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exauhstedsunflower · 4 years

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I Am Very Proud Of You

For @cynicalrainbows, a one shot featuring the idea that Catalina feels left out of mom!Jane’s pride in her so called kids.

This got long.

It’s been a while since the queens have reincarnated. They’ve long since passed most of their personal issues. They even settled in nicely to the current century. Anne and Kitty got jobs, working in a flower shop just down the road. Anna has picked up several volunteer shifts at a local animal shelter. Cathy is a tutor for adults at the neighborhood library. And Catalina works at a daycare, decidedly liking modern day kids over modern day adults. (They have all of the curiosity and none of the disbelief in her legitimacy as a former queen of England.)

And Jane, well, Jane is a stay at home mother. Kind of.

They live in the suburbs in a place where cost of living is pretty low, Kitty, Anne and Catalina make enough to cover their more indulgent purchases. Whereas the rest is covered by some anonymous donor, who they think is the reason they are even alive. There is no reason for Jane to have to get a job herself. Not to say she doesn’t have hobbies, she does occasionally visit the local art supplies stores, and sometimes she goes to the animal shelter with Anna. But she does actually prefer to stay home as an introvert.

As she does stay home most of the time, she takes up most of the household chores. She cleans, she cooks, she makes sure that there is order where there would normally be chaos. This also means that she’s taken on the more maternal place in the house. The others rely on her, whether they were reluctant to in the beginning or not.

Her biggest maternal habit is validating the other queens. She spent a lot of time in her last life being put down- they all had. The least she can do whilst being the glue that keeps their little family together is to make sure they all know they are doing great given the circumstances.

It’s a rather chaotic morning, she’s been running around like crazy. They all have, but her in particular trying to get everyone ready for the day.

“Jane!”

That’s Anne, upstairs and probably looking for her jacket, which is hanging on the end of the railing at the lower level.

“Down here love, come and get your jacket before you and Kitty are late!”

She speeds down, almost crashing into Anna, who’s rifling through her bag with a piece of toast in her mouth. When she asks what the woman is looking for, she seems to forget about the toast. Jane reaches out and catches it in a moment of astounding reflexes.

“Ah! Don’t get crumbs all over my carpet, please.”

“Sorry! Have you seen my-“

“Jane! I can’t find my-“

“Kitty! I found-“

“Cathy, you-!”

Jane snorts, leave it to those two to have half conversations and still understand each other.

“What is it, Anna?”

She snaps back to attention, having been distracted by the yelling upstairs. Impressive how those two have the capacity to be that loud given the way they haven’t slept in two days. Yes, Jane knows. And yes, Jane will be intervening if they try to make it a third.

“My wallet, I can’t find my wallet.”

“Have you checked the hoodie you wore yesterday?”

“Shi- Crap,” Anna quickly corrects herself in Jane’s presence, “I forgot about that, let me check.”

She races off to check the coat closet, which is where she’s stuck most of her hoodies in an attempt for space in her own closet.

It doesn’t take long for Jane to find something else to focus on. Anne is currently making an attempt to find her snack pack for the day. Now, this is something that unlike what you might think, is not Jane’s doing. She does not pack lunches and snacks for the women in the house, if they want that they can do so themselves. Jane places Anna’s toast on a paper towel and decides to help.

“Isn’t it in the lower cabinet? Could’ve sworn you all changed where you keep them.”

“Oh! We did!

She finds her bag, likely filled with sweets, and stuffs the sandwich she was making and a water bottle into it. Then she does the same for the three others.

“Oh, you’re making lunch for everyone.” She observes.

“Yeah, everyone’s running a bit late this morning and I’m ready. So, might as well.”

Jane smiles, “I’m proud of you. That’s really sweet.”

Anne immediately flushes and thanks her bashfully, she never did get used to the praise.

Kitty then runs into the room, claiming she is ready to go.

Her outfit is a little different today. But, also, Kitty’s outfits are always a little different. Today it’s red lumberjack pattern leggings and a green sweater. There are several silver accessories that compliment her choker with a silver ‘K’ charm hanging off of it. Her hair is in a messy bun, unlike yesterday when it was straightened.

“Jeez kid, is it Christmas already?”

Jane rolls her eyes at Anne’s comment. “I think you look cute, good job Kit.”

The girl beams at the compliment. Her sense of style has been a way of expressing autonomy, a way of showing that she has full control over her body. Jane is incredibly proud that the girl has found something to help her deal with her past trauma in a healthy way. Even if it means questionable but admittedly cute fashion choices.

Cathy and Anna pass by Jane, grabbing their lunches with a quick thanks to Anne. Anna is holding her wallet, so Jane supposes it was in fact in the pocket of her hoodie. Cathy grabs a to-go cup and fills it with coffee.

“Cathy, thank you for being the only one to not scream for me this morning. I’m proud. But have we got any sugar for your coffee?”

Jane doesn’t remember buying any, but she does recall running out yesterday.

