#this is such an old piece but comms and stuff kept pushing it back. SHES FREE!!!!

[kubfoo]

So… I came here, because I love you, and I brought you those flowers, because I love you.

spidercoral for @talesofgladesglory ... this is from february but i still love it

Patreon | Ko-fi | Commissions | Shop

[greenygreenland]

Tired: Omega x Platonic! Slicer! Reader

-Hi I’m back from the dead

-i write for females, keep that in mind (sorry, it's what I'm comfortable with, so I hope you understand!)

-but really, I write in 2nd POV, so you can't tell for the most part

REQUESTED

Summary: You're a former bounty hunter who's also a slicer for the GAAR. You meet Omega by chance.

Tired. That was the only thing that could describe your mental state. Being assigned to mission after mission was no fun, especially when it was solo. You were a civvie slicer, one who the GAAR hired by chance due to your reputation.

By reputation, that meant ex-mercenary-who-so-happened-to-have-a-knack-or two-for-technology. The clones were nice to you though. For the most part, they didn't care about your previous occupation because it wasn't the first time anyone's hired Bounty Hunters for the GAAR.

The low hum of the ship helped to ease your building worries. You wondered what the boys of Clone Force 99 were up to. It was no secret that you were part of the complete package. No one knew how you and them got along when you were a civvie. Being outsiders themselves, they hated anyone who wasn’t part of their group. But not you. You were different. Kind. Caring. Understanding.

That thought made you frown. You missed the boys. They had been gone for at least seven rotations without comming you once. The fact that they promised didn't help their cause either. Were they okay? Maybe one of them got hurt, or worse, killed? Maker forbid such a thing.

"They better come back to me in one piece, or I'll have them begging on their knees for forgiveness..."

Beep, beep, beep!

You jolted upright, swinging your legs out form under you as you hurriedly fumbled for the holoprojector. You tapped a button and the cockpit flooded with a soft, blue light. "Tech!" you cried. "It's been seven rotations! Why haven't you commed me?" He removed his helmet with a sheepish shrug. "We've been busy of course. And it's seven rotations and fifteen hours, meaning--"

"Yeah, yeah." you cut in with a sigh. "I don't like the idea of not coming with you guys on missions. I know you're just as capable--more if you want me to be honest--but that doesn't mean I can't worry."

There was a rustle behind Tech and he looked over his shoulder. Hunter came into view, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Sorry we didn't comm you. With all that's gone down, I wouldn't say we've had the time." You flopped down in your chair helplessly. "I know, it's just..."

Hunter smiled warmly. "Don't worry about us (Y/n)." Tech pushed up his glasses and nodded in agreement. "If there's anyone who we should be worrying about, it's you. You go on solo missions six out of nine times. We have each other but you only have yourself."

"Wow, I feel so much better Tech." You sarcastically muttered. "Speaking of mission, I'm on my next one."

Hunter knitted his brows. "Where?"

"Skako Minor."

"Skako Minor?" they echoed. You nodded. "Something strange is going on there. According to Rex, the Seppie battle plans have been drawn exactly like the ones he used to do with Echo--that’s one of his men." You recalled the face of that fallen soldier. He was always so sweet to you, giving a wave whenever you passed and smiling as brightly as he could. To say you missed the poor boy was an understatement.

"Isn't Skako Minor under the Techno Union?" inquired a coiled voice. Crosshair made his way into the frame and unceremoniously squeezed himself between his brothers. "You better not be going alone." You waved it off. "Even if I did, it’s fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Like the time you nearly fried yourself with a loose wire on that rock in the Outer Rim? Yeah, I don’t think so.” You averted your gaze to the side in embarrassment. No one needed to remind you of that rookie mistake. You could have gotten yourself killed. The watts were off the chart there. “That was one time. I’m a master at this stuff, don't worry. And besides, Cody, Rex, Jesse, and Kix are with me." Cross's brows shot up. "You're working with regs?"

"Don't worry, they're seasoned soldiers from the 501st.” That was the truth, and you meant it. Working under Rex for months made it clear to you. During that time, he taught you a thing or two about mechanics. “General Skywalker’s men are more than capable. So is Cody."

Cross looked doubtful, and you couldn't blame him. This was enemy territory you were sneaking into. It didn’t matter who you had on your side, because anyone could make a mistake.

A deep laugh echoed from over Cross’s shoulder. Wrecker set down his gonk droid, Lula in the other hand. “You guys need to have faith in (Y/n),” he reminded with a grin. “She’s smarter than me, and she’s always kept up with us. Is there anything she can’t do?” Tech pushed his glasses up with a challenging look. “Uh, actually--”

“Just be careful.” Hunter concluded. “We want to see you back in one piece.” You nodded in understanding. “Copy that, Sarge.” He smiled, and it was filled with unsaid words of care. Cross sent you a nod, eyes all mushy and soft while Tech knitted his brows together worriedly. Wrecker grinned, and it was so bright that it could have blinded you.

“Same goes to you Batchers,” you stated seriously. “Come back to me in one piece, or I’ll come over there and kill you myself.” Tech looked like he wanted to comment on that, but he sensed the shift in mood and kept his mouth shut. You memorised their faces as best as you could. It would be a while until you saw them next.

The hologram flickered out and the soft glow of blue hues disappeared. The cold, dim lighting of the ship fell over you. “Well that’s that.” you muttered with a weak smile. Rex patted your shoulder comfortingly. “They really care about you.”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t always like that. I used to be a stranger too.”

The rest of the ride was spent with the occasional joke from Jesse. He made you laugh, and it helped to soothe your worries. But then the ship landed, and you were thrust into a battle zone. You were thankful Anakin made you wear heavier armour today. If he hadn’t, then you probably would have been vaporized on the spot.

“We need cover!” shouted Rex. That was a no-brainer. Being out in the open at the bottom of a ravine was not in the least tactical. “SBDs!” you called. “Twelve o’clock!”

Jesse raced past you. “Get down!” He threw an EMP. It wasn’t as effective as you hoped it would be. If the Bad Batch were here, this situation would have been completely different. You were on your own. There was no cover, save for the piles of smoking durasteel and the very armour strapped to your vulnerable limbs.

You were in a head-on battle.

“I guess we don’t have much of a choice.” You charged forward, tossing a few EMPs as you blasted away. The best you could do was nail them in the head and hope for the best. Jesse was right beside you, with Cody, Kix, and Rex following suit.

“I didn’t think you would be this daring!” called Jesse. You blasted a few droids and kicked another in the head. It fell with a clank and you smothered it in a healthy dose of blaster fire. “I wasn’t about to be bested by a couple of rust buckets!” you retorted with shake of your head. “Come on, we need to get to that tower.”

You made quick work of the droids. You were no Jango Fett, but you managed with the help of the Regs. Cody congratulated your work and motioned for the squad to continue on. “It’s obvious the enemy knows we’re here. I have my doubts on sneaking in, but perhaps we can manage...”

Past the commando droids, through the front door, then up the lift and a little further down a couple halls. Before the mission, Rex had pulled you aside to speak in private. He thought Echo was alive and that whatever was sending out those Seppie battle plans had to be him. But you weren’t about to get your hopes up. Not when so many of your friends long marched far, far away.

You stopped by a door and plugged in your datapad. “I need to slice open the door. I’m not about to challenge fate here with a charge.” Jesse nodded in understanding. “I’d rather come back with all my legs and arms, thank you very much.” He turned to keep guard as Cody stood close to your side. “Is this the control room?”

“Yes.” The door swished open and you disconnected your ‘pad from the panel. “I’ll slice the computer and retrieve the information we need. Rex, I need you for this portion.” He nodded in understanding and followed suit. You connected your datapad to the communications table. A hologram appeared, where dates and names passed by in the blink of an eye.

“You said this might be Echo.” you quietly stated. Rex nodded. “I can’t be sure, but there isn’t another explanation.” You watched as the information scrolled past at the speed of light. There wasn’t anything of use so far. Only old reports, check-ins and...

The scrolling froze. A file opened up, filling the room with a voice you wouldn’t ever forget. It was scratchy and lifeless, but you were sure it had to be the man who went KIA so long ago. “That’s...”

“Echo’s alive.” Rex affirmed. “It--it has to be him.”

“We’ve got company!” called Jesse.

You transferred the file and stuffed your ‘pad in a safe spot for keeping. “In case anything happens, I’m transferring the data over to you.” you stated. “I wouldn’t want to lose any of this.” The two of you rushed out of the room in a frenzy. Blaster fire sounded above, whizzing way over your head as you sprinted down the hall. The lift wasn’t far, only a couple metres. You just had to run a little more and--

BOOM!

Had a droid thrown a charge? You turned to Rex, eyes wide as he turned to face you. With all of the strength you could muster, you shoved him out of the way. Another BOOM!. You turned just in time to see the flash of brilliant reds and oranges.

The force threw you into the transparisteel windows, which spider-webbed out in long cracks. You were suddenly flying out of the four story building. Shards cut past your face and through your sleeves, tearing away at flesh and fabric without an ounce of mercy. If only you had a doshing jetpack.

“(Y/N)!”

You didn’t scream, but Maker did it kriffing hurt. There was a sickening crack, another blinding flash of sharp pain. You held back a cry.

Just be careful. We want you back in one piece.

Your vision faded in and out. Black blurred the galaxy as you knew it.

I'm sorry, boys.

You fell into the painful jaws of darkness.

-----

The first thing that hit your nose was the sterile smell of bacta. Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring at the blank ceiling of the medbay. The incessant beeping of the heart monitor caught you off guard. How hard did you fall? Much less, what did you break?

A head of dirty blonde hair peeked over the edge of your bed. Her eyes, wide with curiosity made you knit your brows together. She was young, much younger than any girl here should be. You were about to sit up, but the girl frantically straightened.

"You're not supposed to be getting up." She gently pushed you back down. "You have a lot more than a few broken bones." That was when the pain began to settle. You stilled under the thin medbay sheets. "I need to comm someone."

"Now?" the girl incredulously inquired. "You're hurt, you have to rest first." But that was the least of your problems. Where was Rex? Had he completed the mission? How long were you out? Were Jesse, Kix, and Cody alright? You winced and the girl frowned.

"If it makes you feel better, there were a few people who came to visit."

That didn't make you feel better. It meant they saw you like this, in the most vulnerable state you could ever be in. "Who are you?"

The girl pointed at herself like she'd never been asked that before. "Me?" You nodded. "I'm Omega." She smiled and it was a little shy and toothy. "You've been asleep for a while. I thought you weren't going to wake up for another day." You tensed and pursed your lips together. "How long?"

"A week, I think." Omega said. "But it's okay! You're recovering steadily." That wasn't the issue. Recovering steadily wasn't good enough because you were missing out on a mission you needed to complete. If Echo really was alive, then you had to save him. It was the least you could do after he put his life on the line for you so many times before.

"I have to..." You pushed your aching body up. "I have to go."

"No!" Omega forced you back down. "Even if you could walk, you can't fight."

"But I have to..." The look on Omega's face made you pause. She was so small, and in that little body of hers, she stored up a good amount of worry for you. How could you say no to that? A sigh escaped your lips and you begrudgingly relaxed onto the bed.

Omega's shoulders slumped in relief. "I'll get a your holoprojector." You raised a brow with a watchful eye as she scurried away. She rummaged through a lone cabinet in the corner of the room. Your clothes sat there, belt, holsters, blasters and all. Omega pulled out your holoprojector, closed the cabinets, and handed it to you.

"I washed your clothes too if you're wondering," she said with a small smile. "But don't think about going anywhere! You can't walk with broken legs."

A pit formed in your stomach. You can't walk with broken legs. That wouldn't be true if you had seen the blast. If you had ran faster. Maybe you wouldn't have ended up like this, a mess of bandages, casts, and bacta patches. If only you had seen it coming.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" You didn't question how Omega knew your name. Whoever she was, she had to be a someone to wear Kaminoan jewellery anyway. "What is it?" Your voice was quiet, sad almost. Omega played with a loose thread on her sleeve. "That was very brave of you." She stepped closer to the bed and pulled up a chair. "Captain Rex came by this morning. He told me that you saved him from that blast."

You shifted to meet her gaze as best as you could. The holoprojector weighed your hand down like a ten kilo weight. "I just...reacted. Nothing special to congratulate." Omega shook her head. "No, that's everything. If it were me, I don't think I'd be able to do that."

A pull in your gut told you she meant what she said. Your eyes softened. You didn't meet her gaze. Maybe that was because you couldn't. It was a hard enough fact accepting that you were injured, adding on that you were going soft didn't help your cause.

Omega took it as her signal to give you some privacy and exited the room. The doors swished shut behind her, leaving you in a much needed silence. You tapped the projector. It opened up, bathing the snow white room in soft blue hues.

"Rex." you greeted. "I apologize for my absence." His brows were knitted, eyes all sad and cloudy. He tried to keep a straight face, but you knew better. Of course you did. He was your best friend since the moment you joined the GAAR. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I should be asking that to you. Are you alright? That fall was..." He paused and it was like he was choking back tears. "I-I'm sorry. If I had just been more careful, then you wouldn't be..."

"Rex, I'm fine."

"You can't walk." he muttered. "And you can't do much on your own. I took away your independence, this is all my fault." You knitted your brows together. His words made your heart ache, and the very thought of what he faced on his own without you didn't help. Your lips pulled into a frown deeper than Kamino's oceans. "That's not all, is it Rex?"

He clenched a fist as if it would help cease his rolling emotions. "E-Echo...if you had seen him. I'm just glad you weren't there."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"Well where is he?" You had to fight the urge to sit up in anticipation. He was alive. That sweet, loving boy who taught you about protocols and manuals. As boring as it was, all those regulations embedded into your mind saved you more than you'd like to admit. He and Fives always snuck up on you whenever they came back from missions, or commed you in the middle of the night.

They both kept you up at night, but you never minded. Now one of those boys who had marched so far away had the chance of coming home.

"Where is Echo?" you inquired. Rex's eyes fell to the floor. "He's...Watt Tambor made him more machine than man. I-I can't..."

The doors swished open.

"...If only we had..." You shook your head. "Rex, there wasn't anything we could do. It was a miracle you found him in the first place."

The doors closed with a low hiss.

"Found who?"

Your eyes widened and you ripped your gaze away from the projection. A set of worn, tired eyes met yours. He looked different from the bottom up. His new armor, black and red with a familiar 99 on it. His smile, though a bit dampened, remained the same. He made his way over to you and took a seat by your bedside.

"Echo?"

"That's me."

You tried a smile, and it was all watery and shaky. "Oh, you've changed." He chuckled. "So have you. I heard about what happened. That was brave of you." No, it wasn't brave. You did it on instinct, without an ounce of hesitation. "It wasn't brave, I just..."

"Who else is crazy enough to jump in front of an explosion without katarn-class armour?"

You could name a few people. Fives, for example. "Whatever. I just--I'm glad you're alive."

He smiled and it was a little broken. "Me too."

---

Before you knew it, you were up and running again. There was no time to walk because you were needed on a mission today. It was completely solo, but thankfully, a simple retrieval mission with little to no chances of a casualty.

You settled in the cockpit, taking in the familiar scents and smells of the well oiled machinery. Mechanics wasn't your strong suit, but you never minded dabbling in it every now and then. Today, there wasn't time to brush up on your beautiful ship. You had a job to do.

The jump to hyperspace was as smooth as ever. There were no creaks, no fumbling through space, and no bursts of smoke. But that was when you heard a crash from the storage room. Last tine you checked, the door had been sealed shut while the weapons and supplies stowed away as they should be.

