#they hauled that outside and filled it with blue shit to indicate boy

[bylersecretsanta2023]

from @thatonebylershipper, to @cowboylikewren

Studying with Will Byers is one of Mike Wheeler’s most favorite pastimes. Will is always being adorable, making little quips about how much he hates his assignment or what should they do when they’re done doing homework or “Miiiiiiiike, are you almost doooooone?” because he wants someone to pay attention to him. He’s very cute-- not that Mike would ever say that to him, however, because that would be weird because they’re not dating or anything.

“Oh my god it’s snowing!” Will exclaims from somewhere above Mike. The latter turns and catches a glimpse of soft white flakes falling to the ground outside their dorm’s window. They’ve been awaiting snow for weeks; it’s been a very foggy, dreary winter up until now.

“MikeMikeMikeMikeMike can we go outside?” Will says excitedly.

“I don’t know, can we?” Mike says with a shit-eating grin because he is the World’s Most Annoying English Major To Exist Ever. Will rolls his eyes, used to Mike’s antics by now.

“Yes we can. May we go outside?”

“Absolutely.” Mike hauls himself to his feet and extends a hand to Will to help him off the bed. No one needs to know that Mike feels electricity jolt through his veins whenever he touches Will.

Will, as usual, does not put on enough layers, ready to go after only putting on a navy blue hoodie that looks suspiciously like Mike’s. Mike decides to let it go for once.

Upon stepping into the cold, Will runs out to the open stretch of pavement, arms stretched wide and tongue out to catch snowflakes in his mouth. Mike feels a warm blush creeping its way up his neck, reaching his cheeks in no time. He’s sure he looks like an idiot, smiling so hard his cheeks are aching, fondness for his best friend dripping from him like the honey that Will puts in his tea.

Mike feels like he might die, filled with so much endearment for his boy, when Will spins around and looks back at Mike, eyes bright and tufts of hair poking out messily from under his beanie like it always is. Mike wants to brush it out of his face.

“Come on!” Will calls. Mike laughs and takes off running to catch up with his best friend, who starts running as well and then it turns into a game of chase, Mike racing after Will. One of them is going to slip on the icy ground and eat shit.

Mike has the advantage of having freakishly long legs and is right on Will’s heels in no time. Will looks over his shoulder and yelps in surprise, not noticing a crooked brick in the sidewalk. His toe catches it and he stumbles, heading straight for the ground. Mike doesn’t think about his actions when he reaches out to grab Will’s bicep, spinning him around, and, not having the strength to counter their momentum, gets pulled right down on top of Will. Thankfully, he catches himself so he doesn’t completely crush Will, but now his arms are bracketing Will’s head.

Mike feels his breath catch. They both go quiet and stare at each other for a moment. It’s no one’s business but Mike’s if he glances at his best friend’s pretty pink lips, which are parted slightly in surprise.

“Heh, sorry,” Mike says breathlessly, shattering the moment (not that it was a moment, moments are for couples and they are not a couple) and rolling off of Will as quickly as he can. Surely his face is nearly crimson by now. God, how embarrassing.

“Um. It’s okay,” Will replies, also slightly out of breath. It’s probably from running. Will helps Mike to his feet and they continue with their walk like nothing happened.

Small things like this are always happening; moments of tension where Mike thinks they might be about to kiss. But then they never do and Will seemingly forgets about it immediately. But it’s fine because Will does not like him like that.

💛💙

The snow has melted by morning, something that Will is quite upset about, the disappointment on his face a clear indicator.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mike reassures him. “I’m sure it’ll snow again soon.”

Will nods, letting out a very dramatic sigh and flopping back onto his pillows, staring disdainfully at the ceiling for a moment before whipping out his phone to continue scrolling on whatever. Mike huffs out a laugh. Will is way over dramatic sometimes and it never fails to endear Mike and make him laugh.

They stay like that, in their own little bubbles for a while. Eventually, Will speaks up. “My head hurts,” and he sounds a bit congested when he says it. “Can you get me some ibuprofen?”

Mike never lets this opportunity go. Without missing a single beat, he responds  “I don’t know, can I?”

Will rolls his eyes, a tired smile stretching across his lips all the while. “Will you get me some ibuprofen?”

“Of course. Yeah you don’t sound so good.” Mike gets the thermometer as well because usually when Will is sick, it always comes with a fever, unfortunately. Will takes the pills in one hand, the glass of water in the other, and leans forward so Mike can take his temperature. Mike sucks in air through his teeth. “101. Yeah, you’re staying home for a bit, sorry.”

Will throws back the pills, grumbling all the while. “What am I supposed to doooo? I have to do that painting of my family and--”

“Stop,” Mike interrupts. Will falls quiet, scowling at nothing in particular. “You’re going to rest and you can do all that stuff that you’re thinking about when you’re better. Also I know that you’re sneaky so I am also going to stay here with you to make sure you don’t try to go to class.”

“What? No! Then you’ll miss your classes,” Will tries.

“It’s almost winter break, we’re not doing much. Plus my professor posts the notes on his website. It’s not that big a deal for me to stay here.”

“But--” Mike raises his eyebrows and folds his arms like the stubborn bitch he is. “Fine,” Will mumbles, seemingly trying to sink into his mattress.

“Thank you,” Mike says, probably sounding a lot more smug than he means to, taking Will’s glass back from him to put on his side table next to Mike’s own water glass.

That night, Mike goes out to get soup and cold medicine for Will, whose fever somehow went up throughout the day and who now looks significantly more weary, sweaty bangs and pink cheeks that Mike hadn’t noticed initially. They didn’t have the right stuff at their dorm so Mike had to go get the medicine that would work the fastest since Will really hates being sick.

“Thank you,” Will mumbles when Mike gets home and shows him his options. “You didn’t have to get more than one kind.”

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I know you like having options.”

Will murmurs another “thank you” under his breath, picking the honey flavored nighttime medicine. He finds out very quickly that it does not taste great at all. It makes him drowsy almost instantly, however, so Mike counts it as a win.

“G’night, Mike,” Will says sleepily, once the lights are off. Mike feels himself smile, a warm feeling flooding his stomach.

“Goodnight, Will,” he replies softly into the darkness. Mike goes to sleep warm inside and without a care in the world, because across the room from him is the boy he loves.

💛💙

Mike is distracted from writing when his best friend lets out the most drawn-out, pathetic, congested groan he’s ever heard. He laughs, spinning in his chair to face Will. “What’s wrong?”