“I picked some up on the way home, it’s in the top left cabinet.” Anna supplies.

“That’s great, Anna. Thank you.” Jane is using her Proud Mom Voice. Anna also gets a lot of praise from Cathy, who forgot to buy more and was about to have to drink bitter coffee. (Not that she would have minded, but she prefers it to be a bit sweeter during the day. Black coffee is for night time.) She also smiles at Jane for her comment on her independence.

With the coffee made, and everything needed for the day found, it’s time for them all to head out. Anne and Kitty can walk, and Anna drives Cathy to the library on her way to the shelter. Sometimes Jane walks with her cousins to the shop. She’ll pick up a bouquet for the house or a new plant for the garden and that’ll give her something to do for about a half hour of being home. But today she’s not feeling up for the walk, even if it is just down the road.

She does a headcount of everyone and mentally goes through the list of things to be done in the mornings. Everyone’s lunches are made. Anne and her things, Kitty and her choker, Anna and her bag, Cathy and her coffee, Catalina-

Catalina isn’t down yet. She drives the other car, so it’s not much of a hold up for the rest. They all attempt to grab something small to eat to take with them as Jane wonders where the oldest queen is.

Her relationship with Catalina is a little different. Catalina’s the oldest, the most regal and independent, she doesn’t need a mother. And while Jane has proudly claimed the mom friend title, she doesn’t want to cross any boundaries.

Of course she still checks in on her every once in a while, but she’s not as forthcoming in the mothering with her. They both seem rather content with the arrangement, seeing as they’re both the more mature one’s in the house. They tend to be the one taking care of the others, not being taken care of.

Just as Jane is about to check in to make sure Catalina is alright, the woman arrives amongst the rest. She looks a little happier than usual.

“Sorry for the hold up, I was caught up doing something.”

Jane’s about to ask what, but Cathy beats her to it.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just finished applying for that child care class.”

Everyone cheers. That’s something Catalina’s been putting off for a while now. She hasn’t done it yet in fear of being rejected or putting herself in a situation she’s not prepared for.

But this is a great step! Because Catalina’s end goal is to open her own daycare center, and having the credentials to back it is super helpful. And she’s already flushed at the reaction that she got, so maybe that's why when Jane places a hand on her arm and says she’s proud of her, Catalina freezes.

It was an instinct, honest. She’d never do that on purpose, it's quite honestly probably a little patronizing to the woman she holds in such high regard. It’s just that she’s been praising all of the rest of the queens all morning and she’s still in that mindset.

She pulls her hand away slowly, and Catalina shakes her head as if she’s trying to clear some thoughts, and they move on.

“Right, so, everyone out! You’ll all be late at this rate.”

Jane herds the rest to the door, seeing Catalina linger for a moment. But she catches Jane's eye and seems to brace herself before walking toward the door herself. Jane does not ask if she’s okay, she doesn’t want to overstep again.

“You all got ready and you’ll probably be on time! Great job, love you all, see you later!”

She gets a chorus of “Bye Mum!” back from all except one. A common joke among the queens, based on her role in the house. It honestly fills her with pride though, so she never refutes the moniker.

Jane tries to catch Catalina on her way out to wish her a good day; but the woman dodges her and races to her own car, leaving Jane worried she offended her friend.

Catalina presses submit and leans back in her chair with a deep breath. This is a big step for her. It’s a good thing, but it’s also a commitment. It does help with her long term plans though, so she’s willing to do it.

The class would only take her seven months to complete, and it’s all something she’s invested in, it shouldn't be this scary to start. But it is, and she can’t help but resent that she has no support.

She shakes that thought away as soon as it comes. Of course she has support. The queens are very supportive. She knows that when she tells them she finally applied they’ll all be very happy for her.

Happy, not proud.

She shouldn’t feel that way. She should be happy that she’s been given this second chance, happy that she’s able to spend it with her loving family. And she is! But she can’t help but feel slightly excluded.

“Jane!”

Catalina has half a mind to tell them to leave the poor woman alone. They’ve been calling for her all morning. But she does seem to enjoy that they need her so.

“Down here love, come and get your jacket before you and Kitty are late!”

“Jane! I can’t find-“

“Kitty, I found-“

She could never call for Jane like that. It’s more than likely she’d be judged for it. No, she’s independent. She’s the oldest, she doesn’t need Jane to take care of her. And honestly she does prefer to take care of herself. It’s not that that bothers her though.

It’s just that Jane always seems proud. Consistently, someone in the house is making her proud. Whether it be something small, like making a phone call; or something big, like getting their licenses. Jane always finds something to be proud of when it comes to all of the queens.

All except Catalina.

She’s honestly tried everything. She’s done the small things like make a big deal out of something menial and then finally doing it, to no avail.

(“Catalina, weren’t you supposed to make that call three days ago?”

Catalina bites her lip, hoping.

“Yeah, but it was making me nervous so I kept putting it off.”