Had you forgotten to tie them down? A long sigh escaped your lips. "What a pain."

"So is my backside." piped a chipper voice. Your eyes widened. There was no way you heard that voice correctly. Sure, it was young. You knew a few other people with a young voice. Sure, it sounded girly. You knew a couple other female coworkers.

"Sorry I snuck onboard," the voice added. "I promise, I was going to leave, but then you left and--" You swerved the chair around to face Omega head on. She smiled sheepishly, as if it would fix all the problems in the whole galaxy. Maybe it would have if the whole galaxy were as kind as you.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn this ship around and bring you back." you stated. Omega fiddled with the hem of her sleeves like it was the most interesting thing on the ship. "You’re short on time?" You resisted the urge to say something snippy in response. The look of uncertainty on Omega’s little face made you feel just the tiniest bit worried.

Maybe that was because uncertainty could get people killed on the battlefield.

"Omega," you placed a hand to your temple, "do you understand what you've gotten yourself into?" This was bad, really bad. Sure, the mission wasn’t as dangerous as it should have been, but intel was like the weather forecast. It was never correct. Taking Omega along with you wasn’t a good idea in any universe, and like Malachor you’d let her into the crossfire.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry. “I didn’t mean to sneak aboard.” She definitely meant to sneak aboard. “I just wanted to do something more than...” She let out a short sigh, as if it explained what she couldn’t put into words. “Being on Kamino all the time is so boring. I want to get out and see the galaxy with my own eyes.”

She threw her arms towards the bright blue of hyperspace. You didn’t miss the look of wonder in her eyes, bright as a sun. “There’s more to life than rain and the ocean and the same people I see every single day!”

You couldn’t argue. Omega was right. Even during your recovery, the frustration of not being on your ship doing anything but sitting settled into you every day. You hated being cooped up in one place more than anything. Poor Omega had to put up with it her whole life, it was nearly unfathomable to understand what she felt.

A sharp sigh escaped your lips. “Fine, you can come. But my only condition is that you stay on the ship.”

Omega did not stay on the ship. More than anything, she was curious. She had no clue what dirt was, what kind of plants were carnivorous and deadly, or how to steer clear of all the battle droids.

You raised your blaster and fired at the rust buckets. “This is exactly why I said you should have stayed on the ship! Can you even fire a blaster?” Omega knitted her brows together and eyes the deece at your hip. More than anything, she was curious. Beyond that? Determined.

“No,” Omega replied, “but I’ll try.” She pulled the deece from your hip and peeked over the top of your hiding spot. The long, durasteel crate was just barely holding up. If you were a Jedi, then you’d say it had to be a miracle only the Force knew about.

The deece wasn’t a perfect fit in Omega’s small hands, but it did the job. She aimed at the droids, eyes focused and hands firmly on the weapon. She fired. Once. Twice. Three times. "Did I hit anything?” You fired your blaster a couple times and glared through the smoky haze.

A collection of bolts and durasteel scraps lay in a pile and you couldn’t help but be proud. Either Omega was a natural or she was incredibly strong with luck. Whichever it was, it helped you through the mission, and before you knew it, you were back on the ship with a data stick and an unharmed Omega.

“See, nothing bad happened!” she exclaimed with a grin. You took the blaster from her hands and strapped it back to your hip. “That was luck, I tell you.” Omega rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t! You saw--I was like, pow pow, and you went and hit that guy right in the face!”

“That was because he called me a filthy bounty hunter.” you said, a small smile creeping up your lips. “I can’t say I took too kindly to his harsh words.” Omega let out a laugh and you joined her. 

Tired. That was the first thing that came to mind when you thought of your mental state. Yet with Omega by your side, smiling, and carefree despite all the action, you couldn’t help but feel the electrifying sense of thrill. 

“Say, Omega? If you want to come back, maybe we can figure out how to get you off that rainy excuse of a planet more often.” you said with a small smile. She beamed, throwing her arms around you with a vigorous nod. “Yes! I’d love that!”

“Me too, kid. We just have to figure out how to convince whoever looks after you.”

BONUS:

A tall kaminoan towered over you with her beady eyes. Omega sheepishly played with her sleeves as you stared down the kaminoan. Stupid long necks. Nala Se blinked. “So this is where you have been, Omega.” That soft, cold voice of hers warmed at the sight of the girl. “Haven’t I told you not to run off? I see you’ve gone somewhere far today.”

Omega frowned shamefully. “Maybe...” Nale Se motioned for her to come to her. “If you would like, you may stay with (Y/n) again--if you are out of harms way that is.” She turned to you and you froze, eyes wide. “Wait, what?”

“I am giving you permission to have Omega under your care, as long as she is out of harms way.” You glanced at Omega, who glanced at you and then Nala Se with the biggest grin on her face. “Really?”

“Yes.” Nala Se smiled. “‘Really’.”

[all-hallows-evie]

Chapter 1: Marooned

Rating: T, for language, Canon Typical Violence/Action. Honestly, this chapter isn't that bad, the T rating is just in case I forgot about something lol

Wordcount: 3,776

Warnings: Canon typical violence and adventure, female OC with name × Tech slowburn, but not too slow lol, NOT BETA'D, because if I have to stare at this first chapter again I'm not going to post it.

A/N: HAPPY TECH TUESDAY, LOOK I'M FINALLY POSTING SOMETHING, WHEEEEEEEEEEE

There were bad ideas, really bad ideas and then there was this.

The ship hums under her feet as it trudges through the far corner of the mid rim, chugging along on it’s route without any sign of trouble or disruption from it’s preplanned course.

It should have been a routine pillaging, something she had placed firmly in the ‘great ideas’ list but instead it had turned into a routine mutiny and finished the day as a routine marooning. She sighs as she lays her head back against the seamless panel behind her.

Fucking pirates. 

She has been stranded on the old freighter for at least two moons, but it was hard to say with certainty. The droids that man the ship have no need to eat so more often than not they forget to pass along anything to keep her mounting hunger at bay, adding along to the lack of any kind of panel to the outside world, getting her bearings is proving to be more difficult than usual. 

She hisses a swear to drown out the low growl of her belly and focuses her gaze on the far corner of the room. Another day, another chance to count the diamond shaped tiles above her cell, she swears the number changes every other time she counts. She doesn’t get farther than eighteen when the door of the maintenance room blows open. 

The dust fills the room, hiding everything under its grimy shadow. The grit in the air crackles as it’s pushed against the red of the electron walls that keep her prisoner with the ships cooling coils and a water filtration unit that has calcified and has never been fixed.  

"Well look at that, we found it! Lucky break!"

"Luck had nothing to do with it, if you had studied the schematics of this cruiser like I had asked-"

"Yeah yeah yeah." The first figure, a hulking shadow in the doorway brushes off the smaller one as he stomps into the suddenly too tiny room.

"The memory core should be at the end of the-" the smaller of the two figures stops in front of her cell as the big one charges towards the end of the room without stopping. They launch themselves into the piles of junk thrown haphazardly inside, "That's concerning."

"Concerning? You see someone in a cage and you go with ‘concerning’?" She replies as she pulls herself up to standing. She takes in his armor, modified clone armor from the looks of it painted pale with a bright red stripe down his chest, his eyes slightly magnified by the goggles on his face, the rest hidden by the elongated helmet.

"According to the intel we were provided there weren't supposed to be life forms aboard." He seems irritated to see her.

"Good old Republic intel, still living up to its reputation."

The other clone approaches, he rips open the metal box in his hands and yanks out the core as if the casing was made of thick flimsy and nothing more, "I've got the thing, time to go!"

She watches, dumbstruck for a moment as her ticket out starts to head for the gaping maw that used to be a door, "Wait, you're taking the old database?" The two of them stop and turn, "It's not complete! It's missing pieces of the coordinates!" Firefek she didn't want to sound desperate but she was.

"Likely story-" The big one chuckles.

"I was trying to steal it too, I almost got all of it before my crew turned on me!"

"A mercenary or a pirate? No matter, I trust you even less now."

She had never wanted to punch anyone's face as hard as she wanted to punch his, "Check the core Goggles, I swear to you! It's missing pieces!" He hesitates and in that baited pause she knows she has him, "Please, just let me out and drop me off wherever you dock next. You can have my data chip. No harm, no foul, just get me out."

The one with the goggles glares at her, the yellow tinted transparisteel of his visor snapping downl before he turns to the bigger man. Klaxons ring all around as he scans the core with a handheld device, but it's taking up time they do not have.

The two clones share a look, silently deciding her fate.

The bigger one caves first, "Aww c'mon Tech, we can't leave her! You saw what's on this ship, she'll be a goner on some mining planet!"

"Under normal circumstances I might agree but she's caged for a purpose, and I'm disinclined to put any trust in her."

"How much damage can she do? She’s smaller than you are!" 

Tech, the one in the goggles, sighs before he turns back around to face her, "If we spring you, you play by our rules. You follow our orders, no complaints, no rebuttals and if you put one toe out of line-"

"Out the airlock, understood." She nods furiously, hands pressed against the panel as she watches Tech short out the electron wall holding her hostage, the panel shudders and then it spews sparks on to the ground as the red fades and she's finally able to step through. 

"Lets go shortie!" 

"Wait, let me just grab-" She scrambles to the other side of the wall, trying to pull at something from the top of a shelf. The bigger clone reaches over and tosses the crate to the floor. She throws open the top and snatches out a bantha leather bag and a helmet.

"Run!"

Tech doesn't have to tell her twice, the three of them bolt out of the door and into the corridor, the lights above flash in time with the klaxons. There is a low rumble that joins the hum of the hyperspace engine, as whatever security droids are on board begin to activate.

"Back to the ship, short stuff!" 

The three of them book it down the darkened halls, ducking behind walls and crates as the first cluster of security droids pass through.

She tosses her bag across her shoulder, slinging it against one side of her hip, clipping it into place with snaps sewn into her jacket. They watch three more droids pass them by before she speaks again, "My name's Nox, by the way." 

"Doesn't sound like a girl's name." The big one chuckles, so deep and rumbling it almost feels like a growl.

"Well it's the only name I've got. My parents named me a bit of a mouthful, Nox just works better."

"Clear." Tech calls out and they continue on their way heading to the service hangar where their ship hopefully was waiting for them.

"How'd you end up out here?" The big one asks, with every flash of light above them she can see more of the large scary face painted roughly on his helmet, lines thrown on haphazardly only to be scraped away by carbon scoring.

She is about to answer when she is shoved back into a corner by Tech. He slaps a hand over her mouth before she can yelp, the leather slightly singed, it smells of electricity and grease.

“Wait.”

"I'm getting tired of all this sneaking around, I say we blow our way outta here!" The big one growls.

"We’re almost there Wrecker, it would be pointless to try now."

She shoves Tech's Hand away, "Blow your way out of here, are you insane? With the amount of baby on board you'd blow us into the next dimension!"

There are a few beats of silence before both helmets turn towards her.

"Baby?" Wrecker repeats but is shushed by Tech.

"You don't mean baradium-"

"Bisulfate? I absolutely do! There were containers of the stuff in the holding bay."

"This Imperial ship is headed somewhere to mine thorilide?" He repeats, tone stressed over every syllable in the word ‘Imperial’.

"That or some unlucky planet is about to be wiped from existence."

"The location of the Republic thorilide mines have been kept under the utmost security for ages, not even the Jedi Council was ever advised of its location."

"Can’t say I blame them, I barely trust them with those glowy sticks of death." She murmurs, making lightsaber sounds with her mouth as Wrecker snickers.

"Stop that. Do you know where this ship was heading? Do you have a copy of the manifest?"

"What, your amazing Republic recce didn't get you that information shiny?" He glares back at her, brows pinching together behind the dark frames of his goggles, "Maker! Did those cloners take your sense of humor? Yes, I know where this ship is going."

"Bet Cid’s contact would pay more for that bit of info." Wrecker’s grin can be heard even through the plastoid of his helmet.

Tech meanwhile has typed something to a com on his wrist, "Hunter, there's been a complication."

"What kind of complication?"

"There is more on board this ship than just the republic database-"

"What do you mean?"

"This ship is a mining vessel, out to mine thorilide."

Tech’s wrist comm goes silent, just quiet static while the voice on the other line thinks, "Ordinance?"

Both clones look at her, she nods emphatically, "Ordinance, med supplies, if there was coaxium on board I wouldn't be surprised, this place is the motherlode."

"Quite a bit of supplies on board, it would seem."

The comm goes quiet again for a few moments, "We don't have time for this, it's only a matter of time before they realize that your cruiser is stolen. Grab what you went in for and leave."

Tech shakes his head, it's so tiny and quick that if she wasn't looking at him in that moment she would have missed it, "Where is it being kept?" 

"Up, five or so floors unless I've miscounted."

"Tech, Wrecker, Get out of there, now!" The voice on the other end grows more and more irritable as they stand around in silence.

"We'll be out as soon as possible." Tech replies curtly as he cuts the comm. He makes it sound so easy like they were stopping by the nearest market to pick up fruit, instead of about to hijack high quality explosives from Imperial custody, "Lead the way."

"What? Just like that?"

"Are there, or are there not these items on board?"

"Yes." 

"You swear?" Wrecker leans in close, hovering over her.

"Yeah."

Tech nods, "Vital signs are stable, no signs of heightened stress-"

"What if I'm just a really good liar?"

"You can try all you want my dear, but the data doesn't lie."

"Does he do this to you too? I'm finding it a bit creepy-" She asks Wrecker as her eyebrow raises.

"You get used to it."

"Weird, so weird…" she mutters to herself as she turns and peeks around the corner. She looks around for anything that is familiar, when she sees a maintenance lift at the very end of the hall to the right. She motions them forward, and silently they sneak their way closer to the lift. She turns her attention to her side as she digs in her bag, her fingers grasp at the odd collection of junk in her pockets until her hand finally wraps around the cool metal of her code cylinder and she can finally stop holding her breath.

Tech's hand on her shoulder pulls her back to the task on hand as he drags her back a few steps. The catwalk above them from here to the lift is no more than a shoddy looking set of grates that creak as a group of security droids march along their patrol, oblivious to the three of them below. 

“The maintenance lift?" Tech sniffs as they come to a stop at its doors. He raises hand to push his goggles back into place, "Perhaps you have failed to notice but none of us are maintenance droids, the moment you try to access that panel they will -”

“They’ll what?” She asks as she jams the cylinder into the port, the lift clicks open silently and she steps inside. 

“The alarms-”

“What alarms? According to this," she snaps her code cylinder from the panel and drops it back into her bag, lost again to the chaos of the random junk held within, "I'm a maintenance droid doing routine inspections. How stupid do you think I am?”

"Hey hey, this one's pretty smart huh Tech?!" Wrecker is thrilled.

"Pirate." She reminds, "You don't see many my age that aren't intelligent and I'll give you one guess as to why."

The doors silently click open and before they can step out a team of at least half a dozen well armed sentry droids roll past. 

They all leap from the inside of the lift and fall into a crouch behind a stack of supply crates. They wait for a few moments before Tech quickly peeks over, "They don't seem to have spotted us."

"Fuck, there weren't this many when we tried this the first time." She swears a few more times under her breath.

"We should do this my way." Wrecker offers.

"What's that mean, what does he mean?!" Nox looks nervously over to Tech, "He doesn't mean-?"

"Explosives and violence? He absolutely does," Tech sighs, “ and I'm afraid we are running low on options and even lower on time. Wrecker, what does your ordinance look like?"

