He glanced at Ryan; even she was looking at him with a strange expression from her chair, as though he was the one they needed to be worried about. She tilted her head inquisitively, her silver hair curling against the ruffles of her blouse.

“I’m good. No, I’m good. I’m sorry.” Felix cleared his throat, frowning in Ryan’s direction. “Sorry. I, um – I mean, is – is there no way to slow it down? For example, what if Elli cuts right back on blood, like me? I know it’d feel a bit weird at first, darling, but if it would help –”

“Well, I was just explaining this,” Ryan said pointedly. “Unfortunately, there’s no slowing it down at this stage. Elliott’s tendency to over-indulge on hunts, coupled with the fact that he was half-blooded directly by an Elder, seems to have caused his transition to accelerate by quite a lot. Reversing the transition at this stage, well – it’s unheard of.”

“But,” Felix said, “can we slow it down?”

Ryan pursed her lips. “I would not recommend trying.”

Felix could tell she was straining to keep her composure, considering how distressed the two of them seemed. He briefly wondered what this change would mean for her; Elliott had never planned on surpassing her status as Elder, but now he might just do it unintentionally.

Elliott shivered and hunched further forward in his chair. Felix leaned into the motion so he could keep a hold on his hand.

“His body is going to keep adapting,” Ryan said. “And if he doesn’t obey his new cravings? Well, it won’t be pleasant for anybody involved. I’m talking about intense nausea, muscle spasms, violent outbursts –”

“How?” Felix asked, his throat pinched. He held back the tears that stung his eyes, knowing that crying in front of Ryan would undermine anything he had to say. “If you knew that being blooded by an Elder would make his transition this unstable, how could you have let it happen?”

“Elliott was just as aware of what he was doing –”

“You knew he didn’t want to change.” Felix’s lips trembled apart with each word. “You knew I didn’t want him to –”

“Fee,” Elliott murmured, pinning him with a look. His expression was pained and exhausted and pleading. Come on.

“Felix, Elliott is capable of making his own decisions,” Ryan stated, draping her arms along the sides of her chair. “You both have my sympathy, since I can see it’s causing you distress, but I do not take responsibility.”

He looked at Elliott with the same anger burning in his throat, because Ryan was right. The way Elliott turned his face away, reluctant to make eye contact, suggested they were both thinking the same thing, so there was no point in Felix bringing it up; he’d told Elliott to take it easy whenever he went hunting – especially whenever he was traveling alone or with Nancy.

The feeling dissipated when Elliott slid his elbows onto his knees, hanging his head forward. Felix shifted in his chair, placing a hand lightly on the back of Elliott’s neck. His skin was much hotter than it should have been, and the contact from Felix’s hand seemed to make him tremble.

“Once the toxins are out of your system, the symptoms should ease. I would recommend cutting physical meals down to once every two days from now on, and upping your blood intake by half, at least until you’ve got a handle on your symptoms. So, for now, you should rest.” Ryan’s cool yellow gaze fell on Felix. “And you, Felix, need to adjust your attitude, quick-smart.”

Felix forced a smile. “Yes, ma’am. Come on, Elli, let’s get you up to bed.”

___

“I have a bad taste in my mouth,” Elliott muttered from where he sat at the edge of the bed.

Felix relaxed his hold on Elliott, having crawled across the bed to drape his arms around his shoulders. He was trying not to press too closely or heavily against Elliott’s skin, considering how much heat was already radiating from him, even after he’d taken off his shirt.

“I know, darling. Ryan said a lot of things that were hard to hear. Imagine, failing to take any responsibility for –”

“She only said things that were true, Fee. And I – I meant that I have an actual bad taste in mouth.” Elliott sat forward, reaching up to remove Felix’s hands while his own quivered. “I feel nauseous.”

“Oh.” Felix slid back from Elliott, watching as his shoulders clenched and he dropped his head into his hands. “Is – is there anything I can do?”

Elliott grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. “Just, um – just try to relax. I can tell this is stressing you out a lot. Put something on the T.V., maybe.”

Felix’s heart sank as he sat back on the bed. Elliott crossed the room and let himself into the ensuite. His eyes were pinned on the ground as he turned back to close the door. Felix didn’t want to put anything on the T.V.; the only thing that would make him feel better was being with Elliott, and he couldn’t do that while he was nauseous, or he’d get his arm bitten off. Metaphorically, not literally; or at least, he hoped.

Felix climbed off the bed after a minute, and started rearranging the duvet so they could get straight in once Elliott was ready to lie down. He took one of his own blood and sugar lollipops from the box on his nightstand and left it lying, still in its wrapper, on Elliott’s pillow, in case he felt like replacing some iron. He looked at it for a second and put it away in the box again, realising he didn’t know how Elliott’s body would react to the sucrose.

He wrung his hands after that and sat back down on the bed, unable to think of anything else to do. He started off kneeling, eventually letting his legs slide out to the side, trying not to look towards the bathroom door.

Trying not to picture Elliott gagging over the toilet, all by himself. Trying not to picture this exact same scenario occurring more and more frequently from now on, as Elliott’s body inched closer and closer to being undead, instead of simply off-human. Felix’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle a sob, and he closed his eyes, willing them to absorb the tears that threatened to fall. He wished he could bundle all the tears up and tie a string around them and tuck them away in his heart somewhere.

He jumped as the handle of the bathroom door slammed down, and the door opened a crack. It sat like that without any further movement.

“El?” Felix scrambled off the bed again. He went into the ensuite to find Elliott shivering on his knees in front of the toilet, though it didn’t seem like he’d thrown anything up yet.

He looked up at Felix, that glassy look still in his deep yellow eyes. “Fee, can – can you hold me? Just for a minute?”

Felix shuddered with a sob, his resolve crumbling. He tackled Elliott into a hug and put hand out against the side of the bath to stop both of them from toppling over.

“Oh, don’t cry, beautiful,” Elliott begged in his ear. “Please.”

“I know, I know I’m just making it worse, Elli, I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. I’m so incredibly sorry. This wasn’t part of – of the – of the plan we–”

Elliott lurched forward, and Felix sank back, stroking a hand across his boyfriend’s shoulders as he retched over the toilet. His skin was practically on fire, his body fighting against what it now considered to be foreign substance, a potential threat. Toxins, as Ryan had put it.

A few hours ago, it had just been fried chicken and rice. Nothing toxic at all. The fact that Felix had made it was probably part of the reason Elliott had been holding back from throwing up all this time. Like he thought it would be a direct insult.

“Let it up, darling, it’s okay,” Felix stammered, just in case that was what was happening. He lightened his touch on his back, surprised he hadn’t already been whined at or shaken away. Not wanting to leave, but afraid of making his boyfriend feel too crowded, Felix edged around him and climbed into the bath. He it would make Elliott feel like they were separated enough.

Elliott threw him a quick, grateful glance, then choked on another unproductive gag. “Fee, we – we never… Rome, and – and Japan…”

“Darling,” Felix whimpered, folding his arms on the edge of the bath and resting his chin on top of his hands. “We can still see the world together. I know I talk like all I care about is food tourism, but there’s so much more I want to do. With you, Elli.”

Elliott gasped, trying to choke out more words through the nausea. “What – wh-what if –?”

His breath hitched, a shallow belch echoing against the toilet bowl. He sat forward a little more, back muscles contracting visibly under his skin. He made a noise like something had clawed at his throat before letting waves of vomit splash into the water. Felix wished he could scoop his arms around his waist.

He eventually took his hand away, in case his boyfriend was just cooperating with the touch so as not to upset Felix. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“God,” Elliott rasped finally, dropping his weight to the side and sliding his legs out so that his back was against the bath. His face contorted as he pressed a hand to his belly, letting out a couple of short, wet burps.

“Are you okay?” Felix sighed, crawling down the bath. “Can I touch you now?”

As soon as Elliott gave a weak nod, Felix sat up on his knees, reaching one hand down to rest on his boyfriend’s chest. The other, he placed gently on his cheek. “You’re still just like a furnace.”

Elliott tilted his head to show Felix the weak grin pulling at one edge of his mouth. “Give it a minute, boo. My stomach’s still halfway up my throat.”

Felix pressed his lips to Elliott’s damp, salty cheek. “Did you know the food was going to make you sick?”

“I… hoped it wouldn’t,” Elliott muttered. “I hoped yesterday’s stomach ache would turn out to be just that, not… not this. I didn’t want this, Fee...”

Tears looming in his eyes, Felix kissed the back of Elliott’s neck. “I know.”

Elliott lifted a shaky hand to hold onto Felix’s. Felix wondered if he was pressing so that his heartbeat would be a little more obvious against his palm, its pace slower than a human’s, but still ticking. The thought of it stopping for good, of him becoming truly undead, was clearly on his mind.  His hand slumped away from Felix’s after a few seconds, arm resting heavily in his lap.

“Oh, darling,” Felix said, his voice echoing slightly in the empty bath. “Are you ready to go to bed?”

Elliott grunted. “That sounds wonderful. Sooner or later, it’ll be a silk-lined coffin for me.”

“Elli, I love you,” Felix whispered against the side of Elliott’s head. “But even if that were true, we’d be keeping the bed, because there’s no way I’m being spooned in a coffin.”

[myghostmonument]

13xReader: Pyrite

Notes: What do you mean it’s January and I’m just now posting requests from the festive prompt list? SJSKJSKS yeah sorry guys December was a bad month for me but I’m getting them out now because it’s always Christmas in my heart and that’s how it is. This prompt was: “Oh hey, mistletoe!” It was supposed to be short n quick and here we are! All the clown schools are actively recruiting me, thanks for asking. I hope you all enjoy anyways! I’ve more writing on the way. This is of course gender-neutral for the reader!

Summary: The Doctor takes you and the fam to what should be a fun and carefree winter festival, except that from the moment you step foot out of the TARDIS, security droids open fire. Festive! Taking refuge in an abandoned shop, you discover an interesting rock, debate the authenticity of mistletoe, and almost experience death via shelf. All in a day’s work right?

Warnings: None unless heavy and repeated eye-contact is an issue. There may also be a rugby tackle.

WC: 3800 gdi 

“I told you! Christmas - never good with me!” The Doctor’s words were shouted as she ducked a flying chunk of debris.