“Everythinggggg,” Will grumbles, burrowing deeper into his blankets. “Can you get me another tissue please?”

And because Mike is a bitch, he replies, with a stupid grin on his face, “I don’t know, can I?”

Will’s answering glare burns right through him but he laughs and stands up to get Will a tissue anyway. As Will blows his nose (dramatically loudly, in Mike’s opinion), Mike pushes his damp hair off his forehead to feel for a fever. “I don’t think you’re any warmer but you’re definitely not any cooler, sorry dude.”

“Don’t dude me,” Will says, still frowning. He’s always so grumpy when he’s sick, which yeah, checks out, but Mike thinks it’s adorable.

“Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Will pulls his blankets over his face. Mike laughs again, catching a glimpse of the window, on the outside of which snow is falling through the velvety black of the winter night sky.

“Ooo, it’s snowing again,” he tells Will. “I told you it would.” Will throws his blankets off and then seems to immediately regret it, shivering and pulling them back on top of him.

“You’re not going to let me go outside to take pictures, are you?” Will says flatly, sounding like he has no hope at all that Mike will let him, even though he’s asking anyway.

“Yeah, no,” Will glares again. “But,” Mike adds, “I could go take some for you.”

Will lights up. “Wait really?” Mike nods. “Oh that would be so great! You’re the best.”

“Of course,” Mike would do anything for Will, especially when it makes him smile like that, but Will doesn’t need to know that. Plus Will loves taking pictures of snow and since he’s bed-ridden with the flu, the least Mike can do is take some pictures for him.

In his haste to leave, Mike somehow forgets socks, shoes, and any sort of jacket or coat, so he’s hit all over with freezing air, goosebumps immediately rising on his arms. The snowy pavement is already numbing his feet as he makes his way to the streetlamp that Will always takes pictures of when it snows. It takes a couple minutes to find a good angle. Mike wants the pictures to be perfect for his best friend.

“Oh you idiot,” Will says when Mike finally returns, shivering. Mike raises his eyebrows. “You didn’t wear your fucking shoes or your fucking coat and now you probably have fucking frostbite because you’re an idiot what were you thinking?”

“I… forgot?” The word lilts up at the end like a question as though that could spare Mike from Will’s wrath. Will cocks a brow. He’s definitely not convinced. “Okay, okay, okay I’m sorry. I don’t have frostbite though.”

“Just--” Will cuts off, biting his bottom lip and seemingly considering something. “Come here.”

Mike freezes. “What?”

“Come here,” and to further express his words, he pulls the blankets back just enough for another person -- Mike -- to get in with him. Mike blinks. “You’re obviously cold and I’m way too warm. It just makes sense.”

Well Mike guesses he can’t argue with that. Plus, you know, cuddling with Will. True to his word, Will is way too warm and getting under the blankets where all his body heat has been trapped for hours, feels like a furnace. “Jesus christ, Will, are we sure your fever hasn’t gone up?” He presses a hand to Will’s pink cheek and Will flinches away.

“Jesus-- Are we sure you don’t have frostbite? Your hands are really cold.”

“I’m fine,” Mike feels like he’s being awkward, perched on the edge of the bed -- Will’s bed -- but he thinks if he gets any closer the butterflies that are erupting inside is abdomen right now might rise up to his chest and then he might start screaming, which is definitely not a preferable outcome to this situation.

“Get comfortable, you weirdo,” Will laughs, smirking at Mike. Mike must look like he has no idea what is happening because Will rolls his eyes and pulls Mike closer to him, throwing the blankets over them both. Okay so now they’re like, cuddling. That’s cool. (It’s not. Mike is going to die.) “There’s no need to be so stiff,” Will remarks, still smirking that stupid smug little smirk. “I promise I don't bite.”

Mike rolls his eyes, trying to force himself to think coherent thoughts, a task that is becoming increasingly more difficult, due to the breath-taking proximity of Will Byers. In retaliation for unintentionally making Mike so flustered, Mike sticks his numb feet under Will’s bare calves. “Mike!” he squeaks, pulling his knees up. He pokes Mike’s shoulder. “You’re an idiot, how did you forget socks and shoes? You had literally just said that it was snowing and then you went outside in sweats and a t-shirt with no shoes. Dork,” he adds, poking Mike again.

“I don’t know, I am capable of many things,” Mike says, trying to touch Will with his cold feet again. “And it’s your own fault for wearing shorts.”

“Freak,” Will says, grinning all the while. “Can I see the pictures?”

“Oh yeah!” Mike leans to the side to take his phone out of his pocket. Will already knows his password, so he’s not self-conscious when he types it out to unlock the screen. 

“Oh wow,” Will breathes. “Those are beautiful, Mike.”

“I did my best,” Mike says proudly, swiping through the multiple pictures he took of the streetlamp, icy flakes swirling around in the yellow light.

“You did a great job, thank you so much,” Will manages before breaking off into a coughing fit. He pitches forward with the force of it and Mike winces out of sympathy, rubbing Will’s back.

“Yeah, let's get some medicine in you and then you need to sleep,” Mike says, sliding out of Will’s bed when the coughing stops. He misses the warmth immediately, feeling extra cold in the places where he and Will were pressed together.

“Fine,” Will grumbles, but it sounds more like “find”.

“Do you want the honey flavored one or the blue one,” Mike asks, digging through the basket on his desk; he’s just been leaving it out since Will needs different medicine for night and day and he likes having the choice to pick which flavor he wants, even though all of it is gross.

“Um… blue,” Will says miserably, sniffling. He sits up when Mike brings it to him and chokes it down with a grimace, poking his tongue out in disgust. He accepts the glass of water Mike holds out to him with a grateful smile.

Mike goes to get in his own bed but halts when Will speaks. “Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you…” he hesitates. Mike turns around to look at him.

“Can I what?” he says softly.

“Can you stay with me?”

Mike holds in his stupid joke this one time. His crossed arms fall to his sides and he lets a warm smile cross his face. “I’m not going anywhere, ya goob.”

Will’s feverishly pink cheeks seem to get a shade darker as he looks down at his fidgeting hands and says, “Yeah but… over here.” He pats the spot on the bed where Mike had been just minutes ago. Mike blinks.

“Uh-- sure, yeah,” Smooth, Wheeler, he thinks, cringing internally. Will smiles and scoots over to make room for Mike, not noticing (or maybe he did notice and he’s just being nice to Mike) Mike’s awkwardness. Will grabs Mike again and pulls him close enough that Mike’s right arm is squished and he doesn’t know what to do about it. “Um, Will, my arm is a little… stuck.”

