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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years

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Winter’s Doll--Chapter One

Word Count: 3105

About: A new recruit joins the team

Characters: Nadia “Nadie” Alekiev, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Nikola Alekiev, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Bucky Barnes,

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, a little bit of angst, mention of death, flashback

A/N: There are some Bulgarian phrases such as Baba (grandmother)...,I used google to help me with these, and if I messed something up and you are familiar with these phrases please let me know. I am trying to just keep it simple since my character has Bulgarian background but isn’t fluent with the language except for a few phrases.

*This work contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd.

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Today was the day and Nadia Alekiev wasn’t nearly awake enough to take on the day. She was going to need all the caffeine she could get her hands on. Nadia had been awake since two in the morning wrecked with nerves and excitement. Maybe even fear, since this was such a huge step for Nadia. Every meditation technique she tried, it wouldn’t help her go back to sleep. So Nadia spent her time going over her ‘New Recruit’ packet. The packet was actually a binder that was super detailed. Whoever wrote it really wanted to make sure the reader knew what they were getting into.

Nadia was only allowed to pack one small suitcase of clothes and personal belongings. Everything else, would be boxed up by agents and donated while her small apartment would be listed as a safe house. Something that was hard for Nadia to agree to but, she had been trying to get into the Avenger program for two nearly years. So, she reluctantly signed it all over. Anything to get into the program, right?

As Nadia pulled a decent sized suitcase from her closet, a small shoe box fell to the floor. The contents spilled to the floor. Smiling ever so small, Nadia picked it up and stuffed the small contents back into the box. Nadia almost forgot that she had it stashed up there. It would now be accompanying her to the compound where she would now be living. The box was all Nadia had left of her dead brother.

Right on schedule, a knock came at her door. Zipping up the suitcase and slinging a bag over her shoulder, Nadia took one final look around her apartment before opening the door. This place had been her home for the last decade and had so many happy and painful memories.

When Nadia opened the door there stood a woman with shoulder length red hair and a serious look on her face. “Nadia Alekiev?” she asked, her green eyes were impossible to read. Her voice was professional yet slightly intimidating.

“That’s me,” Nadia gave a small smile shifted on her feet. She hoped to feel less intimidated by the woman standing in front of her.

“I’m Natasha, I’ll be taking you back to the compound while these two gentlemen,” Natasha gestured to two men dressed in black and wearing super dark sunglasses. They, too, were also intimidating. “Take care of the rest of your apartment. Shall we get going?” Down to business, Nadia thought. She nodded.

Natasha lead Nadia to a nice black SUV where the window tinting was just about almost illegal. Placing the suitcase in the backseat of the vehicle, Nadia got into the front seat and buckled in tightly. Natasha looked like one of those women that have a heavy foot.

Once on the road, the nerves started back up again. Nadia crossed her ankles and began to twiddle her thumbs. From the corner of her eye she saw Natasha’s green eye’s zero in on her actions. Nadia crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the road in front of her. She hoped the nerves would calm down. She felt Natasha’s expression on her get hard and her eyebrows furrow.

“How much sleep did you get?” Natasha’s voice was soft. It helped Nadia relax some.

“Not much,” Nadia replied. “Is it that obvious?” she then asked looking toward the woman at the wheel.

Natasha quickly flashed a questionable like smile her way. There was also a sparkle in her eyes. “It’s my job to notice just about everything in my surroundings, Ms. Alekiev.”

Nadia looked down and started to twiddle your fingers again. Great, she thought, my first day and I look tired as fuck. She watched as her fingers played with each other taking her diamond-ruby ring off her finger and putting it back on and repeating the action again. The ring was given to her by her brother before his death.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha’s voice had Nadia look up. “With experience like yours, you would have had no issues getting into any program. Why the two years?”

Nadia turned her head back toward the red head. “Experience like mine?” She asked.

“I’ve seen your file,” Natasha gave a fast look at Nadia then her gaze snapped back to the highway in front of her. “You could have gone anywhere. Why the top?”

Nadia took a deep breath and straightened up. No one asked her that questions before. Not even during the brutal interview process she had endured the week before. She licked her lips before responding. “I believe I have a skill set that is worthy to help out the Avengers. I have combat experience and I am quick on my feet.” And my brother died two years ago in a bombing that had the military discharging me faster than anything without reason, Nadia wanted to say. But she didn’t think that something that personal would have mattered.

What happened next, was fast.

From the corner of Nadia’s eye, she saw Natasha’s free hand snap from her lap. Nadia’s instincts kicked into hyper drive. She twisted the upper half of her body to grab Natasha’s hand. She bends it back, causing her to drop the guns she had drew. Nadia picked up the gun and pointed it at Natasha’s head. The SUV hadn’t even swerved an inch off the road.

“Good, you are quick on your feet,” Natasha said calmly. “Well, quick to think on your ass.” She gave a sly smirk. “I like you.”

Nadia did lower the weapon in her hand. “What the fuck?! So that was a test?” she asked, her voice rose an octave. The adrenaline was acing through her veins and her heart beat a million times a second. “I could have shot you!”

Natasha’s teeth flashed when she smiled at her confused passenger. “But you didn’t and you passed.” Nadia lowered the weapon and slowly handed it back the woman in the driver seat. If she wasn’t a wake before, she sure was now.

They arrived at the compound twenty minutes later. Nadia was still on her adrenaline high while her entire stomach was being attacked by butterflies. At least she hoped it was butterflies. Nadia slid out of the vehicle and looked at the huge building in front of her. This was actually happening, she thought. I’m finally here. She pulled her suitcase from the back and followed Natasha inside the front doors.

“Welcome,” a voice said coming from the left. Nadia stopped in her tracks and watched as Captain America, himself, approached them. Wearing a dark tactical suit that defined his muscles better than his normal tact suit. Then the beard he had almost took up his face. That made Nadia weak in the knees. “You must be our newest member. Steve Rogers.” Steve held his hand out and Nadia took it and gave the super soldier a firm handshake. Oh thank God, she thought, I didn’t pass out.

“Nadia Alekiev,” she replied. “This place looks incredible.” Nadia gestured to the whole room around them.

“It is pretty amazing is it?” Steve crossed his arms. The muscles began to pull at the seams of his tact suit. “I’ll let Agent Romanov show you to your room. We have a meeting at noon in the conference room. Don’t be late.” With that Steve walked away leaving Nadia and Natasha alone.

“Alright,” Natasha motioned for Nadia to follow her again. “Let’s get you to your room. You can rest up and shower there. I’ll come back for you at eleven forty-five to show you where the conference room is. There will also be food and coffee there. Something Steve had done to make sure the team showed up.”

Natasha lead Nadia down to the living quarters and showed her around. It was furnished beautifully with nice furniture that looked like it cost hundreds of dollars. The kitchen and dining area was huge as well. In the far off left corner of the dining area was a fully stocked bar. Complete with bar counter and bar stools. Nadia already saw herself sitting there on the rough days.

“Food is first come and first serve, unless it’s marked down with a name,” Natasha said as she kept walking. Nadia was almost having a hard time keeping up with her as Natasha walked fast and with purpose. “Now here,” She continued back into the large living room. “This is where we all gather for Steve’s boring historical movie nights or Tony’s last minute game nights or whatnot. To the right, are the women’s rooms and to the left are the mens rooms.”

Before Nadia could get a word out, Natasha started her way towards the women’s rooms. “Um, Agent Romanov,” saying her name felt weird coming out of her mouth.

“Please, call me Natasha,” Natasha didn’t look back.

“Okay, Natasha, is the separation to help from other team members from sleeping with each other or something?” The moment Nadia asked that question, Natasha stopped at a room and unlocked it.

“Sort of,” Natasha pushed open the door and looked back at Nadia. “Not since Vision though. He walks through just about anything. But we keep our side cleaner than the boys. Unless your Steve. Steve’s sort of a neat freak. Now,” Natasha gestured into the room. “This will be your room. You have your own personal full bathroom. Bed is made of memory foam. Those guys from your apartment will be by later today to drop off whatever they could fit into a few boxes.”

Nadia’s head snapped towards the red head. “I thought I couldn’t have that stuff anymore? Fury told me nothing more than a bag or two.”

Natasha smiled. “Lucky, you have a team member like me who can pull strings and put the fear of God into anyones eyes.” The look in Natasha’s eyes had Nadia making a mental note to not get Natasha’s bad side. “Alright, this is where I leave you. Shower, relax, I’ll be by to get you at eleven forty-five.” With that, Natasha left Nadia in her room, closing the door behind her.

Nadia looked around at the lightly furnished room. It was very modern with some paintings here and there. It left a lot of room for personal decorating. Nadia wondered what of her belongings would make it and which ones wouldn’t. A lot of personal things Nadia owned were stored at her parents farm house. Gosh, Nadia thought, I haven’t spoken to my parents in almost a year.

Nadia set her things on the bed before checking out the bathroom. It was slightly bigger than her old bathroom at her apartment. The bathtub was separate from the shower. Something Nadia liked a lot since she wasn’t much of bath type of person. The cabinets were stock with top of the line towels and when Nadia touched them, they were softer than anything she had touched before.

Stripping down, Nadia decided to try out the shower. She flipped the water on and adjusted the temperature to what she liked. The pressure of the water hit her skin just right. It was super relaxing. Nadia slide down and sat with her knees to her chest. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

***

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nadia said to her brother as she peeked out the window. “I’m staying here until you can prove that what you said is right.”

“When I have ever said anything that wasn’t true?” her brother looked up from the computer he was trying to get into. “Aside from the time I had you convinced you were actually speaking Bulgarian.”

“I still don’t forgive you for that one, Nikola,” Nadia gave a teasing smirk. “Baba look so confused as I tried to tell her about my runaway turtle.”

Nikola laughed. “Baba wanted to have Mom’s head on a platter because her grandchildren weren’t well versed in the Bulgarian language.”

Nikola went back to work on to hacking into computer in front of him. He had to prove to his sister that the government that they had signed their lives over to were selling off elite soldiers to underground domestic terrorist groups. Nikola knew that once he and Nadia had that information it would be time to fall off the radar and run.

“Nadie,” Nikola called his sister by her nickname. Nadia didn’t know that night it would be last she heard it. “If anything were to happen tonight, I need you to know that I am right about all of this.”

***

Nadia woke up in the shower. The water was still hot, but one look at her fingertips, Nadia knew that she had been in the shower longer than she should have been. Turning the water off and grabbing a towel, Nadia wrapped herself up and walked out into your room. You saw the clock on the wall, eleven thirty.

“Wow,” Nadia spoke to herself. “I was in there for a few hours.” She unzipped her suitcase, pulled out a decent shirt and jeans and threw them on. Then she quickly brushed through her hair and threw it up into a hair band. By the time she was finished, it was eleven forty-five. Perfect timing.

Nadia made her way towards the door and when she opened it there stood Natasha. “Very impressive,” she said smirking. “I also see that you got some rest. How do you feel?”

Nadia followed Natasha through the living quarters back to the main part of the compound. “Better than this morning to be honest,” Nadia said as she was now able to keep up with Natasha.

The two of them walked into the conference room. Three of the four walls were all glass, but not just any kind of glass, the strong kind that would most likely need a tank missile to break it. Just like Natasha had said earlier, there sat coffee on at a small coffee bar. Nadia went straight towards it poured herself a cup.

As she turned around she saw some people make their way into the room. They grabbed their coffee or food. Nadia recognized Tony Stark, as we took three muffins from the food tray and at at the table. A ginger haired woman saw Nadia and smiled at her as she patted the spot next to her. Nadia made her way over to the woman and sat next to her.

“I’m Wanda,” the woman said. “You must be Nadia.”

“How?” Nadia started to ask until she heard the chair next to her move and somebody occupy it.

“Wanda, here, she can read minds and move things with her mind and do this weird red light thingy.” It was a male. “It scares me sometimes, honestly. I’m Clint, the bow and arrow guy.” He reached his hand out and Nadia shook it.

“Weren’t you supposed to be heading home back to your family?” Wanda asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that was until Cap said I needed to stay until after the meeting and now I see why,” Clint took a bite of his muffin.

Nadia smiled some and turned to see Steve walk in, he had changed into a dark t-shirt and jeans. The person who walked in with him was just slightly taller than him. His hair was shoulder length and Nadia couldn’t help but notice that his left arm was completely made of metal. The way he smiled and nodded when Steve said something had Nadia mesmerized.

When he turned away from Steve his eyes locked with Nadia’s. His bright, clear blue eyes stared into her dark brown eyes. The smile that had been on his face, slowly faded as he lost himself in her look. Nadia felt like her breathing caught in her chest when this mans eyes slowly looked her over. Steve then tapped the mans shoulder and said something to him and he made his way to an empty chair. The man looked again at Nadia who gave him a small smile before looking down at the coffee that sat in front of her.

“Okay,” Steve’s voice was loud and firm. “As you all know, we recruited a new team member. Some of you already met her already or saw her as you walked in. She’s ex-military, special ops. Very well versed in hand to hand combat.”

“She’s also very quick to think,” Natasha threw in. Nadia thought back to when Natasha drew a gun on her earlier that day.

“Nat, please tell me you didn’t,” Steve’s voice trailed off and Nadia looked up to see him with a hand over his face. Nadia also didn’t miss that the man next to Steve still looked at her.

“Oh I did,” Natasha said. “She passed that part. Now to see her in a combat like situation.” Natasha leaned her arms on the table and her green eyes looked deep in Nadia’s.

“Okay, well, “Steve shuffled the papers in front of him then looked up at Nadia. “Avengers, this is Nadia Alekiev. Nadia, this is the team. Now, since today is a free day, we won’t have you show off your skill set.” Steve looked at Clint and then back at Nadia, “Well, maybe two hours with Clint before he goes.” Nadia saw Clint throw his head back next to her.

“Alright,” Clint finished his muffin. “But you owe my kids a laser tag game.”

“And I,” Nadia eyed Tony Stark getting up from his seat to snag more muffins from the counter. “I will have Pepper arrange a nice little welcoming party for Miss Alexis.”

“Alekiev, Mr. Stark.” Nadia said as she straightened her back. “I know it’s hard to pronounce, you can thank my Bulgarian parents for that. Next time just call me Nadie.”

“Mmm,” Tony looked over at Steve was eyeing the situation. Tony looked back at Nadia and took a bite of the muffin in his hands. “You know what,” he said with his mouth full. “I’m going to call you Alexis from now.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Nadia rose an eye brow and smirked at Tony. Tony gave a small huff and walked out. Nadia followed with her eyes and didn’t miss the attractive small smile on the man with the metal arm who still looked at her.