“What?” Yaz hollered back, crouched behind a much larger and presently stationary chunk of debris. “I said, Christmas and me - every time - “ the Doctor broke off with a yell, ducking another narrow miss. “What?” Ryan and Yaz both yelled. “Maybe we could save this conversation for another time,” Graham shouted. “When we’re not under attack, for example!” “What?” the Doctor yelled back. You couldn’t help it. Hunched up against a chunk of smoking rubble, covered in dirt, and most certainly in mortal peril (and hardly thirty minutes into what the Doctor had promised to be a ‘fun and cheerful’ shopping excursion, no less), the sight of your friends yelling back and forth was too much to take. You started to laugh. The Doctor glanced over her shoulder at you, and an explosion briefly backlit her. Limned in gold, with wild hair and a smudged face, the Doctor looked slightly wild as her eyes flicked over you rapidly, perhaps assessing you for damage. She then grinned back. It did nothing to lessen the wildness. “Now that’s the spirit!” she called approvingly. “You lot, take notes! Better team morale, we can’t carry it all.” It was unlikely that anyone other than you heard her, but her general meaning seemed to carry over well enough. “We can’t stay here much longer,” you said, ducking another blast. This was definitely not Christmas, wherever (whatever, whenever) it was. Not the Christmas the Doctor had begrudgingly agreed to after you and the others had pestered her. You sometimes suspected that she initially refused requests for the sole purpose of being convinced; she certainly seemed to thrive on the banter and, when she inevitably agreed, was all enthusiasm. “Right, okay,” the Doctor said, pushing hair out of her eyes and peering over the top of her debris shield. “There’s a little shop just over there, I think we can make it!” “And then what?” you started to ask, before glancing up. A flash of light was all the warning you had. Lunging forward, you grabbed a fist-full of the Doctor’s coat and yanked her back down just as another blast demolished a chunk of the shield, precisely in the space her head had previously occupied. “I have a plan,” the Doctor said cheerfully, taking out her sonic and acting as if she hadn’t just narrowly avoided decapitation. She caught your expression and scrunched her face. “It’s a work in progress!” she chided, chancing another look over the still-smoking debris. Yaz darted over to join you, followed by Ryan and Graham. “What’s she doing then?” Graham asked, eyeing the Doctor as she scanned the air with her sonic. “She says she has a plan,” you informed them. The four of you then shared a look. “I heard that,” the Doctor said without turning around, still fiddling with her sonic. “But we didn’t say anything - “ Yaz began. “Your silence was very loud,” the Doctor replied, and you supposed that you couldn’t really argue with that. She clicked something together on her sonic and made a triumphant sound. “Right! Got it! Stage one of my plan: I’m going to overload the sensors and we’re going to head for that shop right around the corner, sharpish.” She surveyed you all expectantly, looking pleased. “What’s stage two of the plan?” “How long will the sensors be overloaded?” “How sure are you it’s gonna actually work? “And you reckon this shop’ll be safer?” “Enough with the questions!” the Doctor exploded, her indignant gaze moving between the four of you. “I told you it’s a plan in progress! Unless any of you lot have something to offer up, then I suggest you pipe down!” She waited a beat, then nodded. “Good. So, my plan - when I say go, you run like mad to that shop and get cover.” “What about you, Doc?” Graham asked. The Doctor pushed hair out of her eyes and waved a hand vaguely. “I’ll be right behind you. Should be fine.” The four of you exchanged another very loud look. But it was as she said: you really didn’t have a better plan. And the shop couldn’t be much worse than your current position, smack dab as it was in the middle of the cross-fire. So when the Doctor nodded at all of you with a (slightly wild) smile, leapt up with her sonic buzzing, and hollered ‘go’, you went.  “Well this is cheery,” Graham observed a few breathless moments later, looking around the dim shop you had all piled in. You were all crouched low, instinctively avoiding the windows. “Creepy, more like,” Yaz muttered, her own gaze lingering on the shadows. You were inclined to agree with her. The cramped and shadowed room was clearly some sort of flower shop, one which no doubt would have been bright and serene with the lights on and under less lethal circumstances. As it was, the uncertain gloom of the room lent it vaguely sinister, as if the silent plants were watching you. Waiting. Judging. Moving, ever so slightly? You swallowed, looking away from the shadows and meeting Ryan’s gaze. He didn’t look entirely at ease either. It wasn’t much comfort. A breath of air, a brush of sensation, fingers running across your neck and plucking at your collar. It turned out to be just the trailing vines of what looked like potted ivy, but you only realized that after you’d yelped and scrambled backwards, slamming your back painfully against the shop’s counter. Ryan and Yaz didn’t do a very good job of hiding their sniggering. You glowered at them, rubbing your back. “Keep it down,” Graham hissed, craning his neck to peer out a misty and smudged window. “I think the Doc’s coming!” Sure enough, there was a sudden upsurge in noise outside, and threading through the weapon blasts was a voice you knew very well. Graham chanced another look, then leapt to his feet and opened the shop door just in time for the Doctor to dive through the threshold. He slammed it and crouched again as she tucked and rolled. It was an impressive display of timing from the two of them. Ryan even gave a low whistle. “Did you lose them?” Yaz asked. The windows rattled as another blast rang out, and she winced. “Ah, maybe,” the Doctor panted, sitting up and pushing hair from her eyes. The window rattled in its frame again. “Possibly. Doubt it, to be honest.” She pushed herself against the counter with you, peeking over it before ducking back down and looking at you all, then the shop. She was, you were exasperated to see, looking quite cheerful. “This is cozy! How are we doing?” “Seriously?” Yaz asked, sounding as exasperated as you felt. You couldn’t help but be amused, and the Doctor caught your grin. “Now that’s more like it,” she said. “We’re together, we’re safe-ish, and we’re in a little shop. A flower shop! I love shops.” 

“Doc,” Graham said, and you could see how much the effort of maintaining his patience was costing him. Traveling with the Doctor was a crash-course in many important life skills, emotional management included. “What are those things, and why are they shooting at us?”

“Security droids,” the Doctor said, frowning. “Sophisticated models, too. They shouldn’t be attacking us like this.” She peeked around the counter, tongue poking between her lips. “Seems to have quieted down a bit, at least.”

Yaz was frowning too. “If they’re so sophisticated, why haven’t they tracked us in here?” 

“And why are they shooting at us, if we haven’t done anything?” Ryan added, sounding a touch offended. 

“Good questions,” the Doctor said. She stood up cautiously and skulked over to a window.  “This should be a peaceful era, I don’t know why they have these droids at all. Unless I got my eras messed up.”

“I wonder what that’d be like,” Graham said dryly.

Yaz snorted. “What, the Doctor mixing up her eras, or her landing somewhere peaceful?” 

“Oi, that’s enough of that,” the Doctor said indignantly while you, Ryan and Yaz laughed. “We’ve been to loads of peaceful places.”

“Yeah but generally speaking, if it’s peaceful when we land, you do your best to find out why and then upend everything,” Graham said, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. The Doctor looked as if she wished to argue the point, but settled for peeking out the window again in what she evidently considered to be a dignified silence. 

Taking your cue from them, you, Yaz and Ryan cautiously stood up too and, when the Doctor didn’t say anything, began to poke around the dim shop. It seemed to be decorated for a winter holiday, with tinsel and lights and bows.

“Weird, that this place has a Christmas too,” Ryan said, poking at a decorative, softly lit tree.

“Most civilizations have a Christmas,” the Doctor said absently. “Not Christmas, Christmas, of course. But most people have a holiday in the winter, when the harvests are done and the cold sets in.” She touched a bell, her nose wrinkling into a delighted smile as it chimed softly. “They’re almost always like this, with bright lights and gaudy decorations, all centering on hearth and home and coming out of the long, dark nights with hope and joy.” 

You watched her as she spoke. You loved this, loved watching her wax eloquent on the quirks and details of a new people or planet. There was a certain light and energy that seemed to suffuse the Doctor, when she found something new and unique and hopeful; her joy in the quirks of the universe all but radiated from her. It was a tangible thing, almost visible in her wake as she talked and moved around. It was so quintessentially, authentically her. 

You couldn’t help but smile, watching her. When she glanced over her shoulder, your eyes briefly met. Before you could feel much more than the first stirrings of self-consciousness that she’d caught you staring at her, smiling at her… she smiled back, and the shop felt brighter.

“Is this mistletoe?” 

Ryan’s question wasn’t loud or sudden, but you still jumped, startled. You caught Yaz’s eye as you turned around. She gave you a cheeky look, her eyebrows raised. Mature and unruffled person that you were, you scrunched your nose in response. It was an imitation of the Doctor you’d all picked up, and utilized with decreasing irony. She didn’t seem to have noticed it yet. One of these times, though, she was going to catch you all as you pulled increasingly dramatic scrunches behind her back. You personally hoped that she would catch Ryan (his were the best and most ridiculous). 

Graham walked over to Ryan, examining the draping plant in question. “Couldn’t be,” he said, though without much conviction. Traveling with the Doctor had done a lot to blur the lines between impossible, improbable, and just another Tuesday. 

“Unlikely,” the Doctor said as she moved over, pulling out her sonic. She ran it across the leaves of the plant, the muted glow and soft whirr making an island of light and colour in the shop. 

“Anyways how do you know what mistletoe looks like, Ryan?” Yaz asked interestedly. 

“I’d like to know that as well,” Graham said, never one to pass on an opportunity.

“Ha, ha,” Ryan said groused. “Obviously I don’t know, since I was wrong.”

“That’s not really better though, is it?” Yaz observed, and she and you both dissolved into giggles as Ryan’s face underwent a series of complicated and interesting emotions. When he settled on his signature Doctor-scrunch, you only laughed harder.

“Shh,” Graham said, perhaps taking pity on his grandson, though he seemed to be fighting a smile. “We don’t want to attract those things’ attention. I’m not built for all this running.” 

“They should be down for a bit longer,” the Doctor said. “Long enough to figure out what the next part of the plan is.” She looked away from her sonic, towards a window. “Can’t stay here forever; the security droids are bound to figure it out sooner or later and we need to find the locals, find out why they’re so afraid of newcomers.”

She moved restlessly around the shop. Graham and Yaz asked her some more questions, but you drifted away, examining the back shelves. While some of the items were readily identifiable as plants and flowers, others were much more ambiguous and even downright strange. You stooped to look at what seemed to be a potted rock. Why would anyone put a rock in soil like that? It wasn’t a remarkable rock, just striated grey, dull and lumpy. Except - was that a slight glimmer, that caught your eye? Curious (and lacking the appropriate degree of caution that traveling with the Doctor had instilled in you) you reached out your hand. Your fingertip had just brushed the rock - warmer than you thought it would be, and smooth - when an arm appeared from over your shoulder, a hand wrapping around your wrist. You jumped, startled, and felt your back press up against someone. 

“No touching things, what have I said?” The Doctor’s voice was laced with exasperation, but you were more distracted by the way it came from so very close to your ear. “I thought it was just Ryan I had to watch - oh, what’s this?” The Doctor’s hand was still wrapped around your wrist. Combined with her body so close to yours that you could feel the heat and energy emanating off of her, you were extraordinarily distracted. So much so that you almost missed it, at first. The Doctor’s sharpening attention was palpable, and you blinked as you watched the rock shudder, fine cracks radiating across its surface. Before you could even make sense of that, the cracks unfurled into tendrils, the rock transforming before your eyes into an impossibly delicate plant. It swayed gently.

“How did it do that?” you asked, your eyes tracking the sinuous, gentle movement of the rock-plant. It wasn’t the strangest thing you’d seen on your travels, but for some reason you were having trouble wrapping your mind around the fact that the bland, unassuming, solid little rock had transformed into this wispy plant.

“Touch responsive,” the Doctor said musingly as she leaned past you and peered at it. “An interesting adaptation. Probably to lure in the unwary,” she added severely, glancing back at you. 

You wrinkled your nose at her. “That’s not what I meant, I meant how does it go from a rock to -” but you broke off. Something had flashed out of the corner of your eye, and you turned, frowning. Just a glimmer of light bouncing off something in the shop, surely? But even as you thought that, another flash of light drew you attention - from outside the window. Uh oh. 

“Doctor,” you said, tugging at one of her sleeves. She was still in the middle of expounding upon both the plant’s alleged properties as well as your foolishness, but she glanced back at you, her hair falling over her face. She followed your gaze to the window.

“Hey Doc, there’s something moving out there,” Graham said from the other side of the shop. The Doctor’s face underwent a series of rapid changes as she stood up straight. She looked from Ryan, Graham and Yaz to you, and then the window again. “Everyone away from the windows,” she said, while promptly doing exactly the opposite of that. She only made it a step before she froze, then whirled back around. “Down!” she shouted, lunging forward and half-tackling you. She pulled you closer as you fell, so that her body was shielding yours. You thought maybe you’d shouted in surprise as you were forcibly tackled. It was hard to tell though, because even as you hit the ground (ow,) the wall across from you exploded as something tore through it. Several more shots ricocheted through the room, and bits of wood, ceramic and other debris crashed to the floor all around your head. You weren’t thinking about that much, though. Partially because you were still winded from the takedown, but mostly because the Doctor was still crouched over you, her head ducked against your shoulder and her arms on either side of your head as she shielded you. It was extraordinarily distracting. A booming crash rattled the floorboards as one of the shelves tipped over, and the Doctor yelped as she was showered with yet more debris.