“Oh, sorry,” Will moves a little bit and Mike pulls his arm out but now it’s just hovering above them and he doesn’t know where to put it. Will laughs. “Mike, just-- there.” And Will wraps Mike’s arm around himself and snuggles even closer into Mike’s side. Yeah okay so Mike is like, properly dying now. “Is that okay?” Will asks, looking up at Mike with tired eyes.

“Yeah,” Mike breathes, still sounding calmer than he feels even while out of breath.Will seems satisfied, though, leaning back into Mike. After a few minutes Mike can tell the medicine is kicking in because Will’s head keeps leaning forward or backward slightly before he jerks back awake.

“Here,” Mike murmurs, guiding Will’s head to rest on his shoulder. Will tenses for a moment before completely melting into the touch.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

“Of course,” Mike whispers back. It takes everything in him to not press a kiss to Will’s fevery forehead. Will is asleep in only minutes, Mike not far behind him, resting his cheek on Will’s head. Mike doesn’t stop smiling, even after sleep takes him under its spell.

💛💙

Mike stumbles through the door with a frustrated huff. He had a very long day and almost nothing went right. First he missed his alarm, which made him late for work, then he had to deal with some of the rudest customers he’s ever dealt with while on a shift with a coworker that hates him, then he dropped a tray of dishes and had to stay an extra 34 minutes after his shift to clean it up. To make matters worse, he now has a cut stretching across the palm of his hand from a shard of glass he wasn’t careful enough with. After that, he got stuck in traffic, the elevator was broken so he had to walk up three flights of stairs, and it took him about five tries to get the door open because he kept dropping his keys.

“You’re late,” Will says without looking up from his book. Mike grunts in lieu of a reply, shuffling around trying to untie his shoes. Will looks up. “You alright over there?” he questions, smiling like he thinks Mike is funny, but eyebrows pinched in concern.

Mike drops his messenger bag unceremoniously under their coat hooks and struggles to pull his coat off before letting out a big sigh and running his hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip. “Yeah,” he replies breathily, gesturing with the hand he had in his hair. “Long day.”

“Do you need anything?” Will’s voice comes out a little nasally and hoarse. Despite not feeling all the way better, he insisted on going to class today. His fever is gone so Mike didn’t see the harm in letting him, although he did threaten to make Will stay home again if he seems to be getting worse.

“Dunno,” Mike almost trips on nothing, stumbling as he goes to flop pitifully onto his bed, shoving his face into his blankets. He’s too tired to bother trying to enunciate his words and he has a headache throbbing at the base of his skull anyway so too much effort would be detrimental to him.

Without speaking, Will gets off his bed. Mike closes his eyes, basking in the comfortable silence. Will taps Mike’s shoulder, holding out a glass of water for Mike.

“Thanks,” Mike nearly whispers, sitting up slowly to take it from Will.

“Headache?”

“How’d you know,” Mike mumbles, but he knows it’s just because Will knows him. Will already has two ibuprofen pills in his other hand like he was expecting Mike’s answer. He probably was. God, Mike is so in love with this boy.

“Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” Will says softly, brushing a lock of hair out of Mike’s face with his gentle artist hands. Mike leans into the touch before Will can pull away, humming quietly.

“Can you um,” Mike leans around Will to place the water glass on his side table. “Can you stay over here with me?” he finishes, mirroring their conversation from a couple nights before.

“I don’t know, can I?” Mike snaps his eyes up to look at his best friend, who has an impish grin on his face.

“Oh shut up,” Mike groans, smiling all the same. Will laughs, clambering onto Mike’s bed to sit across from him, criss-crossing his legs. Mike takes a moment to stare at him. He has an easy smile resting on his lips and it reaches his eyes when he meets Mike’s gaze.

Neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other, smiling like idiots and subconsciously leaning forward. Mike becomes aware of their proximity and wonders when their faces got so close. He feels his eyes widen and his breath hitch. Will seems to do the same.

Mike hopes and hopes that maybe, just maybe, Will is thinking the same thing he is right now: Are we about to kiss? Again? Mike doesn’t lean away, just in case. Will doesn’t lean away either.

“Mike,” Will whispers, so quietly Mike probably wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t been staring at Will’s lips.

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Mike tears his eyes away from Will’s nervously bitten-red lips, looking into the hazel of his eyes instead. A half of a thought forms in his brain and, like a stupid idiot, before he can think it all the way through he says, “I don’t know, can you?”

Will flushes, frowning, letting out an annoyed huff of breath, and leaning away from Mike. “Are you fucking kidding me you’re gonna make that stupid joke right now you are unbe--” Mike grabs the front of Will’s shirt and tugs Will toward him, so their lips collide, grinning the whole time.

Mike’s breath catches again, even though he literally initiated the kiss. Will’s lips are slightly chapped, but they’re warm and Mike has honestly never felt more at home. One of Will’s hands quickly finds its way to Mike’s hair, getting tangled instantly at his nape while the other gently takes Mike’s bandaged one to hold. Mike groans into Will’s mouth, something he probably should be embarrassed about but can’t bring himself to care because Will Byers is kissing him on the mouth.

Will pulls away, smirking when Mike nearly falls forward, chasing the kiss he has so desperately wanted for years. “What did you do?” Will asks, his voice slightly more hoarse than before, holding up Mike’s awkwardly bandaged hand.

“I told you, long day. Now come back,” he replies quickly, wanting to be kissing Will again as soon as possible. Will puts his other hand on Mike’s chest keeping him a good eight inches or so away from him, which is eight inches or so too far in Mike’s opinion. He lets out a childishly squeaky noise, verging on sounding distressed. “Whaaat,” he groans.

“Tell me what happened,” Will says like a mean, mean, mean person who wants Mike to suffer. (He doesn’t. He does, however, look very smug that he has this effect on Mike.)

“I dropped a bunch of dishes at the end of my shift and wasn’t careful enough when I was picking up the pieces okay, good? Good. Let me kiss you.”

Will laughs and Mike wants to put the melodic sound in a bottle and keep it forever. “So needy,” Will teases.

“Sure, yeah, whatever, come here.” And with that, Will removes his hand keeping Mike at bay and they go crashing into each other, kissing harder and more heated than before.

But they’re not close enough so Mike does what any reasonable guy would do and pulls Will into his lap, the latter following eagerly, shifting to straddle Mike while cupping his face.