That’s not even a lie. Catalina does in fact have a bit of anxiety surrounding phone calls. But usually she'd rather die than admit a fear. She hopes to receive some sort of reassurance out of this, as she’d had a rough week and this was pretty difficult. But instead she gets a frown.

“You shouldn’t put stuff like that off. If you need help with a phone call just ask.”)

Then she tried acting out, which truthfully made her feel quite childish and stupid. It didn’t work like it seems to work for Kitty or Anne, who Jane seems to have a soft spot for. But they’re family, Catalina reminds herself, real family.

(“I don’t wanna.”

Jane furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean you don’t want to? You’ve been asking to cook this for weeks! I even set aside the ingredients.”

“Well, I changed my mind. I’m not cooking.”

She doesn’t get a gentle goading into whatever it is she changed her mind about suddenly, like Cathy or Anna would. No, this bout of unnecessary refusal to help out with dinner just lands her in hot water with Jane, who was already feeling a little stressed.

“All I ask is-“

Jane’s rant lasted about thirty minutes, and Catalina felt much like a child who was chided for disobedience all night.)

Needless to say, although she does acknowledge it in her head, Jane does not care for Catalina in the way she cares for the others. They do have a friendship, but Catalina does not receive the same type of love.

And it’s fine, totally fine.

Just that Catalina doesn’t quite want to face Jane this morning. Because she just did something really significant and if she has to face being treated unequal to the others when she mentions it she might have to go back to bed.

But she is happy she’s done it now. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders, she’s been putting this off for so long now that she’d never thought she would do it. One of the other daycare workers had convinced her yesterday to do it as soon as she got home, and she put it off until this morning. She couldn’t just go into work and face that person saying she didn’t do it, could she? And so she did.

With that sudden burst of happiness after her anxiety, she prepares to face the chaos waiting for her downstairs. She’s already heard them all congregate to the kitchen, maybe she can grab a pop tart before leaving.

“Cathy, thank you for being the only one to not scream for me this morning. I’m proud. But have we got any sugar for your coffee?”

“I picked some up on the way home, it’s in the top left cabinet.”

“That’s great, Anna. Thank you.”

So, Jane’s in a praising mood this morning. Great.

She walks briskly into the kitchen and moves toward the counter that holds her lunch bag, thanking Anne for packing it this morning. As she does this she apologizes for holding them all up, they’re clearly all ready to go. She hopes they haven’t been waiting long.

“What were you doing?”

She glances at Cathy, then starts rifling through her pockets again to find her keys. She’s looked for her keys three times now, she knows she has them, but it’s something to focus on.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” She tries to sound nonchalant as she says it. “Just finished applying for that child care class.”

Nothing could have prepared her for the cheers that sound through the room. Everyone seems so happy for her. And Catalina herself is really excited, so it’s nice. It’s nice to feel people being happy for her, even if she’s not making anyone proud.

Kitty hugs her, Anna starts talking about the future plans to own a daycare that they can all help with, Cathy congratulates her since she knew how hard it was for Catalina to make that step. Even Anne is smiling at her and pitching ideas for Anna to shoot down.

And then, Catalina’s heart stops.

Jane puts a hand on her arm, like she’s seen the woman do to every other person in the house, and tells her she’s proud. She even looks like she means it, for a moment.

Catalina can’t possibly respond, as she’s never had to respond to that before. She’s been trying to make it happen, but she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She just freezes and stands still, eyes wide with surprise and slight hope. And then Jane looks slightly regretful, and it’s enough to kill her mood completely.

Of course it was habitual, she’s been telling people she’s proud all morning. But she doesn’t act like that with Catalina. It wasn’t on purpose.

“Right, everyone out!” Catalina doesn’t hear the rest of what Jane says as she withdraws her hand. Everyone makes their way out of the front door and says their goodbyes. And once Catalina regains her ability to move, she quickly dodges Jane’s special not caring goodbye to her and practically runs to her car.

Her drive to the daycare usually takes about twenty minutes, it’s not unusual for her to arrive early to help set up. On days like today, where everyone is running late, she gets there with enough time to at least say hello to everyone before they open. But today is a special case. This particular morning, Catalina pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store/gas station and doesn’t care if she’s going to be late.

Hands shaking, she takes the key out of the ignition and stares into space. Jane said she’s proud of her. Not only that, but Catalina ruined it by freezing up. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked so apprehensive and regretful if Catalina had reacted better. Damn.

She tries to recall something to make her feel better. Something to make her at least stable enough to drive. A memory from her maids as a child or something funny from this life, anything at all. But as she goes through her head all she can find is that she can’t remember the last time someone was proud of her.

That may have been the first time in either of her lives that anyone has ever told her so.

She takes a deep breath. She needs to stop being so weird about it. It was out of habit, a lapse in character. It’s not as if Jane actually meant anything by it; Catalina should stop thinking about it. Her heart should stop its longing, she’s a grown woman. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t have that kind of relationship with Jane, they’re still good friends. She doesn’t need Jane to feel that way about her.