Silence slowly reasserted itself in the shop. The Doctor cautiously lifted her head from your shoulder, turning so that her hair brushed your face. “Yaz?” she called, coughing. Smoke hung thick in the air, sullen and acrid. “Graham? Ryan?” “We’re fine,” Yaz called back. “Uh - Doctor, where are you guys?” You thought that a rather odd question to ask; if anything it was only you Yaz ought to have wondered the whereabouts of, given that the Doctor was still draped on top of you. You heard scuffling from the other side of the shop. “Stay down,” the Doctor said sharply. “They’re motion activated. We’re fine, just a bit cramped.” She shifted gingerly as she said this, and as her head moved you got a good look above you for the first time. It seemed the crashing shelf you’d heard had fallen directly over the Doctor, and presently lay propped up against the counter. It had probably protected you both from the worst of the debris, but it was now also effectively pinning you down. Ah. 

The Doctor turned her head again so that she was looking at you. Your noses were all but touching, her hair still brushing against your cheek. You wondered distantly if this was what a heart attack felt like, as you counted the freckles dotting the Doctor’s cheek like so many stars. “I’m just going to ease out, slowly,” she said, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated and, in the process, almost murdered you. Perhaps this was what a heart attack felt like, actually. “Stay very, very still.” You swallowed and nodded minutely, not trusting yourself to speak. The Doctor pushed herself slightly off of you, one hand twisting as she tried to ease to the side. She froze as the shelf groaned and slid down further. Her eyes met yours again, wide and gleaming.

“Right,” the Doctor breathed. “Maybe we ah. Wait for help then.” She scrunched her nose as she spoke, obviously disliking the sentiment. You weren’t really surprised when she followed the statement with another attempt at shimmying out from under the shelf. It slid down another solid inch, hitting the Doctor and pressing her against you. “Ah,” she said, glancing at you guiltily. She looked so absurd that you couldn’t help but smile. Her guilty look melted away into a smile of her own. “Don’t you dare laugh,” she muttered. “I may have made a tactical error. It does happen.”

Something fell off the shelf, shattering very close to your face. You could hear something else slide to what must be the very edge of the shelf; you could just see the draping green tendrils of a potted plant, teetering on the edge. The Doctor’s eyes were very wide as she looked at you. ‘Don’t move,’ she mouthed, as if you were the one inching the shelf lower and lower. “I think we’ve got company,” Ryan’s voice called. You realized that you could hear voices, growing louder as they approached. “Must be the locals,” the Doctor said. She looked frustrated; you imagined that being rescued from the shop she had broken into and helped destroy might slightly undercut her position.. She shifted just slightly, and the potted plant rattled above you. She looked up, carefully moving only her eyes. 

“Huh,” she said after a beat. “I think it is mistletoe.” Her eyes moved back to yours, and your gazes locked. The Doctor had propped herself up with her arms so that she didn’t crush you, but in that moment you still felt the air leave your lungs. The moment stretched, the two of you staring at each other, noses just touching, eyes reflecting each other.  You were suddenly, horribly aware of your lips, and the bare sliver of space between them and the Doctor’s.. You thought you could almost feel the heat coming from them. From her. You could certainly feel her hearts beating against your chest. The door to the shop banged open, and you both jerked. “Doctor!” Yaz cried, over the sound of more voices. “It’s okay,” the Doctor called, turning her head and filling your face with her hair. “Just a bit of a misunderstanding!” She tried to move again as Yaz began arguing with someone, and the bookcase creaked ominously. You could hear rapidly approaching steps, and Graham’s shoes appeared in your line of vision, followed by the rest of him as he crouched down. He cast an appraising eye over you, the Doctor, and the shelf, and then lifted his brows. More footsteps, and then he was joined by Yaz and Ryan, and several other sets of shoes you didn’t recognize. The angry locals, presumably. “Doctor, they seem to think we’re here as part of an - army, or something,” Yaz said, also crouching down. She blinked. “Are you okay?” “You are under arrest,” a voice snapped out. “You are surrounded and will surrender your weapons and the whereabouts of your reinforcements.” You saw Yaz’s fist clench on the floor in silent anxiety, though she said nothing. “Hello! No weapons,” the Doctor said brightly. You could feel her words resonating through her chest to yours. “No reinforcements, either. Just travelers who happened to end up on the wrong side of those security droids of yours. I’m the Doctor, by the way, and these are my friends, and we’re here to help.” 

Somewhere in the depths of the shop, another pot crashed to the ground and perhaps managed to undercut the Doctor’s words, slightly. You could see her face scrunch. Then she abruptly flattened against you as the shelf slid another inch or two down, and you both grunted. You could feel her nose against your neck and shoulder, and for a moment your whole brain flashed blank. She smelled like tea, and vanilla. 

This was definitely what a heart attack felt like. For sure. “But maybe a little help for us, first?” the Doctor managed, her words brushing across your skin, thrumming through your chest. She was still trying to wiggle about as she listened and watched as the others set to trying to lift the shelf off of you, presumably so that you could all then be put under arrest. 

It was going to be a long day.

[tinypeckers]

The Enchanted Ornament

Ship(s): Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey (Jackoff? ehehe)

Word count: 7,790

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and everything couldn’t be more wrong. The baby won’t stop crying, everyone is in a bad mood and Gavin has lost his Christmas spirit. Can something as simple as a wish save it all?

A/N: This story is two years in the making. I have been working on it every festive period since 2018 and it is finally done. I almost didn’t release it because, well, you know but... I did. Because I love this story. I am proud of it but I’ll warn you here, there is a new OC introduced. His name is Brian, er, I think we all know why (Here’s a link to my thoughts on it as well, if you care)

AO3 link

Jack sat, head between his hands, perched upon the edge of the bed. His right foot twitched erratically as the pressure increased against his temples. He screwed his eyes shut. He tried to hum. A broken and tuneless carol barely vibrated his lips. No matter how hard he squeezed, how tight he closed his eyes, how loud he hummed - he could not drown out the near-constant whine from beside him. He cracked open his right eye and it narrowed when he glanced at the basinet inches from his knee. The baby inside it, who had seemed so angelic and sweet just a few months ago, kicked at his confines. With fists barely bigger than a ping pong ball, he pummelled the air.

“Please,” Jack whispered at the baby. “Please Jeremy, just give in and sleep.”

As if Santa Claus himself had listened and granted Jack’s wish, the infant stilled. The whines gave way to small, miserable hiccups. Jeremy’s legs fell and his fingers opened up. His eyes, which had not left Jack for hours, started to flutter closed. Jack held his breath. Hic. Jeremy fought to keep his eyes open. Hic. His foot hit the mattress impatiently. He brought a fist to his mouth. Hic. His eyes closed. Hic. They stayed closed. Hic. Jack let his own eyes fall shut, his breath slowed in sync with the child laying in the basinet. Finally, Jack thought.

 He didn’t hear the sound of small, socked feet that tip-toed into the room. He didn’t acknowledge the arm that brushed his knee. Jack wouldn’t have known that someone had joined them at all, he’d have blissfully have sat there for hours if it had not have been for the small, yet caring, hand that brushed its knuckles against the baby’s cheek.

“Night, night Jeremy.”

Like a sensitive car alarm startled by a falling leaf, the baby screeched once more. Jack shot to his feet and glared at the boy who had only wanted to check on his younger brother.

“Gavin, get out!”

He loomed over the seven-year-old, face as red as his beard and eyes bloodshot and wild. Gavin fell backward and scrambled away from his father. Jack’s breaths came in heavy, short bursts. Gavin stood, as quickly as he could scurry to his feet, and dashed from the room.

 Gavin pulled the door shut behind him. He winced when the slam seemed to escalate his younger brother’s screams. Not sure what to think or who to turn to, he shook as he tried to reason with himself why his father would yell at him like that. Gavin ran to the room right next door to his parent’s. The door was closed, as it had been for months, but Gavin went ahead and opened it anyway. He’d not got one foot through the doorway before he was yelled at once more.

“Gavin,” his older brother, Brian, barked from his bed. “Can’t you read? You’re not allowed in here.”

Gavin raised his shoulders, clenched his fists and tried desperately to keep his lower lip still as it quivered. He could read, Brian knew that – it’s just that, like his teachers and his parents often said, Gavin was often oblivious to things around him. Gavin didn’t know what oblivious meant, exactly, he just knew that it meant sometimes people got annoyed at him for, as far as he was concerned, no reason. Gavin didn’t tell Brian any of this, of course, he merely stood and tried not to pout.

“Papa yelled at me,” he finally said.

 Brian laughed, or rather made a sound that was close to a laugh. He didn’t smile or offer to give Gavin a hug like the younger boy had wanted – like Brian would have, last year. Instead he rolled his eyes at his brother and shifted the laptop perched upon his knees.

“By the sounds coming from next door, you deserved it. Papa and Dad didn’t get any sleep last night thanks to that dick,” Brian gestured to the wall with his thumb. “Neither did I; the brat.”

“You can’t call him… that. His name’s Jeremy.”

Brian rolled his eyes: “They should have called him Satan, I thought they’d come to their senses after they took you three home but no, you had to lose your cuteness and then they wanted another one. Fools.”

Gavin swallowed. He played with the hem of his shirt and bit at his lower lip. When no words came, he simply stared at his older brother. Brian had let his hair grow out since his thirteenth birthday and now he had to blow air out occasionally to stop it from flopping over his eye. He had practically lived in his bedroom since then too and stopped playing games with Gavin and all of his other brothers. Gavin had begged him all month to help him build the family Christmas puzzle – Geoff and Jack had been too busy with the baby, Ray would rather play on the Xbox and Michael just grew bored and broke it all apart again – but Brian simply refused. On one occasion, he had said he was too old for it now. When Gavin asked why their fathers still did it then, because they were ancient, Ryan had told him to go away in less than pleasant terms and had been grounded all weekend.

“Why are you still here? Go, and shut the door on the way out. Anything to drown Satan out,” Brian waved Gavin toward the hallway.

 With a heavy sigh, Gavin did as he was told. He gently closed the door this time, aware that the screams from next door were becoming less and less frequent. He paused by the door, pressed his ear against it to listen. He could hear his papa hum to the baby, the occasional creak of a floorboard letting Gavin know that he’d given in and picked the infant up. Gavin swallowed. He knew he was seven, and technically a big boy now, but he wanted nothing more than to open the door and join them. He wanted Jack to pick him up, bounce him on his hip and hum a Christmas carol to him. Jack had been too busy to teach him a new one, like he’d promised, so Gavin had had to google the lyrics to Silent Night, but listening to the YouTube video wasn’t the same as Jack’s singing. He dragged himself away from the door, used the back of his hand to wipe underneath his eye and headed down the stairs. He didn’t need Brian, or Papa – he had other brothers and he had a whole other dad to keep him company.

 Gavin went straight to the kitchen. Geoff hunched over the counter, his face hidden behind his hands. Gavin could see his shoulders rise and fall, slowly, as Geoff tried to breathe. He was struggling to, mostly because Michael had sucked all the air out of the room with his screaming.

“Wha’ happened?” Gavin asked.

Geoff stood properly then, seemingly startled back into action by Gavin’s voice. He turned his back to the inquisitive boy, preoccupying himself with the large, uncooked bird that he had procured for tomorrow. Gavin chewed upon his lower lip. He edged around the breakfast table and peeked at his brother.

Michael lay flat on his back, face red as he tried to rival the baby’s yells from upstairs. His feet kicked and kicked at the linoleum floor. Strewn around him were the boys’ advent calendars, the final door ripped open and the chocolate missing. Gavin allowed himself a short, sharp breath. He had been looking forward to opening that tomorrow. It had been so fun this past month to race and find the door. Ray was always first but Gavin was always second. He was good with numbers, see, much better than he was at reading. Michael wasn’t patient enough to find the number and always resigned himself to a huff. Gavin liked to help him – it was always nice to see his brother smile once he’d found it. Gavin didn’t mind that he liked to declare that he’d done it himself.

 Gavin sat down beside his brother and folded his feet underneath his knees. Michael’s yells never stopped, though he cranked one eye open to see who had bothered to pay him attention. He only screamed louder when he saw that it was Gavin and not Geoff who had noticed him.