“I love you,” Mike murmurs into the kiss, though it comes out sounding more like “I luff you” because Will has Mike’s lower lip trapped in his teeth. Will lets go and pulls back to look at Mike. Shit, was that too soon? “I mean-- shit. Um. I’m so sorry I probably shouldn’t’ve said that I--” Mike is cut off by Will pressing his finger against his lips in a “sh” gesture. Will’s eyes are wide but Mike can’t yet tell with what emotion.

“I love you too, Mike,” Will whispers, maintaining eye contact. Relief floods through Mike. Thank god he didn’t screw up. He grins.

“Cool,” Mike says.

“Cool,” Will has a soft smile on his face and leans in again. Mike eagerly meets him in the middle. It’s safe to say that today is no longer Mike Wheeler’s worst day.

[newlyy]

i saw a gender reveal on tiktok with a girl who looked very young and all the comments were like omg i thought you were 15 and she was responding like “guys im 24 😑” like ok, frankly still too young to give up your life but sure

[elisaphoenix13]

Attack Of The...Fruit?

Stephen scrutinizes the apples in front of him while Valerie grabs the edge of the stand to peek at the abundance of fruit and vegetables while simultaneously sticking close to his leg. She was always easy to shop with since he didn't have to worry about her wandering off, and he loved seeing the curiosity fill her big blue eyes. Sometimes she helped pick out the produce, and other times she was content to just watch her mother do it himself. The rest of the kids, including Cassie, were wandering around the rest of the store to help grab what was on the list or to make a sad attempt at putting their choice junk food in the cart with their haul.

"...Mom?" William says softly from the other side of the stand.

"Hmm?" Stephen acknowledges as he grabs a couple of decent apples.

"Can we get more strawberries?" The teen asks carefully.

The fact that William was even asking for something made Stephen happy. It was a big step from what the twins were like when they first moved in, and Stephen and Tony had to take baby steps with them. They were a little forceful about things the twins needed, but things they wanted? They started taking Harley and Peter along on their shopping trips because those two always asked for at least one thing. The twins had seen that even if they were told no, it was said gently and Stephen sent them off to go put whatever it was back. It also helped that Peter had been in their shoes once upon a time. While he wasn't between foster homes or out on the streets, he still didn't like asking for things unless he needed them.

He even explained it to Thomas and William.

"Of course. Why don't you grab some whipped cream to go with it?" Stephen nods toward the back.

William lights up and walks off to retrieve a can of whipped cream after placing a container of strawberries into the basket. It was during this that Valerie gently tugged on Stephen's pant leg and pointed toward a shorter stand with mangoes piled on top of it. They must have been in season if they were on sale.

"Mama...fwuit?" The baby asks softly.

"Do you want to try one?" He asks and smiles when she nods. "Alright. Go ahead and grab one."

Valerie looks between him and the stand uncertainly and when he makes no movement, she walks the few feet over to the stand. She was always nervous to leave his side, but she was slowly starting to detach from it willingly. It always made Stephen want to gather her up in his arms and firmly reattach her to him, in the metaphorical (and somewhat literal) sense. She was his baby and he wasn't sure if he was ready for her to grow up yet.

He watches as his youngest daughter looks at the pile of mangoes with a calculating gaze, and then reaches up to grab one. She was very smart for her age and knew what fruit she could grab without sending the rest tumbling to the ground, and did just that before walking back to Stephen to hold it up to him. The sorcerer takes it with a smile and puts it in the cart, chuckling when she gently grips onto Athena's fur.

The wolf was so well behaved in public settings like this, that they were able to get away with making her a service animal. Tony had her licensed and even got her a vest for outings like this. And her being a service animal wasn't a total lie either. She helped with Valerie. If she were to ever get seperated from the family, Athena was to either find a safe place for her to wait for someone to find her, or she would follow a familiar scent to find a family or team member. It depended on the location and amount of people, and fortunately nothing had happened yet.

Athena was almost just as attached to Stephen as Valerie was. It made it easier for the baby to stay close when she wanted to walk since Stephen was a bit too tall for her to hold onto his belt loops.

"Good job." He praises and makes his way to the cereal aisle.

There was where William rejoined them with a can of whipped cream which he promptly put into the basket, and then Peter with his armful of list items. And of course the bag of Doritos he thought he cleverly hid. Stephen gave him a knowing look so that the teen was aware that he had noticed, but didn't say anything. Every once in a while he let the boys get away with a snack of their choosing. Today was one of those days.

A small gust of wind blows past the sorcerer and he huffs fondly. "Thomas, what have I told you about running indoors?"

"Sorry! But they have white cheddar Cheez-Its on sale!" The older twin says excitedly and Stephen rolls his eyes.

"As much as we appreciate that you're trying to save money, we don't notice when we save fifty cents. You can get those whether they're on sale or not." Stephen reminds him.

Thomas sighs. "I know. It's a habit."

"There's nothing wrong with that, but I don't want you to worry about money, okay?" Stephen assures the twins and Harley cackles as he joins them with Cassie and Diana.

"Yeah, Dad sneezes out money. Probably wipes--"

Stephen clears his throat, and while Harley didn't finish his sentence, he still grinned. He and the girls put their haul of groceries and chosen snacks in the cart, and after Stephen tells them all to choose a box of cereal, they take the cart up front and check out. Cassie was really only along to help and get herself some snacks since she had gone shopping with her parents earlier in the week. Once everything was bought, everyone grabbed some bags and walked outside where Stephen opened a portal in a secluded corner and they all went through.

Bags were placed on the counter and table, and Athena laid in her usual spot next to the counter after Peter helped take off her harness. While the kids put away the groceries, Valerie finds her mango and holds it up for Stephen. He takes it and washes it before asking Harley to cut it for her and places her in her highchair while they wait.

When there's a small jingling noise, the sorcerer looks down, expecting Tibbs to be at his feet waiting for treats...but he watched Flynn dash into the kitchen instead. He zooms around in his excitement, and then stops very briefly to show the black collar around his neck. Cassie makes a noise between a laugh and a sigh when the fox starts zooming around the floor again.

"Papa got him a collar this morning. Flynn's...very excited and proud about it." She explains as the celestial himself walks past the kitchen toward the living room with Scott.

"The little shit needed one. He goes everywhere with me when he can and one of these days he's going to get lost." Quill grumbles.