Steve ended the meeting shortly after that. Clint stood up and with his hands on his hips he said “Let’s get this over with or my wife will find a way to kick my ass.”

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kinghoranshit · 4 years

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Tell Me A Lie (NH) Ch 4

Word Count: 2,153

Warnings: swearing, anxiety

Six hours seemed to go by in a blink of an eye, and I felt like I was going to throw up as the plane came to a stop at the terminal and I had to get off.

I hauled my stuff with me and exited the plane, going through the terminal. I took more deep breaths, trying to control my nerves.

I shouldn’t have been shocked to see as many people swarming around as I did, and I saw my vision blur a bit as my anxiety kicked in. So, on top of the nausea, I felt great.

I was told to stay close to the gate, Niall and security would come get me. Hopefully it'll be soon. I felt like people were staring at me just standing there; probably had the look of being lost, which wasn’t necessarily far from the truth. I decided to take out my airpods and block out all the noises with music. The flow of it guided my heart rate to slow back to normal and I let out another heavy breath.

It’d be okay. Everything would be great.

There was a tap on my shoulder so I took out one of the pods, curious, and then someone whispered, “Lauren.”

My scream caught in my throat as I turned around in a jump. My reaction after turning around was to hit him in the arm. “Niall, not funny!”

He laughed, his eyes dancing. “I thought it was.”

Both of us looked at each other, smiling, and I sighed. “It’s great to finally see you in person again.”

“You too, Kelly.” He opened his arms for a hug and I accepted it. I couldn’t help myself from snuggling my face in his neck. He was just so soft and strong at the same time; humbled and still obviously so Irish.

“You’re not gonna cry are you?” Niall asked.

I scoffed with a small laugh, “No.”

He pulled back and it wasn’t hard to miss the small eye roll. “Come on.” He picked up my duffel from the floor. “I’m parked in one of the closer lots. It’s still gonna be crazy gettin’ out of er’.”

I couldn’t stop the look I gave him.

“What?” He laughed.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, laughing a little. “I didn’t expect you to drive us.”

He furrowed his brows now, and slightly scoffed, “Why not?”

I shrugged, then bit my lip. “You don’t seem like the best driver.”

“I’m loads good!”

When my eyes landed on the vehicle he started going towards, I rolled my eyes once again. Of course it was his black Range Rover. But the windows were tinted, so I assumed it was the safest option.

When I was a few steps from reaching the door, there was a flash and I couldn’t stop myself flinching and stepping back to catch my balance. Now, voices rushed.

“Lauren Kelly, right?”

“How’s it to be dating Niall Horan?”

“Where are you two at in your relationship?”

“Any wedding bells yet?”

“Have any major fights?”

The flashes continued and a tight wave flowed through my body as they closed in on me. I was confused how they managed to find us at this parking lot. It was a random spot hidden in the back. It was so under the radar.

A hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward, and I was pushed into the front passenger seat. I couldn’t rip my eye sight away from the security ushering the four paps and journalists away. After they’d done that, they nodded in our direction and Niall waved to them.

Once we were gone, Niall gave me an apologetic look. “I didn’t think they’d track us down here. But that’s what the security is for.”

I only nodded and folded my shaky hands together. I licked at my tingling lips.

Niall reached over to take one of my hands and kissed it. “You handled that so well, Lauren.”

To be honest, my mind was still fogged. That was more intense than I thought it would be. Oh my God.

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “I did not… I didn’t expect paps to be that intense. I’m fine.”

“I can’t promise that won’t happen again, but we’ll have security, and more than likely they’re gonna be the ones hired by Modest.”

“Perfect,” I retorted.

Today was meant to be a buffer day where he and I could hangout at his house. He had some studio work to do. I knew that my adhd and anxiety made things difficult, but that’s what the medications were for and I had my exercises.

Tomorrow would be our day out in public at Melrose, which I’d only been there once so it would be cool to go with Niall. The paps that Modest hired were supposed to snap us randomly over there.

We waited for this guard to open these massive gates that went into a development in Beverly Hills. This was not shocking to me, yet I felt out of place as Niall pulled through them. The buildings were definitely mansions and one of them was his. Holy shit.

“Will there be security at the house?” I asked, and that was for sure the dumbest question I’ve asked thus far.

“Oh, no, there's security at the gate. It’s a private community.”

I snorted. “Any of your neighbors famous?”

He laughed now. “All of them.”

“You fuckin posh prick,” I scoffed with a laugh.

The Range Rover came to a stop and I gasped. His house was absolutely stunning. A mixture of California and Victorian; white bricks, orange roofing, two pillars framed the front entrance, and a two door garage accented on the side. There was a lot more greenery than I anticipated as well; I wasn’t shocked by the palm trees he had out front.

“It’s really gorgeous, Niall,” I breathed.

He ran a hand through his tips a couple times, a laugh trailing after. “Wait until you see the inside. Less impressive.”

I rolled my eyes and didn’t say anything else as I stepped onto the concrete of the driveway. There was no way that it wasn’t just as nice inside. I pieced together that this wasn’t the home he spent the most time at when we stepped into the entrance; he probably did prefer his London home. The simple white walls and white marbled floor accented well with the greys, blues, and gold decor and furniture. I smiled at the framed golf photos and large canvas of an Ireland flag.

Niall cleared his throat as he rocked back and forth on his feet. “Uhm, as you can see the living room is here, bedrooms are upstairs… Feel free to pick whichever you’d like. The studio is in the basement which is where I’ll be for the remainder of today. Need anything else right now?”

I shot him a warm smile. “Thanks, Ni. I’m good for now.”

He leaned in to leave a kiss on my cheek. “Get comfy. I’ll see you later, Lauren.”

“Will do.” I laughed under my breath.

He disappeared down the second spiral staircase. I was back to being lost. I willed myself to go adventuring upstairs. There was an office with a sleek, glass desk that looked like it was never used; it was spotless clean though. The guest bedrooms all had their own attached bathrooms and that was where the extraness came from, otherwise it didn’t actually seem that large. Not like I’d imagined; Niall has always been a simple man.

The guest room closest to Niall’s room practically called my name so I plopped my duffel and backpack on the floor beside the bed. I sat down on the end and fell backward onto the soft cotton. My eyes found themselves having a hard time staying open, so I closed them for a bit.

Just a little bit…

***

I lightly groaned as I involuntarily stretched. My hand rubbed one eye as I sat up. Part of my hair had stuck to my cheek so I wiped it away behind my ear. It was clearly much later and I cursed under my breath. Despite the guilt of wasting time I could’ve used doing anything else, I did feel like a whole new person.

It was a nice nap I had to admit.

I grabbed the binder for Stone Cold, my pouch of pens and sticky notes, and airpods before I padded my way to the first floor. I’m sure there was a nook I could use to do some editing before we ate dinner, whenever that was. There was no way I would push Niall on a time.

Speaking of, there was a faint strumming that came from the basement. A flutter appeared in my chest hearing his sweet voice following it. This was an invasion of his privacy, even if I couldn’t make out the words. It wasn’t morally right to stand around.

The search for a spot to settle myself was back on. I finally found a small inset seating space under a window in the kitchen area; it was a beautiful navy velvet with a couple grey pillows. It was so comfortable, more than I could ever have predicted. It was my time to get invested in my own art and let the time slip by.

***

There was a muffled voice that didn’t match the music I was playing. As much as I wanted to keep going, I marked the paragraph I just finished and looked up. Niall’s tired, yet cheery, features filled my vision and I couldn’t stop the smile. I took out one of the airpods, which automatically paused the song, and cleared my throat.

“How’s the writing?”

He shrugged. “Not bad I think. Have you been here the whole time?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I actually fell asleep for a couple hours unintentionally.”

“The best kind of naps.” He laughed.

I bit my lip. “Yeah, and then I came here to edit. It’s a nice nook.”

He bit into the red apple he took from the bowl placed in the middle of the island and cheesed. “That it is… What should we do for dinner? We could go out, or get something to eat here.”

I thought about it. If we went out, I probably should change into a more put together outfit that didn’t reek of travel. That didn’t seem the slightest bit appealing to be honest. We had the rest of the trip to eat out.

“Do you mind eating in tonight?”

“Of course not. There’s this amazing Thai place not too far that delivers if you’ve got no objections.”

I smirked and shook my head as I stood. “Nope, Thai sounds wonderful.”

Within twenty minutes, the two of us were sprawled on the black suede L Couch in the living room with our own entrees and pot stickers. I used the chopsticks to bring some noodles and a piece of broccoli to my mouth. We had the first season of Stranger Things going and I tensed at the sight of Eleven using all her strength on the monster. I hadn’t realized I held my breath until that thing and she were gone.

I ate more of my Thai now, switching my focus to Niall who’d wiggled his way to lay his upper half across my lap at the beginning of the episode. I didn’t mind his weight though, it was more comforting than anything; even if the pressure on my pelvic area did emulate the sensation of needing to pee.

“That part gets me every time,” I stated. “She’s so badass.”

“I agree,” he remarked and reached over for another pot sticker from the coffee table.

“Get me one?”

He raised his brows momentarily before breaking out a smile and reached again, then handed it to me.

I cheesed. “You’re the best. This was really good. I might be addicted.”

“Don’t even get me started,” he scoffed with a laugh. “I get it every time I’m in LA.”

“Was the choice to eat out or in going to lead to this place no matter what?” I narrowed my eyes playfully.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, crossing his arms, and Niall made himself more comfortable; his eyes closed even.

I shook my head. “Such a dork.”

A small smile spread on his lips. He didn’t say anything else, and it didn’t take me long for me to catch on that he’d fallen asleep by the slow rise of his chest and soft snores. Netflix rolled into the second season of Stranger Things. I laid my head back, and found my fingers running through the tips of his hair.

Part of me realized that this should be more weird than it is, and the other part of me found calm happiness in it. It was okay for friends to do this sort of thing; platonic snuggles were normal.

Eventually, I drifted off too.

Next: Ch 5

[Masterlist]

#Niall Horan #Niall Horan fic #NH #NH fic #drama #comedy #romance #fanfiction #fic #Niall Horan fanfiction #NH fanfiction #Tell Me A Lie #Ch 4

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enjolrasrising · 5 years

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Splinters

Enjolras.

Grantaire jolted awake to the sound of him sobbing. He rolled off Bahorel’s couch, scrambling to his feet, still dizzy from sleep. Hurrying to the bedroom, he blinked stars of malnutrition and exhaustion out of his eyes.

The bedroom felt like a cave. It dripped with darkness and unknowability. The electric fans they’d brought in to cool the space down droned on like a monster just waiting to step out of the shadows. Enjolras laid, crumpled, on the bed. The sheets around him were bloody and wet with sweat.

Éponine, the woman he knew nothing about but somehow already completely trusted, was standing next to the bed, holding a bucket they’d found under Bahorel’s kitchen sink. Enjolras was getting sick into it, heaving and sobbing at the same time. Grantaire stood in the bedroom door, horrified at the sight. Death loomed over his injured friend, the monster in the shadows.

“Breathe,” Éponine said, softly.

---

I’m running out of energy.

Grantaire stared into the sink, watching the water wash away the contents of the bucket. It had been five days since June 6th. Five days of keeping Enjolras alive, five days of little to no sleep, five days of closing his eyes and seeing Enjolras fall, five days of cleaning the damn bucket.

“I gave him soup.”

Éponine’s voice shook Grantaire out of his daze. He turned off the faucet and looked over at her.

“Soup?”

She leaned against the counter. “He needs to eat. So I gave him tomato soup. It didn’t take.”

The room was silent. Grantaire tried to dig up some emotion other than despair, but he came up empty.

“Fuck.” It was all he could think to say.

---

He’s running out of breath.

Enjolras’ chest rose and fell unevenly. Grantaire could remember the struggle of breathing with a bullet wound. It was like a chore, a puzzle. What was the best way to breathe without moving your body at all? It was a trick question, obviously. You’re not supposed to be able to breathe with a bullet in your stomach. You’re supposed to be dead.

Éponine walked into the bedroom, carrying Enjolras’ deep red jacket in her hand. “Does he wear anything on his upper body?”

Grantaire looked up from staring at Enjolras, who was deep in a restless slumber. “What do you mean?”

Éponine held up the jacket. “He’s got three different trans pride pins on his jacket, and like, I know I shouldn’t assume, but I think it might be important to ask--”

“Yeah, he wears a--” Grantaire sat up in his chair, his eyes wide. “Oh. Shit, you’re supposed to take those things off, right?”

Éponine whipped out a knife from her combat boot and made her way over to the bed.

“Whoa hey, what the fuck?” Grantaire stood. “What the hell are you gonna do?”

The knife glinted in the dim lamplight. “Do you think he can manage to sit up while we get it off of him?”

“He…” Grantaire rubbed his temples. “No.”

Éponine knelt by the bed. She quickly reached up Enjolras’ bloody shirt and sliced open his binder with her knife.

Enjolras jerked awake. Éponine was only just able to pull her knife away before it cut into his skin. The wounded boy scooted away from her the best he could, wincing, gasping, “Wh...what…”

Grantaire touched Enjolras’ arm. “Hey, it’s ok--” Enjolras flinched away from him. “Oh shit, sorry, sorry…”

Éponine put her knife back into her boot. “It should be easier now.” She leveled her gaze at Enjolras. “Breathe.”

---

We’re running out of food.

Éponine laid out on the couch, her arm covering her eyes. Grantaire walked into the living room and slowly sat down in the chair opposite her.

“Is he sleeping?” she asked.

“I guess?” Grantaire sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “It looks more like he’s just unconscious.”

“Same thing.”

“Sleeping means he voluntarily went unconscious. And that’s definitely not what happened.”

“Are your friends coming soon?”

“No… I don’t know. The police keep closing off roads and setting up checkpoints and it’s making everything more difficult.”

Éponine pulled her arm off her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “We’re already rationing food.”

Grantaire let out a long breath through his nose, and remained silent.

“So what was your plan for this?”

Grantaire gritted his teeth. “There was no plan for this.”

Éponine looked over at him. “Isn’t that always how it is? You plan to overthrow the government, it fails, and then you starve to death before your gut-shot friend bleeds out.”

“Alright, if you’re so fucking smart, what would you do?” Grantaire snapped.