“But you said I couldn't bring any?”

“Yes, and when was the last time you actually listened?”

Wrecker, the fun if not absolutely homicidal one, pulls out a couple of detonators, a roll of plastic tape, a half dozen hand grenades and three droid poppers.

“Great, nice to know you could have turned us into a small sun if I hadn't told you about the baby on board.”

"Everything save for the poppers is far too dangerous to use around those crates." Tech hisses, "Any more of those brilliant pirate ideas floating around in your head?"

She chews on her lip for a moment, wracking her brain for anything else that might be useful as she ignores Tech's sarcastic tone. Apart from the crates on this floor littered with treasure, there didn't seem to be anything of any use...except for the busted water filter. “How big of a distraction do you think it would take to get all those sentries away from the haul?”

“It would need to be something quite large or destructive enough to threaten the integrity of the ship.”

“The water filtration system on board is completely calcified, I don't think it was ever fixed since there are only droids on board. If you could flood that with enough pressure the entire pipe should burst-”

“And flood the entire floor, along with the engine room, that might just do it.” He’s on his data pad before the words are even out of his mouth, he scans the room all around and matches it with the wireframe schematics on his screen. He stalks his way backwards until he finds the panel he is looking for. He pops it open easily and then begins to slice into the mainframe of the ship, “On my count, take Wrecker to wherever the baby is, let him handle it. You get your hands on as much of the medical supplies as you can, the security onboard is a little tighter than I would have preferred so I will have to stay here and continue to flood the filter.”

“Oh, easy.”

“Think you can handle all that tiny?” Wrecker’s thundering chuckle threatens to give away their location even with the steady moan of the alarms overhead.

She grins, Wrecker is back to being the fun one, “Try and keep up.”

There is a sound of roaring water all around them as tech funnels every liquid on the ship into the filter, then a sound like an explosion a couple of feet below them rocks the ship like a lightning strike. 

The sound of the alarm overhead changes as every droid on the floor turns away and heads to a lowering platform, all instructed to assist with the burst pipe.

“That’s our cue!” 

She shoves Wrecker forward playfully before they both break into a sprint toward the storage rooms where their bounty is being held. She points to one of the rooms as they approach, "This one's your big boy!"

The door is sealed shut, but not for long. Wrecker doesn't slow, instead he hunches low, bringing his shoulders down and tucking his chin into the collar of his armor before he barrels straight through, punching a hole through the doors with enough force to make even her teeth rattle.

She dips into the storage room across the hall, thanking the stars that her haul wasn't locked away like his was. She rips open any crate within arms reach, tossing open the tops and letting them scatter around the room wherever they land. She snatches bacta patches and hypos by the handful and packs the crate as full as she can, slamming her entire body weight against it to get it to close. She drags it out into the hall, placing it by the door before she bolts into the room right beside the one Wrecker is standing in. 

Wrecker watches her disappear into the room, the four small crates of explosives tucked carefully under his arms, “Wait, where are you-”

His question is answered as another crate hits the floor beside him. She comes running out of the room, grabbing this second crate by the handle and yanking it along, “Perfect! Not a single explosion! Love that for me!”

Wrecker bends down to offer her a hand but she has already snatched up the first trunk and is flying down the hall with them. She's faster than Wrecker would have believed she would be capable of with the two crates almost her height. She almost trips over herself as she stops and with a swift kick, the second crate lands at Tech's feet, “Come on 20/20, cut her loose, let's go!”

“What’s in that- I specifically ordered you to only carry medical supplies.”

“Yeah well, it sounds like you are used to not being listened to so, ship. Now!”

Wrecker races past, hopping off of the side and down to the level below, the halls are empty as all hands are called to help with the floor that is flooding. 

Nox peeks over the side, she watches as Wrecker sets the small boxes of baby down beside him, "Toss your crate!" He calls up. She nods and yanks the crates handle, flipping it up and off of the edge with a nudge from Tech. 

She helps him in turn, as they gingerly haul the crate full of ordinance over the edge before tossing it below. 

Wrecker sets the crates to one side before turning back to catch Nox, but she's already climbing down. Her fingers dig into spots on the wall where she should not be able to have any grip. She finds her own way down and with a little hop, lands right beside Wrecker as Tech lands beside her. The clang of his boots echoes down the empty hallway. "We'll need to make our way through the flooded floor of the ship in order to get back to the hangar." Tech types away at his data pad again before picking up the side of his crate.

Nox follows close beside the two clones, tossing the crate up onto her back to avoid making any unnecessary scraping sounds as they get closer to the flooded area, the sound of pouring water gets louder and louder with every floor. The next floor they walk through has the water barely deep enough to wash over the toes of their boots, but it rises rapidly after that. By the time they are on the same floor as the hangar, the water has risen up to their knees and Nox has a harder time trying to distract her mind from where all of this stagnant water has been hiding this whole time.

“Holding out ok over there tiny?” Wrecker chuckles. 

She turns to answer, when everything becomes...not alright. Her next step slips out from under her and she goes flying forward, crashing face first into the dark disgusting water, the crate on her back keeping her under the surface as she struggles to pull herself back up to standing. 

A hand at the back of her collar pulls her back up into fresh air, slimy water pours from her mouth and nose as she gags. She doesn't need to clear the water from her eyes to know what the dark figures that are starting to line the hallway are. Tech and Wrecker are on either side of her, blasters raised as the sentry droids file in.   

“I'm hoping you can fight better than you can swim.” Tech calls over as Wrecker leaps over them both and charges straight into one of the sentries.  Tech keeps a few of the others at bay, clipping them with bright bolts from his twin deecees, but it's not enough. She rubs the slime from her face and charges right behind Wrecker, using her entire body to check a droid in her path, she grabs the blaster from its hands as it goes tumbling backwards and into the water. Techs shots ring out around her as he stays behind, watching over the crates behind him. Wrecker tears through any droids that get within reach, sparks flying on to the water before they sizzle and die. She concentrates her fire on any droids Tech misses until the hall is clear.

"There'll be a second platoon on their way, we better get a move on." Tech calls back to them, she tosses the almost empty blaster into the water beside her.

"Are you always just, you know?" She makes growling and ripping sounds at Wrecker.

He laughs, "Not often enough." 

She stifles her laughter behind her hand as she walks back to where Tech is to retrieve the case of medical supplies, for a brief moment the last couple of days are forgotten and even the slime on her skin is the last thing on her mind. For a brief moment she was back with her men, waiting for that score of a lifetime, but when she grabs the handle of the crate and looks back it’s the clone armor that reminds her she is in fact alone. The sudden quiet of sadness doesnt last long as the doors behind them open and a new series of drods begin their march towards them. 

“Incoming!”

-----

Tag list: @themarvelbunch @agentwhiskeysdarlin @pascalisthepunkest @ashotofspotchka

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part Seven - Investigation)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation

Here we are again with the next three thousand odd words of this fic.

Many thanks as always to @vegetacide​ @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and my wonderful science officer @onereyofstarlight​ (who spent yet more time tackling my odd questions in the last week :D). You guys are amazing and I can’t thank you enough for all your amazing readthroughs and support.

You guys totally spoilt me last week so I hope this week delivers some entertainment. ::hugs you all so much:: Thank you so much for your amazing support.

Warnings: minor whump, far too much indulgence in scenery on my part because I’m having too much fun.

I hope you enjoy this.

-o-o-o-

Alan was sent back with Gordon and one of the dragonflies, while Virgil and Scott scouted back along the tunnel for a high enough point that either a molepod or Thunderbird Three could drill down deep enough to give them easy access for Thunderbird Four.

They found it in one of the larger caverns about a kilometre back from the Crystal Cave as they had come to call it.

Having seen so much crystal in one spot, Virgil now found himself spotting more and more of it along the tunnels. On first glance he had assumed most of the sparkles in the walls were patches of ice – there was certainly enough of the stuff around to cater to the concept. But on closer examination, there were crystals of all sizes and colours dotted along their return path.

In the dry cavern there were even more. Not anywhere near as many as in the crystal cave, but enough that Virgil pulled over, climbed out and collected a couple of specimens for later examination. John definitely wanted in on that analysis. He was still hunting for the source of the interference and was at this point reaching for every straw he could grab.

But first they had lives to save.

The roof of the Dry Cavern, as it was dubbed for convenience’s sake, had a number of large crystalline formations and there was a plea from the Base’s scientific staff to avoid as much damage as possible.

As if Virgil needed that reminder. He wasn’t one for blatant destruction of anything, but in this case as he planted the homing beacon for Three, he realised they were going to lose at least one beautiful structure in the process. So, it was with some sadness, he flipped the dragonfly and attached it to the rock ceiling of Dry Cavern and attempted to uproot a crystal tree as tall and as wide as himself to take back to the base.

With the application of a laser cutter, it came away surprisingly easily and with minimal damage. The dragonfly’s two front claws held it as delicately as they could. Carefully flipping the pod back upright, Virgil lowered it down to land and clambered out to secure the crystal.

Halfway out of the pod his vision doubled and he slipped.

Callisto’s gravity was almost nothing in comparison to Earth’s but the laws of physics still held strong and without atmospheric density to slow him down in any way, his momentum threw him at the rocky floor with enough force to cause him to bounce with a painful squawk. Previously obtained bruises complained and his head throbbed enough to turn his stomach over.

He ended up on the ground, on his side, doing his best not to puke all over the inside of his helmet, his only thought being how bad things would be if he failed.

“Virgil!” Scott was suddenly beside him, hand on his arm and the ever so familiar worry in his eyes.

Virgil swallowed and attempted to keep his stomach under control while his head screamed at him.

God.

But as before, it dissipated suddenly and Virgil was left panting and wondering what the hell was going on.

What the hell had the T- Drive done to him?

“Talk to me, Virgil. What happened?”

“Was dizzy for a second. Sorry.” He waved Scott’s hand away and sat up slowly. Everything stayed stable and sane.

God, he was tired. “I’m good. Just need some rack time.”

Scott glared at him. “I’ve seen you tired. You’ve never fallen off a pod before.”

“It’s the gravity, or the lack of it. It’s throwing me off.” He pushed himself to his feet.

But he knew what was coming next.

“I’m flying. Get in the back.”

“Scott-“

“Now.”

Virgil growled at him. “I’m going to secure the crystals first. We need to get these back to base in one piece.” And he did, Scott at his elbow the entire time. The man knew how to hover.

Once that was complete, Scott marched him to the backseat and made sure he climbed in safely…like he was a little kid or something.

Damnit.

But the moment he let himself relax, his whole body made it very clear that rest was a good thing. Scott’s flying skills kept the dragonfly consistently level and despite himself, Virgil dozed in and out a good percentage of the way back to base.

Despite the headache.

Of course, all of it resulted in a blowout with both Scott and his father.

“I’m fine!”

“You fell!”

“I slipped. It happens you know. I’ve rested. I’m fine. Now can we get moving? I need to be out there to assist with Four.”

Scott opened his mouth to no doubt confine him to the base with their father and Uncle Lee.

“Virgil, you will undergo an examination by the Base medics before you do anything.” Dad’s voice held that strength of command that Scott had so inherited.

He opened his mouth to rebut.

“Now, Virgil, or I will send Lee out in your stead. You don’t mess around out here. You know that.”

Virgil flicked his glance to the engineer his father had relied on for years, who had actually worked with International Rescue early on.

Goddamnit!

“Fine! But there is nothing wrong with me.”

“Then prove it.” Scott was glaring at him, blue eyes on fire and standing strong beside their father.

Well, at least they were working together, even if it was a combined front against him.

Three had already left, so they had to rely on a Base medic. Fortunately, she agreed with Virgil. Tension headache, the voyage out there and lack of sleep was all they could come up with and since he had snoozed in the pod and his skill set was seriously needed, Scott grudgingly gave him clearance.

Virgil so did not have time for this.

-o-o-o-

Alan slipped into Three’s pilot seat with a sigh. There was something about his ‘bird that was just comforting. Familiarity, probably, but also the knowledge that he had the power to get home under his very fingertips. Pods were great and all, but Alan preferred the power of ion engines and the strength of his ‘bird’s hull.

Gordon in the co-pilot’s seat wasn’t the norm, however.

“Okay, let’s get this ‘bird off the ground.”

Alan glared at him, but poked his comms. “Callisto Base, requesting departure for local foray as filed.”

“Thunderbird Three, you have clearance. Safe journey.”

Journey? He wouldn’t call it a journey. More a nick out the back door to grab takeout, if anything.

Great, now he was hungry for pizza and the nearest pizza joint was a bazillion miles away.

So gonna have a pizza night when they got home.

“FAB, Callisto Base.”

The airlock doors above began their ponderous opening sequence like something directly out of an old sci-fi flick. All that was missing was the cinematic music.

Firing Three’s engines was like breathing again after being stifled for a long time. She lifted, rising slowly into the airlock, her length proof that everything the Base owned was smaller. He only had a handful of metres to play with at either end and he was pretty sure he was scorching their inner door.

Nonetheless, they waited and the outer doors slid open revealing Jupiter once again in all her glory.

Alan eased her out slowly making sure she was fully in the clear before tilting her towards the north and, with a twitch of a thruster, throwing her across the jagged landscape.

The moon surface was craters on craters on craters. The Asgard formation rippled outwards in all directions creating rings of hills, stark greys and silvers against the deep of the black sky. Burr Crater was a splash of bright reflected sunlight glaring enough for the filters on the windows to react and protect their eyesight.

Alan brought up the holoprojection showing exactly where Virgil wanted him to drill.

Another flick of a wrist and Three pivoted on her nose, extended her arms, and settled gently onto the surface of the moon.

“Thunderbird One, Thunderbird Three is in position.”

Comms crackled and Alan frowned.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

State the obvious, Gordon. “Thunderbird One, do you read?”

“We hear you, Thunderbird Three. Dragonfly Pod Two en route to rendezvous.” Scott’s voice cut out and Virgil’s took over. “Gordon, deploy Thunderbird Four. Crane her to the surface. Alan we will need to assemble a large gauge molepod complete with vacuum extraction, as we discussed. We’re about fifteen minutes out.”

“FAB, Dragonfly Two.” The line cut out and Alan turned to his co-pilot. “Okay, Gords, your turn.”

His brother’s face split into a grin. “See you in the sky.”

Alan groaned. “Never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Nope, no time soon. Thunderbird Four is going to fly. No more being dragged around by her sisters. Gonna get her some VTOL.”

Alan clambered out of his seat and half floated, half fell to the back of the cabin. Partial gravity was always odd. “Hoverjets, Gords.”

“Tomayto, tomato, squirt. My ‘bird is gonna fly.”

“In micro-gravity.”

“I’m taking what I can get.”

Alan rolled his eyes. Insufferable.

What followed was Three craning out Four through the cargo bay doors and gently lowering her to the icy surface of the moon.

This time, instead of sleds, Brains had attached hoverjets to the body of Gordon’s submarine. Personally, Alan thought she looked like she had a really bad case of acne, her usually smooth lines interrupted by pustules that spat blue ‘fire’.

Gordon apparently couldn’t stop grinning.

Of course, that all changed once Scott and Virgil arrived on scene. Virgil was unusually curt and Scott was hovering just enough to alert Alan that something wasn’t right.

A quick check with John revealed that Virgil wasn’t feeling well and that Scott wanted him off the mission, but Virgil refused.

That just set Alan off. It was always worrisome when an older brother wasn’t right, and considering all his brothers were older, it happened far more often than Alan liked.