Flynn yips happily and runs after the god to climb up his leg and up to his shoulders, not even breaking Quill's stride to the living room. Stephen wasn't even surprised how well they were synced to each other, or in this case, how well Flynn was synced to Quill. The tiny bell on the collar with the fox's tags was probably for everyone's safety since Flynn was notorious for coming out of nowhere and tripping people up around Quill.

"Here you go, Val." Harley says as he places some pieces of mango on the tray in front of her.

"Tank you." She says softly before picking up a piece and eating it.

Stephen helped with the rest of the groceries and sent the other kids off with their snacks to do as they pleased. Only William sat at the table, which currently held the jigsaw puzzle he and the younger twin were slowly working on. It was supposed to be a picture of a Japanese garden when they finished but so far all they got finished was the border and the koi pond. It was a three thousand piece puzzle that would take them some time to complete since they hadn't sat down with it since the day they started it. They usually put a couple pieces together before moving on when they couldn't sit down, but it was their thing. A way to spend time together.

As Stephen puts together some cheese and crackers for Diana (as requested), he hears a whine of discomfort. He looks over at Valerie and William and finds the teen looking at the baby in shock and opening his mouth.

"Mom!" He finally says, and points to Valerie when he sees that Stephen is looking at him.

"What's wrong?" He asks in concern, rounding the counter to walk over and look at the baby.

William didn't need to answer. Stephen saw immediately what had worried the boy, and it sent a spike of panic through him very briefly. Valerie's face, neck, and arms were covered in red splotches that obviously itched if the baby scratching was indication. Stephen reaches out to pick her up, and looks at William as he points to the tray still holding a few pieces of mango.

"Wash and sanitize that thoroughly, please. Scott! Can you go get the Benadryl from the medicine cabinet?" Stephen calls out.

"Uh...sure." Was the thief's reply. He must have heard the urgency in the sorcerer's voice because it barely took him a minute to get the medicine to Stephen and see why it was needed. "Oh man. What was it?"

"Mangoes. She's never had them before." Stephen answers and takes the small cup once Scott measures out a small dose.

"She gonna be okay?" He asks.

"This seems to be her only reaction. She'll be uncomfortable for a little bit but she'll be fine."

Stephen helps Valerie drink the medicine, and she curls against him with a whine when she finishes. While Scott returns the medicine, the sorcerer gently rubs her back and hushes her gently in an attempt to soothe her. William had not only cleaned up the tray, but the rest of the chair as well, even if it was all overkill. As a distraction, Stephen sits at the table with her and works on the puzzle with William after asking Cassie to finish making Diana's snack, and it was about an hour later when Tony got home from half a day of meetings.

It didn't take him long to notice the baby's condition when he approached Stephen to give him a greeting kiss. "Povero topolina," he murmurs and kisses the top of her head.

"Mangoes." Stephen answers his husband's unanswered, forming question. "We'll have to monitor some of her food."

Tony nods. "Friday, add mangoes to the baby's allergy list please."

"Yes Boss."

They had lists for every kid in case of emergencies, sleepovers, for doctors, or however else they might need them. Mint was added to Peter's list when Tony came up with the idea, and now all they had to do was ask Friday to add to the lists when needed. She even scanned for the allergens when products were in full view. Sometimes things were overlooked. It definitely kept Peter from living in the bathroom a few times.

"She's falling asleep." Tony says quietly and Stephen nods as he places a piece of the puzzle correctly.

"I gave her Benadryl. It will help her sleep through the worst of it and treat the reaction."

"Want me to take her up to bed?"

"No. It's alright. Thank you." Stephen answers softly.

Tony nods. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Fortunately, Valerie was fine by the next afternoon after Stephen gave her a second dose before bed. The problem was that she didn't understand why she couldn't have the rest of her mango. She enjoyed it, but Stephen had told her no and it broke his heart to see her crestfallen expression when he explained that it made her sick. Valerie seemed to understand to an extent and was happy to eat some of William's strawberries as an alternative. She certainly enjoyed letting the boy spray a little bit of whipped cream in her mouth.

Strawberries and cream were something William only shared with Stephen and Valerie. And to the doctor's amusement, Harley. If Thomas, Peter, or Cassie tried to take some, William would grab the bowl and turn away with it with an impish smile.

"Berry!" Valerie demands, and Stephen watches as William turns away from the puzzle they were sitting down for again, and feeds the baby a small piece of strawberry.

Cassie had Diana, and now William had Valerie. Stephen wasn't complaining. At least not right now.

He might have an issue with it when it starts the separation process from Stephen.

[vannahfanfics]

Hello! I stumbled onto your Luffy x Nami fic "Natural" last night and absolutely adored it! I was wondering, if you take fanfic requests, could you write a cute friendship one shot for Law and Chopper? Their interaction in your fic was just so adorable that I'd love to see you do more. Thank you for your hard work!

Thank you so much for requesting this; I had a lot of fun writing it! Chopper is the best boi, don’t try to change my mind~

EDIT: My dumb ass forgot Chopper was in Zou during the Dressrosa arc. We’re gonna pretend he wasn’t. :D 

Just Another Day in Crazy Land

Law squinted slightly as he stepped out into the morning, raising a hand to his eyes to shield against the persistent and bright rays of the sun shining in the clear sky above; it was quite a difference compared to the dank, gloomy shack he had just exited. Really, it was only so dark because the windows were shielded with thick, dark curtains, staving off any prying eyes that may discover the crew of pirates recovering within its unordinary wooden walls, a tangle of limbs and blankets and bandages. In the distance, Law could see the also-recovering capital of Dressrosa Kingdom; the jagged rubble of collapsed buildings made ugly peaks against the blue sky, like some sort of twisted mountain range. It had only been a night since Law had accomplished his goal of putting a bitter end to Donquixote Doflamingo, with Straw Hat Luffy’s help, and he really ought to stay inside and continue recuperating; however, if he spent another minute amongst their snores and snorts and mumbled lunacies, he was liable to go insane. Additionally, Law had never been one to laze around and sleep all day, even when he had sustained injuries such as those he bore now. Thus, bored and wide awake, he had been lured outside by the rising sun. With a small sigh, he leaned against the wall of the building with his sword propped up beside him, watching the sun paint the sky of dawn.