“Why are you crying? I’m not mad you eated my chocolate, Michael.” Gavin reached out to brush a stray curl from his brother’s forehead.

“Leave him alone, Gavin.”

Gavin looked up. Geoff hadn’t turned away from his turkey but his voice was gruff and clipped. His tone left no room for arguments and, though Gavin would much rather give his brother a hug, he got up and did as he was told. Gavin toddled over to Geoff. He stood upon his tiptoes to see what his father was doing. Michael let a yell fall into a huff.

 “I thought that turkey was for tomorrow’s dinner,” Gavin said.

“It is, bud, but Papa and I are going to be so busy tomorrow so I’m starting it tonight to make sure we actually get dinner tomor-“

Geoff trailed off as he moved away from the bird to grab something from his spice rack. His hip brushed a mug on the counter. As the cup tipped towards the ground, a small dollop of brown liquid careened to the floor. Geoff saved the mug, absent-mindedly pushing it back as he walked away. Gavin frowned. He knew that his dad had made the hot chocolate a few hours earlier, when he’d let his sons steal a sip once it had cooled down enough. Yet Geoff had never left a hot chocolate so that it had become cold, Gavin knew that his dad liked to finish it before he and his brothers came back for seconds. He glanced up at his father. The bags under Geoff’s eyes, though ever prominent, had surely gotten deeper these past few days.

 Without a word, Gavin slunk out of the kitchen. It didn’t feel like Christmas at all. At least, it wasn’t like last year. Last year, they were all watching Christmas movies together by now. Last year, he and Michael had helped Papa build a gingerbread house. Last year Brian had helped Gavin wrap a present all by himself for their dad. Gavin chewed at his fingernails as he entered the living room. Maybe Brian was right, maybe everything had changed because Jeremy was here now? Gavin’s brow furrowed. He shook the thought away. No, it wasn’t Jeremy’s fault. He wasn’t crying on purpose. He was just a baby. He needed more help than Gavin, that’s all. Gavin nodded to himself. Christmas wasn’t over either – he could still have fun!

 Gavin looked up. The living room was his favourite room in the house by far. Geoff had gone all out with the decorations; paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling, all handmade by Gavin and his brothers; a wreath hung above the fireplace, a berry garland hid the nails that held in the stockings and the covers on the pillows on the couch had been swapped out for more festive colours. Best of all was the tree – Gavin had helped out there too – upon which sat the prettiest, most magical fairy Gavin had ever seen. The boy spared her a small smile as he hopped over to the couch where the last of his brothers sat hunched over Geoff’s old laptop. Gavin sidled up beside Ray. He squinted at the screen as Ray shot a ball at pegs.

“Want to build my puzzle with me, Ray?”

Ray didn’t even look up, he only grunted as he shot the last ball. Gavin clapped when the fireworks appeared on screen but Ray sighed. He exited the game. His name appeared again and again on the high score list, taking almost every spot bar one. With a score much higher than second place, it was the only Brian left on the list. Ray hit play again and restarted it entirely.

“Why’d you do that?”

 Gavin waited for an answer. All he got was the click of the mouse as Ray fired his first ball. Gavin swallowed. He used the back of his hand to rub at his eyes. An old movie was on the TV, one that Gavin had never seen before. Ray had turned the sound almost all the way down. Gavin took it upon himself to turn it back up. He forced a smile as the small child on screen uttered an optimistic phrase about “having Christmas cheer”. He slipped off of the couch and headed toward the base of the tree. When Gavin had left it, his puzzle had been almost finished. Now it lay in pieces once more. He rubbed at his cheek, willing away the salty water that had raced across it. He brushed the pieces aside, found a corner and placed it onto the carpet. Gavin hunted for the other corners and spaced them out evenly. He interlocked other pieces where he could.

 Gavin sniffled as some of the pieces started to get damp, curling at the corners as he pushed them into place. Behind him, on the TV, the child cried below his own tree too. Gavin looked back at it. The screen was suddenly engulfed in a white light and the fairy that once sat at the top of the tree now stood below it, almost as tall as the plant itself. The child looked up as she smiled. Gavin watched, mouth agape, as she offered the child some Christmas wishes. He watched as the scene changed and the child stood with his family around him, grinning from ear to ear, as it begun to snow just in time for Christmas. Gavin looked up at his own fairy then. She looked like the one from the TV – white dress, big crown and silver, glittery wand. Gavin opened his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, when Geoff called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready – everyone get in here!”

 Having spent all the afternoon and most of the early evening preparing his beautiful bird, Geoff had opted out of making dinner for Christmas Eve too. Gavin poked at his meal, which had spent all of a few minutes in a microwave, and tried to be grateful for it. He knew that his dad was tired, that he was lucky that they were all around the table together (except for Jeremy, who he hoped was now sleeping peacefully) but he couldn’t help feel disappointed that Geoff had forgotten that Gavin didn’t like mac and cheese because he hated the way that it squelched. Still, he forced down a mouthful and tried to ignore that it had already started to go cold.

 Michael sat beside Gavin, arms crossed, glaring at the meal before him. When they had first sat down, Jack had tried to force him to try a mouthful but Michael was nothing but stubborn. Jack had given up almost immediately, resigning himself to eating his own meal. Brian had his phone out at the table, eyes trained on the screen as he used one hand to eat and one hand to scroll. Gavin waited for one of his dads to tell his brother to put it away. It was against the rules normally, but it seemed that they were making an exception for Christmas. Ray sat as close as he could to Brian, his eyes following every flick of his brother’s finger. He ate slowly, seeming to suck upon his fork before going back for another mouthful. At the head of the table, Geoff paired every mouthful with a sip of water. Gavin let his fork fall onto his plate and clapped his hands together.

“Is everyone excited for Christmas?”

 Ray sat up straighter then, dropping his own fork and holding up his hand as he listed everything he wanted under the tree.

“Santa’s gonna bring me a new laptop, a phone just like Brian’s, a new controller, a nerf gun…”

“No, Ray, he’s bringing me a nerf gun,” Michael interjected. “You can’t ask Santa for a nerf gun because I asked for it first and he’s going to give it to me, isn’t he dad?”

Geoff lowered his glass, which at this point had little more than a drop of water swirling at the bottom, and cleared his throat.

“Well, Santa-“

“Santa’s not bringing you anything because he’s not-“

“Brian!”

Jack pushed his chair back as he yelled, hands firmly planted on the table as he loomed over it to glare at Brian. The older boy seemed unfazed by his father’s outburst, he even seemed to smirk at the reaction. Gavin, on the other hand, had curled up in his seat.

 A faint wail sounded from upstairs. Jack slumped in his seat, fingers making indents in his forehead as he willed away the headache that had been there for hours. Geoff reached out and squeezed his husband’s shoulder, glancing at his children.

“All right, everyone, finish up your meal. I think we all just need an early night.”

Brian did not need to have to be asked twice, though he rolled his eyes at his father’s request. He stood up and left the room. Only seconds after, Ray did exactly the same thing, eye roll included, but his exit was much swifter so that he did not have to hear the inevitable lecture from his fathers. Michael also got to his feet. Instead of leaving, however, he grabbed the chair he had been sitting on moments before and tried to throw it. Thankfully for everyone else in the room, he was far too small and it was much too heavy and he only succeeded in pushing it a few inches. Frustrated at the lack of destruction, Michael kicked it back under the table.

“Michael,” Geoff began. Michael kicked and kicked and kicked at the chair. “Michael. Stop that, you’re being very naughty.”

Yet Michael did not stop and Gavin winced as one of the rods that formed the back of the chair finally gave way to the heel of Michael’s foot. As though he did not notice, Michael continued to deliver swift kicks to the chair. Geoff stood then and grabbed his son by the arm.

“MICHAEL! That is enough, you have been horrible today and if you don’t go upstairs and get ready for bed right now, I will tell Santa that you don’t deserve any gifts this year.”

Gavin gasped. Michael stopped kicking. They both looked at their father in horror. No gifts? That wasn’t fair. Gavin knew that Michael had indeed been quite terrible today, and maybe in the past month he’d had his naughty moments, but he knew that his brother was good. It was Michael who would hold Gavin’s hand when he was scared, after all, and Michael that got the boys at school to stop bullying Ray and Gavin was sure that the last time he’d seen Brian smile was after a joke that his brother had told. Michael certainly deserved presents, Santa couldn’t judge him on just one day!

 Geoff let go of his son’s arm but his face never lost its thunder. Michael hiccupped, he rubbed at his cheeks vigorously and sucked in a breath. He lifted his arm and for a second Gavin thought that he was going to reach out, Michael’s fingers outstretched as though asking Geoff to hold him, but he let his arm drop. His chin met his chest as he shuffled out of the room. Gavin looked at his father then, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he waited for Geoff to follow his brother and give him the hug he so clearly needed. Geoff didn’t go anywhere. He seemed years older to Gavin, almost twice the age of Father Christmas himself, and so vulnerable.

“Daddy, Michael will still get presents, won’t he?”

“Go to bed, Gavin.”

A lump seemed to form in Gavin’s throat. His chest hurt, like he’d been running for hours and forgotten to breathe. He did that sometimes, had to stop and hold onto his knees as he gulped in air. This time Gavin didn’t know what to do. He looked at his dad, and then to his papa, before he nodded and slipped from the room.

 Upstairs, Gavin found Ray already in bed. He’d pulled his duvet over his head and the faint glow underneath made it obvious he was not sleeping and did not plan to soon. The door to the boys’ bathroom was open so that Gavin could see Michael inside brushing his teeth. The mirror reflected his red, puffy eyes and miserable expression. Gavin came and stood beside him. He went to grab his brother’s hand but Michael snatched his arm away. He spat the toothpaste out into the sink, rinsed his mouth and left Gavin alone in the bathroom. Gavin watched him get into his bed through the mirror. He looked at himself then and felt sorry for himself. It was Christmas, he thought, it was the season of joy. He wished and wished that today could have been like last Christmas, that they could have all spent it together and it was magical. Gavin could only think of one way to fix this. With a nod to his own reflection, Gavin grabbed his toothbrush and formed a plan in his head.

 Hours later, when Gavin was sure that everyone else had fallen asleep, he tiptoed downstairs. The living room was dark and it felt more horrifying than magical as Gavin made his way to the tree. He didn’t know the time but was thankful to see that Santa had not been yet, hoping that he still had time to save Christmas. He knelt beside the puzzle he had still yet to finish, picking up a piece absent-mindedly as he sighed. Gavin squeezed the piece in his hand and looked up. Even in the dark, the angel’s dress seemed to glow. Gavin could not make out her face but he tried to imagine where her eyes were, remembering that his papa had told him it was important to make eye contact with someone you wanted to talk to. Gavin took a deep breath.

 Across the hall, in the kitchen, Geoff, Jack and Brian cocked their heads towards the door. They had paid no attention to the slight creak of the stairs minutes earlier, the house was old and it just did that, but now they could hear a faint muttering coming from the living room.

“One of the boys must be up, probably trying to catch Santa again,” Jack said.

Brian rolled his eyes from where he leaned against the kitchen counter, bag of chips in one hand while the other cradled the small cup of whiskey Jack had allowed him to try when they had caught him sneaking down for a midnight snack.

“When are you going to tell them? Surely at seven they’re old enough,” he asked.

“If I had my way, never,” Geoff headed towards the door. He’d have to send the kid to bed, he thought, lest they caught Jack and himself doing Santa’s bidding. “But I’m sure they’ll figure it out soon – hopefully with no one spoiling it for them.”

Geoff playfully pinched his son’s nose as he passed him. Jack followed, if only to deal with the possible tantrum that could come once the boy’s plans had been foiled. With nothing better to do, Brian decided he should come as well to help convince his brother that Santa would not come at all if he stayed up and waited. The living room door had been left open a crack and as Geoff reached out to push it open and spoil the would-be Santa catcher’s fun he paused for a second to listen to what the kid was saying.