So it was with worried eyes that Alan watched Virgil and Scott deploy the molepod.

The plan was for Three to dig down as far as she could - which was a decent distance, if Alan could say so himself, and then lower the extra-large molepod into the hole so Virgil could complete the tunnel to break through into the cave network below.

They were far enough away from the Crystal Cave, as it was now called, to hopefully leave it unaffected by all these excavations.

Gordon was to follow them in Hoversub Number Four - apparently his fish brother was still working on the new name - navigate to the Cave and revert to Four’s original purpose of being a submarine.

Three’s drill was an oddity for a space craft, but an oddity that had saved Alan’s bacon so many times.

The thought immediately prompted hunger pangs. Bacon.

Maybe he should shove a snack down his throat.

“Alan, start drilling.” Virgil’s sharp voice on comms snapped him out of it.

If Three deployed her drill rather abruptly at that, Alan felt he wasn’t to blame.

Fortunately, she performed with her usual ease and brilliance, creating a massive hole in the side of the moon and a cloud of debris to match, rock and ice thrown up in glittering haze.

God, space was beautiful sometimes.

Once Three had gone as deep as she could, Alan shifted her to one side and acted as a crane to lower Virgil and Scott in the molepod down into the newly created tunnel.

A suspended moment and the billowing dust resumed.

“Hey, Gords, is Virgil okay?” He couldn’t help it. He was worried.

“He’s okay, Allie. Just some leftovers from the ride out here.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Don’t mention it. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Sorry.” It was raining glitter in slow motion.

“How you didn’t notice, I have no idea.”

Gordon was in Four and Alan in Three, but Alan shrugged anyway. “Dunno?” But he was distracted by the holographic image of his two eldest brothers gnawing through rock far below. Almost there. Thank goodness, Three’s grapple was almost at its full extent.

“Thunderbird Three, get ready to reel us in.” Scott’s voice was tight.

Far below the mole broke through into the cavern and began to fall in the ponderous gravity. Alan yanked a lever and pulled the cable tight, catching the pod in a pendulous dangle. “Gotcha.”

“Hold it, Thunderbird Three.” Virgil’s voice was even tighter than Scott’s and Alan wondered if the pod swinging was messing with him. A moment. “Okay, retract slightly.”

Alan did so and the pendulum slowed and eventually his brother gave the go ahead to fully haul them out of that hole.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was beginning to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with him. Digging the hole had been simple, but the moment they burst through into the cavern, his stomach tried to invert itself. It had taken everything he had to keep his insides on the inside.

But then it disappeared again! Leaving the goddamned headache that just refused to go away and was currently pounding through his head to the tune of his heartbeat.

Maybe Scott was right. Maybe there was something seriously wrong.

But he had a job to do.

Thunderbird Four was literally bouncing on the spot by the time the Mole resurfaced dangling from Three’s grapple. Virgil had piloted the pod simply because it was his speciality. Scott had accompanied him because he was worried, but he let him drive.

Such was not the case with the Dragonfly. Virgil was clearly demoted via a pair of determined eyes and exiled to the backseat.

Fine.

It gave him a chance to examine the sensor readings of the rock they had burrowed through on the way down. It was a thoroughly fascinating combination of ice and minerals, silicon in particular.

Thunderbird Four lifted smoothly off the glistening moon surface and with a very unprofessional ‘Yahoo’ slid into the entrance of their new tunnel and disappeared.

Scott was only a second behind.

Four bounced like a rubber ball off the walls, darting around the corners so nimble, Scott had to ask their fish brother to damn well slow down.

Which was just as well, because before they knew it, both Four and the Dragonfly emerged into the cavern, Four in ponderous freefall until the hoverjets could catch on the floor.

“That was awesome! Can I keep the jets, Virg? Please?” An Olympic gold medal, a WASP career and vast experience as an IR operative, and Gordon was still a kid at the candy store begging for his favourite lolly.

“Not important right now, Thunderbird Four.” Commander Tracy’s tone was sharp.

“Just asking!” But below them the bright yellow submarine had obviously latched onto the comms beacon and was moving towards the tunnel leading to the Crystal Cave.

Scott followed as closely as practical and it wasn’t long before both Four and the Dragonfly were sitting on the beach staring at the lake.

Scott and Virgil climbed out of the pod, its lights streaking twin beams across the water and lighting up the crystal walls and glass lake. Gordon hovered at the edge.

“You okay, Thunderbird Four?” Virgil was frowning.

“Pretty fine and dandy, if I may say so myself. Gonna go hover myself out into the depths I think.” His tone while flippant, was distracted. “Scans are reading a hell of a lot of that quartz and I’d rather not test Four’s hull unless I absolutely have to.” There was a grunt. “As it is, that water isn’t just water. I’m going to be cleaning my girl for week after this. It’s mineral soup.”

“Is it a concern? Did you want to abort?” Scott was predictably concerned.

“No, no. She can handle it. I may just need to rope a bro or two into maintenance.” There was a snort that no doubt would be accompanying a grin.

Virg was tired and there were people needing rescue. “Move your ass, Gordon.”

That earned him another worried set of blue eyes. But Virgil was over it and just needed to get this job done.

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.” Four started moving forward, her jets rippling the glass of the water.

Gordon hovered a fair distance out into the middle of the lake before gradually shutting down the hoverjets, letting the sub dip below the surface.

A single breath and she was gone, only circles on circles of steadily spreading ripples remained.

It was damned eerie.

Scott looked like he wanted to climb into the water after their brother.

“Wow, guys, it is amazing down here.” Typical Gordon.

Virgil would have loved to rub his temples.

“Sending visuals to Five. Johnny, you receiving?”

“Affirmative, Thunderbird Four, though I am encountering some interference. Eos, can you clear that up?”

“Guys, I’m getting some temperature variances down here.”

Scott shifted where he stood, his space suit flexing over taught muscles. “Clarify, Thunderbird Four.”

“It’s getting hotter. Not by much, but a definite increase in temperature as I go deeper.” A thoughtful mutter. “This is deeper than it appears, Scott. Readings are fluctuating. What was a hundred metres is now closer to six hundred. Damn, there’s another temperature spike!”

“Thunderbird Four, interference is increasing.” John’s voice crackled as if for emphasis. “We can’t clear it.”

Scott flicked on his wrist display, the two lifesigns pulsing under the icon of Thunderbird Four. “Do you see anything, Gordon? Any sign of what we are facing?”

Gordon muttered something that was drenched in static. “Crystal…temp..ture…rising…” The signal ended in a hiss of static that hurt Virgil’s ears.

Scott’s voice was decision sharp. “Thunderbird Four, abort mission. Return to shore.”

“Sc-“ But the signal cut out completely.

Shit!

The rock under Virgil’s feet trembled. What the-?

Ripples vibrated across the lake.

“Gordon, do you read?!”

“Thunderbird One!” John’s voice had an edge of alarm. “Registering seismic movement in your vicinity!”

“Gordon!”

“Guys! Get out of there! Now!”

“Gordon!”

Virgil grabbed Scott as a shadow grew out of the darkness and into the twin beams of light.

Oh, hell!

“Scott! Move!”

The lake had swelled into a wave, a crest rushing at the shore they were standing on.

Virgil grabbed his brother, turned and ran for the pod.

His fingertips brushed cahelium as the wave hit. Virgil was lifted off his feet, Scott was torn from his grip and he was tumbling.

A sharp pain.

And…

Nothing.

-o-o-o-

Next

[lifeofroos]

Part 48. I like Ariadne. 

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico takes a minute to talk to Dionysus’ wife, Ariadne. The rest of the story can be found on AO3, FanFiction.net and in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, Fanfic etc. 

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 48: Rosemary Tea

I lit a small incense stick. The smell of pinewood filled my cabin. Just when I wanted to begin praying to get Ariadne’s attention, I already got it. One moment, I was in my cabin, the next I was on Olympus, looking out over a massive vineyard. 

‘Nico di Angelo.’

I turned around. ‘The lady of the house, I assume.’ 

‘Yes. You called on me?’

Barely. ‘Yes. I, well…’ I shrugged. I wasn’t entirely sure. I didn’t think I’d get this far. 

Ariadne put her chin up. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t expecting you one of these days. Why don’t we talk?’

I mean, that is what I had in mind. I nodded and she gestured that I could come into the palace. 

Dionysus’ palace was big. It took a good twenty minutes to walk to a sitting room on the other side. In the meantime, Ariadne chatted about the decor for a bit. It was clear she had been responsible for most of it (it was way too stylish to be done by Dionysus). 

We sat down in two comfy chairs, with a coffee table in between. Ariadne snapped her fingers. A pot of tea appeared. ‘Sorry for the long walk. The west flank of the palace is not under control by the headmaster, so I had to bring you there.’ 

Zeus. ‘Eh, I get it.’ So. Now that we sit and we’ve got tea, I was kind of curious about how you managed to live with Dionysus for thousands of years.

‘Lets get the obvious question of your mind: You are wondering how I managed to live with Dionysus for thousands of years.’ 

I nodded, a little perplexed, but mostly glad I did not have to open the conversation. 

She poured out two cups of tea and picked up her own. ‘I don’t read minds or anything, it’s just what they always ask. The short version is that he helped me when I was going through a hard time, the same way he is helping you now. The difference is that he somehow fell in love with me.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘And, after some more time, which he gave me, I felt the same way. Got married, stayed together, end of story.’ She picked up her cup. ‘Yet, you probably already guessed that there was more.’ 

‘Well, Yes. I would say that the support he gives you goes further than with me. He once, kind of accidently, told me about the bond.’

She nodded. ‘Accidently? Oh well. Yet, yes, we have a bond. I’d say it connects us quite well.’

‘Quite, quite well, I’d say. For thousands of years.’ I picked up my own cup. ‘Hephaestus told me Dionysus treated him like a regular human… or god, whatever. Like he was more than a tool or a piece of garbage. That is basically how my therapy works. ’

Ariadne nodded. ‘We share that sentiment, you, me and Hephaestus, among others. We feel like we are worth something. Like someone does care about us. That is how it made me feel.’ She looked at the ceiling for a second. ‘Cared for, and like I was finally free to do and go where I wanted, gods! That means something after constantly being bound to something, either my chambers in the palace, or the island, or the men I was with. I still don’t know how I did confinment for twenty years.’ Her expression soured. ‘I do know why I went with Theseus. It meant... a change of scenary, at least.’ 

I sighed and slouched in the chair a little. ‘Ah, yes, sons of Poseidon.’ 

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Sons?’

I looked up. She didn’t know? ‘I thought Dionysus would have told you. Anyway, I was in love with one of those too, once. He just wasn’t a piece of garbage about it. Did not abandon me somewhere, at least, or bully me for it. He might have been a little confused, but, you know. I get that. He seems confused about most things, actually.’

She shifted. ‘It must have been Percy Jackson.’

I took a sip. ‘Yes. And, eh, sorry.’ Didn’t want to rub it in your face. I wanted to ask what she thought of Percy, but maybe that wasn’t…

‘I do not have anything against Perseus Jackson, if you were wondering about that.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I think Dio has more problems with that than I do.’

‘I think you might just be right.’

She sighed. ‘Oh well. Yet, I did hear you were accepted like you are in camp, son of Poseidon as your first crush or not.’

‘I was! Camp overall is pretty accepting, actually, that is nice. They even learned to trust Hades kids. And idiots who fall in love with sons of Poseidon. It took a while, but they accept Annabeth now.’

She chuckled and pushed her hair out of the way. ‘So many more things are getting accepted these days, even amongst the gods. There is a shift in their behaviour. I don’t know what the trigger was, after thousands of years, but I am glad it is this way.’ She twisted a curl around a finger. ‘Sorry, entirely different subject, but how did your talk with the elder gods go?’

‘It was weird, but it went good enough. Over the last few days, I have heard less and less of the voices from Tartarus, and more and more from the voices of where the Elder Gods are.’

She smiled and nodded. ‘Luckily. You know, admitting the elder gods is a central part of becoming immortal. Because of previous lives, something, something, even the lord of the heavens is not really sure, I had to talk to them.’ She sighed. ‘Basically, part of me is also an older god, which meant that I was supposed to fill this role as a goddess right now.’ She rolled her eyes. I snickered. ‘I hardly understand what it means.’

I adjusted my jacket. ‘Still, that must be strange, though, to know that part of you is just…’ I waved my hands around. ‘Somewhere in superheaven.’

‘You get used to it.’

‘Still, it seems weird.’ 

‘To me, it seems weird that you visit the Underworld so often.’ She shuddered. ‘For me, it wasn’t a very good place. After I was killed, I was sent to Elysium. My father, king Minos, kept trying to control me and I missed Dio terribly. I would have chosen rebirth if Dionysus hadn’t taken me out of there.’ 

‘Oh yes, bringing people back to live, the thing he tells me is unhealthy to do.’

She gave me a mellow smile. ‘The difference is that he is immortal and you are not.’ 

Maybe. ‘Not yet. And I met king Minos, too. He was a nasty piece of work, sorry not sorry to say it. He tried to control me into his evil villian plans.’

‘I am not offended. He was a bad king, a bad husband to my mother and a bad father to his children.’

‘And a bad partner to raise the dead with.’

‘I am going to pretend I did not hear that.’

‘Thanks. Although my therapist is already aware of it.’ I took a sip. ‘Then we can both agree that he was a huge dirtwad.’

‘We quite certainly can. I still do not forgive him for marrying off my youngest sister to some old king who died not even a year later. She was then forced out of the palace to make room for the new king and queen, just so Minos could get the bridewealth payments.’

‘Oh yes, that is a very dirtwad thing to do.’ We both sighed.

Her expression grew dark. ‘I used to think my mother was better. She tried to protect her children, even Asterion. Yet, that was before she tried to take my labyrinth and use it against who I am. What she did a few years ago, raising it without my permission…’ she clutched her fist. ‘She had no business doing that and getting me wound up in it again. Before that, the labyrinth was a memory, safely far away from the human world. Now...’ She looked at her teacup. 

I nodded. ‘Eh… my sister was the one who handled Pasiphae in that encounter. I think she is gone, now…’

‘She isn’t, Nico, and she never will. She harnesses too much power to just be gone.’ 

I fell silent for a second. ‘I think I believe that,’ I whispered. 

‘I hope you do, but I also hope you don’t have to deal with her in your lifetime anymore.’

I was fifteen. On average, there was a lot of lifetime left to meet Pasiphae a second time. But I did not want to think of that right now.

‘If there is anything you take away from this, let it be that women in mythology, and not uncommonly men too, often fled, because the situation at home was chocking them.’ She had a flicker in her eyes, which suddenly left. She shook her head. ‘You probably don’t want to think of that right now. Say, have you ever tried this tea before?’

Now she was just trying to change the subject. I played along. ‘I recognise it. Rosemary?’

‘Yes! We grow it in the garden, actually, or better said, my garden. His garden is more or less... taken.’ She smiled again and looked out the window, at the vineyard that spread all around the castle. 

‘Guess that makes sense.’

‘I wouldn’t mind more flowers. But hey, I knew what I was getting myslef in to, back when I moved here.’ We kept looking out the window. I noticed a few panthers lazily roaming about. Ariadne didn’t even blink at seeing them. Just a regular day in Dionysus’ palace, apparently. 

‘I don’t know if I will tell Dionysus about this encounter.’