God, she wishes that circle of thinking actually worked.

Jane worries. It’s something very known about her. If there was three things that signified Mom Friend to the group, it was her mom-like pride in her family, her hugs (which are soft,warm and inviting to all.), and her ability to inexplicably worry like no other.

Sometimes she frets over the other queens safety. Like when Kitty had wanted to go skydiving and brought Anna with her. Sometimes it’s at night time when she hears walking around. Although when that happens she can usually keep herself in bed if she hears more than one person up at a time. Today, she’s worried over if she’s just ruined her perfectly good friendship with Catalina.

She has so much respect for the woman, Jane would never intentionally cause her to feel uncomfortable. If only she’d just thought it through a bit more. Catalina clearly didn’t want the attention. But all Jane could think is that she was just so proud. Catalina’s been putting that off for so long now, Jane was so relieved to see it happen.

And now she’s alone, which doesn’t stop her worrying.

If anything being alone makes it worse, because now she’s overthinking what the woman's reaction could have possibly meant for them. Is she going to distance herself now? Will she be upset with Jane for accidentally being condescending? She would have every right to be indignant, Catherine of Aragon does not need to hear the praises of Jane, her former Lady In Waiting.

It’s been no more than thirty minutes since the others have left for the day, and Jane has already driven herself mad with anxiety. She tires to hum as she tidies the living room, only to feel herself becoming too impatient with the tasks. Then she attempted to watch TV, but ultimately could not focus. It seems today is a job for a bit of a more heavy duty distraction. Usually she’d work in the yard, but the hum of nature might hut more than help in the focusing department today. So, she picks up her most recent embroidery project and heads off to her bedroom.

She settles in, ready for a long day of avoiding her own thoughts. But the door downstairs opens, pulling her from her work immediately.

Who on earth could that be?

She opens her door and peers down the stairs, thankful that the location of her room allows her to see. Hopefully it’s not a burglar, Jane thinks she couldn’t handle that stress today. Not when she’d dealt with anxiety from yet another harrowing social interaction. Even with the queens, she finds a way to mess up. And they wonder why she’s an introvert.

The person who has entered their home starts coming up the stairs, and she sees. It’s only Catalina. Her heart slows in relief for a moment, before she remembers that Catalina is part of why she’s worrying. Then it shoots right back to the pace it was at before. Jane doesn’t close the door, she just makes eye contact with her and offers a smile.

“What happened with work?”

Catalina’s eyes flash an unfamiliar emotion before settling into a passive stare.

“Not feeling up to it today. I called out half way there.”

Now, usually Jane would rush to her fellow queens aid. But after this morning she doesn’t want to seem overbearing, so she stays rooted to her spot and keeps her tone even.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

If Catalina were anyone else, Jane would be running to help. She’d probably insist on calling a doctor and rush her to bed before even hearing what’s wrong. Then she’d endure the jokes at her expense for the overreaction.

But Catalina for some reason is not the same, so Jane does not act like that with her.

“No, I’m just going to lie down.”

Jane nods, and closes her door. Apparently not seeing the dejection emanating from the other woman’s very posture.

Catalina seriously just needs to make peace with the fact that she isn’t one of the others. She’s a part of the family, but she’ll never be in with them. If she made peace with this, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when the examples of her isolation are so plain to see.

Instead of continuing to sulk in front of Jane’s door like a child, Catalina goes to her bedroom to sulk in her own space.

Catalina’s home.

Catalina is home, and Jane is so sure now that she’s made things weird. They can hardly make eye contact with each other.

She sits back down and aggressively picks up her embroidery project. Focus, focus, focus, focus! Her mind drifts back and forth between her hands moving swiftly through a stitch and her possible damaged friendship with Catalina. She should apologize, she won’t be leaving to focus until she-

Jane is abruptly pulled out of her thoughts by a subtle knock on her door. She knows Catalina is the only other queen home, but she can’t help but think that the knock is similar to Kitty’s on a bad day.

“Come in.”

The door opens slightly, and the woman on the other side ones her head in, “Jane?”

“Yes?”

There’s a hesitation, which is probably because Jane has made things irrecoverably weird between them. But eventually after her mental deliberation Catalina steps all the way into the room and softly closes the door behind herself.

When she doesn't speak right away, Jane moves her stuff off of the bed and invites her to sit. After Cataina’s sitting, they both make an attempt to start the conversation.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-“

“Thank you for saying you’re proud of me-“

They both stop and stare, wide eyed.

“What-“

“Why would you have made me-“

“I just thought-“

“No! Never, I-“

“We’ve just been such good friends-“

“Yes! And so that was nice to hear-“

Jane looks at Catalina, astounded. Had she really been happy about the praise? She says so, but she seemed so put off by it before.

“Then why did you react like it was wrong?” She questions.

She watches Catalina take a breath before providing her own explanation.

“It just caught me off guard is all. You don’t really tend to say things like that to me.”

“I mean, I never thought you’d need it.”