 “Please, please, please miss angel if you could help Jeremy go to sleep so that dad and papa could take a nap and feel better it would be so nice because they should have a good Christmas too and, and if you could just maybe make Brian happy tomorrow as well, maybe he can help Ray play that game and then Ray would be happy too and they would have a very good Christmas,” Gavin clasped his hands together and sighed. “And I know Michael weren’t very good today but he has been good a lot of the time and he really, really, really wants a nerf gun so please tell Santa that he is a good boy and he should get one to play with tomorrow. If Santa says no then tell him that Michael should get my presents then ‘cause I don’t want ‘em.” Gavin squeezed a puzzle piece between his hands and closed his eyes. “Alls I want for Christmas is for everyone to have fun and to be together tomorrow. No one’s been happy for a long, long time and so please if you could help – I know I’m asking for so much but my family needs you. Oh, but, maybe, if you can, and if it would make dad happy, could you maybe ask if he could help me finish my puzzle and, and, if papa feels better after his nap if you could maybe also ask him if he’d sing with me tomorrow. But don’t worry if they can’t, it’s okay – just please if you really are magic just make sure that you help them to have a good Christmas.”

 Geoff’s hand slapped against his mouth. He took a step away from the door and fell against his husband’s chest. Jack felt equally as shaken but, as he heard the wishful boy tiptoe back toward the door, he was quick to pull both his son and his husband back into the safety of their kitchen. He nudged the door closed and held his breath as Gavin stepped out into the hallway. The boy paused, curious about the slither of light that spilled from the kitchen that he had not noticed on his way down. He shrugged it off and hurried back upstairs to make sure he was asleep long before Santa came and visited.

 Back inside the kitchen, Geoff looked as though he had been visited by a Christmas ghost. He clung to his husband because he did not know what else to do. How could they have let this happen? Their own son had resorted to asking an inanimate object for help. He looked to his husband for the answer to the thousands of other questions that whizzed through his mind.

“Right, I know that that was unexpected and upsetting to hear,” Jack said. He looked from Geoff to Brian. Though he seemed calm, his voice wavered as he spoke. “But we can fix this. Tonight. There is still time to make sure that Gavin, and all of us, have a good Christmas tomorrow but we have to work fast.”

As Jack launched into his plan, setting out tasks for each of them and trying to keep the mood light, Brian nodded along. He looked into his glass, which had a drizzle of whiskey left in it, and chucked his head back to finish his drink.

 When Gavin awoke the next morning, he didn’t feel incredibly magical. He didn’t know what he’d expected, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t the empty feeling that he had. With a sigh, he sat up in bed and glanced across the room at his brothers. Ray had yet to wake but Michael sat sleepily in his own bed. He blinked rapidly at Gavin and supressed a yawn, throwing back his covers and toddling over to his brother. Gavin lifted his own duvet to welcome him into the bed, finding comfort in the way Michael’s fingers quickly tangled with his own. Michael bumped their heads together.

“Merry Christmas Grabbin,” he said.

“Merry Christmas, Michael. Do you think Santa came?”

Michael squeezed Gavin’s hand. He chewed upon his lip and glanced quickly at his brother.

“I hope he did and I hope dad didn’t tell him I’d been naughty.”

“Don’t worry Michael, dad wouldn’t do that – I bet Santa’s left you lots of presents,” Gavin said but he wasn’t so sure. Still, his brother smiled back at him so he hoped that he was right.

 The two brothers waited as long as they could before they jumped into Ray’s bed. He grunted as they sat on him and tried to bury himself further under the duvet. Once they had reminded him it was Christmas, however, Ray could not leave his bed faster. As they scurried to pull on their slippers and dash out the door, Ray insisted that they wake Brian up as well. They ran to his room and found the door slightly ajar. The boys paused in the hallway, hesitant to let themselves in given the sign. It was Michael who gave the door a little push and all three waited as it slowly creaked open. Brian’s bed was empty and unmade. The three boys looked to one another. Perhaps he had gone to wake dad and papa already?

 They ran down the hallway, hand in hand, before they came to a stop in front of their parents’ door. This was one was fully shut, most likely to muffle the cries of their younger brother, but Michael did not hesitate to pull on the handle and shove the door open. Like Brian’s, however, the room was empty. The three boys stepped inside to peer into the basinet only to find that it too was void of Jeremy. They looked at one another.

“You don’t think they started Christmas already, do you?” Ray asked his brothers.

“No,” Gavin whispered. A lump formed in his throat. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Come, I bet they’re downstairs waiting.” Michael tugged on his brothers’ hands.

Standing at the top of the stairs, the boys could hear Christmas music coming from the living room. Hand in hand they walked down the stairs and with every step it grew louder and louder. The door was shut. Once again, it was Michael who reached out and opened it for them.

 It was as though they had opened the door to Santa’s grotto. While the house had already been beautiful and festive, Geoff’s pride and joy of the season, it was as though an angel had come and spread her own magic across the room. Brian sat on the couch in last year’s Christmas sweater, the sleeves of which were halfway up his arms, and his hands held a mug of hot chocolate in lieu of his ever-present phone. Beside him, Jack cradled Jeremy in his arms. The baby donned an elf outfit, complete with little pointy slippers, while Jack himself had a Santa hat balanced precariously upon his head. All three boys gasped at once. They rushed to the couch. Ray scrambled to sit right next to Brian and was quickly welcomed as his brother lifted his arm for him to cuddle under. Michael hovered in front of Jack, having been told too many times to give Jeremy some space to rush onto his father’s lap, no matter how badly he wanted to. Jack shifted the baby in his arms, making space for his other son, and patted his knee.

 Gavin wasn’t sure what to do as he watched his papa snuggle with Michael in what felt like the first time in months. He was overwhelmed with the gratitude that washed over him as Brian listened to some story Ray was telling him. He was sure that he was about to break into happy tears when someone gently bumped into his back. Gavin looked up but was only graced with the bottom of a tray. The man holding it stepped back and then Gavin was greeted by Geoff’s smile.

“Oh, you three are up? I wanted to come and give you hot cocoa in bed!”

Geoff almost dropped the tray in his hands at the chorus of cheers that erupted. Michael refused to move from his coveted spot on Jack’s lap but he reached eagerly for the tray. Geoff sidestepped Gavin and lowered it for him. He smiled at his son as Michael took a mug. Ryan grabbed Ray’s for him and gingerly held it in front of the boy so that he could sip from it. Geoff turned to Gavin then.

 The warmth from the mug in Gavin’s hands seemed to spread all the way through his body. It filled him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and felt like a big, loving hug. Geoff placed the tray onto the coffee table. He slipped his hands underneath Gavin’s armpits and slowly carried him over to the armchair, making ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ sounds every time Gavin’s hot chocolate dared to kiss the rim of his mug. Geoff turned and took a seat, placing his son onto his lap. Almost immediately Michael cried out.

“I want to sit on your lap! Why does Gavin gets to sit on your lap?”

“You can come sit on my lap too, Michael, I’ve got two knees!”

Jack held Michael’s mug for him as he scrambled off the couch. He handed it to the boy and Michael shuffled his way to Geoff. Once he’d been safely seated and his hot chocolate was back in his hands, Michael curled into Geoff’s arms. Geoff kissed the top of Michael’s curls, and then Gavin’s head too, as he squeezed his two boys against his chest. He stifled a chuckle as Gavin cried out, his pyjama top now sporting a brand new brown spot on its chest.

 Once the mugs were dry, with help from Geoff of course, the children looked expectantly from their dads to the tree. The family puzzle wasn’t the only thing hiding under its branches now, with presents of all shapes, sizes and colours taking up valuable floor space.

“Oh,” Jack said after minutes of being stared at. “Do you want to open your presents?”

He blinked rapidly at the onslaught of happy cries. He looked to Geoff and the two shared a look that only parents could understand.

“All right then, but I suppose you better open your presents from Santa first. He left them at the very front.”

 Ray elbowed his way out of Brian’s arms, although he was sure to hold his hand out to help Brian to his feet. Gavin wriggled free of Geoff as well, the first to stand in front of the tree. He hopped from foot to foot as he waited for all of his brothers to gather. Only Michael didn’t move. He chewed upon his fingernail and looked up at Geoff.

“Dad, did Santa leave a present for me?”

Geoff and Jack shared another look then, though unlike before the expressions on their faces made it obvious to anyone that looked at them what it meant. Geoff cleared his throat and pressed another lingering kiss into Michael’s curls.

“Of course, silly. Now go and help your brothers find them, I think Gavin is getting impatient.”

 It was obvious which ones had been left by Santa, the brown wrapping paper didn’t match anything else under the tree. The boxes were tied together with twine and four out of the five were all the same shape and size, while the fifth was much smaller and crinkled when held. Brian read the name on the smallest parcel’s tag, smiled and then handed it to Jack. The baby in his arms slapped the package that was placed upon his lap. Jack made a tear for him and Jeremy slowly pulled at the paper. He didn’t care for the sweet, crinkly plush octopus inside but laughed as he ripped another strip of paper. Meanwhile Ray, Gavin and Michael waited impatiently in front of their own parcels. Brian stood by his. He teased his brothers as he pinched the corner.

“Okay,” Brian’s fingers tugged at the paper. “Go, go, go!”

 Geoff cringed as paper flew across his freshly vacuumed living room. He fought the urge to pick up every piece right that second, knowing it would only be met with a stern look from his husband. It didn’t matter, anyway, as the boys revealed their gifts from Santa. He had been so kind to give them each a nerf gun, conscious to give them the same one so that they did not fight. Geoff knew, not from experience because of course it had been Santa to get these gifts for the boys, that these guns had been so hard to get so Santa must have tried very hard to find them.

“Look, look – Papa look what Santa got us!”

Jack smiled at his children as they rushed him. Jeremy startled as they drew close, dropping the strip of paper he’d been holding. Jack held his breath as he waited for the boy to cry but he let it out when Jeremy only laughed instead.

 It did not take long for the guns to be loaded, fired and thrown aside in lieu of the other more brightly wrapped gifts under the tree. Though Ray did not get the laptop he had written about, or the phone for that matter, he was not disappointed by the gifts he did receive. His favourite, that had briefly had a tag that read ‘from Brian’ before it had been ripped off, was a controller. It was identical to Brian’s own: light green with a darker green crosshair painted on. The only difference was the name in the corner, Ray. Ray held it in his hands and looked up at his older brother. Brian smiled back at him. He waved his freshly unwrapped R-rated game.

“Maybe later we can play this together, yeah?”

Ray nodded and squeezed the handles between his fingers. He laughed as Michael knocked his shoulder and shoved his own controller, also from Brian, under Ray’s nose.

“Me too! I want to play!”

 Gavin stood off to the side, his own identical controller in his hands. The corners of his mouth almost touched his ears. He did not want to blink, for if he did he might miss Brian’s smile or Jeremy’s happy little kicks. He did blink, however, when Geoff gently nudged him with the black trash bag he’d whipped out not too long after the Santa presents had been unwrapped. Gavin bent down and picked up his discarded wrapping paper, and Michael’s and Ray’s and Brian’s too, and dropped it into the open bag. Geoff nodded back at him in appreciation. Gavin leaned into his father’s hand as it ruffled his hair, letting his eyes fall closed for just a second before he snapped them open again to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. Geoff’s hand left his head to snatch some wrapping paper that flew into the air. Ray had already started on another gift, one that was from papa and dad this time. Michael passed another present to Gavin. It was rather crudely wrapped, with too much paper having been used and tape slapped this way and that across the folds.

“I helped papa wrap it,” Michael beamed.

 Gavin dropped his controller to the floor. He did not wait to open it to give Michael a cuddle, wrapping his arms around his brother’s neck and squeezing. Ray rubbed at his head where Gavin had bonked him with the box. Gavin mouthed his apology. Michael made exaggerated gagging sounds as though Gavin were choking him but he wrapped his arm around his brother’s back all the same. He pushed his brother away to watch him open the gift. Gavin picked at the paper. His fingers struggled to find purchase on the edges. Eventually Geoff came over to help him, using some scissors to slit through some of the tape and create a hole. Gavin ripped the rest off himself. Geoff’s hands shot out to catch every shred of paper before it could fall onto his freshly vacuumed floor. Gavin grinned down at the gift in his hand. It was a puzzle, a new one with more pieces than the puzzle he had worked on all month.