“Um… Mr., um, Law, sir?” The Heart Pirate captain glanced down with raised eyebrows as he was addressed by the unmistakable, high-pitched, shaky voice of Tony Tony Chopper the reindeer; the little pirate doctor was standing in the threshold of the ajar cabin door, looking like he was trying to peer out from behind the building but was oddly in the complete opposite direction, his entire body sticking out with half his face hidden by the wooden structure. He stiffened as Law turned his gaze on him. Law had discovered he was a skittish thing, and Law in particular intimidated him. He didn’t fault him, really; Law hardly ever smiled and knew he had an intense demeanor about him.

“What is it, Chopper-ya? Do you need something?” Sweat began to bead down his furry face as he debated continuing the conversation and his gaze flickered about before settling on his hooved feet.

“I was, um, wondering if you would take me into town to get more medicine… My stores are pretty low…” That was no shock; Luffy and Zoro were more bandage and salve than person at this point, and the rest of them hadn’t escaped unscathed, either. Chopper stared at him hesitantly, likely expecting a blatant refusal. It’s not like Law wanted to do it, but in the state of disrepair that the city was, with some of Doflamingo’s minor goons still running about and the entire place a construction zone, it likely wasn’t a safe place for the little reindeer to wander by himself, either. No doubt, the rest of the Straw Hats were still passed out on the floor, otherwise Chopper wouldn’t have come within ten yards of him and asked him a favor. Besides, he was awake anyway, so he might as well give himself something to do and hang around one of the loons he actually had something in common with. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself up off the building and grabbed his sword, swinging it up to prop it on his shoulder, and then looked intently at Chopper.

“All right, then, let’s get going.”

“Wah! Okay!” he squealed, darting inside to scramble around and gather up his money and take inventory of what he needed. With all the banging and bumbling happening inside, Law was amazed that none of the slumbering pirates awoke, but as the reindeer scampered out breathing heavily and shut the door behind him, Law heard no signs of life from within. He turned on his heel to set off across the rocky landscape towards the shell of the capital, and heard Chopper’s hooves striking the rocks as he scurried to keep up with him. Law didn’t pay much attention at first, his dark eyes sweeping across the uninteresting rocky steppe of bleak, muted tones and scrubby grasses and shrubs, but eventually he became aware of Chopper’s labored breathing and unsteady gait and he glanced over his shoulder to see him lagging behind, so he took more care to match his stride to the little reindeer’s. Zoro-ya would kill me if I lost him. Law wasn’t afraid of him, but he also didn’t care to have to go up against him, either.

“Wow. Look at it; the Birdcage did so much damage,” Chopper breathed as they came upon the outskirts of the city, the first to be sliced to ribbons by Doflamingo’s power. Since Law had slowed down a little, he had lost the touch of exhaustion to him, and flitted about Law’s feet as he drank in the mass destruction with a mixture of awe and horror. The road was not so much a road, as the dirt path had been eclipsed by the corpses of residential buildings. Law carefully picked his way across the labyrinth of carved stone and shattered glass with Chopper hopping along behind. At first it was easily navigable, but as they headed deeper into the capital, the destroyed shells of the building became more densely packed, spilling over the road in mountainous heaps. Several times Law had to clamber over collapsed sections and pause to grab Chopper by the back of his shirt to haul him over, and every time to little reindeer went limp in his grasp, freezing like a cat held by its scruff, until Law set him down again and he would hop up blushing and rubbing the back of his neck while he sputtered gratuitous remarks.  

After about half an hour of picking their way through the ruins, they entered the area where the pirates and the citizens had made their stand against the birdcage; aside from the deep scores in the ground and a few clipped-off sections of a few buildings, the area was relatively unharmed. It was here that the two pirates finally stumbled upon signs of life- clotheslines strung between adjacent buildings with drying fabrics fluttering in the breeze, houseplants and barrels and decorative items bringing color into the otherwise colorless roads and buildings of stone and wood, a few people strolling about or chatting idly across the way to each other. Chopper got all flustered again when he had to ask a young woman where their marketplace was currently set up, and then he shyly related it to Law, pointing down the street before trotting ahead of him, face scrunched up as he set himself into mission mode. Law strolled along behind the reindeer, his dark eyes creeping into every alleyway and dark corner; it was common knowledge now that he had been instrumental in Doflamingo’s downfall, and the lower-ranking brutes that were still skulking about would no doubt like to get their revenge against him for ruining their paychecks.

They must have been going the right way, because it wasn’t long before the air was filled with the hum of countless voices; shouts and calls and chatter bounced off the buildings as they approached, and through the gaps in the structures Law could see colored fabrics of tents and banners flapping about in the wind. Lights were strung between lampposts, indicating that the market still had a very active nightlife, and the simple stone beneath his feet gave way to elegant cobblestone arranged in a concentric circular pattern throughout the marketplace. He came up on the entrance, where Chopper was perched up on a barrel with one hoof held to his eyes as he scanned the throng for a suitable stall. Law hovered on the edge of the crowd, having no desire to venture within; the place was packed with people. Apparently neighboring islands had heard of the struggle within Dressrosa, and vendors had thought it quite the money-making venture, to bring their wares to the recovering city. Law heard them shouting above the cacophony, offering food and clothing and other things for cheap, good-luck charms and talismans and other scams, “buy-one-get-one” and “half off for five minutes!” The corner of his mouth twitched at the thought of diving into the chaos, but there was no way he could let Chopper go in there by himself, because he would be trampled for sure.

When Law looked at the barrel, there was just empty air where Chopper had been sitting a few seconds ago, and his heart stopped as he realized he was dead meat.

“Shit! Chopper-ya, where did you go?” he shouted and shoved his way into the throng of people without another moment’s consideration. He used the scabbard of his sword to make himself a wider berth in the crowd, and though he got cold looks and affronted gasps from the people there, he righteously didn’t care because he was too busy looking for the doctor. He stumbled out of the writhing crowd on the right side of the market, dashing from vendor to vendor gasping “Haveyouseenatalkingreindeer?” and before the person had even finished refusing and tried offering his wares he would be scrambling off to the next. Law had made a half-circuit of the marketplace and was descending further into a panic as he realized he would be on the receiving end of Zoro’s katanas until he heard distinctive wailing amongst the crowd.

“Wahhhhh! Lawwwww, where arrrrrrrrrre you?”