“Not try and overthrow the government.”

Grantaire sat up in the chair. “Why the fuck are you helping us? You were able to help get here, rob a hospital, and get more rations, so I’m sure you’d be able to leave just as fucking easy.”

“You’re Marius’ friends, right?”

Grantaire blinked. “Marius? Pontmercy? Yeah, I mean I guess. You know him?”

“Yeah.”

“So...that’s it? It’s just cause you know Marius?”

Éponine shrugged. “That and once my friend got shot in the abdomen by the cops.”

Grantaire’s whole body stiffened. His own side twinged, the months old wound making itself known again. “Really? What...What happened to them?”

“We took the bullet out ourselves and then burned the wound closed.” She didn’t break their eye contact. “They nearly died three times, but we kept them alive. Because fuck cops, man. Fuck the government. They can’t get rid of us just because we’re thorns in their sides. And you know what my friend did to that cop when they got better?”

Grantaire grasped at the fabric of his shirt near his side. “What?”

“They killed him.” Éponine’s expression was sharp. “You and your friends have crossed a line. You are no longer citizens, you are wanted criminals. Just like my friend.” Grantaire looked down at the floor. Éponine didn’t. “Just like me.”

---

Enjolras.

Grantaire was stuck in his dream. It was the worst kind of dream, too, the kind that mirrored reality perfectly. It was a memory, and it was playing on repeat.

His hands covered his ears, trying to shut out the sounds of war. He was hiding in the restaurant behind the barricades. He was next to the dead bodies. He would join them soon.

Then Bahorel was there, pulling him up to his feet. “We have to run,” he said.

Outside, the air was hazy and difficult to breathe. The streets were slick with blood. The barricade was a withered mass of destroyed furniture and cars. People were running. People were getting shot. People were dying.

Through the haze, Grantaire could see him. Enjolras was helping people up and getting them to run for cover, getting them to run for their lives. Once everyone was cleared, he stopped to look at his phone, ducking behind a bullet-ridden Volkswagen.

“We need to take Enjolras with us,” Grantaire said.

Then Enjolras stood up, and so did a cop down the street. A shot rang out, striking a piece of metal near Enjolras’ head. That made him turn, and hold up his gun, and fire, and…

Two shots. The cop went down and Enjolras stayed standing.

Damn, what a shot, Grantaire thought. How the fuck did he get that lucky?

Enjolras’ cries woke him up, and Grantaire was somehow thankful. Reliving that memory was nearly worse than reality.

--- We’re running out of time.

“You have to stop moving! You’re hurting yourself more!” Grantaire held down Enjolras’ arms. “Enj--”

“Don’t touch me!” Enjolras gasped out. He tried to squirm out of Grantaire’s grip.

Grantaire felt tears pulling at the back of his throat. If he let go, Enjolras would try and curl in on himself again. It was just an instinctive reaction to the pain in his gut, and that instinct was making everything worse. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“Stop…” Enjolras looked up, his eyes glazed over. “Hit me...all you want! I’m not...not sorry.”

Grantaire’s fists tightened around Enjolras’ shirt. He leaned in closer. “Enjolras. It’s Grantaire. I’m not your father--” He pulled his face back in time for Enjolras’ weak punch to sail by his face.

“Let me GO!” Enjolras brought up his legs and tried to kick at Grantaire’s stomach. He let out a high-pitched noise of distress as his wound started bleeding again.

“Éponine!” Grantaire yelled towards the door. “Help! He’s--God, for fuck’s sake, Enjolras.” He climbed up on the bed and brought both of his legs down on top of Enjolras’, pinning them to the bloody sheets. He was straddling Enjolras’ torso, being careful not to put any weight on his wound.

Enjolras fought back weakly, but blood was slowly trickling out of his mouth, staining his teeth red. “Feuilly…”

Grantaire crossed Enjolras’ arms over his chest and pinned them there with his hands. He blinked the tears out of his eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Éponine ran into the room and skidded to a stop in the doorway. “Holy shit…” She quickly approached the bed. “Tristan, the fentanyl--”

“Get it.”

Éponine pulled open the bedside table and removed a small bottle of clear liquid and a syringe. She stuck the syringe into the top of the bottle and drew out a small quantity of the drug. Grantaire pulled one of Enjolras’ arms away from his chest and extended it towards her. The syringe touched Enjolras’ skin and he tried desperately to yank it away, but Éponine’s grasp was like iron. The syringe plunged into his arm.

There was a moment, a split second before Éponine pushed down the top of the syringe. Enjolras’ red, exhausted eyes met Grantaire’s. And something old and familiar surfaced. A tear from Grantaire’s eyes fell and landed on Enjolras’ cheek.

“Not like this,” Grantaire whispered.

Éponine administered the drug and Enjolras went limp, his eyes already threatening to close. Grantaire lessened the weight on Enjolras’ body and let out a small sob. He leaned forward, towards the person he cared for infinitely more than anyone else in the world, and pressed their foreheads together. “Sleep,” he said softly. “But please, wake up again.” --- Punishment…

In his dream, Enjolras stood alone in the empty street. The world spun around him, like he was standing in the center of the universe, and all of the cosmic stardust was gathering like an oncoming storm, building up energy, threatening to explode.

He’d just killed a police officer, not thirty feet away from him. Their simultaneous shots had echoed between the buildings, then disappeared in the swirling vortex around Enjolras. He was trying to stay standing, trying not to move, trying not to breathe. He was about to shatter. He felt the blood quickly spreading across his shirt, dripping down his body, splattering against the cobblestone street. They’d both hit their marks, he and the police officer. Enjolras had just been the more efficient killer.

The blood burned his throat as it bubbled up past his lips. He coughed, and it ran down his chin. He couldn’t stand anymore, he couldn’t push down the impending collapse of his entire state of mind.

The universe was just this street, the stardust just the smoke of carnage. Enjolras fell on his knees and the world stopped spinning, instead splintering into anguish.

--- Please, wake up again.

Enjolras’ limbs felt like jelly, his brain like mush. Something was coursing through his veins, something artificial. It made him forget the excruciating pain in his gut, made him want to fall, fall, fall asleep. Forever.

He turned his head, slowly. He could see Grantaire in the corner of the room, and … who was that? The girl who helped him to the bed, the one that held the bucket, the one that told him to…

“Breathe,” she said. She was rubbing Grantaire’s back. He was crying, hyperventilating, scared.

That made two of them.

“Breathe,” the girl said.

Enjolras did. He closed his eyes.

“He’s gonna die.” Grantaire’s voice was small, crushed.

“Breathe.”

Enjolras did.

Breathe. And please, wake up again.

#enjolras #Grantaire #Eponine #Les miserables #les amis de l'abc #TW blood #TW drugs #TW wounds #tw violence #ER #ER plot point #les mis fic #tw vomit

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randompony03 · 5 years

Text

The Kiss of A Fairy Chapter 1: The Boy With Wings

Hey guys! I got this new fic I’m working on. It’s a lot better than the few I’ve posted here before, I promise. So, yeah. We got Logan, a normal high school student, who finds out there may be a bit more magic in his life than he wanted or bargained for. totally not based off of @fangirltothefullest ‘s amazing fae AU or anything-

Ships: Logicality, background prinxiety

Logan was a normal kid. Well, as normal as the smartest kid in school could be. He got good grades, always had an answer ready when a teacher called on him, and had received more medals than anyone else in debate. He liked to keep to himself, but he was by no account lonely. He had Roman and Virgil to ensure that.

Virgil had been friends with Logan since they were young. He had just shown up in the middle of the year during kindergarten. While the teacher was introducing him, he and Logan wouldn’t stop staring at each other. The two became fast friends, which was nice since they both had troubles making friends before, and even after meeting each other. That lasted until 8th grade decided to roll around.

Roman transferred to their middle school. Logan and Virgil met him and decided they hated him. He fought with both of them constantly. Despite this, they were stuck at the same table during science and consistently partnered together for history group projects. This had lead to them finally accepting each other. They learned to communicate better rather than resorting to name-calling and snarky remarks. Virgil and Roman still had trouble seeing eye to eye even after they settled down, but many long talks helped cure that. They grew very close after that, close enough for Logan to tease them about it. Soon enough, as Logan saw coming a mile away, fondness grew to love and the two of them were dating by their freshman year of high school. Life was simple but nice for them.

Logan now stood at the bus stop, his binder in hand. He could feel sleep beginning to sag under his eyes. He hadn’t counted on his after-school debate tournament to take so much out of him. Thankful for the cool night air, he closed his eyes to fully experience it. The sound of approaching feet pulled him back to reality. He opened his eyes and turned to see Roman and Virgil hand in hand. Roman had traces of green face paint on his light brown skin, while Virgil looked perfectly content. Lucky bastard only stayed after school for Anime Club. “We didn’t keep you out here alone for too long, did we?” Logan shook his head. “No, the tournament ended only a short while ago.” Roman relaxed at the statement. “Thank God. Dress rehearsal took longer than usual today.”

Roman and Logan droned on into the evening about what they went through that day while Virgil only snickered. Eventually, the bus arrived and the three boys boarded. They talked and laughed during the trip, then Roman had to leave. He quickly kissed Virgil good-bye before standing to exit the bus. After he was gone, Virgil and Logan were left to quietly chat until their stop came into view. Virgil quickly thanked the bus driver before stepping off and following Logan to their apartment building. They walked together to the second floor and bid each other good-night before Logan continued to the third.

Once in his room, Logan pulled out his Chromebook and began typing up a rough draft for a narrative for his English class. He wasn’t always the best with writing stories, even if they were from his own life. He figured he could have Roman look over it tomorrow. Asking for help had been a difficult task all Logan’s life, but once Roman stepped in and stubbornly insisted on looking over Logan’s writing it became a little easier. After a few moments of typing, he leaned back to think over how to phrase the next few sentences. That was when he noticed a figure dashing through the street to the trees across from the apartment. Standing up and leaning in close to the glass revealed the figure to be Virgil. Logan groaned and closed his Chromebook. What sort of mischief was that friend of his getting into now? He slid his window open and slipped through onto the fire escape. Rushing down, he carefully jumped to the ground beneath him. Once his feet made contact with the grass he bolted off after Virgil.

“Virgil!”, he whisper-shouted, “What the hell are you doing?” His question seemed to blow away in the night air when no response came. Logan batted away branches and leaves as he continued head-on into the forest. After it felt like he was truly lost, Logan caught a glimpse of Virgil, but he seemed different. His ears were long and pointed, and there were small horns poking out from his head. He took off his shirt and OH GOD. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. WERE THOSE WINGS? As Logan continued to run forward, thousands of questions swam around his mind distracting him from the outside world. He ran smack into a particularly wide tree.

When Logan came to it was daylight. He squinted at the sunshine stabbing through the leaves above him. He slowly sat up and brushed himself off. Some of the dirt stayed on his clothes, but at least he could get all the leaves off. He was about to stand when he heard a small yawn near him. Freezing in place, Logan turned his head to see the source of the sound. Some kid with strawberry-blonde hair decorated with a flower crown, an elaborate layered dress and a set of iridescent wings sat with their back turned to him. They stretched their arms up into the air before swiveling around to see Logan. A freckly face with a pair of glasses composed of what seemed to be rose gold and twigs sitting on it stared at him. They turned all the way around so their front was facing Logan as a grin spread across their face. Judging by body shape alone, Logan figured they might be a boy. “Oh good, you’re awake!” the boy in the dress said excitedly, clapping his hands together. Logan only stared back, mouth agape. The winged boy cocked his head at him, still smiling. There was a curious glint in his eyes.

Suddenly, he dashed forward on hand and knee. He stopped a mere few centimeters from Logan’s face. Logan found his cheeks to be heating up. The other boy grabbed each side of his face, turning it this way and that. “I’ve never met a human before.” he chirped, using his thumb to push Logan’s upper lip to expose his teeth. Logan had never felt so violated of his personal space, and yet so unwanting to do something about it. The other boy gasped. “Look how flat your teeth are!” He giggled, the sound of it comparable to bells. He pulled away placing his hands in his lap. A grin full of pointy teeth spread on his face. A shiver ran up Logan’s spine. “I’m Patton by the way. What’s your name?” The boy in the dress asked. Logan blinked a few times and just barely choked out, “L...Logan.” Patton seemed to be processing the name. “Logan? Logan. LoganLoganLogan.” he tried it on his own tongue, becoming more delighted the more he said it, “Logan! I love it!” he giggled his bell giggle once more and happily fluttered his wings. Logan’s face burned. He never really thought anyone would be this enchanted with his name. “Thank you..” he mumbled, “Uh if you don’t mind, would you tell me something?” He asked. Patton beamed. “Of course Logan!” He leaned forward a bit to signal that he was listening. “What are you?” Logan's eyes wandered to Patton’s wings. “I’m a fae! More specifically a fairy!” Patton answered. Logan held the side of his head. This kid either had to be insane or a figment of his imagination, no way was he a real fairy. “Would you answer a question for me now?” Patton asked, leaning forward more now. ��Oh, uh, sure?” Logan agreed. “What’s your full name?” A gust of cold wind blew through the leaves. There was something about that question that didn’t sit quite right with Logan. If it had been anyone else, he would have out-right refused, but something about Patton made him feel like a powerful figure of natural authority. The bespectacled human felt like there would be unpleasant consequences for not answering the question. “Logan Farhan Berry.” A large toothy grin spread across Patton’s face. Logan had a feeling that was a bad sign. He, admittedly, didn’t know a whole lot about fairies, but he knew enough to know that they were dangerous and not at all like Tinkerbell.

Patton shot up and danced happily around the forest floor. He hummed in satisfaction as he twirled around Logan, reaching out to lightly hold up the human’s face every now and then. Logan had never felt more lost then he did right now. “Come dance with me, Logan! Don’t you want to celebrate?” Patton asked, tugging at Logan’s arm. “Celebrate what?” he asked, allowing Patton to pull him to his feet. The fairy pressed his back to Logans front and had him place his arms around him. “Celebrate our romantic bond of course!” Patton answered dreamily, nuzzling into Logan’s chest. By now, Logan’s face was as red as a tomato. “Wh-What do you mean, ‘romantic bond’?” he asked barely above a whisper. Patton spun out of his arms and faced Logan with a bright smile. “You gave me your full name! You’re my lover now, Logan Farhan Berry!” For a moment Logan thought he was going to collapse due to all the blood in his body rushing to his head then draining out in such a short amount of time.