“This one isn’t just for Christmas,” Geoff said. “We can work on it all year.”

He gasped as Gavin threw himself into his father’s legs and hugged him too. Michael, not one to be left out, wrapped himself around the both of them in an extremely tight bear hug.

 There was not much left under the tree now, just a couple of presents for the adults from their friends and from each other. Brian spied one more for his youngest brother, nestled between a tall gift bag and a suspiciously squishy parcel addressed to his papa. He pulled the present out and stood up. He took a moment to stetch, fingers brushing some of the tallest branches of the Christmas tree. Beside him, Ray copied his movements. Brian smiled down at him before he marched toward his papa. Jack was still sat on the couch, Jeremy on his lap. The baby smashed together two strands of wrapping paper he had kept from being thrown in the trash bag. Jack’s eyes, which had been almost completely closed, glanced upwards at his eldest son. He saw the present in Brian’s hand and made to take it but the boy shook his head. He gave the present to Ray instead, who frowned when he read the tag and saw it was not for him. Brian made grabby hands at Jeremy. Jack raised an eyebrow at the boy. Ryan mimicked a lobster as he opened and closed his fingers.

“Come on,” he insisted. “You can’t sit there all morning, you and dad have presents to open too. I’ve got him.”

 Jack bit his lip. Brian had not so much as glanced at the baby since he had been brought home and he was certainly the first to complain when Jeremy cried. He was about to turn his son down, tell him that he and Geoff could wait until Jeremy had gone for a nap when Brian cocked his head at him. Jack felt chastised for his thoughts. In that moment he saw that although his son had grown several inches and developed an attitude seemingly overnight, he was still Brian. Brian who was the first to calm down a crying brother, Brian who was the apple of Ray’s eye, Brian who played shop after school and patiently counted out the fake money. Brian who now, in a jumper that barely fit him anymore, reached down and took his youngest brother from Jack’s arms. He settled the baby on his hip, as he had done years before for Ray and for Michael and for Gavin. Jeremy’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as he looked at his brother. Jack held his breath. Jeremy’s brow knitted together. His little cheeks flushed red. And then Brian pulled a face as the baby farted upon his hip, loud and wet. Jeremy laughed. Jack hid his own chuckle behind his hand. Brian shook his head at his younger brother.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Jeremy.”

 Jack changed the baby before he let Brian sit down with him. He smiled at his eldest as Brian held both Jeremy and Ray on his lap. He watched as Ray gave Jeremy his present. He could see Ray’s fingers itching to help him unwrap it but a simple shake of the head from Brian and he sat, as patiently as he could, and watched his younger brother fight to free the toy from its wrapping paper. Jack was distracted by a small kiss upon his neck. He leaned back against his husband. Geoff wrapped his arms around him, black trash bag coming to rest upon Jack’s stomach. It was nearly full.

 Later, when all the presents had been unwrapped and the turkey had been eaten, they all returned to the living room. Brian sat beside Ray on the couch and pointed at the screen of Geoff’s laptop as he offered tips to Ray on how to get the best score. Jeremy was curled up on his lap, thumb on the edge of his lips as he snored softly. Michael sipped at his second hot cocoa of the day, which had been Geoff’s at first but had been given up rather quickly. He sat beside Brian on the couch with one of his new toys, a teddy bear with a rather mean face, and watched the Christmas movie that Geoff had put on for them. Jack snored from the armchair where he had, up until recently, been teaching Gavin the words to Silent Night. He had unintentionally sung himself to sleep. Gavin pressed a kiss to his forehead and scrambled down from his papa’s lap. He looked up as Geoff returned with his replacement mug of hot cocoa. Geoff smiled at him and nodded to the tree. There was nothing left under it but the puzzle. Its pieces had been scattered but were still mostly left under the tree.

“Shall we?”

 Gavin rushed to the tree and fell to the floor with a plop. Geoff was much slower, and more careful, as he lowered himself to the ground. He placed his mug between them and laughed when he saw Gavin’s eyes dart toward it.

“Go on then,” he said.

Gavin yanked the cup up off the floor. The drink sloshed inside, and then over, before it hit the carpet. Gavin’s eyes grew wide as he brought the mug to his lip. Geoff sighed at the stain but managed to keep himself from rushing to clean it. If it lingered later on, he would simply tell his husband that they should refit new carpets as a Christmas present to themselves. He reached for a puzzle piece instead, rubbing his thumb over the worn image. It wasn’t a corner, so he put it to one side and looked for another. Gavin placed the mug down much more gently than he had picked it up. Hot cocoa clung to his upper lip in a mockery of a moustache that would not sprout there for years to come. He found a corner piece, showed it to his dad, and placed it confidently where he knew it should go. Geoff was sure it was for the other side of the puzzle, but he kept it to himself and hunted for something to connect to it. As Geoff searched, Gavin glanced up at the top of the tree. He smiled at his fairy and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2 - 20

This is a series. Start here, continued from here. 

This is a sequel series to Honor Bound. 

AO3

Cw: discussion of PTSD, past noncon mention, mention of The Thing (and all the gore that goes with it)

It was light before they stopped again.

“Anyone need a break?” Tori said quietly. Her hands were tight on the wheel.

“Yeah,” Isaac mumbled.

“Yes please,” Sam said.

She guided the car off the road and Ellis followed suit behind them. Isaac leaned against the door even after the car had come to a stop.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “…Isaac?” Their voice was almost a whisper. “Are you okay? We’re stopped…”

He trembled and let his eyes squeeze shut. “Yeah.”

Sam bit their lip. “Do you want to get out?”

After a moment Isaac fumbled his hand along the door handle. The door opened and he nearly toppled into the dirt by the side of the road.

Sam was at his side in seconds. He put out a hand and held them at arm’s length as he stood. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “I need to be okay.”

“It’s okay if you’re not.” Sam’s forehead was furrowed with worry. “Isaac…”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I know you said you needed space, you don’t need to be taking care of me…”

“I…” Sam took a step back. “I still do need space. But… Isaac, with the hunters… I know it scared you.”

“I can’t stop feeling scared.” Isaac was fighting back tears. “I’m so scared, and sometimes it’s just… it’s too much, and I…�� He glanced at Edrissa where she stood beside the other car. She was watching him with wary eyes. He put his face in his hands. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You, um…” Sam glanced at Tori. She was standing protectively between Vera and everyone else. Vera still looked dazed. “Tori says you have PTSD.” They tentatively reached out with one hand. Their fingers brushed gently against Isaac’s arm. “And you… you haven’t forgiven yourself. I thought you were getting better, those months with Tori, but I don’t think you ever let yourself… rest.” Sam took a step closer and brought both their hands to Isaac’s arms. “I don’t think you ever trusted anyone enough to really let yourself heal.”

Isaac looked at Sam. They had tears in their eyes. He ran his tongue over his lip. “Sam, it’s… not because –”

“I know. But you carry so much, Isaac. So much more than just…” They threw a glance over their shoulder at Gavin. He was standing a little away from the others. Unbound. They shivered.

“I almost killed him, Sam. And Edrissa,” Isaac whispered.

“No you didn’t,” Sam said gently. “You wouldn’t have done it.”

Isaac fell silent. They don’t know. They don’t know how close I came to pulling that trigger on both of them.

Sam’s hand wrapped gently around his wrist. “You need to let yourself heal if you want to be able to help more people.” Then they dropped their voice so Isaac could barely hear them. “You’re not like him.”

Isaac shuddered against the rush of guilt and grief that rose up at those words. He shook his head like a dog trying to clear water out of his ears. Maybe grief is the first step.

He squeezed Sam’s wrist. His eyes went wide when they flinched. He gently took their hands and turned them. There were raw spots on their wrists where they had been struggling against the zip ties during the beating. Isaac’s hands started to shake. His eyes moved over them, really seeing them for the first time since he’d killed the bounty hunter. Their mouth was tight with tension. They winced every time they took a breath. They were slightly hunched over as if it hurt their stomach to straighten up all the way.

“Oh, shit. Sam…”

“I’m okay,” they said, with just a hint of breathlessness.

As if called by Isaac’s thoughts, Finn appeared at their side. They kept their eyes down as they moved their hands over Sam. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to check you before we –”

“It’s okay.” They winced as Finn pulled their shirt up. Isaac’s jaw clenched at the bruises that stretched across their torso, angry and purple. Finn’s hands checked Sam quickly and firmly. They pointedly looked away from Isaac.

“Finn.” Isaac bit their lip.

Their hands moved down Sam’s left leg, then the right. “Yeah?”

“Finn, I’m…” His jaw worked against the words that were pushing against his lips. I’m sorry I lost control. I’m sorry I’m so damned volatile. I’m sorry I blamed you. I’m sorry I’m broken. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry… He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Finn froze where they were kneeling in front of Sam. Isaac saw the glimmer of a tear on their tear before they swiped it away and stood up. “’s fine.” They turned to head back to their car.

“No, it’s not.” Isaac followed them and they stopped short. “Look, I…” His throat worked. “I lost control. I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault what… what happened. I wasn’t trying to blame you, I was just… scared. I needed to know how it happened but I didn’t have to ask like… like that.”

Finn stared at the ground beside Isaac, their lip pushed very slightly out into a pout. “Um. Yeah.”

Isaac opened his hands. Relaxed his shoulders. Took a breath. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for yelling, and for… um… what I said. I know that something’s, um.” He cleared his throat again. “Something’s wrong. I know. And I… I’m going to get better.” Finn looked up at him for the first time. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you. It was wrong, it was my fault, and I am going to do my best to never do it again.”

Finn’s eyes were shining with tears. “Do you think, maybe…” they ventured, “you could… trust us? Depend on us?” They licked their lips. “We’re here for you, Isaac. Just like you are for us.” They stepped forward and pulled Isaac into a hug. He wound his arms around them and soaked up their warmth. “I hope you know that.”

“I…” Isaac’s throat worked. “I’m learning that.”  

“Okay,” Finn mumbled against his chest. “Well, I say this as your medic and your friend, and I say it with love… Will you please stop being such a dumbass?”

Isaac chuckled wetly against their hair. “Um. Yeah. Let me work on that.”

“We love you, Isaac. Every single one of us.”

“I know.” He felt a ripple of something moving through his chest as he said it.

“Well, we should…” Finn cleared their throat and stepped back, wiping their face.

“Yeah.” Isaac swiped his hand at the wetness on his face, too. “Thanks, Finn.”

Finn glanced over his shoulder. “Well, except for Gavin, maybe. I don’t think he loves you much. But fuck ‘im.”

Another laugh. This one easier. “Yeah. Fuck ‘im.” He glanced back at his car. Sam, Tori, and Vera had already gotten back in. “How bad is Sam hurt?”

“Well, you saw.” Finn’s jaw worked as they looked at Sam through the rear windshield. “The bruising is pretty bad. I don’t think they broke anything, miraculously. Maybe cracked a few ribs. But…” They rubbed the back of their neck. “I hate to say it quite like this, but if there was life-threatening internal damage they’d be fucking sick right now. And they aren’t. So I think we’re in the clear.”

Isaac glanced at the other car. “How about Gray?”

Finn shook their head slightly. “They popped their stitches and were bleeding a bit, but I got that stopped. Same situation with them. If there was internal bleeding there would be signs. And I’m not seeing any.”

“That’s… that’s good.”

Finn moved their hand through their hair. For a moment they looked so much older than twenty-nine. They’ve been through so much. They deserve to rest. They feel responsible for others, probably just as much as I do. Their eyes went wide for just a moment when Isaac put a hand on their shoulder. “Once we get north, we’ll all have time to rest.”

“Yeah,” Finn snorted. “That’s what we thought with Tori’s place.”