‘I think he already had a hunch it was going to happen, because I did. Bond and stuff.’ I nodded. ‘If you already told him you were in love with Percy… well, that is an easy link to me, I’d say.’

Maybe. Ariadne studied me, before she stood up. ‘If your finished, maybe you should get back. They might begin to miss you. 

I looked up at the clock and jumped up when I saw it was already past eight. Ariadne telling me the clocks were mad and did what they wanted did not calm me down. 

While we walked back to the mystic Zeus-free west flank, she said: ‘I am glad I could finally meet you. You seem like a nice, smart young man.’

‘Thanks. Eh, also, thanks for the talk and thanks for the tea. It was good tea.’

‘I’ll give you some. I am kind of proud of it, actually. It is one of the only teas that isn’t brewed by Demeter.’ 

A/N: My first draft of this felt clunky, it is better now. Still, I find it strange that it turned out the way it did. That Ariadne of all people is the goddess who keeps her distance for a bit, aside from the things she has in common with Nico.

As I said before: I need more Ariadne fanfiction I am being denied my RIGHTS the first hit when I google it is my own fanfic of two years ago and one chapter in Weezl’s drabble doc. 

Legit, Ariadne is the ‘mistress of the labyrinth.’ Don’t know how RR missed that. Be prepared because this fact WILL come back in a later chapter. 

[sleep-i-ness]

My Saviour (Tony Stark x reader)

Blurb: Y/N is going to die. That she’s sure of. Now is the wait, ten feet under a collapsed building, waiting for it to finally give way.

Prompts: “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?” 

CW: Mentions of death and dying, injury

A/N: This is my entry for @thefanficfaerie​‘s writing challenge, I am so sorry it’s late! Back to school and all that

The ceiling’s about to go. You need to get out of there NOW. Everything changes the mission Y/N thinks she’s going to die. Sure, there had been a few close calls every now and then but never like this. Trapped under a collapsed 7-storey building, with dust still settling around her and ominous creaks echoing around the small space. And, how could she forget, with the team’s biggest ego for company.

The day started early, if she could even say ‘started’ when Stark had kept her up in the labs with him, well past her usual bedtime. Cap had tried to insist, yet again, that she joined him on his ‘invigorating’ morning jog, despite the fact that she had nowhere near the stamina of a super soldier and that she was running on eleven cups of black coffee (adding milk had ended up taking too much time when the exhaustion was kicking in again) and spite. Her spite, she decided, was what was going to get her out of this mess.

At the bright and early time of 10am, Stark had stumbled out of his bedroom, having actually gone to bed instead of being pressured into joining a training session. Well, he didn’t really need to train; the suit was his manpower. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t need to keep in shape, other than to pick up women at whatever posh event he went to. Which was unfortunately never kept a secret from her, as for some reason, whilst her floor (why did she need a whole bloody floor?) was being decorated/renovated, she was in a room directly adjacent to Stark’s. One thing he’d apparently forgotten to invest in was soundproofing.

Soon after Stark had deigned to join them at their Team Breakfast, which, according to Rogers, was an Important Bonding Session, Fury had decided to give them a call. And with Fury it was never a catch-up call, which would be nice, once in a while, now that she thought about it. Or maybe not, she dreaded seeing the man for mission briefings, she wasn’t sure if he had the capability of acting like a normal human. Oh God. Imagine Fury having brunch. She wasn’t sure if her hysterical thought stream was due to the dust fumes, lack of oxygen, undiagnosed claustrophobia kicking in, or perhaps a torturous combination of all three.

Anyway, this impromptu call was due to a SHIELD mission that had gone sideways and so the Avengers were being called in to clean up the mess. Well, considering their track record, she had been betting that more mess would be made than sorted out. It was meant to be a smallish HYDRA base with few soldiers, but more than the agents already sent in were able to handle. All she could say was that wherever Fury got his information from was seriously wrong and he needed to reconsider his sources.

Stark had groaned when the mission had come up, already complaining that they weren’t the clean-up team. He had waved at the mission file onscreen, gestured again for dramatic effect and then settled into making snide remarks for the rest of the briefing. As usual. She had an inkling that Stark just really liked the sound of his own voice or was compensating for something with sarcastic comments.

At least Steve got to use his catchphrase, yet again. ‘Avengers Assemble!’ Which was quickly wearing old and she had tried to suggest something else. Like “Let’s Get Dressed!” or “Mission Muster!”, but neither had quite the ring and, to be honest, she’d just run the original through a synonym generator. God, if any of their fans heard her complaints, she was sure she’d be butchered alive in a riveting ‘debate’ on Twitter. Apparently, they liked the cheesiness.

The first spot of bother they’d gotten into, or, well, Y/N had gotten into, was when she’d found out that her suit hadn’t finished downloading the upgrades so she would have to use her original. Her original consisted of a latex and Kevlar suit that she’d hand-stitched together. That had been back when she’d first realised that she could actually make a difference in the shitty area of town she lived in. Spares weren’t a thing for the Avengers and Stark had made sure to mock its ‘home-made chic’ feel. Well, not everyone headed a multimillion-dollar corporation when they decided to become a ‘hero’.

She still wouldn’t describe herself as a hero. She was just a girl who, instead of getting a prison sentence for aggravated assault and destruction of property, had been picked up by SHIELD. They’d seen something in her that she’d never once seen looking back at her in the mirror. After months of training and little missions, she’d been chucked headfirst into the dark stuff, fucked up a psych eval and ended up being pulled from field duty. Barton had trained with her while they were both out of active duty and vouched for her once he’d been cleared, jeopardising his job as an agent and an Avenger, for her, which she couldn’t thank him more for. Fury, not knowing what to do for once, had shoved her into a team that was only just starting to bond with each other. They hadn’t needed a barely-adult, not psych-cleared agent pushed into their hands. But they’d taken her in without complaint all the same.

The second spot of bother was the hundred or so men who had been firing at them from all angles, not the expected twenty or thirty. Stark had flown in and gunned ten or so down in his bulletproof suit, but even that hadn’t been enough to make the fight easy. Barton was perched up a tree, true to his nickname as usual, and was taking out man after man, but one replaced the other as soon as they fell.  

And because all things come in threes, there had been a third spot of bother. It had been when the control room collapsed due to an exploding arrow that Barton had refused to admit to, and the central structure’s integrity had been compromised. She had gone in on the intelligence gathering mission and the stupid program had completed 84% of the download. So, she had assured her teammates that she’d wait for it to finish and then get the fuck out of there. But she hadn’t had time. And so that brought her up to now, in a tiny space, feeling more and more squashed by the minute. Rubble clattered down above her every so often and the space would gradually shift as the weight on top of it increased. She just hoped SHIELD found her before she was completely crushed. If they were even looking for them.

“Y/N?” Stark’s voice was hoarse from the dust, even his suit must’ve been unable to filter it all out. She frowned; she was sure that it had its own oxygen supply. Perhaps it had been damaged when he’d zoomed in as the building collapsed around them, professing that he would save her. Fat lot of good he’d been. As the floor had caved in beneath her feet and the ceiling collapsed simultaneously, he hadn’t even reached her before she’d fallen in the sinkhole that had opened up. She’d always said that constructing a tall building on top of earth riddled with secret passages was just asking for trouble.

“Yes?” Irritation bled through as she tried to keep her tone civil and sweet, but the circumstances were definitely not ideal for her mood. And she’d had barely any sleep. Which was arguably thanks to him, and no, she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

“Okay, good, just checking you were alive.”

She rolled her eyes at that answer. What if she’d been unconscious? She’d still be alive. No need to pester her just for that. “Well, how are you going to get us out of here?”

Stark was silent. For once in his life, he finally had nothing to say. She would applaud herself on such an accomplishment, but she was busy trying not to lose her temper. He was meant to be the genius, the one with a plan for everything, and she knew that was a lot of pressure to put on him. But she’d really like to believe that she wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for him.

“I’m…” He hesitated, light flickering feebly through the rocks between them. “Having some difficulties with the suit. JARVIS, why don’t you tell her?”

The monotonous voice came through clearly, albeit a bit tinny over the speakers. Although she’d read plenty about the AI when creating her own suit and then promptly dismissed the idea that she would ever be able to do the same, it was still weird how omniscient he seemed. It made her skin crawl, the idea that she had no privacy, even in her own bedroom. “Suit’s capabilities are down by 62%. Weapons status – missiles offline, repulsors limited power. Damage has been sustained severely on the chest piece as well as the helmet and left shin pieces.”

Her mouth dropped; she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Sure, a damaged chest piece she could’ve guessed, because that would have affected the suit’s oxygen supply, but the power source must have also been damaged. “Can you clear some more space, or get us into the same area? Maybe if we can access the equipment that was in the control room…”

“On it. JARVIS, scan the rubble for equipment and structurally sound areas.”

From where she was sat, nothing seemed to be happening. Even the lights from his suit had dimmed considerably, causing her to squint to try and make out various shapes in the fallen rock. The almost silent creaking around her were amplified in the darkness and she shivered, a cold trickle of dread running down her spine. She’d always hated just waiting for something to happen, knowing that it was going to but not when or how.

The raspy static of comms was incessant in her ear as she strained to hear of any movement or updates on their situation from Stark’s position. Nothing. God, she hoped he hadn’t been physically injured. She forgot that he was just a man beneath all that metal. Nothing superhuman or enhanced or specially trained from too sheng of an age.

“Y/N.” Stark’s voice was urgent and low, a light hiss through the dust filled air. “There’s someone else down here. JARVIS is detecting enough of a heat signature for them to still be alive.”

A gentle groan made her freeze, hair prickling on the back of her neck. She turned her head ever so slightly to the left, peering into the pitch-black darkness. Blinking furiously, she soon realised that there was no difference between when her eyes were shut and open.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called out and she sighed, face relaxing from its grimace.

“Barton?”

“Y/N? I thought you got out?” He coughed, wheezing dust and she winced at the harsh sound, chest clenching painfully in sympathy.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah, nope, Tony also got stuck down here.”

A loud thump startled her, rubble tumbling down as a metal support beam snapped under the strain of the weight. Inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm her mounting nerves, she curled her arms over her head, hoping that she’d survive this. Time seemed to slow as the seconds, minutes, possibly even hours ticked by. Nothing more to do than ponder the situation and any and every scenario that could come of it.

Crash. She jolted as the ground beneath her trembled, sucking in a quick breath. This was it. This was the end. Closing her eyes, she sent out a prayer to whatever god was out there, anyone who could help her. Hoping it would be swift and painless.

Cool metal brushed against her face, and her eyes flashed open. The icy white glow lit up the dust-filled air in front of her and she choked back a sob of relief, pressing a hand over her mouth. Tony shushed her softly as he heaved a large slab of stone out of the way, sending tiny particles of rock down onto her. They bounced off her face and she whimpered, biting down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood.

The shredded metal of his arms slid under her, catching at her clothes as he pulled her into his chest. Cradling her in his arms, he plodded into a spacious cavern, each step followed by creaking joints. The stone was cold against her back as he propped her against the central mound, her head lolling back.

He popped his visor open, eyes lit by a blue glow as he stared at her intently, a flicker of worry dancing behind his eyes. “Are you okay?”

She was sure that he’d already asked her that but couldn’t find it in herself to bite a remark at him. In fact, she couldn’t even remember why she’d been so pissed off at him before, her annoyance swept away by the pure elation of still being alive.

“I’m fine.” At his sceptical look, she sighed. Nothing was broken or injured too badly, although she hadn’t really had time to think hard enough about it. That was all that was necessary. “Don’t worry about me, Tin Man, focus on getting us out of here. You need to help Barton out first.”

Before too long, Tony had returned, placing Clint down beside her. She knelt over him, guided by the light from Tony’s suit and held back a gasp. Brushing hair off of his pale and sweaty face, her nimble fingers ran over the bruised and battered flesh of his leg and she grimaced. He hissed at the sharp stabbing pain, the ghostly touch still too much pressure.

“Is that what heaven’s like? What did I do right to get a girl as pretty as you looking after me?” Clint’s words were slurred as he tried to crack a grin and ease her worries. She chuckled, as Tony clomped round to see what was happening.

“Don’t be getting too comfortable, Barton. Anyone can get a squashed leg.” Tony’s words were snide, and she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Stop it.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tony protested. She could hear the pout in his voice.

“Go work on getting us out of here.” For the first time since the beginning of the mission, she felt hope. She knew it was a dangerous emotion. It had been ingrained deep into her mind that hope was dangerous, that it should be stifled. But she wanted to believe that Tony would find them a way out, that they wouldn’t die with only each other for company in a deep, dark cavern, waiting for the ceiling to collapse on them.

The sharp scraping of metal against metal as he moved away was painful and she winced. His suit was in a bad state, but she hoped it would last the whole ordeal.

Clint’s rambling startled her from her thoughts. “You really look like an angel, Y/N. Maybe this is God’s gift for this injury.”

“Yeah, well, next time you want my attention, you don’t have to go this far,” she laughed, wiping the grime that had settled into his skin. “My standards aren’t so high that I need a guy to have injuries severe enough to possibly warrant amputation.”

Clint groaned painfully, before trying to play it off. “You mean, I didn’t have to do all this. Well, darn it.” She laughed again, giving him a sympathetic grin as he winced yet again. His leg was a blotchy mess of colours and she swallowed harshly.

She jumped as Tony’s voice echoed around the cavern. “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?” She grinned up at where he stood. Under his blindingly-fast fingers was what had turned out to be the main console, and she assumed he was rerouting message signals and finding a secure escape route. “Well, I’ve found us a way out. But I’ll only take you if you promise not to flirt so sickeningly.”

“Stark, are you jealous?” Clint’s incredulous voice came from beside her, tinged with agony.

Tony scoffed, his face disappearing into darkness as the blue light from the screens shut off. “No. As if.”

“Well,” she piped up, noting with delight how Tony’s head snapped towards her. “Tony, let me just warn you that you don’t need to get your leg squashed if you want my attention. I don’t need another injury on my conscience.”

“Aw, no, there goes my plan on how to win you over. Come on, I’ll carry Robin Hood and you follow me.”

The route was a dingy corridor that was lit by flickering electric bulbs that looked as if they hadn’t been replaced since the 40s. “Soft light incandescent bulbs.” Tony had noted as she passed under the first ones.

By the time she had reached the manhole cover that signalled the exit of the seemingly-endless tunnel, she weren’t sure if her legs would be able to support her much further. The startlingly bright light streaming into the tunnel made her smile, a great beaming grin as she felt the sun on her face after what had felt like days.

“Come on, sweetheart. Up you come. I’ve already signalled the team, and they’re on their way. We just need to sit tight for a bit.” Tony hauled her up, next to where Clint lay, leg even more gruesome in the light. She stumbled on the uneven ground, falling forward as her foot caught on a loose stone.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her into him. She grinned up at Tony and leant against his chest plate, relaxing into the arm that he slung around her. 

“My saviour,” she giggled, suddenly anxious at their close proximity. She didn’t know why. She’d never felt so antsy in his presence before, but something about the way he was looking at her made her heart beat faster and her breath stop.

“So,” Tony let out a nervous breath. “I know I didn’t get injured for you, but how about we still go on a date at some point?”

She smiled softly. “I’d love that.”

-

All Taglist:  @1marvelavengers1​ @neymarlionelmessi7​ @okkulta​

Tony Stark Taglist:  @holybatflapexpert​ @uglipotata72829​ @persephonehemingway​ @a-stressedstudent​ @bloodblossom73​ (if you would like to be added, please fill out the form in my bio - link is mobile friendly)

[babylooneytoonz]

Blood Trails [ Pt. 3 ]

Chapter Summary : Bucky Barnes fails to protect Sasha and she ends up getting taken by you. You spend the night with a five year old and certain revelations do not fare well with you.