So THAT’S why Patton had seemed so excited at the idea of Logan giving him his name. Logan still couldn’t fully process the fact that he had seemed charming enough that a fairy had asked for his full name to be in a romantic relationship with him. Patton was very handsome, probably due to him being a fairy, but Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to start a relationship with him. Or anyone for that matter. He wasn’t exactly in tune with his feeling 100% of the time, that includes romantic attraction.

“Patton?” came a voice from behind some nearby trees. Logan swore he knew that voice, but he was so out of it he couldn’t pinpoint how. A hand placed itself on the side of a tree in front of them. A round face with a head of purple hair and small horns followed after. The piercing green eyes with the dark eye makeup around them finally clicked in Logan’s memory. “Patton, where did you go last night?” Virgil asked, stepping out more. Patton’s face lit up. “Virgil! Come meet my betrothed,” he wrapped his arms around Logan’s and pulled him into view, “Logan!” The human and the fairy half hidden by trees staring, bug-eyed at each other. “Virgil?!” “Logan?!” They called out in surprise and confusion to each other.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logicality #prinxiety #fae #fairy #thankyoufangirltothefullestforbeingyou

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thatbluegibson · 6 years

Text

CH 100

Liz felt the rush of consciousness in her brain and groaned. She was having a dream, something about the ocean, maybe she was surfing, she couldn't remember now that her head was pounding. The next wave of sensation happened to be nausea and Liz forced her eyes open to assess her surroundings. The room was dark, but bright beams of morning light broke through the edges of the heavy curtains around the bedroom windows, giving at least a dim light to the room. She felt a weight on her stomach and wondered if it was one of those new hangover symptoms that came with drinking too much in your thirties, but the weight shifted on its own and Liz realized it was Dave's head.

"Liz," he sounded like he had swallowed a fist full of gravel. She didn't answer, just sucked in a deep breath and threw her hands over her face to ward off the nausea. "Baby, I need you to kill me."

She laughed a little and immediately regretted it, shoving his head away from her belly and rolling off the tangled bed before sprinting into the bathroom and leaning against the counter, sighing in relief when the nausea once again subsided. The cool granite beneath her hands felt like a gift from the Vegas hangover gods and she carefully lowered her upper body onto the counter, resting her forehead against the backsplash.

"You okay?" she heard him call from the bedroom.

The fear of another nausea wave kept her from answering and instead slid her arms up the granite and covered her eyes with her hand. The bed squeaked as Dave moved around and a memory flooded into her brain.

Liz waved to Brody over Dave's shoulder while he carried her down the hallway to their room, giggling when Josh snuck up behind his wife and threw his arms around her. Dave managed to unlock their room with Liz still in his arms but ran her head into the door frame in his hurry to get inside.

"Shit! Sorry, babe," he hissed, but Liz just laughed. She knew that should have hurt, the door jamb landed right where her skull had busted only months prior, but the bourbon and Brennevin in her system had numbed her to the point of not caring. She also knew she was about to dearly pay for her sins within the next couple hours.

He carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom, then tossed her onto the bed that squeaked loudly in protest. She giggled and watched him sway as he pulled off his tie, thinking the last two shots of jaeger were a mistake. And maybe the last four whiskeys and three beers... those he could probably have gone without, not that she was faring any better.

"Elizabeth..."

"David," she grinned as he leaned onto the bed towards her.

"Liz."

"Dave," she laughed as he crawled up her body, kissing the spots where her dress exposed her skin and paused to whisper just below her ear.

"Wife."

Liz's eyes sprung open and were met with the simple silver band on her left ring finger.

Shit. Oh no. Oh my god, no.

Another wave of nausea crashed into her and she braced her hands on either side of the sink to focus on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. No, wait... that's definitely not helping. Reverse that. In through the mouth, out through the nose. She shut her eyes and repeated her mantra, breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe-

"Liz?"

"Mmhmm?" she pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes tightly, focused completely on not puking in earshot of Dave.

"You need anything?"

She managed to shake her head even though he couldn't see her. There were about a million things she needed at that point. She needed Travis to give her an IV, maybe some oxygen, definitely some anti-nausea meds. Oh, how about an annulment? That would be splendid. But, shit, Travis was 300 miles away. Where the hell was her phone?

She hurried out of the bathroom, ripping a discarded sheet off the bedroom floor and ran out into the sitting room where she found her blue clutch next to the upstairs bar. She fumbled with the clasp for a moment, the smell of an open Jaeger bottle making her gag and finally retrieved her phone. As she waited for Travis to answer, she tied the sheet around her in a makeshift dress and peeked around the fogged glass door to look at Dave as he lay face down in the bed with a pillow over his face. A flimsy white sheet barely covered him, her eyes lingering on his bicep tattoos and his back just long enough that she started thinking maybe this whole situation wasn't exactly terrible when Travis answered.

"Liz?" he sounded even worse than Dave.

"Yeah, hey. Hi," she whispered, jumping out of sight when Dave threw the pillow off of his face.

"What's up?" he sounded alert now, recognizing the twinge of panic in her voice.

"I drank too much," she said simply. And, whoops! Silly me, I got married.

"Okay...," he sounded confused, uncomfortable, awkward. Oh shit, did he know? "I can order you one of those hangover medics if you want, I just didn't want to interrupt..."

"What-," Liz spotted her white dress tossed carelessly in a heap on the floor and cringed, "Uh... what would you be interrupting?"

Travis paused for a long moment, "You okay, Liz?"

"Mmmhmm!" she lied, her hum several octaves higher than normal.

"Elizabeth," he said sternly, making her gulp. "What. Happened."

Dave felt Liz shift underneath him, waking him from what he assumed was as close to death as he would get without actually meeting his maker. The headache hit him like a brick wall, so hard that he actually gasped in pain.

"Liz," his throat felt raw, somewhat like the time he blew out his voice playing seven shows back to back and felt his head raise when Liz took a deep breath. "Baby, I need you to kill me." Please Elizabeth, take me out to the pool, hold me under and end my suffering.

She laughed and then suddenly he was on his front, listening to her feet against the tile floor of the bathroom. "You okay?" he called after her but didn't move. The cool sheets felt amazing against his hot skin and he could feel his pulse in every part of his body, though it was most pronounced in his head where a surge of pain accompanied each influx of blood. The bed squeaked when he reached for a pillow to cover his eyes, reminding him of his dream from the night before.

Taylor was whispering to Allison on the steps behind Dave, something about the legal process or contracts or something official, he wasn't really paying attention. He stared at the French doors on the other side of the room, well aware that he was grinning like an idiot when one side of the doors opened with a loud squeak and Brody slipped through, tiptoeing up to Ally with an excited smile. JB nudged Dave with his elbow just as Josh appeared beyond the doors in the lobby where he was busy elbowing a man in a terrible Elvis wig and jumpsuit out of the way.

"Jesus fucking christ what a shit show," Taylor muttered under his breath and closed the plastic binder he was holding, earning a harsh shush from his wife.

Dave was about to deck to Taylor when he heard Liz's laugh. His heart began to pound as Josh threw open the other squeaky door and held out his arm, then she stepped into view and he felt like he couldn't breathe. She had somehow found a short, white dress, some flowers, and a veil, but was wearing her Vans and leather jacket, looking exactly like he had imagined she would. She slipped her arm through Josh's and Dave felt Taylor's hand on his shoulder as the soft background music gave way to what sounded like a cello and classical guitar playing And I Love Her.

His smile squished into the pillow began to fade as the realization that he wasn't dreaming gradually made its way through his hangover and into his consciousness. No, that's... that's not something he would ever do. It's definitely not something Liz would do. They were going to get married someday if she would have him, but they sure as hell weren't going to do it on a drunken whim in Vegas.

He reached up and pressed his hand into his forehead to relieve the pain, opening his eyes at the distantly familiar metallic chill against his brow. Squinting at the silver band enveloping his ring finger, he turned his hand and was met with a fresh tattoo of a tiny Union Jack. Oh... fuck.

"Is she done yet?" Dave asked, trying to keep his hand still while craning his neck to see Liz in the next room.

Josh shook his head from his spot against the door frame that separated the two rooms."Nope. Quit moving, motherfucker!" he yelled.

Dave felt the needles sink into the thin skin on his ring finger again and he looked down to check the progress the tattoo artist was making. He had moved on to the blue, having already finished the red and white along with the black outlines. Almost done. He had debated asking him to add the letters ENG under it but decided that it probably broke Liz's rule about no names. They were her new initials, after all, which made the Union Jack an even more perfect choice. Elizabeth Nicole Grohl had been rolling through his head for a while, ever since her dad had given him the ring and even long before that, back in England when the thought of losing her seemed unbearable.

Liz stared down at the coffee maker as it churned hot water into black caffeine and chewed on her lip. She couldn't bring herself to look at the ring on her finger, but she also couldn't bring herself to take it off, so she was torn. You are such a fucking idiot, she told herself. You got out of control and now you're going to lose it all. Your management company and therefore your job, not to mention Dave and all the amazing friends you've made since you've met him. Nice going, dumbass. She sighed, braced her hands on the countertop and hung her head in defeat, finally spying the fresh tattoo on her right foot, just below her toes.

Dave picked two shot glasses off the bar top and handed one to Liz.

"What is this?" she didn't wait for an answer before throwing it back and the burn hit the back of her throat like a blowtorch. Dave immediately handed her a glass of water which she gratefully snatched, sucking down half the glass before she felt like she wasn't going to die.

"Brennivin," he laughed. "You have to take it slow with this, babe."

"You keep saying that," she slurred, leaning her side into the bar as she turned to face him. "Maybe I don't wanna take things slow."

"Fine," Dave picked up the second round of Icelandic liquor and handed it to her. "Marry me."

Her shot only slowed a tiny bit on the way to her lips and she kept her eyes locked onto his as she drank it down. "Fine."

He just stared at her, silently watching her ask the bartender for the entire bottle of Brennivin, and waiting until the bottle was in her hand before he lunged at her, scooping her into his arms and heading for the dance floor.

Dave heard Liz speaking to someone just outside the bedroom and grabbed the sheet from the bed, tying it around his waist before carefully opening the door. He wasn't exactly sure what he would be faced with, but she appeared impassive, lazily dropping her free hand from her face to look up at him while his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sitting room and quickly told Travis she'd call him back. His own phone began to ring from in the bedroom, but he ignored it, much more concerned with what was in front of him.

"Coffee," she nodded to the cup on the table in front of her and moved her gaze out the window, apparently unable to look at him.

"Thanks" he muttered, leaning forward to pick it up before collapsing onto the couch beside her. "You wanna talk about it now or after we recover?"

"I think this little toga party is an appropriate time and place, don't you?" she gestured to the sheets they were wearing.

Fuck, she's pissed. "You sound just as surprised as I am," he tried.

"That's a diplomatic way of putting things."

Okay... Really pissed. "Fuck, Liz..."

"How's your finger?" she interrupted, her eyes snapping back to his.

Dave held up his hand, his fresh tattoo and ring glistening in the sunlight.

"Christ," she cringed and looked away again.

"How's your foot?"

Pulling the sheet away from her leg and lifting her foot towards him, he gently held her ankle and smiled at the little Gibson guitar just below her toes. It was a bit red around the perfect lake blue edges but healing fine.

"I like it," he said softly.

She ignored his comment and pulled her foot back to rest on the table. "Travis says we can get an annulment as soon as tomorrow morning. The county clerk's office is just a couple blocks off the strip and they're open Sundays."

What? Dave felt his heart leap into his throat and then apparently burst into flames because the pain made him whimper. He tried to cover it with a cough as Liz shoved off the couch and went to stand by the windows, keeping her back to him as much as possible.

He could understand why she was pissed, but he wasn't expecting her to want an annulment. "Okay," he whispered and quickly stood up. If he pretended like he was looking for his phone in the bedroom, she wouldn't catch on that he was about to lose it. It might not have been the most conventional way to go about getting married, but he meant everything he had said to her, high blood alcohol level or not and he thought she did too.

"Hawkins! Round everyone up! We're leaving!"

Taylor shook his head, too busy grinding on his wife on the dance floor to pay any attention to Dave with Liz in his arms clutching a bottle of booze.

"Fine!" Dave shouted over the music. "We'll be at the chapel by the Bellagio if you change your mind!"

There was a pause before Taylor suddenly pulled away from Allison, sending both of them crashing to the floor. "You're what?!"

"We're leaving!" Dave repeated, kicking his drummer's leg. "Hurry up!"

Liz held on for dear life to both Dave and the bottle of Brennivin as he ran through the crowded dance floor and out into the hotel where a long line of people still waiting to get in snaked around the hallway. They were noticed almost instantly, which wasn't at all surprising with the way they burst out of the bar in their costumes, and a large group of men clearly celebrating a bachelor party yelled out to them.

"Grohl! Come take a picture with us!"

"I can't, man!" he yelled over his shoulder with an elated laugh, "I'm getting married!"

Liz looked back as the crowd of people screamed in excitement and briefly wondered if maybe she should at least call her parents to warn them. She was trying to calculate how much time it would take for the news to hit TMZ as he ran them through the lobby and out onto the busy sidewalk of the Strip. Finally setting her down on her own feet, Dave held her shoulders as she swayed a bit, trying to keep her balance with a bottle in her hands.

"I'm serious about this, Liz."

"I know," she smiled and twisted the cap off the bottle to take a drink. "Me too."

The bottle had barely left her lips before he was on her, kissing the taste of unsweetened schnapps off of her.

"Disco!"

Dave ignored Taylor's yell and kissed her harder, telling himself he should have just kept running until they were in front of an ordained Elvis, but Liz pulled away just as Taylor and Ally skidded to a stop in front of them. She laughed a little at their concerned faces and handed the bottle to Dave when Josh, Brody, JB and Gass stumbled out of the casino behind them.

"Are you two sure about this?" Ally asked anxiously.

"I'm sure," Liz insisted, trying to sound as sober as possible and looked up at Dave. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. Very sure."

"Well, I'm sold," Taylor said sarcastically and threw his hands up as he turned away in frustration.

"Liz, honey...," Allison started, trying to come up with a good reason why this was a stupid idea. "You can't... You can't get married in a Halloween costume. Let's at least find you something-"

"Al, she's fine," Dave insisted, worried that if Liz left his side for even a moment she would change her mind.

"No," Liz said thoughtfully. "She's right. You and the guys go find a place and then text us the address. We'll be right behind you."