“Hold on, Chopper-ya, I’m coming!” Law called out before climbing up onto a barrel beside a stall, snapping at the vendor, “Shut your damn mouth, can’t you see I’m busy?!” when he sidled over to the edge of the stall to try to sell him some girly-ass necklaces. He straightened up with his hand held to his eyes to block that annoyingly bright damn sun while he surveyed the gaps in the crowd, looking for any sign of the crying reindeer. His shoulders sagged as he searched for a minute or so to no avail, until finally he caught a glimpse of brown fur and curved horns; his eyes locked onto a sniffling Chopper, who was miserably talking to a brawny man who definitely did not look like he was concerned for Chopper’s well-being. Oh, fuck, he’s gonna bribe him with candy or something and make off with him! he thought in fear, and practically swan-dived off the barrel into crowd. He shoved his way through the men and women frantically, ignoring the cries and curses, and just as the man was reaching down to grab Chopper, Law threw himself out, slid on his belly across the cobblestone, and wrapped Chopper up on his arms while he glared savagely up at the very confused man. “Fuck off. My reindeer.”

“Um, look, I don’t think-“

“I said fuck off! My reindeer! Mine!” Law hissed, practically rabid from his period of heightened emotions, and the man knit his eyebrows as he leaned back and looked at Chopper hesitantly.

“It’s okay! This is who I was looking for! Thank you very much, mister!” the reindeer laughed as he repeatedly squished down the top of Law’s fluffy hat, and which each movement his fur brushed against Law’s cheek; that’s how closely he was holding him. The man looked a bit disgruntled, eyeing Law suspiciously, but the Heart Pirate just continued to glare savagely at him until he shrugged his shoulders and disappeared back into the crowd. Heaving a sigh, Law slowly sat up and brushed the dirt of his black clothes before his intense glare flickered to Chopper. The reindeer instantly stiffened and tears up again, quivering. Law debated yelling at him for a moment, but decided that it wasn’t worth the effort and just settled for flicking him hard in the forehead. “Ow!” he yelped while tenderly rubbing the spot.

“Don’t do that again.”

“Okay… Sorry…” Chopper mumbled obediently as he continued to rub his forehead despondently. “You looked like you didn’t want to go in the crowd, so I thought that maybe I could just be quick, but there’s so many people here that I got swept away…” Law exhaled sharply out of his nose as he looked away awkwardly; he made a mental note to not let his emotions and thoughts show so easily to the little reindeer, lest they end up in more near-disasters like such. He pulled himself to his feet, using his sword as leverage, before propping it on his shoulder again and looking at him pointedly.

“Look, I said I would take you to the market, and I meant it. Now, from this point on, hold onto my cloak so you don’t get lost,” he ordered.

“But-“

“Hoof. Cloak. Now.” As the harshness descended into Law’s voice, Chopper squeaked and hurriedly clutched onto Law’s cloak with his little hooves, nervously gulping. Once the reindeer had securely latched on, Law groaned slightly and let the tension melt from his body; when he opened his eyes, he noticed that he had gathered quite a crowd of concerned-looking people. “What the fuck are you all looking at? Mind your own goddamn business. I’ve got shopping to do!” he snapped with bristling shoulders, and they hurriedly dispersed, not hasty to incite more of his rage. He heard Chopper giggling and he looked down with grinding teeth. “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just kinda funny. You remind me of Zoro.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? He’s an idiot.” Law pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping that the circus of clowns he had been traveling with was not rubbing off on him too much. He glanced down at Chopper out of the corners of his eyes to see him still grinning, and Law allowed his lips to curl into a faint smile. At the very least, he wasn’t bored anymore. “All right, Chopper-ya, let’s get back to what we were doing, yeah?”

“Mhmm! Y’know, you’re not as mean as I thought you were.” As Law lead him out of the middle of the crowd toward the outskirts, he laughed bitterly as he hung his head, admittedly a little sad that the reindeer had been so scared of him.

“Thanks, Chopper-ya…”

“Will you teach me some stuff about medicine sometime? Pretty please? I still have so much to learn!” the reindeer asked with sparkling eyes, and Law could not help but smile in bemusement.

“Sure. Medicine first, though,” he smirked as he led him over to the proper stall, and when they were close enough the reindeer let go of his cloak to scamper over to the stall, a small skip in his step as he beamed in glee. As Law watched him, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly at the mental image of being the apparent caretaker of the excitable little creature, no matter how hard he tried he could not wipe the small smile off his face. Just another day in Crazy Land with the Straw Hats.

They’re a headache sometimes, but they’re not that bad.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

[desdemonafictional]

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (pt. 4)

continuation of the October People fanfic

>part 1

The crowd rolls in, without rest, from the moment the last of the twilight fades from this little underworld. Edgar watches them for a while, thinking of himself as both party and outsider to their mortal concerns. He watches them funneling into Sharktooth’s tent, squeezing each other’s shoulders, spilling popcorn. It must be a hell of a show, if the shrill of gleeful screams are any indication. Somewhere between telling himself that he’ll just pass by for a listen and actually passing by, Edgar finds his hand on the red stripe of canvas. He wonders if the creature on the stage is thinking of him, as he weaves his siren summons for the delight of the audience. He wonders which gentle lady will fill the space that his body christened first.

Edgar pulls the tent open and slips inside, tucking himself into the empty place behind the bleachers. The darkness glows with the light that flashes on the leviathan’s back, its rows of saw-bladed teeth, the crash of its titanic neck. Edgar watches the crowd reel back in fear, all of their faces cast in green underlight, and feels a strange sense of pride and jealousy.

Afterwards, as the crowd files out (short a body or two, now), Sharktooth reaches for a coil of rope on the floor, his back to the dwindling audience. Edgar makes his way up to the front and perches on the barrier that separates the stage from the seats.

“I like your show. The part I saw, anyway,” he says, palms against the barrier as he leans forward.

Sharktooth stops, hand on the rope, before snatching it up.

“Do you want something?” he says, without turning.

Edgar considers this. His heel taps the barrier gently. “You know I can’t go home,” he says.

“Yeah,” Sharktooth says, “I was there.”

“I mean I can’t ever go home,” Edgar says. “I feel like a spectator, like I’m waiting for closing time but it never comes. I feel like a person trying to live inside of a museum.” He tries to ignore the leviathan as it grinds its huge, open maw against the glass tank, not many feet away. “Wouldn’t that be weird? Sleeping in the wax figure’s bedrooms? Brushing your teeth in public?”

“Can’t be worse than living out of a truckstop,” Sharktooth mutters.

His coat, the red and black wool, shines with brass buttons. Underneath it all, Edgar notices for the first time, he is the kind of thin that screams of boxcars and alleyways, flesh barely enough to cover the taper of his waist.

Edgar tilts his head. “You came from out there,” he says. “Now you live here.”