Warnings: Slight/Implied Child abuse , use of explicit language

Word Count : 2500 + words allegedly

Link to Blood Trails Masterlist -> here.

“Yeah I know, Natasha’s out on a mission with Banner.”

Bucky was pacing up and down the living room. The penthouse suite was a mess, curtains had been ripped off the walls, and what looked like confetti was strewn all over the floor. The HYDRA soldier who had just escaped from Bucky’s hands a few minutes back had left their gun on the floor. As Bucky spoke to Tony, wondering how someone had managed to get into the perimeters of such heavily secure building, he bent slightly and picked up your gun, eyeing it carefully.

“What do you mean that the alarm was disabled? How can the alarms be… Natalia, she must have forgotten on her way out.” he mumbled her name in a very low voice, his eyes lifting and fixing on his five year old girl who was standing by the now fallen Christmas tree, with a sadness in her eyes.

He had almost lost her today; and this meant only one thing, if they had found her out, they would come again, and they would keep coming until … they had her.

“Stark, I’m getting Sasha back to the towers– “  he snapped his neck towards his daughter, who was now looking at him with inquisitiveness in her big blue orbs. Pulling the phone off his ear, placing his palm over the speaker, he smiled, “Мед, it’s okay. Go on and wait for daddy in your room. We’re gonna go and pay your favourite superheroes a visit.”

“But daddy, you’re my favorite superhero.” The little girl innocently whispered, to which Bucky just gave her a smile, “I know. Okay, your favorites after me and your мать.”

As her footsteps retreated away, and Bucky was sure that she was not within the hearing range, he sighed slowly before pulling the phone back to his ear, “they won’t rest Stark, not until they have her.” He then pulled off the phone, sliding it back into the pocket of his sweatpants as he made his way into Sasha’s room to pack her stuff before they left.

An hour later, Sasha and Bucky were seated in his ceramic blue sedan, as Bucky buckled her seat belt, before his foot hit the gas and the car slowly started moving, before picking up pace. Although his eyes and his hands were on the road, and the steering wheel, a thousand thoughts seemed to be running at the back of his mind; the most recurring of the thoughts being that HYDRA soldier’s voice. It was familiar, and he knew he had heard it before, perhaps back at the Siberian base.

“Daddy? Is uncle Sam going to be there too?”

“Mhm?” he absentmindedly turned to give her a look, before turning back towards the road, “you bet. Your uncle Sam is always there.”

You pulled off the binoculars from your eyes, and your legs carelessly dangled underneath you, as you murmured into the comms in a husky voice, “Vasili. I see them. Do you copy? I’m going in.” You sat atop the iron grills on the bridge; your eyes plastered to the car that was speeding it’s way towards the bridge where you were. 

“Get her today, Johanna. I know you can do it.”

That was enough confirmation for you. You waited another two minutes, for the car to pass by you, and as expected, Bucky’s eyes never caught you; especially not when you were sitting high on top of that bridge. The minute the car buzzed from below you, you stood up, and elegantly, placing both your hands on one of the rods, you twirled your body into a to and fro moving motion like a pendulum, and jumped from one grill to another, and then, right down until you landed gracefully on the deserted bridge underneath the grill where your motorcycle stood in a corner.

Smirking to yourself, you pushed yourself atop your bike, and you darted straight towards your target, your bike almost flying at a pace faster than most of the vehicles that were around you. You manouvred tactfully between the cars, your eyes fixed on that one car that you were following and finally, when you were close enough, you slid out your weapon, aimed it casually towards the front tyre and pulled the trigger, the tyre bursting in front of your eyes, like a firecracker.

Bucky ’s car skidded left and then right, and it was clear that Bucky had lost the controls. You waited, and you watched, with anticipation, your heart drumming wildly against your chest. Any minute now. And lo and behold, as if on cue, the car finally lost its balance and hit the railing of the bridge, breaking it and plunged right into the water, with Bucky and your target inside.

“It can’t be this easy, can it?” you asked yourself as you jumped into the water, a second after the car crashed into it.

You swam under, your eyes fixed on the car, and you could see that the man was trying to unbuckle the wailing girl’s seatbelt. He was so engrossed in trying to get her out of the car, he didn’t notice you swimming towards his side of the car. It was only when you smashed your gun against his window , did his eyes widen in recognition and a look of dark, venomous hate flashed in his eyes as water started filling up the car. It was too late for him; for you had already grabbed a magnet from your pocket, placing it on the top of the car, the magnetic pull of it being so strong, Bucky’s metal arm was stuck on top of him, and no matter how hard he tried to pull it off, he was unable to. He kept screaming in anger, as you swam to the other side, and effortlessly pulled the girl out of the car, holding her against you as you started swimming back towards the surface, leaving the Winter Soldier to die.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You didn’t mind a bit that you were dripping water from head to toe, the only thing that worried you was the faint girl that was hanging over your shoulder. Although she had been awake as you had pulled her out of water, she had fainted minutes after and you hadn’t had the time or bother to revive her then and there, so you had sat her in front of you on your bike as you had spiraled your way back to your apartment.

You laid her on bed, and placed your palms on her chest, checking her heartbeat first and confirming her pulse. When you were sure she had survived, and was alive, you started pumping her chest, in hopes of reviving her.

A few tries later, you heaved a sigh of relief when she started coughing water, and slowly opened her frightened eyes and started looking around, When you realized that she was about to scream, you placed your palm against her lips, and pulled out your handkerchief, tying it across her mouth, barely giving her the chance to scream.

“Now, Теперь ты должна быть хорошей девочкой, если хочешь снова увидеть своих родителей. (Now you must be a good girl if you want to see your parents again.)” You ruffled her hair, ignoring her frightened, tear streaked eyes as you stood up and looked at your phone that had died perhaps due to the water. Maybe with your little tryst in water, neither your phone, nor your comms was now working, and all you could hear in your comms was a static. “Great. This phone cost me a fortune, and it’s not even water proof.” You dumped the phone on the bed carelessly knowing that Vasili was going to contact you, one way or the other. 

“Now listen, принцесса, I’m not going to hurt you. If you cooperate. Now if I take that off your mouth, do you promise you won’t make a fuss?” You pulled out a dry piece of clothing from your bag, and grabbed the girl's arm, lifting it over her head as you started changing her out of her wet dress. Once you were done, you looked down at her again, waiting for an answer.

She nodded.

You placed the hand on the knot at the back of her head and loosened it, taking off the handkerchief from her mouth as she started screaming, “DADDY! DADDY! WHAT DID YOU DO..WHERES MY DADDY..”

“Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, принцесс��, there are only two things I hate, one, kids, and two, whiney, mopey and crybaby kids.” You grabbed her arm, rather roughly and started dragging her down the hall, slightly marveling at the fight that the five year old seemed to putting in. No wonder HYDRA wanted her. But still, you were stronger and more trained than she was, so you managed to drag her to the corner most room, that was more of a walk in closet, spacey enough to fit a whiney kid. You pulled open the door, threw her in, and slammed the door shut.

Ignoring her incessant crying, and screaming, trying to bang her tiny hands again and again against the door, you skipped into the kitchen and grabbed a carton of strawberry milk. You lowered yourself on the floor, and opening the nozzle of the carton, you slammed it to your lips, hungrily devouring the contents of it, more due to boredom and irritation of the continuous wailing and screaming coming from the closet, rather than hunger.

A few minutes later, when you realized that the wailing had stopped, and reduced to soft whimpers, you didn’t know why, but you decided to go check on her. Maybe the fact that she was a kid, you were going soft of her, something they had trained you never to do. Holding the half empty carton in your hand, you slowly unlocked the door, and stepped into the closet.

Sasha was huddled in a corner, her knees pressed to her chest, his face buried into her arms and knees, as she continued to sniffle and sob.

“Listen kid, let me be honest with you. You can bawl your eyes out, but I won’t let you go.”

She looked up, her eyes and her cheeks stained with dried up tears, “Я просто хочу вернуться домой, пожалуйста. (I just want to go back home.)”

You almost scoffed at her words, and wondered if kids were really this ignorant, this innocent. You stood up, leaving the carton of milk right there on the floor, and stretched your arms, as you started to leave, when her tiny squabble of a voice called out, “You are a bad lady. You don’t know my daddy, my mommy and my uncles, they are Avengers. They will come for me, you are bad lady.”

“Really? Your daddy is probably swimming with the dolphins, милая.”

Smirking, you slammed the door shut as you stepped out of the closet, leaving her inside. The minute you stepped out, you gasped, like a fish out of water, bending slightly, like you couldn’t breathe. You didn’t understand but your head was throbbing and it felt like someone was drilling holes against your temples. You wiped the tears off your eyes and took a deep breath, to calm your suddenly racing insides.

You didn’t understand the fuck your brain was acting like.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

“Goddamnit.”

You kicked your useless, pathetic phone away. You didn't understand why Vasili had only given you a phone, and no other means of communication. Now you were stuck here, with a kid, and you didn't know what to do.

"Vasili, where are you?" You whispered, as you switched sides, and decided to lay down on your right instead of the left.

You tried to sleep for the next fifteen minutes, but sleep evaded your eyes. You didn't know why, you kept feeling an urge, to get up and go check on your mission.

"For fucks sake," you sat up in bed, rubbing your tired, sleep deprived eyes as you slid against the edge of your bed, your feet dangling against the side as you stepped up and slowly started walking towards the closet. The first thing you did was place your ear against the door to listen in for any whimpering or crying, but there was none. Finally, with much reluctance, you opened the door, and your heart deflated when you saw her. She was laying on the floor, curled into a foetal position against her side, the carton of milk empty. The empty closet was filled with the sounds of her soft, rhythmic snores and you couldn't help but sigh.

You walked up to her, and slowly, placing your hand under her head, and another one under her thigh, you lifted her up. Holding her against your chest, you carried her back into your room, and laid her against your bed, pulling the covers over her tiny body.

"I didn't want to do this. But I have no choice. You're my mission. I am a soldier, and it's my duty to comply." Your words were almost mumbled, and your voice soft and breezy, as you laid down next to her, resting your arm on top of your head. You didn't know when, but sleep finally took control of you, and you found yourself drifting off into a slumber.

You slept well, atleast for a few hours until... you felt someone's hands on you, waking you up.

Instinctively, your eyes darted open, your hand almost flying to your gun, that you kept under your pillow, for emergencies like these.

It took your eyes a couple of seconds to register, that the little girl, who you had so effortlessly managed to kidnap, was sitting on your stomach, almost straddling you, her feet on either side of yours as her hands repeatedly shook your shoulders. "Клянусь Богом, это будет лучше. (It better be important, I swear to God.)"

You pushed yourself up in bed, and instinctively, the girl crawled off you, perhaps in fear, but her eyes remained on you.

"Thank you for getting your paws off me. Now what is it, принцесса?" You said in a raspy morning voice.

The little girl parted her lips, as though in an attempt to say something, but she shut up again, and started staring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"What?" You growled.

"I.. I.. Daddy told me you were in heaven."

"What the fuck?"

"Daddy says we shouldn't say that word."

You slid out of bed, and crossed your arms over your chest, glaring down at the girl sitting cross legged on your bed.

"I think the fall you took, kiddo, it hit your head. You don't know what you're talking about. Heaven.. " You scoffed at that word.

"But daddy never lies to me."

You didn't know what irked you more right now; the fact that this girl was getting on your nerves, or the fact that you were beginning to get a gnawing headache.

"Your daddy doesn't even know who I am."

Sasha rolled out her legs in front of her, swinging them against the side of the bed so that her back was now turned towards you. She was a quiet for a minute, until her next words hit you like a brick right across your face.

"Daddy has your photo in his wallet.. he told me you went to heaven, giving birth to me.. you're...my...mommy?"

You didn't know why you suddenly felt like someone had stabbed you in the gut.  You couldn't breathe. A guttural cry forced itself out of your lips as hot tears of frustration rolled down your cheeks. Her words were infuriating, it annoyed your nerves, and made you grind your teeth.

"Я не твоя мать. Ты слышишь меня?"

(I'm not your mother. You hear me?)

When she didn't answer, your nostrils flared, and your lips quivered, as you grabbed her by her arm and almost shook her, trying to knock some senses into her.

"Я не знаю, какую игру разума ты затеваешь. Но выслушай это, принцесса. Я чудовище. Я могу отправить тебя на небеса щелчком пальца– " (I dont know what mind game you're upto. But hear this out, princess. I am a monster. I can send you to heaven with a snap of my finger– )

The bang on your front door caused you to stop speaking, and instead, you squinted your eyes towards it before glaring at her again. You brought your finger to your lips, and slowly, you pulled out your revolver from underneath the pillow, and walked out of the room until you were standing on the other side of the door.

"Who is it?"

"Это я, дорогая."

You wouldn't lie; you were happy to hear his voice.

"Vasili–" you unbolted the door from the inside and pulled it open, moving out of the way as Vasili took off his coat, and stepped in, "Просто вытащи ее отсюда, пока я не оторву ей язычок." (Just get her out of here before I rip her little tongue off.)

"Calm down little dove." Vasili's cold palm came to rest against your cheek as he ran your thumb over your plump lower lip in a teasing way before he pulled away and went inside to take a look at his reward. An ever permanent scowl on your face, you quietly followed your handler inside and stopped when you saw him leaning against the doorframe as he studied the little girl; who had yet not seen him. 

"This kid is delusional. Thinks I am her dead mother." You grumbled, failing to notice how Vasili's eyebrow shot up when those words escaped your lips, perhaps the first thought crossing his mind was whether you remembered her or not.

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @all-art-is-quite-useless @baumarvel @janajjj @chipilerendi @nyotamalfoy @skittychat @peakyfooky @allidoiswritewritewrite @jessyballet @x0xchristine @evansgirl7 @laisbeltrans @thegayseance @supraveng

Want to be added to my permanent Taglist? Pls fill up the form here on this link. 💙

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Love Isn’t Always On Time Part Thirty Seven

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Not Beta-Read.   Also if you’ve asked to be added to the tag lis and I haven’t, I’m sorry! This is my sideblog and I can’t reply to messages without it being my main (if that makes sense) so just shoot me either an IM or a message on my inbox and I’ll add you I hope everyone’s doing well :) Warnings: Some cursing? Summary: Call me old-fashioned, but I thought three people standing at a bar, all wearing sunglasses and baseball caps may stand out a little. 

The twenty minutes that had followed the broadcast had been status quo for the last two years of my life, and had been the modus operandi in my time with the Howlies - “Grab your shit, we need to be out of here in twenty.” New mission, new parameters. But there were new lines now that we were in danger of crossing. Any actions that we took to go after Bucky wouldn’t be sanctioned by General Ross, by the UN; everyone would be watching us way more closely now.

Steve was tracking down what he could on recon when it came to Bucky; Sharon had promised to feed back what she could without suspicion and while keeping her head above water with the investigation. The image of Bucky was everywhere - a collar pulled up around his neck, a black cap fitted over his head, but he looked directly at the camera.