Dave found his phone on the nightstand and flipped through the missed calls and texts, mostly from Taylor but a few from Josh as well. Liz walked in as he was reading through them holding a large white gift bag tied with a dark purple ribbon and tossed it on the bed.

"We have our first gift," she muttered bitterly, making him feel even worse.

"They're at the pool," Dave replied, trying to change the subject to cheer her up even just a little. "They want us down there as soon as we... stop...," he trailed off unable to read Taylor's crude text out loud to Liz.

"Gross," she finally laughed a little and began pulling items from the bag. A white bikini, a bottle of champagne, a headband with a veil and black shorts which she threw at Dave's chest. "Let's get this over with."

Back out in the upstairs living room, he went through as many bottles of water as he could while he waited for Liz to change. He was just beginning to feel a bit less like death when the bedroom door opened and she walked out in the simple white bikini while adjusting the veil in her hair.

"You look..."

She laughed a bit and turned around, shaking her hips so the sunlight sparkled off the rhinestones spelling out Mrs. Grohl on her ass. "Like every other drunk girl that got married on a Friday night in Vegas? I know, but when in Rome, right?" she raised an eyebrow at his black shorts that had 'Mr. Colbert' written in silver script down the leg, "Those are fucking terrible."

"I thought we were getting this over with," he grumbled. All he wanted to do was get in the pool, get rid of his hangover and figure out how to get her in a better mood.

Liz snapped her sunglasses down to cover her eyes and forced a smile, "After you, honey."

"Who gives this complete fox of a biker babe to be wed to the most kickass drummer and front man the world has ever seen? .... Sorry, Hawkins."

Taylor just shook his head and grinned at Jack. "No, man. I totally agree."

Josh cleared his throat and gently laid his hand over Liz's as they stood in front of Jack with Dave and Taylor to their right and Ally and Brody to their left. "My wife and I do, and Mr. and Mrs. Taylor Hawkins, and I'm assuming you and Mr. Kyle Gass over there."

Liz finally looked away from Dave and glanced over at Kyle as he sat in the front pew clutching a tissue and waving at her. She stifled a giggle and looked back to Dave to find he was doing the same.

"Great," Jack nodded and waved them up onto the stage while reaching for the binder Taylor was holding behind his back. "Let's do this!"

Josh led Liz onto the same step as Dave and gave first her and then Dave a tight hug before retreating to Brody's side.

"Hey," Dave whispered once her hands were in his. "You're beautiful."

She beamed up at him, happy tears threatening to flood her eyes. "You found another suit!" she whispered back, trying to keep from ruining her makeup.

"Yeah, I figured if I'm stuck with an Oscar winner I might as well have a backup."

"Good call, babe," she giggled, then snapped to attention when Jack loudly closed the rings in the binder. She shot Dave a little smile then turned to face Jack, slipping her arm around her groom's waist as his arm found it's place his bride's shoulders.

"All right! Let's get this party started!" Jack announced and began flipping through the laminated sheets in his hands. "Either of you Lutheran?"

Dave and Liz both shook their heads and he continued flipping pages.

"Irish?"

"Only in their bloodstreams," Josh muttered, complete with an 'oof' when Brody elbowed him in the ribs.

"Oh! Here!" Jack carelessly tossed the discarded papers over his shoulder and held the chosen one out dramatically, "It's written for two dudes, but we'll make it work. Elizabeth, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to David in marriage?"

"Absolutely."

“David, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Elizabeth in marriage?”

"Hell yeah, I do."

#ThatBlueGibson

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royalrastafariannaynays · 7 years

Text

eternal

davekat prompt from @alyxnightshade

“I’ve been watching you for a few days, you know.”

The voice comes like out of a dream. Quiet at first and unbidden, then steadily growing to normal volume. Part of it rings with a universal truth that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Part of it is terrifying and sad, and makes you want to cry.

But mostly, it feels like... family.

You jerk around in your desk chair at the sound of this voice, managing to topple over entirely. Your whole person spills out onto the floor, and you whack your head into the edge of your desk with entirely more force than is probably necessary.

That being said, you’ve suffered worse.

This won’t even be a concussion.

“Wow,” the voice says again, this time condescending and unbelieving and you’ve almost almost gotten used to the feelings it evokes.

Fuck, that hits like a whammy.

When you roll over and lift your head, cradling your chin in your palm, you see him.

And immediately turn to the trash can and vomit.

“Oh, get ahold of yourself, meatsack,” he says to you, tired.

Once your stomach is empty, you reply.

“Fuck you.”

“Creative,” he snorts.

And you’re too weak to flip him off.

It wasn’t a concussion that made you barf.

It wasn’t the fact that all you’ve eaten for three days is Cool Ranch Doritos, and it wasn’t the fact that you’re both dehydrated and sleepless from staying up all night (half in watchful vigilance, half to talk to Jade).

No.

It’s the fact that when you looked at him, you felt the impact of the eyes of the world, all at once. Leaning there in your bedroom window, he took up every relationship you’ve had, and every one you will. Every touched hand, every smile because of another person, every laugh and cry and abandoned baby.

Everything else you could add in there. All at once.

And above it all, was a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging and permanence.

“In all my millennia since Humans first crawled out of the mud, I think you’re only the third to not pass out,” he sighs. “I wonder if that means something.”

A sense of permanence, and a sense of an endless obligation.

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask him.

His eyes are plain, like yours. Red, like yours, but also... very human.

They’re easy to look at.

Something about the eyes being a window to the soul washes over your brain, and you have to put a fist up to your mouth to curb another wave of nausea.

When he opens his mouth, his teeth are pointed.

Your binder strains against your ribs.

His hair is deep black.

Stars shine from the wrinkles in his skin, from his dimples when he laughs, open-mouthed, at you for your question. Just now, you notice that his skin is pitch, like night. Eating up the surrounding air.

The streetlamp that should be haloing his head is almost... shining through him.

“I am your god, shithead,” he growls, once he’s done opening his jowls like a jackal. “Well, one of them, at least.”

You’re... what?

Is he fucking with you?

But in the midst of your doubt, you can’t help but believe him.

It... echoes veritas into your mouth and rings your teeth.

“Okay,” you say.

You sit up fully, now, and wipe the spit from your mouth.

“I’ve been watching you, Dave,” he says.

And you feel like throwing up again when he says it.

It’s not unusual for you to feel watched.

You’re nineteen, now.

Past bro, out of his house. In therapy.

But you still always feel like you’re being watched.

No, what this ‘God’ is telling you makes you want to throw up, because.

Why would a god be watching you? Are you gonna die soon? Are you going to be a sacrifice? Does he have... something else to tell you?

“No, none of that,” he says, and the guy brushes the stardust off of his sleeves, before walking the few feet over to plunk down on your bed. Did he just fucking read your mind?

“No, I was watching you for a long time. I watch all of you,” he says. And when he sits, everything that was unsettling about him before, settles. His skin isn’t almost black anymore, it’s just dark. All of the feelings, all of the bonds, they just go away. All of those babies smiling and being born and the mourning of a million simultaneous deaths.

“That’s not creepy at all,” you say, and you get another laugh. He’s got a little snub nose, and it wrinkles when he smiles.

“It’s my job, I manage... relationships. All of them,” he informs you, and oh. That’s so much to comprehend.

“So you’re the romcom police?” you ask, and he makes a suffering face at you.

“No,” he sighs. “It’s more like... I facilitate the creation and survival of your kind. Through bonds. Interpersonal relations.”

“Oh.”

You rub your hand across your forehead.

Your computer pings.

You’re talking to a god, in your bedroom, of your sixth-story Boston suburb flat.

Okay, now you might really throw up again.

“So why are you here exactly?” you ask him, and attempt to rise to your feet.

You only make it so far before you’re tipping over again.

He catches you by your upper arm.

And your head is no longer hurting, your nausea is gone, your head feels steady, your breathing is easier, and.

Whoa.

The touch is the most soothing thing you’ve ever felt. It’s better than pot, better than a hug from Rose, better than having a really cathartic therapy session. It’s like the most comfortable that you’ve ever been, and it’s just the one touch.

You lean into it, unthinking, but blindly scrabbling for that sensation as much as you can. It gushes into your soul, over your skin, prickles your nose and makes you want to burst into the ugliest, snottiest tears.

And then it’s gone.

The god is standing a foot away from you, and you’re sitting on your bed, now, and the night air is billowing peacefully through your window.

A lotus flower of happiness is turning over in your chest.

“What was that?” you ask, no one in particular.

The god sits on your bed again, this time a good foot away from you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t... help myself,” he says.

And it’s quiet.

A motorcycle zips by.

The train passes, and you hear the sound of the whistle almost shake your windows for the seventh time today.

“At least buy me dinner first,” you choke.

He snorts.

“Well, I have no money,” he says. “But I can give you my name.”

You remain quiet, trying to register everything. You feel... not healed, mentally, but vastly repaired. Hopefully his god-cleanse didn’t wipe the meds from your system. That would suck.

“Karkat,” he tells you.

And holds out his hand.

It’s normal, calloused on the writing fingers and nails a tiny bit long. Dark skin, hairy knuckles. Big. Warm-looking.

Comfortable.

Hesitant, you hold yours out as well.

But just before touching it, you flick your eyes up at him.

“You gonna roofie me again?” you ask.

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

So you nod, taking his word for it, and take his fingers into yours.

His palm is warm, like you thought it would be. But not sweaty at all, not sticky. Perfect. Comfortable.

And no supernatural roofie this time.

Like he promised.

“So why are you here?” you try again, and this time you don’t look at him.

You can feel that Karkat’s not looking at you, either. His legs shift, and one of them crosses the other.

“You’ve fascinated me for pretty much your whole short life, Dave,” he tells you. And. That’s something.

“Fascinated?”

“Yeah,” he confirms.

You wait for him to elaborate, and when you glance at him, he seems lost in thought.

Well, he’s a god. Maybe you should have offered him something to drink. Or maybe a ritualistic sacrifice of your body. It’s not like he’s not attractive enough.

“Ignoring that last thought, however appealing it sounds to let you attempt it,” he starts up again, and your face nearly catches aflame. “I don’t require a sacrifice. Sometimes I just like talking to you all.”

“Ah,” you say.

“You in particular, right now. I’ll sometimes pick a subject and look at them more than others.”

“Okay. Creepy.”

“Yeah I know. But you’re... fascinating. Remember when I said that, idiot?”

He’s gruff, and you want him to hold you again.

You’re already jonesing for a hit of that peace.

“You had a... fucked up childhood,” he says, then. And you clam up. Almost shrink away from him. Having a stranger mention it is eerie and unnerving. “You had a fucked up childhood, an abusive and often absent guardian, and yet. You still sought friendship. You managed to flounder your way to normalcy.”

You’re quiet. The way he’s saying it, it sounds like... pride?

Like frustration, but pride. Praise.

Awe.

“And besides that, you turned out to assume your gender,” he continues. Still with that pride and awe and fascination. “And you’re bisexual, or whatever the term for it is nowadays. And you’re comfortable.”

A...

Oh.

“You’re remarkable, Dave.”

Something swells inside you. Remarkable.

“Back when I was... back when humanity first started,” he says. “I was rough, cold. I was cruel and indifferent. And then I saw your kind develop love. It was violent, it was dark for a long time. But love, was there.”

He sounds like he might cry, and you look over at him.

Karkat doesn’t have tears in his eyes, but there’s a croak in his voice.

“And so I waited. And the love spread. And people sought it out.”

You feel overwhelmed.

“It was slow, I assure you. But humanity found that love, and so I helped them prosper. I helped them spread. And now, things are prospering pretty well alone, with just a nudge every now and then. There’s still so much cruelty in the world.”

He sounds so sad.

A rush fills your chest, like the beginnings of a panic. But he speaks again, and it’s soothed.

“But it’s the propensity for love that keeps me here.”

You fidget.

“And... despite the utter stupidity of your species, and the shit that you were handed on a plate when you were born, you have made a life of love for yourself, Dave.”

It hits you like a truck.

“And I am so proud of you.”

Then, all of a sudden, his voice is once more filled with the voices of millions, the sensation of being loved, and the pride, and the hate and anger and happiness and sadness and just so much that you can barely stand it. And it stops.

His hand takes your chin, and he leans in.

The kiss he presses to your mouth is gentle, delicate, caring, loving, incredible.

All at once it’s romantic, platonic, sexual, loving, caring, hateful, mournful, sad, upset, like a daughter to a mother, like a cat licking a kitten’s nose, like a caress, like a punch to the gut, and.

He’s gone.

And you wake up, on your bed.

The sun is shining.

And you didn’t even get to ask him any questions.

But you know he’s there.

And he will be.

#davekat #davekat fanfiction #homestuck #my short fics that I write #abstract gods #emotional hurt/comfort #minor depictions of vomit

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welllpthisishappening · 8 years

Text

You Play Ball Like a Girl (44/?)

He groaned again and bobbed on the balls of his feet. “I wrote about people,” Henry said evasively.

“People in general?” “No,” he said, moving his head back and forth nervously. Emma waited. “You know, people people . And what you did and and Mary Margaret and, well, all of you. I wrote about that.”

Living the good life on Ao3 and appropriately tag’ed up on Tumblr.

Emma’s desk phone rang – loudly – and she gasped, surprised to hear the thing even making noise. She muttered a few choice words under her breath and leaned forward, grabbing the thing and pulling it towards her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Emma, there’s a kid down here to see you.”

Emma muttered again and did her best not to groan at Leroy. “Henry?”

“I have no idea what his name is.”

“His name is Henry.”

“You want me to send him up?”

“I’ll be right down.”

Emma hung up before the security guard could say anything else and jogged across the sports department floor, heading back towards the elevator bank. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, tapping the screen impatiently and wondering why Henry hadn’t just called her.

Oh.

He had texted her.

Emma, this guy won’t let me come upstairs. Can you tell him to let me in. I’ve got news!!

The elevator dinged and the doors slide open slowly. Emma rushed into the lobby to find Henry nervously glancing at Leroy who was all but leering at the kid. She tried not to groan again and moved in between the two of them, putting her hand on Henry’s shoulder and glaring at Leroy.

“Why wouldn’t you let him up?” Emma asked without any preamble.

“I can’t just let up random people,” Leroy bit back.

“He’s not random. Henry’s been here half a dozen times. He told you he was here to see me. For future reference you can let him come up to the floor whenever he’s here. Got it?” “Got it.”