Isaac bit his lip. “We should probably get moving. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Yeah.” Finn turned and headed for the other car. Isaac walked a little unsteadily to the other car. Tori was staring at him as he closed the door.

“Everything okay?” Her eyebrows were pulled together.

Isaac nodded. “Yup. Just wanted to check with them. Sounds like Gray is –”

“I checked with them. Yeah. Sounds like they’re okay, too.”

Isaac’s mind still felt a little fuzzy. He hadn’t felt right since they’d all been jumped in the woods. He couldn’t quite think fast enough to keep track of everyone. “Right.” He turned his eyes to Vera now, sitting still dazed in the front seat. “You, um.” He chewed his lip. “You alright?”

The car started moving. Vera looked back at him, her face looking haggard with pain. “Um.”

Isaac drew his hand through his hair. “Uh. Stupid question. I’m sorry, I’m not –”

“I remembered more.”

Isaac froze. He looked over at Tori for a moment. Her eyes were filling with tears. “Oh.”

“I remember what he looks like now. I remember him. Um. Hurting me. But I…” Tears were rolling slowly down her face. She didn’t seem to notice. “I remember him holding me. I remember he, um…” She swallowed hard. “After a party one time. He… he cleaned me up. Bandaged my wounds. He um, gave me water and… and held me… He gave me a blanket. Just held me.”

Isaac’s blood ran cold. “A… a party?”

Vera’s eyes were still unfocused. “When Joseph would invite his friends over to rape me.” She said it with such clinical detachment that it made Isaac’s stomach heave. Tori gasped out a silent sob. “But I remember him. Ryan.”

“Do you remember what happened to him?” Isaac’s voice was shaking.

“Um.” Her face screwed up in a look of tortured concentration. “I… I… can’t… It’s like it’s still behind a wall. I remember a plan. A plan to get me out. But I… can’t… He was working with some people to get me out but I just… can’t…” She whimpered.

Isaac’s hand shot out towards her before he stopped himself. His hand squeezed into a fist and he sat back against the seat.

“Vera, um…” Sam said in a tentative voice. “It’s okay…”

“I just… can’t… remember,” she whispered. “I don’t know if the people who pulled me out were there because of Ryan. I don’t remember seeing him with them, but… Maybe he was…” She pressed her hands against her forehead. “Agh…”

“It’s okay, babe,” Tori murmured, and stretched a hand out to rest on Vera’s shoulder.

“Do you think it was…” Isaac’s lips twisted. “…being… um… tied up like that? Or when the bounty hunter said… um…”

“It was being tied up like that,” she whispered. “For one of the parties that’s exactly how I was tied up. The first one.”

Isaac shuddered. “There was more than one?”

Vera met his gaze with haunted eyes. “I remember at least three.”

He heard Sam whimper beside him and ached to reach for them. They said they need space. They’ll come to me for comfort when they’re ready.

“I’m so sorry, Vera,” he whispered. “God, I’m… I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. Isaac’s head snaped up to look at her, expecting to see a look of submission and fear. Instead he saw blazing eyes and bared teeth. “It’s okay. Because no matter what I remember, no matter what… I killed him. I slaughtered him. Ripped him open. I tasted his fucking blood.” Her lips pulled back in a grin.

An image flashed across Isaac’s mind, of her standing in the waiting room stained with that monster’s blood, quivering with fear and relief and exhaustion. Of her folding into his arms after she’d torn him open with her teeth.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You did.”

“No matter what.” Vera’s hand rested on Tori’s thigh, her eyes still a little unfocused. “I did that.”

Continued here

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[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nate and Danny: The Lucky Ones

This is just a little recovery drabble - someone a while back requested a sweet moment with Nate and Danny, so here it is! You know, to get you all nice and relaxed before the next BTHB piece.

CW: Referenced past abuse/violence, noncon, drugging, dubcon (on both sides), trauma recovery. But, you know, I swear this one is really sweet at heart. Some hint of spice. Like PG-13 spice. 

Tagging @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, and @special-spicy-chicken. Also I owe a debt to @orchidscript for this one, as it pulls from a scene she and I wrote out a while back in a different context. Oh, and here is a link to the song that is in this piece if you haven’t heard it before.

“No, Danny.”

“Please? Come on, Nate, please, it’ll help, I know it will.”

Nate looks up from his position lying in the bed, where he’s been for the past three days. Danny stands between him and the window, and the hint of sunshine outside lights a halo around the red hair, turning the edges to a brilliant gleaming copper. Danny’s face is slightly shadowed this way, not exactly silhouette. It fades out the scars until they’re barely visible, lessens the hint of silver-gray visible just at his scalp if you know where to look.

But it doesn’t matter how dark the shadows make Danny’s face, Nate can still see the vibrant warm blue of his eyes.

Danny’s wearing a heavy sweater and soft cotton pants - he’s always wearing sweaters now, even as the weather begins to warm, even as flowers bloom in the landscaping at the edge of the apartment complex’s parking lot and the leaves bud on the trees outside. The sweater is a deep green, nearly the same color as Nate’s own eyes, and sets off every inch of the redhead’s pale freckled skin.

Nate swallows against the way the guilt pricks at him, a million little needles that never leave him alone. He hasn’t moved in days because he’s been thinking about how much they’ve all lost, and his sense that the life he is building here - taking care of Danny, going to therapy, watching Ryan Michaelson be the world’s biggest jackass until he looks at his brother and suddenly that drops and melts away into a devotion Nate has never seen before - is all going to be ripped away.

It was too easy, sending Bram to prison.

It was all too easy, and it won’t last.

Nate looks up at Danny, who gives him a shy and nervous smile, and thinks, My hands tied you to the headboard even when I begged him not to make me. My hand held the knife. My hand pulled your head back by your hair so he could watch the blood drip in your eyes. My hands helped him put the muzzle on your face that last time, my hands cleaned you up when he let you back out of the cellar, my hands, mine, I am covered in your blood. I am complicit, I’m as guilty as he is, it doesn’t matter what happens with his eyes.

I deserve to be dead.

Why am I here?

He slumps back onto the bed. “L-Leave me alone, Danny. I j-j-just want to stay here today.”

“No.” The word is a surprise to both of them - when Nate blinks and looks up, Danny’s eyes are wide and a little frightened at himself. 

Nate swallows hard against the rush of self-loathing as he reads the thought clear as day across Danny’s face: puppies don’t get to say no. “I, I mean…” Danny’s jaw sets, and Nate is even more surprised by the look of determination when those blue eyes move back to his. “I mean it. No. This always helped me when we did it up in the woods. I want to help you, Nate. I want you to believe me when I say I want you here. I want, um, I want… I want you to get out of the bed. Okay?” As though all his strength had bled out in his words, Danny’s shoulders slumped a little, hunching into himself, making himself smaller. “... please?”

It’s the crack in his voice on the final word that gets Nate to move. He’d tried to kill a man to save Danny. He’d burned down the cabin and driven away in the middle of the night. Whatever he was - however guilty - Danny didn’t see him that way.

Danny never seems to see the man that held him down to be hurt - only the man who watched movies with him late at night and helped him pick bundles of wildflowers to press, only the man who would sometimes kiss the bruises Bram had left with perfect tenderness. Danny saw the man who had saved him and not the man who was the reason he had been broken in the first place.

Danny saw the man who stitched him up after he was forced to step into the trap and not the man who had done nothing but uselessly hold him while Abraham made him do it.

Whatever he is, has been made into, Nate had discovered the ability to stand up when Danny needed him, in the end. Danny needs him to stand up now.

So Nate pushes back the covers, which seem to weigh three tons, and slides his feet off the side of the bed. He leans over for a second, hands on the edge of the bed, just sitting in his pajama pants and looking down at himself - the wicked stripe of pale, faded scar up his torso (Ashley), the twisted one along his collarbone (Bram), the smaller pockmarked places knives had gone in and out of him like love (Bram, always Bram, endlessly Bram).

When Danny holds out his hand, Nate reaches up with his good one to take it, lets Danny pull him up off the bed. Danny holds both of his hands, grip gentle and barely-there on the bad hand so as not to push the misplaced bones together.

“This helped, when you used to do it with me,” Danny says softly, looking down at him, and Nate tilts his head back to look up. It’s always so strange the way Danny can seem so small until you stand next to him and realize how tall he is, the height he hides as much with his personality as with the way he rolls his shoulders forwards and curves his spine.

If he disliked Ryan a little less, he’d ask if he was always like that, or if that was something he’d only learned in the cabin. After all, he and Danny had only seen each other a handful of times before Abraham came for him.

Nate had met some people and kind of fallen in with them, and Danny had been on the periphery of the group. Most of Nate’s interactions with him prior to the night Danny had come over to watch a movie with him - and Bram had finally hunted Nate down - had involved pretending not to watch Danny push and shove and dance with a crowd in a dark bar in front of a stage. Pretending his mouth wasn’t dry, that he wasn’t staring at the way Danny moved when the sweat slicked him up, dampened his shirt, left little bits of red hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck as he knocked back another drink, shot Nate a half-shy, half-bold flash of toothy smile before he went back to the crowd.

Nate had spent the time they were around each other pretending he wasn’t interested, because it wasn’t safe to be interested. Then he’d let his guard down, and here they are, nearly five years later, a broken puppy and Bram’s black-haired prince who burned down the fucking castle.

Danny takes Nate’s other hand in his, tilting his head with a nervous, shy smile, and Nate lets his eyes move back up to the halo of sunlight around his hair. Maybe Bram named the wrong one of us the prince. “H-How long have you been awake?” He asks, voice low and deep and uncertain. Danny smells like his shampoo and soap, an odd mix of flowers and something like mint. This close, Nate can tell his hair is still the slightest bit damp.

(do you like him better this way, baby?)

Of course I like him better free

(but he was so good for you, before)

He’s better for me now

Nate shakes off the thoughts, the hint of Bram’s voice that never quite leaves him, and sighs. “Fine. We’ll t-t-try it. But if it doesn’t w-work, you let me get b-back in the bed, okay?”

“It’s a deal. It’ll work, Nate, I know it will.”

There’s hardly enough room, with Danny’s big bed and his desk and a dresser, but Nate lets himself be pulled, moving to the one space in here big enough for what Danny wants to do. Now that he’s agreed to it, Danny’s smile has shifted, widened, become more certain of itself and sincere. It crinkles the scar tissue at the bridge of his nose, makes the broken line of his jaw on each side less obvious, makes the tiny pinprick scars from the sharp pieces that stuck off the metal and jabbed his skin less noticeable.

Nate wants to touch the scar, to trace it with his hands like he does when Danny is scared or goes too far inside his own head for them to follow. The touch that brings him back when he’s lost in the woods. He never wants to stop touching the scars, rub his thumbs right into them until they both forget what made them.

He swallows as Danny moves him, the taller man’s face gone serious and thoughtful, his eyes a little distant, lost in thought, in memory.

He made me hurt you so many ways, and when I can’t get out of bed, you still come here to pull me up.

There’s an infinite, innate capacity for forgiveness in Danny that Nate cannot begin to fathom, is utterly unprepared for. He doesn’t deserve it, didn’t expect it. He expected to be tossed out as soon as his testimony was done, as soon as his part in putting Bram away was over. Instead, Danny spent a day with his parents and came back shaking, fucked up, but with enough promised money to cover Nate’s therapy and medical bills and an offer to let Nate stay here as long as he wanted to stay.

Forever, Nate wants to say, but he never does. I don’t know how to start over any longer. I don’t want to start over without you.

“No, come, come here,” Danny murmurs, sliding an arm around Nate’s waist, pulling him close until they’re pressed together. Danny’s hipbones, still sharp from years of never eating enough, push just a little against Nate’s abdomen. “Too far away.”

“Wh-why?” Nate asks, and he’s asking a dozen different questions with that one single word - afraid of what the answer might be for most of them, desperately wanting an answer to the rest.

“Because it worked, when you did it on the days I didn’t want to get up off the mat. Because it worked, then. It can work for you, too.”