Sam and I were waiting at a coffee bar as Steve made contact with Natasha; the bombing was on every single channel, everyone around us was talking about it. I kept my head down as much as I could, feeling conspicuous even in black baseball cap and sunglasses. Call me old-fashioned, but I thought three people standing at a bar, all wearing sunglasses and baseball caps may stand out a little. “Something is off about this,” Sam grumbled, “After all of the trouble he’s gone through the keep his head down for the past couple of years, there’s no way he’d slip up just to attack the Accords and then get caught out like that.” “Unless some HYDRA asshole got to him and he’s been reactivated,” I offered quietly, “Or it’s not him at all. Remember that mask ‘Tasha had when we were in D.C.? He could be framed. And he’s already been forced to do so much, wouldn’t be implausible that he’s been made to do something else.” We quieted down as Steve came back in; I could tell from the tightness in his jaw that the conversation with Natasha didn’t go the way he wanted it. “She tell you to stay out of it?” Sam asked. When Steve didn’t answer, he tacked on, “Might have a point.” "He’d do it for me,” Steve pointed out. “In 1945, maybe. I just want to make sure we considered all our options. The people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me. And this one hasn’t spent that much time since she splashed back down in the 2000s,” Sam tacked on, nodding in my direction. Steve caught my eye over the top of his sunglasses, and I averted my eyes. “If you have reservations about this, Wilson, have them, but don’t drag me into that,” I argued softly. Sam grunted in turn, quieting down as Sharon settled in beside Steve. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter soldier goes to their gym. Most of it's noise. Except for this. My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now...so that's all the head start you're gonna get,” She relayed, passing Steve a file. “Thank you,” He mumbled. “And you're gonna have to hurry,” Sharon warned. My blood ran cold when she added, “We have orders to shoot on sight.”

--

“I don’t like this,” I said quietly, glancing up at the building. Sam was stationed on the roof, and I was keeping to the alleyway of the building, waiting on a rented motorcycle that Steve and I had driven over on. Steve looked at the cowl in his hands. We didn’t have the time to contemplate, but I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut. “Stay out here, keep to the comms, fall back unless I tell you,” he repeated. I pursed my lips and give him a tight nod, averting my eyes to the street. Steve cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “It’s safest this way,” He reminded me gently. “I know,” I mumbled, “Just... Go, and be careful.” Steve pressed a kiss to my forehead before he fitted his cowl on, buckling it and heading inside. I watched the door shut behind him before I looked up to the roof at where Sam was peering down at us. I gave him a wave, signalling that Steve had gone inside. “... I’ve got German special forces approaching from the South,” Sam warned. I grimaced, leg shaking impatiently. “Come on, Steve,” I mumbled, waiting for him to open the comm, to give the all clear to come up, something. I didn’t get that. What I got instead was the sound of gunfire, yelling. I kept my eyes on the sky, waiting for a signal from Sam or a call from Steve. What I did see was Bucky jump from one roof to another, then another  person jump after him. I brought my hand up to my ear. “Sam, what the hell is that?” “It looks like a cat man!” Sam yelled back. “A fuckin’ what?” I asked, unable to help a delirious laugh. “They’re heading for the sidewalk,” Sam warned in place of another answer, “Southwest corner!” I started my bike up, pulling my helmet on and pulling the visor down as I sped in the direction Sam mentioned. I could see them - there was Bucky, Steve, and another figure running at an unreal speed. “They’re heading for the underpass,” I groaned, picking up speed. I wasn’t sure what was worse at this point - Bucky jumping carelessly into oncoming traffic, the unidentified CatMan chasing him, or the fact that we still had German Special Forces on our tail. Even in my time in the 40s, even the recon mission in Roessel hadn’t presented me with so many opportunities to die on the spot. German Special Forces had largely paid me no mind, and I used that to my advantage, focusing my energy on defensive driving, diverting other vehicles from the chase, offering Steve and Sam space and cover where I could. I managed to follow Steve’s order, hanging back until Sam flicked the CatMan toward a detonation and fell back onto my bike to keep the both of us from getting caught under the fall of rubble that Bucky had set off. I would’ve taken a harder fall if it hadn’t been for Sam’s wings. I pushed off of the ground, hurrying out of the artificial light with Sam and spotting Steve and Bucky where they’d finally come to a stop with War Machine. “Stand down,” Rhodey warned from behind the visor. Sam and I brought our hands up, crowding closer to the others as German Special Forces closed us in. Bucky and Steve turned their heads to see who else he could possibly be addressing; I saw recognition wash over Bucky’s face in a quick, painful wave before he turned back to the matter at hand.

I would’ve moved closer, but there was Sam’s hand on my shoulder, carefully anchoring me in place to stop me from doing something stupid, like breaking into a run when there were god knows how many guns pointed at us. Part of me didn’t care. Bucky was here, he was in one piece, he saw me and he knew exactly who I was. But I also wasn’t the only one in the line of fire, and one stupid word or step out of line could spell even worse consequences for all of us. I cast Sam a pleading look despite this, and he gave me a small shake of his head. I kept carefully quiet as I watched soldiers shove Bucky to the ground and cuff him. Across from them, CatMan retracted his claws, reached up, and pulled off his helmet. My eyes widened at the sight of Prince T‘Challa. It took everything in me not to fight the cuffs being put on me, not to argue as I was strong-armed toward a vehicle with Sam and Steve and Prince T’Challa. “Shouldn’t he be getting a limo?” Sam muttered as we were nudged into a van. I shot him a look, fighting the smile that pulled at my lips. We were fucked, and we knew it. The Accords had been signed, we were way out of jurisdiction; we had gone essentially gone rogue. The ride was fairly quiet. Until, “So, you like cats?”

Tag list: @gloryevans @redryderdesigns @winter-scolder @aactuaaltraash @secretagentben @staplerrrr @elliee1497 @adayinmymeadow  @allonszassbutt @mannls @witch-of-letters  @niallssweetheart22 @uneniffler  @rinthehufflepuff @panic-angel3314  @firstangeldragonranch @kaetastic @mcuwillbethedeathofme @skeletoresinthebasement @i-dont-know-what-im-doing-yay @kkaos15 @iamnotoverlyfondofwhatfollows  @bassclarinety @tomshelbystits @rvgrsbrns @marvelmenarebeautiful @tenaciousperfectionunknown @intricate-melody​ @stuffandstuff-stuff​ @fanfuckingtastic04 @messybunnyartist @anescapefromtheworld  @shesa-riott​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms

[qvid-pro-qvo]

fuck, marry, kill

aos!leonard mccoy x female!reader, who’s a nurse on the starship enterprise. 

word count: 5885

rating: explicit (workplace sex, at the end, for fun.) 

part one of more than a game, you and me.

A silly game from your academy days gets interrupted, leaving you to think over how you really feel about the great Dr. McCoy. 

“Goddammit, bastard, son of a fucking bitch,” you hissed, shaking your hand after yanking it back from the control panel next to your shower. It had the gall to shock you, one that rippled down your arm and almost made your other hand drop the towel you clung to for decency. Somehow the same steady hands that could wield a pair of hypodermics and a tricorder without thinking about it managed to break every other piece of equipment on the Enterprise.

A year since you got transferred, a year since the last major headache, and you had managed to build up a routine. Waking up to beta shifts until the six-month mark when you transferred to alpha shifts that gave you more to do without the headaches of fighting artificial daylight. Crew physicals and routine exams for viruses carried onboard from earth until all the crew had been cleared. Lunches six hours in, dinner six hours after that, followed by a jog, some yoga, a shower, and then… repeat.

It was a good routine. One that made you friends with other nurses in blue and engineers in red and a few on the captain track who came in more often because of their proximity to the action. You could now say “hello” to Sulu and “good morning” to Chekov and other niceties to a couple other officers. And they’d smile back, and all in all nothing was disrupted. Your routine kept you going.

But now, that routine was stopped in its tracks.

With a little huff, you shook your head. Fortunately for you, your connections through routine hypos and the occasional healing after a scuffle gave you one particularly good friend. One who was very good at fixing up the Enterprise in any state she was in. And because of your clumsiness and tendency to get shocked, that friend was simply a comm unit away. Decency first, of course.

“Y/N to Scotty.”

“Aye, lass, Scotty here.”

A sigh of relief that he wasn’t on break, or worse, sleeping. That’d been a bear you wouldn’t want to disturb more than once. Your fingers tapped away, allowing his voice to fill the room rather than sound tinny coming from the communicator and your hands to hunt for a shirt.

“Yeah, we’ve got a situation. My shower isn’t working?”

“Is that right,” the chief engineer replied, and you could tell by his voice that under the amusement there was distraction. Your problem was not the only one on his plate, then. Or at the very least, not his main focus.

“Yeah, that’s right. Shocked me, as a matter of fact, when I tried to get it going.”

“Mmm.” Make that a lot of distraction.

“Scotty?”

“Yeah, lass?”

“Can you come fix it?”

“Fix what?”

With a soft sigh you pulled your shirt over your head, shaking out your hair before pulling it up into something passable for company.

“My shower, Scott. Y’know, again, the one that shocked me. That’s not turning on. That shower.”

“Shocked you? Well, this is the first I’m hearing about it,” he scoffed, indignant, and your eyes went wide with disbelief before you heard his chuckle.

“Oh, so I’m the entertainment for this evening, then,” you muttered with a scowl, scrounging around for the pants you just had on and the regulation zip-up you could walk around the halls in.

“Of course, Y/L/N,” he retorted. “I was wondering when the next time you’d call was. After all, it’s been, what, almost a week since our last incident with the replicator, hasn’t it been?”

“Two weeks, thank you,” you snapped, the pants snatched off the floor and shaken out with a vengeance. One foot began making its way inside the leg of the pants, the other hopping on the floor. “Monty, please, I just got off shift, I’m tired, and I’m sweaty, and there were three cases of Takarian bronchiolitis that we had to treat with airborne precautions. Never mind next week’s also Christine’s birthday, who I love with all of my heart but the party I got roped into planning for, of fucking – agh!”

“Y/N!”

Bouncing on one leg could only last for so long, of course. Your head thankfully did not contact anything with a hard surface. Your ass, however, got the brunt of the blow, specifically your tailbone.

“Y/N?”

When you groaned, you heard the relief, as well as the stifled laughter.

“Can you just please come fix my shower? I think there’s an analgesic hypo with my name on it back in the med bay.”

-

Of course, you weren’t one to completely bypass the rules. The Enterprise had enough of that in places other than the medical unit, and your chief medical officer, Dr. McCoy, was a stickler for right and wrong and lines that shouldn’t be crossed. So, your hypodermic needle was checked out by Christine, administered by her, and all logged and dated with a note about the situation. And, because your appointment didn’t technically end for another fifteen minutes, there was enough time for a little bit of gossip.

Your type of news always was the kind of shit that got the whole crew talking. The next adventure, who was sleeping with who, the drama that came out of confessions when the ship was falling apart. Anything to work through the monotony. But Christine’s favorite topic was almost always you, much to your chagrin.

“You know I don’t have a love life,” you said with a roll of your eyes, sitting up on the biobed and letting your feet dangle off of the edge. “That hasn’t changed in the three days since you asked me last.”

“I do know you’re at the very least no fun about it,” she responded with an eye roll, fingers tracing over your vitals the bed collected and reported. “There’s hundreds of people on this ship, and you’re telling me that none of them catch your eye? What about the chief engineer?”

Immediately your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the laugh that left you. “Scotty? No. No, no, we’re just friends, aggressively friends. He keeps me around because I’m the only one who gives him stuff to do during the night shifts. Without me breaking lightbulbs it’d be too dull.”

Of course, her eyebrow crept up in suspicion, but when your gaze held steady, she dropped her eyes, waving a hand like the idea was preposterous anyway.

“All right. So, no Scotty. Any ensigns?”

“No.”

“Lieutenants?”

“No.”

“Cadets?”

“Oh, my god, Christine,” you gasped out with a laugh, jumping off of the biobed, smacking her on the arm.  “Stop it.” Your eyes glanced around the med bay, but just like every beta shift began, it was pretty damn quiet. Not a soul in sight besides the two of you. “There’s no one.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” she sighed, pushing off of the wall to meet you nose to nose. “But there’s gotta be someone who at least catches your eye, right?”

“Chris…”

“Someone on this ship you’d be willing to fuck – “

“No, we’re not – “

“- marry, maybe – “

“Christine, I swear to god – “

“- or kill?”

Again, your eyes darted around, but at that point the game had been called. A throwback to your time in the academy, when your classmates would find the local bars and a booth to heckle each other in. When passersby would be unknowingly subjected to a game based on nothing but good fun, and usually a whole lot of booze.

Simple premise. Three names called out. Each gets a label, and the rounds continue until the players decide they’ve had enough. Called anywhere, at any time, and Christine had thrown the gauntlet.

“You’re on duty,” you pointed out, but you leaned back on the biobed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if there’s a patient I’ll tend to them. But you’ve got nowhere to be, and if I have a say we’re finding someone on this ship for you,” she pointed out, before swiping your scans away from the vicinity and joining you on the bed. “Three rounds. I bet you I can do it in three rounds.”

With an eye roll you proceeded to glare at her, but her grin did not budge once, and with a sigh you just nodded.

“Perfect. Why don’t we start with a throwback? Old classmates? Harrison, Twyla, and Betty.”

Your smile crept up on your face, and without a second thought you rattled it off. “Fuck Twyla, marry Harrison, kill Betty. Obviously.” Considering that two of the three weren’t even on the ship, you knew that it was more a warmup than anything. Lots of pretty people at the Starfleet Academy.

“All right. And then… oh, what about the bridge crew?”

“Christine,” you groaned, hand smacking over your face. “We’re in public.”

“There’s no one here, and you can’t chicken out of the second round! Look, we’ll do… Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Uhura, and Ensign Chekov.”

Your jaw clenched. Forget about saying hi to Sulu ever again.

“I would… I would…”

“C’mon. You can say it, Y/N.”

“Fine, fine!” But you couldn’t help your laughter as you shoved Christine’s arm again. “I would… I would fuck Uhura, marry Sulu, and – “

“And kill Chekov? He’s got a baby face! You’re gonna kill him where he stands!”

“Christine, this is not real life,” you reminded her with a hiss, shaking your head before beginning to walk towards the door. “I’m leaving before I end up having to resign.”

“Oh, no! We’ve got one more go.”

“I’m walking. My tailbone doesn’t even hurt anymore. The miracle of modern medicine.”

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“Captain Kirk.”

“No, Christine.”

“Commander Spock.”

“Stop!”

“And Dr. Mccoy!”

“What about me?”

Your heart stopped.

“Nurse Y/L/N, is that right?” Dr. McCoy, the man himself, stated, raising a brow as he moved into the med bay, boxes stacked up in his hand. Christine did the smart thing, moving forward to help the doctor carry them inside, but your feet were cemented to the floor, mouth a little agape, color flooding your cheeks.  

“Y-Yes! Hello, sir, I was just – uh, I was just –“ you stammered, turning to follow them both with your eyes as their load was dropped on one of the biobeds. “Well. I was just leaving, really.”

“She had an appointment,” Christine offered, her best and most polite smile on for your shared boss, who seemed too tired to do more than nod. “And we were just discussing… shifts?”

“Shifts.” Again, Dr. McCoy’s brow raised, and with skilled fingers he reached to slide them along the seam, a hiss sounding out as they opened up, bearing unloaded hypodermics, some bandaging supplies.

“Shifts.” Your voice was weak as you confirmed it, but while his eyes were down Christine gave you a subtle nod, winking even as you scowled at her. “You see, I was just – I was just wondering if I could take the beta shift next week, and… well. That’s a change I need you to sign off on. Dr. M’Benga and dr. Olson didn’t have a preference when I asked them.”