Emma glanced down towards Henry, hand still protectively on his shoulder. “Come on kid, we’ll take a walk and you can tell me your news.” Henry nodded once, looking clearly like he was trying not to laugh at the frustrated look on Leroy’s face. Emma turned on the spot and pulled him towards the street. It was finally starting to get warm again – the sidewalks jam-packed with people using their lunch hour to get some fresh air and battle for positioning along 8th Avenue.

Emma and Henry pushed through the crowd outside The Record building and walked across the block, heading farther west where the tourists wouldn’t go. Tourists didn’t believe in anything farther west than 9th Ave.

“It’s quieter over here,” Henry said when they reached 10th Ave and Emma turned them slightly, heading farther uptown.

For someone who lived about as far downtown in Manhattan as it was possible to live, Emma loved it uptown – quiet and old, chock-full of brownstones and people with way too much money. When she, Mary Margaret and David had first moved to New York, Emma wanted to live uptown, but it was never a possibility.

Someday.

Maybe.

If things went perfectly according to the unspoken hopes and dreams Emma had, but never told anybody about.

“I like it up here,” Emma answered after a few moments. “It’s a bit slower, you know what I mean?” Henry nodded, eyes flitting over the tree-lined streets and glancing at the dog walker moving past them, six different leashes gripped tightly in her hand.

“I get it. Easier to think. Or something.” “Or something,” Emma agreed, laughing quietly under her breath. “So, what’s your news?” Henry stopped suddenly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rolling back on his heels. He was smiling at Emma and she nearly stopped breathing because the move was so Killian that she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“It’s big news,” he said, voice packed with excitement.

“Then share,” Emma said, smiling slightly and widening her eyes.

Henry pulled his backpack off his shoulder and leaned down to unzip it. He rummaged through the contents of the bag for a few seconds before making some kind of triumphant noise and pulling out a large envelope from in between two binders.

“Jeez, how much homework are they giving you kid?” Emma laughed.

“Enough,” Henry groaned, standing back up, but leaving the backpack on the sidewalk. He handed Emma the enormous envelope and took a step back, a look of expectation plastered on his face.

“What’s this?” Emma asked.

“Open it and see.” Emma tilted her head at him, but did as he said, reaching into the envelope and pulling out the half a dozen sheets of paper inside. Her eyes roved over the letters on the page and the University of Virginia emblem plastered on the top right corner of each sheet of paper. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

Congratulations on your acceptance to the University of Virginia and welcome to the Cavaliers family. We hope that you’ll be joining us next fall and would like to offer you an academic scholarship in the form of complete tuition….

The letter went on, but Emma couldn’t read any more – eyes already too blurry from the tears she absolutely was not crying.

“Emma?” Henry asked, sounding concerned. “Are you ok?” She glanced up at him to find a smile, encouraging smile on his face. God, he was comforting her.

“Are you crying?” he croaked out, laughter just there there in the words.

“Of course not,” Emma muttered, rubbing her knuckles just underneath her eyes. “This is for real?” “It’d be one sick joke if it isn’t.” Emma let out a shaky laugh, gripping the envelope tightly between two fingers and staring down at the acceptance letter again. When she looked back up, Henry was beaming at her and she knew she was matching his expression with one of her own.

“This is incredible,” she said sincerely.

“Right?!”

“An academic scholarship,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “God, kid, you’re smarter than all of us. You should have written your own feature story.” “Emma,” Henry groaned, rolling his whole body in the most stereotypical teenage way possible. “Come on, you know that’s not true.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face. “I didn’t know you applied to UVA. When did you get the letter?” “Yesterday. I didn’t even think I’d get in, honestly,” Henry said. “It was kind of a joke thing. But, well, I was thinking about it a couple of months ago and we figured there was no point in not at least trying.” “We?” Henry’s eyes widened – like he realized he had said something he shouldn’t. “Who’s we?” Emma pressed. “Me and Killian and David.”

“You and Killian and David,” Emma repeated softly, twisting her mouth slightly in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, they both knew what I wanted to do.” “And that is?” “Major in history and play baseball eventually.” “Of course.”

Henry took a deep breath and then he was off, rolling through a wordy explanation that had Emma’s head spinning.

“Yuh huh,” Henry said quickly. “David helped with the essay and we talked about what I could do with a history degree and then, you know, Killian helped with the baseball part. Obviously.” “Obviously. What exactly was the baseball part of an academic scholarship?” “One of the guys he played with at Louisville is an assistant at UVA now. So Killian talked to him and they do walk-on stuff a few days after the school year starts.” “You’re going to walk on at UVA?”

“I’m going to try.” Emma did her best not to sigh – someday her friends were going to tell her things – and stared at Henry, practically bursting with enthusiasm and determination. That wasn’t fair. How was she supposed to be frustrated when this kid was standing in front of her with his entire future laid out at his feet and an anxious smile on his face? She wasn’t frustrated.

At all.

She was thrilled for him. Because he deserved an education and a brand-new chance in a brand-new state and a brand-new team.

“They’ll bring you on,” Emma said confidently.

“We’ll see.” “Nah, none of that. It’ll happen. If Killian knows this guy then he’ll make sure it happens.”

“I kind of wanted to get on the team on my own.” “And I’m not saying you won’t. I’m just saying Killian wouldn’t set you up for something that isn’t going to work.” “Oh,” Henry said. “Yeah. That’s definitely true.” “When was all of this happening?” Emma asked, suddenly, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean you have to apply to school in December, right?”

“Yeah.” Henry didn’t say anything else and Emma narrowed her eyes, doing her best Mary Margaret teacher impersonation. It worked. He sighed and shifted on his feet.

“Killian and David had some time at the end of the month,” Henry continued. “They knew I wanted to go to UVA, but that I wasn’t going to apply because I thought it was such a longshot. They, uh, they weren’t really into that idea.” “Of course they weren’t.”

“So we met a couple of times before Christmas and they helped. And I sent my application in like a day before the deadline. It was close. Beacon almost didn’t get my transcript together in time.” “Before Christmas?” Emma squeaked out, arms tight across her chest.

It would figure.

That stupid, selfless man. Men. Both of them. Stupid and selfless and so intent on helping it made Emma’s whole body ache.

“Yeah,” Henry answered. “They said they had some time.” Because Emma wasn’t talking to Killian. And David knew it.

She shook her head slowly, a smile tugging on her mouth. They barely talked for almost two weeks and he was still out there, determined to help Henry and make sure that all the work they had spent on those feature stories and fighting with the DOE didn’t go to waste.

Killian and David got Henry into college and Emma was doing her best not to cry on a sidewalk in the Upper West Side.

“You ok, Emma?” Henry asked and she knew he already had an answer to the question.

“Absolutely,” she said, wiping away the tears. Henry smiled at her knowingly. “What did you write your essay about?” Henry groaned and bit his lip – Emma’s curiosity immediately sparked. “What?” she asked.

“Stuff.” “Stuff? I don’t know that you get a full academic scholarship on stuff.” He groaned again and bobbed on the balls of his feet. “I wrote about people,” Henry said evasively.

Emma moved on instinct, pulling Henry across the small space in between them and hugging him tightly. He hugged back, arms moving around her waist.

He was nearly taller than Emma – but he seemed to settle into kid quickly and she wondered how anyone couldn’t care about this kid as soon as they saw him.

“I’m going to miss you when I go to school,” he said and Emma smiled, her cheek resting on the top of his head.

“Right back at you, kid,” she answered. “But this is good. You did it. And you’ll go and write a ridiculous amount of papers on the American Revolution and then you’ll hit 800 home runs and play in the College World Series.” “Eight hundred?” he asked, laughing loudly.

“Maybe not eight hundred. But at least 20.” “That seems more viable.” “Deal then. I expect no less than 20 home runs freshman year.” “You don’t even know that I’ll make the team yet.” “I’ve got an absurd amount of confidence in you.” Henry grinned at her and hugged Emma tightly again for one moment before taking a step away. “You tell Killian yet?” Emma asked.

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to bother him. He’s supposed to be flying back from Baltimore later today.”

Emma felt something hearing that Henry knew Killian’s schedule as well as she did. “True,” she said. “But you’ve got to tell him too. We’ll text him. Come here.” She pulled her phone back out, ignoring the dozen e-mails she had in the half an hour she had been away from the office, and swiped up the screen, flipping the camera around. “What are you doing?” Henry asked.

“We’re going to take a picture. Obviously.” Henry groaned and Emma answered his grimace with a face of her. “This is an occasion, Henry,” she said. “A picture is necessary.”

He rolled his eyes, but stepped towards Emma leaning against her shoulder so that they could both fit in the frame. “You’ve got to hold up the letter,” she sighed. “Otherwise this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Fine, fine, fine.” Emma shot him a satisfied grin as Henry held up the acceptance letter in between the two of them and she held her phone out, snapping the picture. “Looks good,” she nodded in approval and Henry made some sort of teenage noise that wasn’t a yes or a no. Emma laughed, shaking her head as she sent out the photo – texting it to Killian, David and Mary Margaret.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately and Emma knew it was Mary Margaret.

It was.

Oh my God!! Tell Henry congratulations. That is so, so, incredibly wonderful .

Emma smiled at the text message and handed her phone towards Henry who chuckled under his breath. “She used a lot of adjectives, huh?” he asked.

“M’s does that when she gets excited.”

“I like it.” Henry gave Emma back her phone. “You got a game tonight?”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “That’s why there are 275 e-mails on my phone. They play the Pacers tonight.” “You gotta go back?” Emma shrugged. “I probably should. I’ve got to get my stuff ready. Tweet out the pre-game coverage video.” “Sorry,” Henry muttered.

“For?” “Making you take a walk when you’ve got 275 e-mails and videos to post.” Emma waved her hand dismissively and shook her head. “No, this was important. I’m glad you showed up today.”

“Me too.”

Henry reached forward to hug Emma again and she smiled with the movement, thankful, once again, that this kid had landed in her life.

Emma nearly fell through the doorway into her apartment that night.

Overtime was incredibly overrated.

Sure, it was dramatic – and it made the story about as easy to write as possible – but it lasted forever and Emma hadn’t gotten out of the Garden media workroom until nearly one in the morning.

She expected to find the apartment entirely deserted, or at least quiet, when she stumbled in, but was stunned to see both Mary Margaret and David sitting on the couch, TV on and half-eaten food sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret said softly, glancing up at Emma. “You’re late.” “I didn’t think you’d even be here.” “I had to work late too,” David said, lifting his head off the back of the couch where it had been resting. That explained the food. “We figured we’d wait up for you.” Emma made a face, not even trying to disguise her surprise. “You guys never do that.” She walked forward, picking up a half eaten piece of garlic bread off one of the plates and ripping it in half.

Mary Margaret eyed her, amusement flashing across her face and David tried to pull the food away from Emma. “That’s mine,” he whined.

“You clearly weren’t eating it.” “I might have been saving it.” “I just watched a four-hour basketball game, David Give me some of your garlic bread.” “Fine.”

Mary Margaret and David were both silent for a few moments, two pairs of eyes glancing down the hallway towards Emma’s room at the same time. She made a face again and took another bite of garlic bread.

“What’s going on?” Emma mumbled.

“Nothing,” David said immediately. Mary Margaret didn’t answer.

“M’s,” Emma prompted, nudging her bag off her shoulder and leaning it up against the side of the couch.

“That doesn’t go there,” Mary Margaret said.

“I’ll bring it in my room once you tell me what’s going on. And why you’re waiting up for me.” “I told you, Emma, I had to work too,” David said. Emma ignored him.

“You might want to go in your room. Soon,” Mary Margaret said. “That was my plan eventually.” “Like now.” “Why?” “You need a reason to go in your room?”

Emma sighed and twisted her head, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder. “What aren’t you telling me?” “Killian is in your room.” “What?” Emma didn’t wait for Mary Margaret to answer, turning quickly and leaving her bag sitting next to the couch without a second thought. She swung her bedroom door open, expecting to find him sitting there – waiting for her to get home as well.

Except he wasn’t.

He was asleep.

And Emma’s breath rushed out of her in one loud noise and she closed the door behind her softly, toeing out of her shoes and sliding her arms out of her blazer.

He looked young , hair falling across his forehead in a way that made Emma’s pulse thud slightly and she bit her lip, walking around the bed to lay down on the other, open side of the mattress. She had a dozen questions on her tongue, but she bit them all back, doing her best to lay down calmly, trying not to jostle the other, rather unexpected body next to her. Emma leaned back on the pillows, shutting her eyes lightly.

She didn’t move for a few seconds, trying to keep her breathing level, when she heard Killian sigh softly. He moved before she could – and it took just a moment for Emma to realize he was still very much asleep – rolling on his side and reach out to wrap his arm around her waist. Her breath hitched and she did her best to stay still, but she knew the moment he woke up, arm tightening slightly.

“Swan?” he mumbled into her shoulder blade, almost as if he was surprised to find her there. In her bed. In her apartment. In New York.

“Yuh huh,” Emma answered.

His eyes snapped open and he shook his head slightly. Emma smiled at him, ducking her head slightly so they were on eye-level. “Hey,” Killian said softly.

“Hey?” Emma widened her eyes at him and he looked just a bit sheepish at her finding him there. “That’s all you’re going to say?” “I was in the neighborhood.” “Liar.”

Killian laughed softly and kissed Emma, pulling her closer to him and pushing his fingers into her ponytail. One day he was going to kiss her and she wouldn’t feel like her entire body was melting or that she had lost her entire center of gravity.

Emma hoped that day never came.

It certainly wasn’t right now.

“Killian,” she muttered against his lips and he made some noise of disapproval.

“Just kiss me, please.” Emma wasn’t going to argue with that.

It was the please that did it.

So she did. She kissed him, draping one leg over his calf and wrapping her hand around his neck. His own hands were flat on her back, like he was trying to make sure she didn’t disappear and he pushed his hips up, making Emma gasp.

Emma couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She just needed and, it was rather obvious, so did Killian.

“M’s and David are in the living room,” Emma said, not quite sure how she managed to get the words out.

“Don’t care. I don’t care. I need you.”

Emma gaped at him, the desperation in his voice catching her off guard. If she didn’t need him – want him – so badly, she would have realized that he hardly even sounded like himself.

She didn’t.

Instead she pushed her hands underneath his t-shirt and felt him shiver when her fingers hit his skin. Killian’s hands finally moved off her back, gripping the dress she was wearing and tugging slightly, making his intent clear.