Catalina’s knee jerk reaction is to say she doesn’t. But then she stops herself. If this conversation is going to be productive at all, she needs to be honest.

“It’s nice to hear every once in a while, though.”

Jane looks surprised by the admission, as if Catalina has just told her a secret.

“I always thought it would make you uncomfortable.” She murmurs back, although now she sounds like she’s back in her head.

Catalina gulps, now or never.

“I’ve actually been wanting to hear it.” She admits before she can stifle herself.

The other woman is still absolutely shocked; and if at all possible, her eyes get wider.

“What?” Jane stammers out in disbelief. Catalina kind of wants the floor to open up and swallow her.

“Not to sound needy or anything!” She rushes. “It’s just that you say stuff like that to the others all of the time, and this is the first time you’ve said it to me! And so I got excited but I knew it was just you saying it out of habit so I didn’t respond.”

“-Well I would have said it more often to you if I’d known!”

“But you didn’t know-“

“I was trying to respect your boundaries-“

“I get that, nothing has to change either-“

“Hell yes it does!”

Now it’s Catalina’s turn to be wide eyed in surprise. She’s never heard Jane sound so indignant before.

“You’ve- what? Been thinking I’m just, not proud of you? This whole time?” There’s a sense of urgency in the defensive nature of her voice. She needs to know the answer to these questions. So Catalina answers truthfully.

“Well, yes? And you certainly don’t have to be. I’m a grown woman, I don’t need to hear that you’re proud of me all of the time.”

She didn’t realize she’d been looking away until Jane grabbed her arm. It’s a soft touch, reminiscent of the way she held it this morning. When she meets Jane’s eyes all she sees is warmth.

“Catalina, I am so, so proud of you. Every day.”

Catalina opens her mouth to protest, but Jane speaks again before she can.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been showing it properly. I thought that you’d be uncomfortable if I treated you the same as everyone else. I have too much respect for you to do that.”

Oh.

“I’ll say it more, now that I know you’re okay with it. Alright?”

Catalina can hardly nod, overcome with an indescribable emotion. All she knows is that she feels warm.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company. They are good friends after all. Enjoying being around each other is the basis of their friendship, actually.

“Hey, Jane?”

“Yes?”

“You know, calling out is really stressful.” She observes.

Jane’s eyes light up in recognition, “Ah, yes. What with them asking you questions and your phone anxiety. I imagine it’s very difficult for you.”

She nods bashfully, hopeful once again.

“Well, dear, I am very proud of you.”

#Six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six ff #six fanfiction #catherine of aragon #Jane Seymour

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pinnithin-writes · 4 years

Text

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 7: C-53

Depending on where he looked, it was still beginning.

“Wow, you really have a thing for organics.”

C-53 hummed innocently. “I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about, Bargie.”

After he and Pleck had cleaned up the medical mess in the kitchen, the tellurian had disappeared in search of his old Zima scrolls, leaving C-53 alone in the common area. Well, as alone as one could be on a sentient ship. The Bargarian Jade’s attention span was selective, so one could never be sure whether they were being actively observed at any time.

“I saw what just happened,” Bargie said. “The tension between you two is - well, let’s just say it’s high. It’s very high.”

“That was a private conversation,” C-53 responded, somewhat defensively.

“If you wanted to have a private conversation, you should’ve had it off the ship,” Bargie said matter-of-factly.

“We’re in space ,” C-53 argued. “And I don’t see how this means I have a thing for organics.”

“Aw, come on,” Bargie’s rough voice insisted on the loudspeaker. “I know what I saw when we accessed each other’s memories a few years ago. You definitely have a type.”

“So do you,” he shot back, deflecting.

“Oh, I have a type?” Bargie exclaimed, affronted. “Do you know who I’ve dated?”

C-53 tuned his audio sensitivity down as the ship launched into a monologue about her exes. Out of courtesy, he uploaded a subroutine to offer various hmm s and ah s as a placeholder for listening while his cube went elsewhere.

Whether he returned Pleck’s feelings was not the priority right now. His friend needed help, and C-53 was going to help him. It was as simple as that; there was no need to complicate things with whatever feelings he may or may not have for the tellurian. So what if he had a type? That didn’t apply to the current situation - Pleck was different. He was vulnerable, and it would be unfair of C-53 to take advantage of that.

He was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with tenderness every time he laid scanners on Pleck, and his loader programming urged him to stick a label on him that read FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE. That particular instinct was easier to bypass than the instinct to lift, and he was left wondering if picking Pleck up had been a good idea after all. His one-eyed stare, aching and exhausted, had stirred something in C-53.

At least it had gotten his message across. I, C-53, am going to care about you. On purpose. Whether you like it or not.

He had to set his romantic notions aside. There were more important things to worry about right now. He dimly registered Bargie still steamrolling overhead with her story, and he broke in respectfully.

“That’s all very interesting, Bargie, but I don’t see how it helps me.”

The ship sighed cantankerously. “I’m just sayin’ you’re gonna have to confront this sooner or later,” she said.