Danny’s arms slide around him, and Nate echoes the motion, his forehead dropping to rest on Danny’s shoulder, feeling the jut of his collarbone even through the heavy fabric of his sweater. When Danny starts to move, Nate moves with him, the slow shifting back and forth of a middle-school dance but without what Nate’s grandmother had called ‘space for Jesus, Joseph, and Mary’ between them.

He fights the hint of helpless, sad laughter, the thought of what his grandmother would think of him now, slow-dancing in the bedroom of… whatever Danny was to him. Whatever they were to each other.

(I’ve met real gods, you know - and real gods never forgive you)

Nate swallows, and he must tense, because Danny’s arms tighten around him. “Here, let me help the wrong thoughts,” Danny whispers, and Nate closes his eyes at the rush of shame there. Wrong thoughts, Bram’s words in Danny’s voice.

(do you think you’ve earned forgiveness, sweet thing? do you think you’ll ever earn it?)

Danny begins to hum, slightly tuneless and off-key, resting his chin on Nate’s hair, the two of them still moving slowly, back and forth. He’s too aware of Danny’s body, of the warmth of the arms around him. He’s too aware of the scars that his hands caused at Bram’s command, inside and out.

He’s too aware of what he’s done, too sure that he will never, ever deserve the forgiveness that Danny never stops offering him.

“I c-can’t-” He starts, and Danny’s arms tighten even more, until they nearly hurt, until they nearly steal his breath.

“Yes, you can,” Danny murmurs into his hair. “I could, for you. You can for me.”

There is silence, for a while, the sun cutting stripes through the blinds across Danny’s old wooden desk under the window, the rumpled covers with the quilt on top. The green of Danny’s sweater soft against his cheek, the hint of dark red and copper blending in his hair. He knows just what Danny’s eyelashes look like right now, closing against his cheek, bright, light ginger-copper and so long it’s fucking ridiculous - no one should have eyelashes that long.

“Better?” Danny whispers - and it almost is.

(your body belongs to me, your love is for me, your life is mine)

Nate shudders and shakes his head.

Danny nods against his hair, and there’s quiet for another little while. He’s not sure how long, because all he can think of is how much he doesn’t deserve this moment. He should be in prison right next to Bram, in his own solitary cell, a menace, a destroyer, a villain in Danny’s narrative.

Then Danny starts to sing.

It’s halting and cracked in his hoarse, rough voice, and Nate turns his head so his ear is against Danny’s shoulder, mouth just barely brushing the skin of his neck. This way he can feel the vibration of sound through Danny’s chest.

“It was a Monday when my lover told me, ‘never pay the reaper with love only’,” Danny sings, off-key, but Nate presses his lips together and his ear a little more against Danny’s sweater, listening to the soft sound. He knows this song, doesn’t he?

He’s heard this song before, but where?

“What could I say to you,” Danny sings, “Except ‘I love you’, and ‘I’d give my life for yours’?... I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones. I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

“Wh-what are you s-s-singing?”

“Sssshhh,” Danny says softly, and Nate falls silent again. Danny never gives orders, never gives commands. He’s submissive and eager-to-please, nervous and worried all the time. This version of him is vanishingly rare, and Nate wonders if this was what he was like with his boyfriends, before - and Nate just never had the chance to learn about it, then.

“The first time we made love, I wasn’t sober,” Danny sings, voice warming a little, “And you told me you loved me over and over-”

I’m s-s-so sorry, I’m so s-s-sorry, Red, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, j-j-just look at m-me now, okay?

(what are you waiting for?)

‘Kay, can do it, can look-... your eyes are bleeding, Nate, like green sky, you’re stained glass, you’re a fucking saint sparking fucking starlight fuck, ah

J-Just look at me, Red, just look right at me, it’s going to be oh-okay, it’s okay, I d-d-don’t want to, I promise, I just, I have to-

(of course you want to. and if you don’t, I will)

Sssshhh, s’okay if it’s you. Always if it’s you. I want you too. Saint Nate, ha, Saint Nate saint… Saint Nathaniel, patron saint of, of puppies and fuck, what’d he put in my drink? Shit, you feel so good, don’t stop

Fuck, R-Red, I’m so sorry

(stop holding out on him, baby, he’s asking for it)

“-how can I ever love another, when I miss you everyday?” Danny kept singing, shifting them back and forth with the slightest movements in rhythm to his song. Nate kept thinking he’d heard this song before, somewhere, in his past, in the life before Abraham. 

There was a life before Bram.

“Remember the time we made love in the roses? And you took my picture in all sorts of poses-”

Look at this, Nate! It’s like all the flowers bloomed at once this year! Here, let me make you a dandelion chain. My friend Kelli taught me how to do this when we were kids, let me make you one, it’s like a crown, like you’re a, a prince for real.

G-G-Go for it, Red, I’ll pretend I d-don’t look ridic… ridic-... that I don’t look stupid.

You never look stupid, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Here, I’ll make chains for us both, that way we both look stupid, right?

Right.

You could never look stupid, you know. You always look so good.

Wh-what?

Never mind. Let me grab more dandelions, I’ll be right back.

Danny with the yellow dandelions woven through his hair, grinning at him, a flash of white teeth and crinkled scars and the sunlight that turned his freckles darker and darker while his skin stayed pale and white. Sitting shirtless in the garden while they worked, sun burning his shoulders reddish pink, the smile on his face when he settled the second chain on the top of Nate’s head.

And Bram never saw that moment - that memory was theirs, alone.

“-How can I ever get over you, when I’d give my life for yours?”

I tried to kill for you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones… I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear… my dear…” Danny’s voice cracks again when he tries to hit the high notes, and Nate is struck by how fucking awful his singing voice is, and how he doesn’t care at all, it sounds amazing to hear it.

Like watching him dance in his kitchen when he thought no one was watching, barely hitting the high note. The way his heart had leapt when Ryan had popped out onto the patio with a finger on his lips, the sound of Danny’s music blaring in the kitchen behind them, and whispered, come on, motherfucker, you have got to see what he’s doing now.

“It’s time to say I thank God for you,” Danny sings, “I thank God for you… in each and every single way-... and I know, I know, I know… it’s time to let you know, time to let you know, time to sit here and say…”

I’d kill for you again.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I hurt you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I couldn’t save you for four fucking years.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

I loved you so much and I still couldn’t save you.

“We are the lucky ones, dear…” Danny’s voice trails off, the two of them still moving in rhythm, and Nate takes a deep breath of the smell of Danny, the simple scent of his skin layered under clean soap and that weird floral shampoo he buys. His hands tighten in the fabric of Danny’s sweater.

“What’s that s-s-song?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s… it’s B-something, Naked…”

“Bif Naked,” Nate blinks. “I knew I kn-knew that song. I used to l-l-love her… where d-d-did you ever hear that song?”

“... promise not to laugh?”

“C-Cross my heart and hope to d-die.”

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Nate has to bite back the instinctive laughter in return, and barely manages it, and feels Danny stiffen a little. “Don’t judge! Ryan loves Buffy, or did. We watched all the reruns. She and some guy dance to that song, and I… I liked it, so I downloaded it and listened to it a bunch. I was listening to it earlier cleaning the kitchen, and it… made me think of you. Of… of us.”

There’s a silence that stretches between them, comfortable but weighty.

Then Danny says softly, “There’s an us, right?”

“Danny, I w-w-want to go back to the bed,” Nate replies in a rush, and feels Danny’s shoulders drop a little. Feels the sudden well of fear that threatens him. “W-wait. Don’t, just… just let me f-f-finish. I w-want to go back to the bed and I want y-y-you to come with me.”

Danny pulls back and away all at once, and Nate swallows back the spike of panic that he’s crossed a line, gone too far. They’ve done nothing more than this, than maybe a few kisses, since they came back. He doesn’t deserve any more. He doesn’t deserve this.

Danny catches his eyes, and Nate thinks, no one could ever earn the forgiveness you never stop giving me.

The scarred hands find their way up to his face, rough fingers with skin calloused to near-numbness by years of being forced to work too hard, to hurt himself. Nate’s own hands cover them, the pads of his own fingers pressing into the scars without flinching, without fear. He doesn’t mind Danny’s hands, he never has. He loved them clean and he loves them scarred. He loves the body he knows too well and for all the wrong reasons.

He wants to erase all the wrong ones, all the times Danny was hurt, and cover him over in something new. But maybe he isn’t the right person, for that - maybe Danny needs someone else, someone who isn’t complicit, who isn’t guilty, who isn’t-

“Yeah, let’s go to the bed,” Danny says, and smiles. Nate’s heart breaks, but it beats harder, too, and he can’t reconcile the two feelings, the sense of being given a gift, again, that he should never have been given at all.

“D-don’t, you don’t have t-to,” Nate says softly. “I know that y-you, that you need to take time-”

Danny leans in to kiss him, and Nate hasn’t felt the warmth of his lips quite like this since that night in the truck, since he took the muzzle off and Danny came back to life. “I need time,” Danny agrees, nuzzling against the side of his face. “But I have time. And I have, um, I have you. Can I have you, too, and time? Do I get to have both?”

Nate hesitates, uncertain what answer he’s meant to give to that, what the question even means. Then Danny grabs him by the hands and pulls him back to the bed, pushes him onto his back, and Nate’s uncertainty breaks apart and melts under the sudden weight of Danny climbing on top of him, pressing him into the soft blankets and the mattress that gives just a little under their weight. Danny kisses him again, slowly, wonderfully, hands running slowly up Nate’s sides. There’s a surety, a certainty, to him that Nate would give anything to see more of.

Nate, look, the body had a canoe in this shed. Do you… do you think I could lay down in it? Do you want to see if we can, um... do you want to?

Look, I found baby rabbits. Do you think the mother’s around here somewhere?

I, um, I made you this - for you. Do you like it? Is it okay?

Do you think we would have really gotten together, if it hadn’t been like this?

I’ll take a shower before he gets back, Nate, he won’t ever know.

Danny’s hands slide rough-skinned over Nate’s shoulders, feeling over the scars Bram left on him. He licks at the scar on Nate’s lip, the tiniest nick that only shows when he smiles, really, and finds his way to his ear and down his neck, trailing lips over the circles that Ashley cut into him, over and over again.

“D-Danny,” Nate murmurs, sliding hands up into his hair. “Danny, don’t d-d-do anything you don’t w-want to do-”

“I want to,” Danny says softly. “I want to. I want to all the time, but I’m not, I’m not supposed to want to any longer-”

“Hey.” Nate’s fingers tighten just a little in his hair and Danny stills, looking at him with the blue eyes, the sun catching them just right to make them seem almost to glow. His face is flushed and red, and Nate smiles at the sight of him, the way he bites his lower lip, just a little bit. “You  get to w-w-want whatever you w-want, now, remember? We’re free.”

“Free,” Danny breathes out, shivering at the word. His hips press just a little into Nate’s, and he can’t quite catch his breath at the way that feels. Warm and human and he feels like a live wire under Danny’s body, shifting a little at the press of Danny against him. “I get to say no, now, right?”

Nate nods, slowly. “You get to say no. Forever. Anytime you w-w-want. Even right n-now, Danny. Tell m-me to fuck off, and I will. No hard f-f-feelings.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off. I want you to...” Danny colors, bright red covering up the freckles and scars across his cheeks, and they both realize the joke Danny wants to say at the same time as they realize he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

“You d-d-decide what happens now,” Nate says, firmly. “All y-you, Danny. Every step of the way.”

Danny swallows, hard, and lowers himself until he’s resting on his elbows, their bodies touching from breastbone all the way through their legs. The weight of him isn’t nearly enough for his height, and Nate feels the curve of his muscled shoulders, down his biceps, slides his hands up under the sweater, pushing it up to feel the rippled whip-scars that line his upper back. “If I get to say no, Nate, I want… I want to, um.” Danny looks to the side, shyly, then back at him. He leans in to kiss him, one more time. “I can’t... not to everything. But to a little... I want to say yes.”