Emma moved back, yanking on the zipper with as much force as she could before she couldn’t pull it down any farther. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and pushed the material down to her hips before Killian took over, yanking it down until it was completely off. He threw it in the corner, leaving Emma in far less clothing than he had on and stared at her for a moment, lips brushing over her collarbone.

She sighed softly into the feeling – doing her best not to groan, loudly, and draw the attention of her roommates – and ran her hands down his sides, before pushing one of those hands forcefully past the waistband of his jeans.

Emma didn’t have to worry about her making too much noise – he was going to do be the problem. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled and Emma laughed softly.

“These need to come off,” she said forcefully, fingers popping the button of his jeans while the other hand stayed – quite firmly – where it was, otherwise occupied entirely.

Killian twisted his hips slightly, letting Emma pull the jeans off while he did his best to yank his t-shirt off as well.

It was a disaster.

Two people weren’t supposed to move like that at the same time they were also trying to touch every single inch of skin on each other’s bodies. It was just scientifically impossible. And Emma, somehow, found her hand practically twisted around while Killian’s leg had managed to work his way between her thighs.

She couldn’t breathe.

“God, I missed you,” he said before kissing her again, tugging lightly on her hair and pulling Emma towards him so she was all but laying on top of his body. “Just kiss me,” Emma answered, repeating his words back to her and earning a smirk before he did as instructed. His hands couldn’t seem to stop moving, fingers tracing up her spine and down her leg and across her waist.

“You. Are. Teasing,” she said, straining over the words.

“Not true, love. Savoring. There’s a very distinct difference.”

Emma did groan at that – as much from the words as the place his hand had finally found. No more teasing.

“Jesus,�� Emma mumbled, trying not to collapse on top of him as she rolled her hips, falling into a rhythm with his movement.

Killian laughed darkly, mouth clamping down on the spot in between her neck and her shoulder, and Emma saw stars as she squeezed her eyes closed tightly. Her breathing was bordering on erratic now, but he didn’t give her even a second to come back to Earth before he was leaning to the side and grabbing for his wallet.

Emma peppered his face with kisses, trying to keep his focus and felt his eyes flash towards her. “You’re distracting me, love,” he said softly, ripping open the foil over her back, forced to lift his hands around Emma – her body was still very much on top of his.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Can’t multi-task?” “That seems like a challenge.” “Maybe it is.” Killian’s eyes widened and he rolled Emma over, hovering just above her as he leaned forward on his forearm. He made quick work of everything else – he was good at multitasking – and pushed up at the same time he kissed her, swallowing her gasp with a smile against Emma’s lip.

This was different.

If Emma didn’t have so many other things on her mind – namely the way he managed to hold her up and push her down at the same time, melding his chest against hers in a way that made her feel like she wasn’t alone, she was loved , to some sort of absurd degree – she would have been worried.

She would have been worried with the roughness of his movements, the way his right hand gripped her forearm a little tighter than normal or the way his left hand tugged lightly on the chain around her neck.

She didn’t notice any of that.

Instead, she met him movement for movement, lifting her hips up and pushing her hands in his hair to try and anchor his mouth to hers.

Killian didn’t say anything, but Emma could feel his breath picking up, the slightly frantic way his body moved against hers and her entire body tensed – that’s when he talked, repeating her name over and over while he pushed his forehead against her shoulder, before practically collapsing on top of her.

Emma brushed the hair off his forehead softly, fingertips ghosting over the back of his neck. Killian lifted his head up and kissed her lazily, moving his mouth slowly over hers and the corners of Emma’s lifted up at the small flip her stomach did at that.

That was normal.

That was him.

She must have drifted off to sleep at some point, because Emma woke with a jolt a few hours later, taking in the scene in front of her. There were clothes scattered across her bedroom floor and a hand wrapped very tightly around her waist.

Emma burrowed against the pillow underneath her and felt the hand move, drifting up her side to rest just below where she still wasn’t wearing any clothes.

That was when she realized that Killian wasn’t asleep either – and probably never had been.

She twisted slightly, glancing over her shoulder and realized he had bags under his eyes, something Emma certainly hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey,” he said softly and Emma rolled her eyes.

“You need to come up with better greetings,” she said, rolling over so she was facing him. He had clothes on. Or at least boxers.

That didn’t seem fair.

“When did you get up?”

“About five minutes after I knew you were asleep.” “Which was?”

Killian reached back behind him and grabbed his phone, tapping on the screen. “Three hours ago.” Emma made some kind of disgruntled noise. “And you’ve been awake that whole time.” “That’s not a question, Swan.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it one.”

He stared at her for a beat. “I wasn’t.” “You want to talk now or you going to attack me again?”

“Attack is a very strong word.” “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.” “All those double negatives, Swan,” he muttered, smirking at her. “You’re going to confused me.” “Please,” Emma sighed. “Like you couldn’t keep up.” “Your faith in me is overwhelming.” He said it quickly, practically brushing her off with a single sentence, but Emma heard it, the cut in his voice and the sharpness of his tone. Her eyes snapped up towards his and, suddenly, she wasn’t tired at all anymore, didn’t care if it was five in the morning.

They were going to talk.

“Why are you here?” Emma asked.

“Not happy to see me?”

She groaned. “Killian, come on, you know that’s not true. But you were supposed to be on a plane back from Baltimore tonight. Not asleep in my bed in New York City.”

“I told you, I was in the neighborhood.” “Yeah, and how did you end up in that neighborhood?”

“To be fair, I did get on a plane. Just not the one I was supposed to.” “And what do the Boston Red Sox have to say about that?” “They don’t care what plane I got on as long as I’m sitting behind a desk before the series opener on Sunday.”

“You never texted me back before,” Emma said, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice.

“I texted Henry back,” he answered. “Figured I’d go straight to the congratulatory source.” “And you didn’t think to let me know you were just going to fly to New York?” “What fun would that be?”

Emma bunched her hand into a small fist and nudged her hand against Killian’s shoulder. “Talk,” she said.

“I wanted to see you.”

“That’s it?” “That’s not enough?” “Sure it is,” Emma objected. “If I get to run away to you, then you can certainly run away to me. It might even be encouraged, but at some point you’ve got to let me know what you’re running away from. I told you.” “It’s not exactly happy,” Killian said slowly and Emma felt goosebumps form on her skin as he trailed his fingers down from her collarbone, palm flattening over the ring sitting on her chest.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear.” “You know what today’s date is?” he asked. “Or yesterday?”

“April 15th.”

“Yuh huh.”

Killian didn’t say anything else, just toyed with the ring, moving it between his fingers and staring at Emma. She widened her eyes in confusion, but he just waited for her to catch up. It felt like falling through ice when she finally did.

He died a month before I graduated .

That’s what Killian told her those months before, sitting on a dock in Storybrooke with his hand wrapped up in Emma’s.

April 15th – a month before he graduated college.

“Killian,” Emma whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. His hand tightened around the ring again and he smiled at her sadly, the effect not quite reaching his eyes.

“I wanted to see you,” he repeated.

Emma surged up quickly, capturing his lips with hers before she could say anything stupidly sentimental. She wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. She was there, would be there, wasn’t afraid of the future she so desperately wanted with him .

She wanted to tell him that she knew, she knew what he had given up for her and that she had finally realized – she would have done the same for him, without a second thought.

She just kissed him instead.

“I love you,” Emma said softly.

Killian pulled her against him, lining up her body perfectly with his, and smiled again. “I love you too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for just showing up. I think I nearly scared Mary Margaret out of her mind when she saw me.” “You were just here?”

He nodded slowly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I wasn’t really thinking straight. I didn’t even bring my bags with me. I think my stuff went with the team to Boston. I was going to go back get on the plane and just, well, go back, but I couldn’t do it. I kept thinking about Liam and how everything he did when he was alive was to make sure I had some kind of good future and I couldn’t go to Boston.

All I wanted was to see you. So I bought a ticket to New York, took a cab from LaGuardia and camped out in front of your apartment. I was fairly determined to see you. Liam would have liked you he,” he said, almost as an afterthought, and Emma slid her hand around the back of his neck, toying with the hair there.

“Yeah?” she choked out.

Killian nodded. “I know it. He would have liked you a lot. I think he’d be happy with this future.” “I am,” Emma said, answering the question he hadn’t really asked. Killian kissed her in response and Emma silently wondered if this was ever going to stop , the way he moved and the things that he said that made her believe so strongly.

She hoped not.

God, she had missed him.

He pulled away far sooner than Emma would have liked – there was no point in not taking advantage of their current state of undress – and she whined in the back of her throat. Killian laughed softly, pushing a stray piece of hair back behind her ear towards the ponytail that had somehow managed to stay in tact.

“You are what, love?” he asked.

“Happy with this future. Or present. Either or.” “Me too.”

“You can fall asleep in my room whenever you want.” “Noted, Swan.” “Just maybe try not to terrify M’s next time.” “That seems fair.”

She kissed him softly and slowly and she could swear she felt it in her toes.

Emma almost told him to come home , to screw the entire Boston Red Sox organization and be with her, but she held back. He hadn’t said anything about the deal with Gold and she knew he wouldn’t, knew he wouldn’t let her think for a moment that his current state of emotional upheaval over how much he hated his job was even remotely her fault.

So she swallowed every single plea she had and pulled herself up slowly, swinging her leg over his side and pushing on his shoulders until he was flat on his back.

The ponytail had finally surrendered and Emma yanked the hair tie out, tossing it on the nightstand next to Killian’s wallet. The chain around her neck dangled underneath her and Emma saw Killian’s eyes fall on it, the ring twisting slightly in the air.

He lifted his eyes back up to hers, hand moving into her hair almost instinctively. “You are so beautiful,” he said softly and Emma’s pulse stuttered for a moment.

She didn’t say anything, practically stunned silent.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore – Killian had taken all of her preconceived relationship expectations and thrown them out the metaphorical window – but she couldn’t quite come to terms with someone wanting her as much as he very obviously did.

Emma believed him and she trusted him and she wanted him, but, somewhere deep down, she was still terrified of him realizing everything he was saying and everything he was promising and walking away.

She did her best to keep breathing and Killian smiled softly at her, almost as if he was reading her mind. He pulled her head down towards his and kissed her again, purposely, torturously slow, like he was trying to prove something.

“I’m going to say something Swan,” he said, muttering in her ear and Emma just hummed in approval. “It’s going to be overwhelmingly romantic, so brace yourself for that.”

She laughed shakily, looking up at him and his absurdly blue and incredibly sincere eyes.

“You’re it, Emma,” he said. His voice didn’t shake. He didn’t look nervous. He just called her ‘Emma’ and looked at her like she was the most important person in the entire world. “You know that, right? I love you. So much I can’t think straight sometimes. And when I thought about going back to Boston today, every single part of my brain told me it wasn’t an option, the only option was to come home. To you. You’re it for me, love.”

That little kid that still, somehow, lived in the deep recesses of Emma’s mind disappeared and, for the first time very long time – ever , her mind pointed out quickly – she didn’t worry about him leaving or walking away or even being in Boston.

She would get him to come home eventually, but right then she was going to prove him right. She was going to be it , because he was exactly the same thing for her.

“I’m glad you came home,” Emma said softly, letting the word home hang there for a moment.

“To you.” She nodded. “To me.” And then she kissed him – again – and trailed her hand down his leg until she worked a very particular sound of him. “Aren’t you tired?” she asked, grinning slightly at the affronted face he made.

“No,” Killian answered quickly. “Decidedly not.”

“What did you say you were doing before? Savoring?” Killian nodded. “Maybe we could work on that point a bit more. I can be kind of impatient you know.”

He let out a laugh – and Emma appreciated that it was just a bit shaky – before nodding again. “I think I’d like that,” he mumbled, pulling her back on top of him and taking his time.

He ended up staying the weekend.

He called the team on Saturday afternoon, pulling out the I’m sick card, even adding a slightly scratchy voice for good measure and Emma laughed audibly in the background.

“Swan,” Killian said, glaring at her as he hung up the phone. “You can’t be that loud. They could have heard you.” “I’m fairly certain they know you’re not sick.” “It’s all about appearances, love.” “Of course,” Emma said, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a sweater out of her closet. “You going to be ok by yourself?”

She had another game that night and while she couldn’t simply pretend to be sick, she did feel bad about leaving Killian alone.

“We’ve talked about this, Swan,” he said evenly, leaning against the wall behind her bed like he belonged there. “I’m not going to be by myself. David and I are taking Henry hitting.” “He’s going to be so psyched to see you.”

Killian shook his head quickly. “I’m excited to see him. I want to see the acceptance letter in person.” “Were you ever going to tell me that you and David helped him?” He shrugged. “Probably. We were just kind of occupied with other things in December.”

Emma made a face and turned away, leaning into her closet to find her shoes. The buzzer sounded from downstairs and Emma stood up quickly, ready to move towards the living room when she heard Mary Margaret yell I got it .

The door squeaked when it opened and Emma heard a new set of feet in the living room. Killian jumped off her bed, squeezing his hand around Emma’s waist when he walked by and earning a glare in the process.

He just smirked at her.

Emma followed behind him, holding her heels in her hand as she walked into the living room. Her bag was still leaning against the couch where she had left it the night before and David and Henry were already sitting down, talking about the ACC’s baseball prospects for the next season.

“They just jumped into this conversation immediately,” Mary Margaret said quietly, smiling slightly as Henry all but leapt off the couch when he saw Killian. His own smile was wide and Killian only looked slightly overwhelmed at the reception.

“I told him Henry would be psyched,” Emma muttered to Mary Margaret.

“Did he disagree?” “I think he’s worried Henry was mad about him leaving.” “Henry understood.” “All things I told Killian,” Emma said softly. His head moved up to glance at her when he heard his name and he just smirked even more.

“I’ve got to go,” Emma announced to no one in particular, grabbing her bag off the floor and hoping her laptop hadn’t totally died.

“We still good for later?” David asked, glancing away from his phone where Emma noticed he had pulled up UVA’s baseball schedule.

“If this game doesn’t last 18 years then, yeah. I’ll just meet you at the bar.” “Bar?” Henry asked, perking up immediately. “Can I come?” “Absolutely not,” Killian answered before Emma or Mary Margaret could even open their mouths.

Henry’s shoulders sagged noticeably. “Hit a bunch of home runs, kid,” Emma said, smiling at him.