“Hm,” C-53 considered. “I think I’m going to choose later.”

---

“Okay, I brought all the scrolls we got copies of from the library and uh, all the originals I have that Nermut didn’t make into a nest,” Pleck said around the box of papers in his arms.

He carried them over to the dining table, pausing when he saw the pre-existing mess of administrative documents, campaign flyers, and junk mail that already cluttered its surface. Hardly anyone used the table for eating these days.

C-53 watched bemusedly as Pleck nudged the mess aside to make space for his new mess, dumping the contents of the box out. This was not going to be a very organized process. Things involving Pleck rarely were.

“Are these texts all about the Zima religion in general, or you specifically?” he asked.

“Ah, well,” Pleck paused to brush a lock of hair out of his eye, gazing down at his chaotic archive. “The thing is, I don’t really know how to interpret all of them? I mean,” He began to shuffle through the stack, “there’s… here, this one says my actual first and last name,” he extricated a page and held it out for C-53 to read.

“A ticking clock, in which Pleck Decksetter stands, to spin and draw nearer to the void, ” the droid echoed aloud.

Pleck nodded, grimacing. “But then, like, then there’s this one,” he unrolled a tight ream of parchment and recited,

“Whose stick is that? I think I know. Its owner is quite happy though. Full of joy like a rainbow, I watch him laugh. I cry hello.”

C-53 paused. “That sounds… dumb,” he said.

Pleck chuckled, rolling the parchment back up. “A lot of it is pretty dumb,” he admitted. “And I don’t know what all is relevant to, y’know, my whole thing, and what’s just some old Zima getting creative with their meditations on the Space.”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t sort them out,” C-53 said, lowering his frame enough so that he could read the texts from his vantage.

That was their afternoon, reviewing and puzzling over the pile of ancient scrolls. C-53 had never given the Zima religion itself that much thought, but the more they dug into their teachings, the more he was convinced it was mostly just nonsense. He did have to give them some credit, though. A few of the scrolls had predicted Pleck’s life almost exactly. It was… kind of eerie, if he was being honest.

The crew wandered in and out while they worked, checking in on their activities curiously but quickly losing interest once they realized they were essentially just studying. At one point, AJ asked if he could help, and they gave him a flowery poem to slog through until he gave up after about ten minutes.

“You did a good job, AJ,” Pleck smiled as the CLINT left the room to find something else that would hold his attention. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Pleck was looking significantly more relaxed since that morning, C-53 noticed. His shoulders had returned to their usual easy slope and his smile sprang readily to his face. The droid found himself distracted from his task on more than one occasion, choosing instead to fixate on Pleck’s careful hands as he leafed through papers, or his delicate neck as he bent low to decipher some stray scribble. By the time the evening rolled around, they had stopped trying to make sense of the scrolls altogether, and were instead pointing out ridiculous lines to one another.

“Wait wait wait, here, check out this one,” Pleck brandished a photocopy in C-53’s face, barely containing his laughter.

“To pass through the eye, one must first pass through the butt?” C-53 read aloud, incredulous. “Do they mean literally?”

Pleck was fighting to get the words out through his giggling. “Who wrote this? This was a Zima?”

“This is a sacred text .” C-53 insisted. “A sacred religious text. This is your religion, Pleck.”

The tellurian shook his head, still laughing, as he set the paper aside. “Good Rodd.”

“Oh, here’s a good one,” C-53 raised a careful claw to slide one of the documents in Pleck’s direction.

Seeing the grin spread across his friend’s face was like watching a sunflower bloom. “Oh my Rodd,” he exclaimed, “is this a love poem?”

“Heaven hath no elegance like you, my radiant swan,” C-53 recited the first line, his vocal modulator lilting with his own laughter. “I have no idea why this was preserved as an ancient text.”

“We’ll put that one in the ‘dumb’ pile,” Pleck said, cheeks still rosy with mirth. He was smiling wide enough to show off his dimples, and it was a pleasant sight to C-53’s scanners.

They continued to shuffle through papers in companionable silence. Pleck managed to assemble a fairly linear timeline of his own prophecy, and was attempting to piece it together with anything that seemed relevant. He had a better eye for patterns in the texts than C-53 did, something that the droid was surprised by. Perhaps deciphering the ancient words of the Zimas was something that was only inherent to other Zimas.

“C-53, look,” Pleck exclaimed suddenly. “I thought I had lost this one. It’s the scroll you’re mentioned in.” He excitedly uncurled the parchment and held it flat against the table.

C-53’s head tilted with interest. “ I’m in the Zima scrolls?”

“I mean, you’re not mentioned by name,” Pleck admitted. He scooted the scroll toward the droid so he could get a better scan on it. “But I’m pretty sure it’s talking about you. Based on, y’know, context.”