Sharktooth turns to Edgar for the first time, his glinting black lips pressed thin. “Where’re you going with this?”

“Was it hard for you?” Edgar asks him. He’s losing steam as the words he practiced get jumbled on his tongue. “I just wonder—how it comes so easily to you now—”

The fragility of this moment crackles in the air, a single hard breath away from shattering. “I was born with a death sentence,” Sharktooth says, jaw working under his white cheek. “In a singlewide with every spare son of a bitch in the county breathing down my neck. I never had the luxury of a private life.”

“What do you mean?” Edgar says.

Sharktooth breaks his gaze at last, focusing on the looping and knotting of his rope as he says, “I got in the usual way, the first time. Hole in the rock quarry, footsteps, all that shit.” He slings the finished coil over his shoulder, marching away. “Difference between you ‘n me is, I was used to running.”

Edgar frowns, sliding down to his feet. “You think I had an easy life,” he says, trailing after.

“Course you did,” Sharktooth says, “you’re soft Vargas, the shit you pull—the risks you take—you believed the first fuckin thing I said to you, didn’t even stop to think if I was lying.”

“I see how that was not my best moment, in retrospect,” Edgar says, “but if you’re trying to say I deserved to get boiled into nutrient slush for it, I beg to differ.”

“Nobody deserves anything but what they get,” Sharktooth answers viciously. He tosses the rope up onto a hook at the side of the tank and keeps going.

Edgar thinks of poor Tess in her shivering limbo, a fate that’s hard to justify by any metric. He’s not as credulous as Sharktooth believes him to be. The trouble is, his skepticism came at just the wrong time.

“So you deserve this,” Edgar says, instead, nodding his chin up at the gloom of the canvas strung tent.

“I worked for this,” Sharktooth retorts. “I grind up boys like you to make my bread, and for that I get to turn the lights off when I’m ready to leave the stage.”

“And for your sins,” Edgar says, with a wry little shrug, “I guess you get me.”

Sharktooth bares his teeth in a mirthless little smile. “My first sin was a good American boy,” he says.

There is something grim and awful in that expression, in that tone of voice. It’s the black blossom of a bruise under the skin, the sound of a noose synching closed. Edgar thinks that if he were smarter, he would recoil from it. Instead, he chases it.

“Back home,” he says, “I was a nothing. A no one. Sometimes I thought … if the wind came through too hard —” He blows into his empty hand, a puff of air he releases into the gloom, “—I’d just blow away.”

His fingers drop. Beyond them, Sharktooth is watching him warily.

He wonders if he should cop to the fucked up counter he’s been keeping, the old if I had a nickel I’d be rich jar, which he is almost proud of in the way that some people are proud of the number of pins in their bones. The number of people who have fucked him because he was pliable and convenient and they were feeling drunk or depressed—the number of people who did not even remember him afterward—the number of people who, days or weeks after rearranging his organs, had the unmitigated gall to introduce themselves to him as if they had never met.  

He finds himself running his fingers over the chains of the stage set, the intimately familiar manacles, the impossibly perfect glass angles, blown as if from a single molten bubble.

“My first sin,” he says, “I guess, was pretending that I didn’t mind.”

Above him there is rigging, chain and bars, intricate pulleys hidden in the shadows of the big top. He can see them glinting in the light of the water. An enormous eye blinks at him from beyond the murk, black as an unfeeling mirror. It must be something to be a part of this.

“Hey, stop that!” Sharktooth says, and all at once he is crowding against Edgar, peeling his wrist off the rigging by force. It’s the closest they’ve been since the fraught test run, and Edgar’s heart gives a treacherous thump at the proximity.

“Fucking nosey,” Sharktooth mutters, hauling him back away from the set. “Who are you talkin to, me or Rahab?”

“You seem frustrated,” Edgar says.

“Frustrated!” Sharktooth says, his voice breaking.

“By me,” Edgar says, “specifically.”

“I’m frustrated,” Sharktooth said, “because you just—with your tight little— like constantly, I am trying to work here—”

Edgar muffles some doubtlessly unwelcome laughter against his wrist, watching the tempest in a tea cup that is this inarticulate rage. When Sharktooth has reduced himself to panting, shoulders heaving, Edgar says, “You’re the first person who has ever dreamed of implying I’m disruptive workplace influence.”

Sharktooth eyes him, hunched a little from his efforts.

“But I am,” Edgar says, his smile fading, “aren’t I…”

He hasn’t forgotten—cannot forget—the sight of this man trembling before the court of Johnny Sea’s judgment, the longing that softened his features as Johnny railed against the immorality of hot coffee, gentle as warm wax.  

Sharktooth releases him. If Edgar didn’t know any better, he’d say the general affect here was one of sullen embarrassment. “You’re just—” the showman says, “You’ve just got too much time on your hands. You need something to do. Fuck knows you could stand to earn your keep around here.”

Edgar closes his hand around his wrist, still tingling from the rough handling, “I may sleep in a wax bed,” he says, with a depreciating smile, “but I’m not made of wax, am I?”

“I don’t know what you’re made of,” Sharktooth says, irritably. He reached up into the set, tugging something back into place that Edgar’s probing fingers displaced.

Edgar can’t help it. “If you’re curious,” he says, brushing out his clothing so he won’t have to watch the expression that comes over that face, “I could show you.”

There’s a hard thump that rattles the apparatus of chains, as Sharktooth bangs his elbow against the glass, swearing so viciously that the sawdust starts to levitate around his feet. Edgar ducks out of range, before he can get his comeuppance, and backs out until he is safely in the bleachers. Sharktooth stamps his boot, arm clutched to his chest. “If I get my hands on you,” he says, “you’re gonna regret that offer. I’ll open you up like a butcher block.”

“Oh will you,” Edgar says.

The look Sharktooth gives is nothing short of a kettle boiling, his painted face screwing up into such rage that he seems actually paralyzed by it. Edgar claps his hands together and backs away, grinning sheepishly. He’s toeing the line between playful and stupid and he’s aware enough of it to quit while he’s ahead.

“Again,” he says, “I liked the show.”

Sharktooth watches him go without blinking, right up until his back hits the tent flap. Edgar pauses there, struck all at once by the lonesome shape of the man on the stage, dwarfed by the towering gloom of the big top, the monstrous heft of the leviathan.  Strangely fragile. Strangely powerful.

A pang of something flashes in Edgar’s chest, looking up at all of it. “Still—if you can make a place like this your home,” he says, “I want to believe I can too.”