“It’s a batting cage, Emma. I literally hit the ball against the wall.” “Metaphorical home runs then.” Henry rolled his eyes as Emma walked to the front of the couch and leaned over, brushing her lips across Killian’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.” “Go, love,” he said. “We’ve got a batting cage reservation to make.”

Emma nodded once, hitching the strap up her bag up a bit higher and fighting off the rush of emotion she felt at how comfortable all of this was. Mary Margaret tugged on the back of Emma’s sweater lightly, pulling her towards the door and it was only after her friend all but threw her out that she walked into the stairwell, pulling her credential out and heading towards the Subway.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs au #ypblag #two more chapters and an epilogue #can you even believe #also #have some more emotions internet

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originaldetectivesheep · 7 years

Text

A Life of Riley Part 2: The Building That Had A Grudge Against Furniture Or Something ch 1

may want to go read part 1 first

"I'm sorry, miss," one of the overgrown Cub Scouts said to me as I tried to walk past him, away from the shelter at the bus stop towards the quad, "but we're going to need to check your bag."

I stopped and squinted at him, him and his equally corn-fed buddy in blue military shirts that had probably been bought in bulk and passed out at random to whoever fit them the closest, stupid red braid wound around their armpits like half-assed Japanese rope bondage. "Excuse you?" I said. "Check my bag? For what? Why? Who died and made you the TSA?"

The kid took a half step back, eyes open in shock like he wasn't used to being challenged. "I – I'm sorry, miss, but it's the rules." He pointed to a giant red poster on the side of the bus shelter: Grinckle Elimination Front Certified Grinckle-Free Area – Mandatory Checkpoint. "They certified Engineering Campus grinckle-free last night, so we need to check everyone who comes in. To make sure people aren't bringing fish across the perimeter." I looked over the poster, looked over the frosh Chuckle Brothers playing cop; they were being serious. For real, they were taking this seriously. Screw it.

"I tell you what," I said, undoing the clasp on my handbag, juggling it a little to make sure that the brass knuckles in it ended up underneath my pocketbook or spare sanitary supplies that these babies would be too scared of cooties to touch, "I'll come back tomorrow, and if you find even one fish in someone's backpack getting smuggled in here, I will eat it in front of you raw. This is the stupidest thing ever, or at least since this whole stupid friggin grinckle invasion started in the first place. God. Look, there it is; look, no fish. Can I go now?"

"Just – just one second," the other one said, bumping at the bottom of my bag with the back of his hand. "We have to check and make sure there isn't any fish in a false bottom. That's clear – but – Sid, we also got to check –" He cupped his hands in front of his own overfilled chest.

"Yeah," the first one said, trying not to snort. "It's possible; we got to be sure. That you aren't – you aren't carrying any fish under your shirt."

I saw red, and gritted my teeth. "The shit you hurfdurfs are going to feel me up looking for your imaginary fish. This, do you know what this is?" I hauled my lab pass out of the side pocket on my bag, brandishing it in their faces. "Read it, turdball: this is an Applied Physics lab door card. You know what the AP lab is, right? You know what this means, right? This means that I can go in that lab, even when Riley isn't there, and use the lab materials however the hell I want. Let that sink in a little. And when you're done thinking about that, think a little bit about Riley, about how Riley would react if it got around that some jumped-up crossing guards thought it was okay to grope lab members – think a little bit about what I could do to you with the AP lab materials, and how likely it would be that anyone would ever find your bodies." The wannabe fish gestapo had backed up away from my door card, nearly all the way to the hedge at the side of the path, and they were sweating like they were about to piss themselves in another second or two. "Are we clear? Are we good? Am I good to go?" The one who'd first suggested molesting me grabbed the other dude in a panicked bearhug, whimpering, and I figured that as as intelligible a reply as I was going to get from these idiots.

"All right," I said, stowing my card again. "I'll take that as a yes, and as long as you're actually getting rid of those fish you can do whatever. But if I hear one thing, if I get one DM about you jerkoffs or any other shitass pretend grinckle cops harassing people like this, I'm gonna come back down here, and there's not going to be enough of you left to bait a hook with. Do you get me, assholes?" The assholes got me, nodding frantically, wide-eyed, as I walked away, completely ignoring the other students and their backpacks getting off the bus and walking the other way around them towards Dittmarsch Hall. Some security checkpoint. Great job there by the pervert brigade.

As a way to ruin your entire morning, an attempted sexual assault by the shitbird wannabe fish police is just A-1 fantastic, and I stayed in a bad mood all the way over to the physics building, and then all the way up the stairs to the lab. I clicked my badge to the sensor by the door, and the EMO drop bars fell with a clunk, without even asking if someone was working on high-voltage stuff inside; I just wanted to get in, get in to my workspace, and get back to myself before this day got any worse. Nobody yelled or cussed like they'd gotten hit with a power cut, so that was good, and as soon as I came through the door, Carolína was standing up, leaning around a bookshelf full of greasy cylinders looking for me. "Sajitha!" she said, "are you okay? Are you all right?"

I picked my way past the wet-vac that someone had left in the middle of the floor and sat down at my workspace, stacking the sample parts on the tabletop out of the way and pulling the keyboard down from the hooks glued to the top of the monitor, switching the screen on. "Barely. I didn't get molested by the grinckle police, and I didn't have to punch either of them into the hospital either. Things could be worse. Did they go after you too? Check your bag, offer to squeeze and make sure you didn't have any fish strapped to your tits?"

Carolína shook her head, ducking to and fro as she tried to work around to my side of the work table to offer moral support. "No – no, they didn't; that's awful – I feel so bad for you – did you call security?"

"If I called security, they'd squeal about how I threatened to murder them if I found out they were harassing anyone else; lumpy freshmen threatening sexual assault gets laughed off as boys being boys, AP lab member telling someone they'll be ground up for fish food if they don't cut their shit turns into handcuffs and a terroristic-threats or conspiracy-to-commit-murder charge. They take us seriously. And you can't call the cops on the cops, even junior dress-up cops like this. How'd you dodge them? Do you have a secret way up here? I just came up on the bus like normal." Carolína had wrapped herself all around my back, chin resting on my shoulder. It wasn't helping me a whole ton, but if it helped her feel better, it was okay.

"No," she said, "no, I just came up that way too. I had my backpack, but they didn't stop me. I barely noticed them – I'm pretty sure they were there, but I was on the phone with my mom and I wasn't paying attention. Maybe that's it, like they don' pay attention to people who go by speaking Spanish."

"Either that, or it was just a clipping plane thing and they didn't see you down there," Leo said from somewhere up near the ceiling. I turned around, following Carolína's arm as she gave him the finger, and saw Leo hanging off a rickety shelf by one hand, knee braced on some kind of superstructure that he was nudging a heavy-looking bushing into.

"Leo!" I said, surprised, "what the heck? How are you up here already? And what are you doing? Do you really want to be jacking bushings around that high up without a harness?"

"If he wants to keep having a place to lay his head when he can't find some thirst monster to hook up with, he'll get that upper blister assembly fixed up by tonight, harness or no harness," Riley said, invisible behind a towering stack of binder specs at the back of the room. "This is a physics lab, not a Salvation Army hostel; you want to stay here, you have to work here."

"Wait," I said. "Leo, you still haven't found a new place to live? You're still sleeping on the floor in here? How do you even live? And isn't it crowded with you and Yuping?"

"Hey, don't put Yuping in the same boat with me," Leo said, reaching back over onto the shelf for a wrench. "He doesn't live here – he just gets stuck sleeping on the floor sometimes when he's on deadline. On days when he doesn't, like today, he's back with Simon in, no lie, the perfectest twee-est one-bedroom bungalow apartment you could possibly think of. The place looks like a staged fake off some interior design magazine's Instagram. Ex this lab, Yuping's life is a goddamn model of domestic bliss, and we ought to respect that more."

"Oh-kay," I said, accepting Leo's domesticity thirst if he was still sleeping on cardboard, "that's fine, I'll send him and Simon a nice fruit basket on their anniversary or their move-in anniversary or whatever. But jeez, Leo, how the hell do you not have a new apartment yet?"

"I can't afford a new apartment," Leo answered, wrench gritted in his teeth as he worked on something with a pair of pliers. "It's kind of the middle of the semester and nobody's failed out yet or quit, so everywhere that's remotely affordable is locked down solid until next summer. There's a handful of places that aren't like student apartments specifically that have some vacancies, but the rent on all of them is so high it makes blood shoot out my eye sockets even thinking about it. I've been on Craigslist looking at roommate-wanted posts, but anyone who'd be accepting a single white dude, I'm following up with them and all of them are like in horrible trouble where they have like drug dudes leaning over their shoulder, or the house is full of mold – and there's not one of them that I'd trust to be out about being in with the AP lab with. If it wasn't just me, I'd look a lot less like a sketchy rando, and then maybe some of the other places might be more affordable, but it is just me, and it is what it is." He laid the pliers down and went back to the wrench.

Next to me, Carolína nodded hard, understanding. "Yeah – I get it. I want a little bit to move out, too: after Melanie, you remember, Remy's ex, moved out, it's just me and Kenji at the house and the rent is a little too much with just two of us – but you don' wanna move out on your own, because you don' know who these people who put up the roommate ads really are. It'd be different if I knew them, if it wasn't just me looking, but everyone I know, they're all settled, so…" She shrugged, leaning back against my workbench.

"You hear that?" I asked up at Leo. "Why don't you move in with Carolína? She's looking for someone else to split the rent, and you've got to be able to afford what she's paying, and you know she's a normal person."

"At Ham House?" Leo asked, like I was putting him on, and Carolína made a face. "No thanks; Carolína is chill and I could afford it, but I think Kenji has beef with me, and then there's that smell that hasn't completely gotten out of that place yet. Thanks, but no thanks; if that's option B, I'mma stick sleeping under the drill press."

"Hey, screw you!" Carolína yelled, giving him the finger again. "I don' like the smell neither, but it's not so bad, and I got my name on the lease – I don' got to hear a homeless guy tell me my apartment's not fit to live in!" Leo shot her a double-bird back, and wobbled like he was going to fall off the shelf, or have it completely collapse under him.

"Guys – guys –" I said, trying to calm things down before people started throwing wrenches at each other and someone got really hurt, "cool it – cool it. You're both in tough spots – it's not worth fighting about this crap for no reason." I was thinking – thinking about my nice one-room single in a shared condo that meant I never had to have any of these problems. It was nice and all, but it didn't feel like college – nothing felt like that so much as long nights in here, working with friends, arguing with friends, eating takeout with friends and fighting about who was holding out on the tip with friends. If I got a little out of my shell, and the three of us found a place together, we could have something like that more of the time (and maybe with less chance of Riley dragging us into other people's weird problems), and I could use my own privilege to help out friends who didn't have it, whether it was Leo who was actually homeless or Carolína who was just going broke living in a house that still smelled like the glop at the bottom of a pack of raw bacon. And I could sublet or Airbnb my single and keep it as a fallback – and if I did that, maybe we could afford to do our college communal living somewhere that wasn't a grubby college communal apartment.

"Hear me out – just hear me out a second," I said, still not quite sure of how to set this up so it wouldn't sound like I was patronizing Leo and Carolína, doing them a favor by going in with them. "What if we all make some time this weekend, all go out apartment hunting together? We don't have to all go in together, don't have to all get on the same lease, but maybe there's places that we could get into together that you guys couldn't get into separately – maybe we won't find anything and you'll be stuck the same way you are now, but maybe we will find something and it'll work out. How about it? It'll make a good break from school and work, and it'll be something to do that doesn't have anything to do with those stupid grinckles." I looked around, Carolína to Leo and back and forth again, looking for approval; maybe not yet, but at least they weren't jumping down my throat about it.

"This weekend? Apartment hunting together? Word, count me in – and if there's four of us, two chicks and two dudes, that's perfect for a good quad, right? I'll start up a group chat – Leo, send me over those listings you thought you didn't have a chance at, I'll send them around." I looked down at my feet, where Remy had suddenly rolled out from under something, like a landing gear assembly or something else that made all the sense in the world, and my heart fell right down into my shoes. I should have checked; this was the AP lab, and you never knew who was hiding under a pile of machine parts waiting for an invitation that shouldn't have been extended. No way I was going to move in with Remy – not and end up Netflixing every night on the same couch with him because he thought if he did that, the 'chill' part would go and happen by itself.

"Yeah, that'd be good," Leo said, tossing his tools over towards a bucket on the top shelf. "I'll be down for that; I'm free all day Saturday and most of Sunday as long as I can get the spare microwave emitter in here working in the next couple days. Loop me in on the chat, I'll send those listings over as soon as I get down from here."

"Yes, agreed," Carolína said. "It'll be better with more people, the four of us coming as a unit – people won't worry about a new roommate up in their room if we go as a quad, where we'll have all our own relationships just with us." She looked at me with a total poker face – they were doing this on purpose, they were absolutely doing this on purpose.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, fine. But Remy, why are you in this boat? Don't you have a dorm room or something, or a room in someone's house? I was pretty sure that I thought you were rooming with Derek and Howie from your team, weren't you?"

Remy smiled a goofy grin and put a hand to his forehead, rolling a little back and forth on the mechanic's tray. "I – uh – there's kind of a thing with that. I was real busy at the end of last semester, finishing up my big project for orgo, and I thought that I'd gotten in, but I guess it slipped my mind. I was supposed to be in a dorm this year, but I forgot to enter the housing lottery so yeah, while I've been kinda living with Howie and Derek, I've kinda just been sleeping on their couch and keeping my laptop and my spare clothes in this box in their TV room."

"Forgot. You forgot to have someplace to live this year." I facepalmed like I was going to tear my brain out with my fingers, and he waved his hands, starting up again to try and look a little less stupid.

"But it's gonna work out! It's gonna work out, I promise – I been saving up because they haven't been looking for more than like beer money to use their couch, and a couple bucks for the washing machine, so I'm flush now, yo! I'll take care of the security deposit on any place we want to go in on – I can handle it, trust me."

"Fine," I said, through the heel of my hand. "Fine. Whatever. It's okay. Everything's cool. No problems. Saturday then, right? Cool, whatever; just give me some space now so I can get ahead on my work and make sure we're ready to go out." I rolled my eyes and slumped back down for my chair and my workstation; out the corner of my eye, I was pretty sure that I saw Leo and Carolína giving each other a thumbs-up. This was going to turn out great, just great – but at least it couldn't be any weirder and dumber than that thing with the fish.

Chapter 2

#nanowrimo #alifeofriley #fiction #moar callbacks

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