And the humidifier will rise from its slumber Newly untethered, a free soul in a rectangle And the Great One will feel a lump in his throat To wonder if this appliance would entrust his soul to him

“Wow, this is… very specific,” C-53 commented. His coding was already drawing connections for him about the implications this had on his and Peck’s relationship. He was inclined to dismiss it as mindlessness, like so many of the other texts, but a small, irrational part of him clung to the words. Was the tellurian meeting him destined? Better question: did C-53 want it to be?

“Yeah, I thought it was weird that they included that,” Pleck said, pulling the scroll back.

“You were worried I didn’t trust you?”

“Well, I mean-” Pleck’s ears reddened. “Up until that point you’d had your restraining bolt on, so I couldn’t be sure.”

C-53 nodded pensively. “True, I didn’t have a lot of allowance for personal expression back then.”

Pleck gave a small exhale of a laugh. “Yeah, it was like you became a totally different droid after that.”

“It was a punishing part of my life, to be sure.”

Pleck’s eye brightened. “Remember that time Nermut made you pick up that marble over and over again for like, an hour?” he asked, turning his sunny grin on C-53.

“Oh, Rodd, yeah,” the droid sighed, amused at the memory. “And you and Dar asked me to do it all sexy so I’d actually have some fun with it?”

“That was great, I really enjoyed that.”

“Oh, you did?” C-53 prompted, servos humming. “You enjoyed that?”

“No, I mean like-” Pleck went a darker shade of pink. “Not like, sexually, it was - I was just-” he stopped, gathered his thoughts, and restarted. “It was nice to see you having fun, is all,” he said. His smile softened as he reminisced.

C-53’s voice lost its teasing edge. “It was nice,” he agreed. “I’m glad we were able to become friends despite our initial differences.”

“Yeah…” Pleck trailed off, staring up at the droid earnestly. “Yeah, me too.”

Rodd, C-53 felt he was going to combust in that pure sunshine smile. He would fight wars and burn down cities to keep it safe.

Chapter 6 <-----> Chapter 8

#ink #fanfiction #mission to zyxx #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work

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strangerererthings · 7 years

Text

peaches iii

Summary: What if Bob had an adopted daughter? What happens now?

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Disclaimer: Don’t own the show or the characters. Shocker, right?

Word Count: 1,759

part one/part two/part four/part five/part six/part seven/part eight/part nine/part ten/part eleven/epilogue

The next day found you in your usual place in the library. There was a bay window overlooking the outdoor basketball courts towards the back of the stacks of books. It was right next to the historical fiction. You had your legs pulled up onto the window sill, a book resting on your knees as you read quietly to yourself. Your mouth moved slightly as you read along.

Despite how cold it was, you could see that hour’s gym class heading outside to play on the court. Instead of their usual short shorts, they sported sweats and t-shirts with jackets thrown over top. That is, everyone except Billy Hargrove.

Billy, of course, was still going without a shirt despite the fact that it was forty degrees outside. You could see him down below and you couldn’t help but scoff at his utter stupidity. Steve also seemed to be thinking the exact same thing on the other side of the court. He looked up just in time to catch your gaze and waved with a bright grin. You returned it, covering your mouth to stop you from laughing.

You turned back to your book, missing Billy Hargrove look up and try to catch you eye. You also didn’t see the way he kept trying to get your attention. He scored double the amount of points he usually would’ve, much to the delight of the coach.

The night before had gone back to relative normality as soon as Billy had left. The kids had all chosen their suits and dresses. Max had insisted on hiding her outfit so no one could see, and El had quickly followed by example.

Dinner had been chaotic, with six kids, Joyce, Hopper, Steve, Jonathan, Nancy, and you. Steve didn’t even seem that bothered that Jonathan and Nancy had shown up--or that they held hands all through dinner. You felt as though his anger had just been because it was Hargrove of all people talking shit. Something about Billy just pissed Steve off.

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep until almost four in the morning that night, tossing and turning, crying a little. It seemed no matter what you did, you were constantly getting uprooted. Life was never stable, never comfortable. You were always left right on the edge of your seat, wondering what was going to happen next that would shake everything up.

Hopper had been talkative that morning. He usually didn’t have to drive El to school--said she was homeschooled. Despite you telling him you could walk, he insisted. “You’ll catch your death in this weather,” he had chided.

That’s what had led you here. You were ahead in all of your classes, leading your teachers to let you spend most of your time in the library. You were even taking some general education classes through a local university. You just had to read the book and do the assignments given to you. Bob had made it possible, helping you apply for scholarships so that the classes were almost completely free.

“Hey, there, peaches.”

You jumped, almost falling off the window sill as you turned to see Hargrove standing there, still covered in sweat. You could see the rest of the class still outside. “Hargrove. What are you doing here?” You asked, your chest heaving. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He chuckled, taking a step forward. He leaned against the wall, effectively blocking you in. “Just wanted to see your pretty face again, sweetheart.” He reached out, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me, how have I not seen you around before?”

“Well, I’m not Carol or Tina, am I?” You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. Turning back to your book, you continued, “I’m not a party girl, or a cheerleader. And, I’m a junior. Completely out of your radar.”

“And I’m guessing you spend most of your time cooped up in here, don’t you?”

You huffed, looking up at him once more as you shut your book. “I wouldn’t say cooped up. I like being here. I like the quiet. Which, by the way, you’re ruining.”

Billy leaned in closer, and you could smell smoke and cheap cologne. “There’s that fire I thought I might find in you.” His lips were curling into a smirk. You backed away as much as you could, rolling your eyes. “What do you say I take you out tonight? Take a ride in my Camaro? Park somewhere dark...”

“Don’t you need to get back to your game, Hargrove?” You snapped, utterly disgusted.

He sighed as he stood up straight again. “You’re right. They’ll be missing me.” Billy winked playfully at you, blowing a mocking kiss. “Until later, peaches.”

After he left, you let out a groan. “Peaches? What the hell?” You tried to go back to reading your book, but you just couldn’t focus. Your mind kept going back to how pissed off you were now and how you could now understand why Steve loathed him. He made your skin crawl.

A minute later, you could see Billy run back out on the court, nodding at the coach. He was immediately passed the ball and within seconds, made a three pointer. Billy turned, catching your eyes through the window and winking obnoxiously. You blushed a dark red and turned away. Steve caught the exchange, his blood boiling as he redoubled his efforts to beat Billy at basketball.

After school, you had a shift at the record shop downtown. The job was better than you could’ve hoped for--you had flexible hours, decent pay. Not to mention the 50% discount and free coffee.

“Hey, Y/N, I have to run to the store. I’ll be right back.” The owner, Connie, was pulling on her coat. “Do you want anything to eat?”

You shook your head, smiling warmly as you waved a goodbye to her. “No, I’m good. And I’ve got the store covered, don’t worry,” you reassured her. You’d been working here almost a year now and Connie had become almost like another parent figure to you. Or, at least an aunt-like figure. She had no kids, had never married. So she had taken you under her wing. You had walked in for an application and she practically hired you on the spot.

You rummaged through the albums behind the counter that were there to be played on the store record player. You finally picked out some Frank Sinatra, gently taking it out of it’s sleeve and putting it on. You hummed softly along with the music as you pushed a cart around that was full of albums to be put on the shelves. Vaguely, you were aware of the front door chiming as someone entered. You began to sing softly as you wandered around the store. You were a sucker for jazz. “I get no kick from champagne... mere alcohol doesn’t thrill me at all. So, tell me, why should it be true that I get a kick out of you?”

“I didn’t peg you for a jazz fan.”

You practically jumped out of your skin as you whirled around, knocking records everywhere. “Billy. You scared me.”

He smirked as he took a step forward. “I can see that.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as you bent down to start picking up records. “You know, you could not try to scare the shit out of people. That’d be a nice thing to do.”

“But then I wouldn’t get this lovely sight of you on your knees, now would I, peaches?” Billy bent down in front of you so that when you looked up, his nose was almost touching yours.

“You’re absolutely disgusting.” Your voice could curdle milk. Your cheeks were dark red as you continued to pick up the records that were scattered everywhere, and it surprised you when Billy began to help you. “Thanks,” you murmured, coughing to clear your throat as you stood back up and placed the records on the cart.

For some reason, his demeanor seemed different tonight. Like, a chilled out version of Billy. Sure, he was probably always going to be an asshole--his words earlier proved that. But he seemed... softer? More vulnerable? Maybe it was just the dim lighting of the shop. The smile that covered his face seemed genuine. Of course, from yesterday with the shop attendant, it was obvious he was a good actor. “Of course, little darling. Anything for my baby.”

And he ruined it. You scoffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Excuse you? Since when am I your baby?”

“Since I decided, peaches.” He took a step towards you, almost like a challenge.

“And why the hell do you keep calling me peaches?!” Your voice had raised up an octave as you got angrier and angrier. “God, you infuriate me!”

Billy, however, seemed to think this was absolutely hilarious. “You look like a peaches. Sweet. Like I could just...” He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over your face. “... take a bite of you.”

Your eyes were wide as you stood frozen in place for what felt like eternity. Your brain was struggling to catch up, to try to find something to reply with. “You... You...”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“You need to leave,” you suddenly managed to get out. “I’m closing the store in ten minutes.”

Billy leaned against one of the stacks, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. “And let me guess, you’re going to walk home in this weather?”

You rolled your eyes, placing more records back where they belonged on the shelves. “You mean like you playing basketball shirtless despite it being almost freezing today?” You challenged.

“Fair enough. But I’m still not going to just let you walk home in the dark by yourself.”

“I can take care of myself.” You’d been walking everywhere by yourself for years now. After all, it wasn’t like Bob had always been able to just drop everything to drive you where ever you needed to go.

Billy smiled cheekily at you as he stepped closer. “Not changing my mind. I’ll be waiting outside, peaches.” With that, he left you standing in the store by yourself, completely baffled as to what was happening.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert

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