“Uh-huh,” was the gruff response, and as his fingers reached up to scratch at his chin, something like amusement seemed to play in his eyes. Although, thinking about it, you reasoned it was probably just the exhaustion and the lights in the med bay you saw instead. “So, you scheduled an appointment with Christine and my medbay, takin’ up one of the biobeds here, to talk about shift changes?”

“No. No, no, it wasn’t just about that,” you got out, more heat rising to your cheeks, and thankfully your feet were moving backwards, towards the door, as their hands slid into gloves and prepped the new cargo for treatment.

“She… took a spill in her quarters. Needed an analgesic. I did a scan to make sure it wasn’t anything more than a bruised tailbone and then gave her a dose of lidocaine for the area and acetaminophen for the pain.” Of course, Christine could chime in, sounding composed, while you had just managed to regain motor functioning.

“I see,” McCoy responded, and there was a brief moment where you were sure he was gonna call your bluff. You didn’t even remember right away that there was a hypo-stick in the first place, and the lidocaine definitely did not happen, right? But then, something, almost like a smirk washed over his features. They relaxed, and those eyes lit up again, deep and dark and warm. It was like taking a shot of whiskey, the sour leaving behind something that made your breath catch.

“You know you could just say you fell on your ass, Nurse Y/L/N.”

The stories about Dr. McCoy in a nutshell. No southern charm, just a sweet Georgian gut punch. Humor hiding in the comment, of course, but at that point your embarrassment made it taste pretty damn bitter.  

Thankfully, though, the moment was gone. The smirk vanished, the exhaustion seemed to settle over him like a blanket, and his eyes glanced toward you once again before shrugging. “beta shift works for me. Just don’t let it screw with your head too much and find someone who’s willing to trade.”

“That’s… yes. Well - good night, sir,” you got out, biting your lower lip, bowing your head before shooting another glare at Christine. “Good night, Nurse Chapel, and I’ll see you both… when I see you.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Christine called out, and the good doctor managed a hum of acknowledgement, his attention already pulled away from your retreating form. And if there was a second glance at you, it was nothing more than confirmation that the night was back to peace and quiet.

-

“I am never going to recover from this.”

“Mmm,” Scotty ground out, his arm elbow deep into the guts of the Enterprise.

“I mean it, Monty!” You cried out, back flat on your bed, arm thrown across your face but leaving your mouth wide open to complain. “Jesus Christ and now I’ve gotten myself roped into beta shifts, ready to be bored out of my skull for a whole damn week. He thinks I’m an idiot. An idiot and insane!”

“D’you think?” Was the reply, but the lack of attention didn’t bother you one bit. You were barely paying attention.

No, your head was running wild, with the fear that the greatest job you had, the job you were best at, was now at risk because of some dumb game you played with Christine. What if Dr. McCoy had heard all of it? What if he had just walked in because he had heard enough, and then you’d get called into his office, not a smirk in sight, and request your resignation? Could he do that? Off of a conversation?

“Y/N!” Scotty called out, and that’s what finally broke your spiral downward, your body shooting up to a sitting position, looking up to see Scotty staring out of the bathroom at you. Your water was running, you could hear it, and Scott was grinning from ear to ear, some kind of tool tucked behind his ear.

“All fixed,” he crowed with joy, brushing his hands off on his uniform. When he leaned on the doorway, his eyes were gazing around the rest of the place, as if it was just waiting to break on him, too. “computer, shut down the shower. Now, what were you saying, lassie? Somethin’ about our chief medical officer, yes?”

And as Scott smiled at you, no recognition of your crisis in him, you just smiled back, standing up to give him a hug. Even without saying anything, he had the best ideas.

“Nothing, Monty. Thanks for the fix.”

He was hustled out a few moments later, after a playful argument taking bets on what piece of machinery in this poor room would fall apart next (he was a fan of the faulty replicator, but you had a gut feeling it’d be the temperature control). But soon he was out of the room, and you knew that ignoring the whole thing would be the best option.

Except with Christine, ignorance was never an option for bliss. When your padd beeped, and then your communicator, you were forced to answer the message, looking to see a little smiley face emoticon with a message that left your heart falling to the floor.

“Your answer? :)”

Your answer? For the game? After all of that and Christine had the gall? But you could see her smile, even from this far, a smile that made you smirk.

But they were the rules, and so the question was left in your head. What was your answer? What were the options?

You thought about it as you started to get ready for bed, t-shirt set on the counter in the bathroom, hot shower started. Your hair was put up before you stripped, your face splashed with water and a towel as steam began to fill the room.

“Captain Kirk.” No personal experience with him, but you, like everyone on the ship, had seen him around. Had heard the legends. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t seem stricken by the love bug when it came to him, blond hair perfect, smile bright, blue eyes startlingly, well, blue. Friendly, quick, brave. He was the perfect man. But not everyone knew Christine. Christine, who’d had the lovely interaction with Cadet Kirk, at the time, who ended up kicking him out of your shared dorm room after a bad argument gone bad. The air was cleared enough that he managed to get polite smiles from her, but after that captain kirk never had the appeal. He was a playboy. His nature, his right, you supposed. But not for you.

“Commander Spock.” Tall, handsome. But very Vulcan, and very taken. Now, you knew he had to have some kind of sweet side, and there was something, you guessed, about the confidence that his reliance on logic seemed to convey. After all, you’d heard him lecture a few times, and if you were honest that would’ve been when you were most attracted to him – using his knowledge and logic and proud spirit to lead others on the path toward serving the federation. But there was only so far that logic and a lack of emotion could go, and even though you’d heard of outbursts occurring where his emotion made their mark? No. Arguments aplenty.

And who did that leave?

“Dr. McCoy.”

At that point, you still hadn’t entered the shower, and the computer was telling you that the water was about to automatically turn off to preserve the function of the ship’s supply, but your head was no longer in your bedtime ritual, instead thinking about the mysterious Dr. Mccoy, the infamous Dr. McCoy.

The Dr. McCoy that made nurses cry every so often from his outbursts – never violent but fierce, always due to the protectiveness he had for his patients. The Dr. McCoy who was a doctor before he even became a cadet, with enough knowledge to fill a few books. The Dr. McCoy who had smirked at you with those dark and deep eyes, brown and full with some kind of life as he... Well, teased, southern accent lilting just a bit, maybe? That Dr. McCoy? The Dr. McCoy who saved lives and healed and always, always, always fought for more healthcare, for more hypos, for more protections for the nurses who somehow, even in the 24th century, managed to get pushed to the wayside?

When you stepped in the shower, it took a second for your fingers to bang at the control panel, your legs held together, and with a quick setting manipulation the steam quickly cleared, the water’s temperature dropping to ice cold. You were in, and you were out, but by the time you had dressed and brushed your teeth color had crept on your cheeks again.

All you could see were those eyes.

“Fuck.”

-

“Ah, Nurse Y/L/N,” the doctor said, eyes barely looking up from the singed hands of the red-shirt in front of him. “I need dermatological regen started here and a full body scan initiated on the biobed two over.”

Like nothing had even happened. Like your nightmare interaction two weeks ago hadn’t resulted in you unintentionally taking night shifts, resulting in a fucked up circadian rhythm and bags under your eyes, not to mention hours bored out of your skull.

Christine wasn’t here, and for once you were grateful. The last thing you needed was her eyes on you as you maneuvered around the doctor for a new shift while exhaustion lingered in the back of your mind. But it also meant that there was no one to offer a united front. Just you.

“Nurse Y/L/N?”

And you just spent the past minute mulling all of that in your mind. Making yourself look like a dumbass in front of the doc and his patient. The patient hadn’t noticed, staring at his own hands in horror, but Dr. McCoy seemed like he was regretting letting you back on to handle days.

Shit.

“You got it, doc,” you managed with a kind smile at the engineer, whose face you could now see as you walked past him toward the wall. Your hands expertly manipulated to storage system, and with the tricorder kept at your waist you gathered the necessities.

The great thing – you were damn good at what you did. Especially when you could focus on it. Your face was bright, uniform neat (until it wasn’t due to fluids of some kind), and your hands were steady. And no complicated patients came in that day, especially since no away missions were sent out and nothing malfunctioned horribly deep within the ship’s bowels.

And yet, no matter what you did, no matter how competent you showed you were, no matter how many laughs or smiles or even nods from the most stubborn of usual patients? Eyes were on you. Dark, deep eyes. The whole day, no matter where you went, a furrowed brow and focused tailed you, watching your interactions.

All in all, a good day. A great day, even, as you injected your last hypo and the padd reported a normal set of vitals, no reaction to the medication after fifteen minutes.

The shift was over, now. It was a good shift, one that required no personal defense. You gave report to the next nurse, said goodbye to the others on-duty. Your jacket put on, your hair pulled down and back up after the frizz of the day had ruined it. Nothing really to note.

So why did the doctor not let you out of his sight?

The rest of the week, the same routine. The flow you had gotten into on alpha shifts returned, and your week of off nights was left behind in favor of much better mornings. Back on track, the same old, same old. And yet with every shift there was a new weight, those eyes on you. It felt like if he wasn’t tending to a patient, and he wasn’t in his office in the back of the bay, he was watching you. Critical of every injection and admission. You were starting to go a little crazy with it, your mind going a million miles an hour, second guessing the simplest stuff just so you wouldn’t fuck up in front of the CMO.

But after a while, the fear of failure turned into anger.

What right did the doctor have to analyze like that? You were a great nurse! You treated your patients and coworkers fairly, with respect and compassion. What was there to complain about? You knew your shit, and here was McCoy, looking like the Enterprise regretted your assignment there in the first place. By the end of the week, that anger had built up, and once the weekend rolled around, and your two off days in a row loomed, you decided you were done.

“Is there something on my uniform, Dr. McCoy?” You asked, terse as you organized the vaccine cart, the new year meaning new yearly injections to follow up on.

His fingers had been steadily scrolling through files of crew members, but their nimble work paused at your question. His eyes had taken a break from tearing you apart, but now they were focused on you once again.

“Excuse me, Nurse Y/L/N?” He asked, his face looking almost pinched.

“I was just wondering if there was something on my uniform. Or in my teeth, perhaps. Something in my hair, maybe, too.” Your hands kept chugging along, automatically rearranging the colored liquids, but there was a tightness you couldn’t shake, a tension.

“Something in your hair?” The doctor repeated, and at his tone, somewhat amused, you finally turned to face him, your brow raised in a mimic of his.

“Well, there’s gotta be something, considering that you haven’t gone five minutes without staring at me like I’m your least favorite sight in the world. So, what is it? Uniform out of regs? Did I administer a medication wrong? Did a patient complain?”

At that point, the amusement had turned to indignation, maybe even anger. His jaw was clenched, and the padd in his hands had been abandoned on the desk in favor of crossed arms over his chest.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, nurse,” he ground out, eyes flicking around the med bay. But there was no one to look at. No one to distract or overhear.

You couldn’t help your laugh. “Oh, I think you do,” you snapped, and almost mocking him, your arms crossed as well, a hip cocked, your eyes like daggers. “Ever since I came back on alpha shift, you’ve been doing all you can to catch me in a fuck-up. Well, it’s not happening! I’m damn good at what I do, and no amount of posturing, even from the CMO, would ever change that!”

His scoff was hard, arms uncrossing so a hand could pull through his hair in disbelief. “darlin’,” he said, slowly, as if you were dense, “There’s no posturing going on. Your abilities aren’t being doubted. Hell, I don’t even know your first name. Whatever story you’ve got going on in your head? It’s a story!”

His frustration showed through his accent, a southern drawl that got thicker as his sentences rambled on. But that couldn’t distract you from calling him out on his bullshit, no matter his position.

“I’m not senile,” you huffed, eyes rolling hard, and your steps closer were unconscious, crowding him against the desk he was leaning on now. “And I’m definitely not blind. So, tell me what your problem is with me, so I can go back to focusing on my job, and you can go back to focusing on yours!”

“There’s no damn problem!” His voice was almost a yell now, but you had no fear, and you sure as hell weren’t backing down. “It’s nothing. Hell, there isn’t anything to be nothing.”

And then it clicked, it clicked, as you stared into brown eyes that wavered for a second, that scanned you top to bottom in a split second. A break, a tell, whatever it was, the pieces were put together, and you stood tall, not letting his height on you intimidate.

“You overheard me and Christine, didn’t you?” It was low. “Is that what it is?”

“Overheard.” The clench in his jaw hadn’t loosened, but you watched that brow tick upwards again, his arms uncrossing so his hands could rest on the desk.

“When you walked in on us, last week,” you clarified. “You overheard our game.”

The anger was gone now. Now that everything had slotted into place, you weren’t angry. A little bit embarrassed maybe, but not angry. Frustration felt like it was leaking out of you, but the tension wasn’t gone. The standoff wasn’t broken. And after all of what, you had just yelled at your superior officer.

“Dr. McCoy,” you started, uncrossing your arms, and holding them up to offer a truce. “I apologize. For yelling. That… well, it shouldn’t have been my first move. But. I can explain, if you want me to.”

There was no verbal reply, but his exasperation came through with a huff, and he simply lifted a hand, gesturing for you to go on.

“It’s just a game we’ve played since the academy. It was inappropriate to play while Christine was on shift. I apologize for that as well,” you told him pulling back to glance once more at the sliding doors, which mercifully stayed closed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Just a game,” he repeated, and at first you didn’t catch the shift in his tone. Didn’t connect it with the glance toward the doors, or the way he stood from the desk, so that you were almost close enough to brush against him. “Just a game… using the names of your captain, commander, and chief medical officer?”

“Yes,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for that, as well, that definitely won’t be happening again.”

“A game talkin’ about who you’d rather have in your bed.”

Your eyes shot back to him, color flooding your cheeks.

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

“Well, that’s the game, isn’t it?” He said with a shrug, and as he leaned forward you could feel your breath catch in your throat, looking up into a face you imagined in your own quarters in the dead of night, as you let steaming water hit your skin. His jaw wasn’t clenched anymore, and his voice was a low rumble.

It wasn’t a threat. But it gave you goosebumps all the same, that the bass of his words, and you managed to nod, swallowing even as you kept your chin lifted.

“That’s the game. Is there a problem?”

And God, there was that smirk. Warm like whisky, it made your hands clench, your legs shift as that warmth rushed through you.

“No problem at all,” he hummed, and as he leaned close those lips brushed past your cheek. You could smell his cologne now, spice flooding your nose, the antiseptic of the day fading away. The chill in the air that always seemed to linger was gone, nothing but heat on your mind. Right in your ear you heard him, after a low chuckle that made you want to scream, beg him to get on with it. “I guess I’ve just been wondering what you would’ve answered, had I not… interrupted.”

Lunchtimes were surely coming to an end. Any second a patient could come in, could see the both of you crowded against the desk and know exactly why the whole place felt like an oven. But something possessed you, then, to bring one of your hands to his shoulder, the other to his hip, and lean just as close, almost pushing up on your toes to whisper right back.

“Give you one guess.”

Matches. That’s what that kiss felt like, a box of matches all lighting at once – the spark and the flash and explosion of heat as Dr. McCoy pulled back just enough to press his lips against yours. Nothing gentle, nothing kind, just a ferocity that made you moan against his mouth. His hands, broad and hot, began to roam on your back, settling just enough to pull you ever closer, so that your bodies were flush against each other. Your hand ended up twisted in his hair, the other fisted in his shirt. And just like matches, it was the start of a fire, one that had you both stumbling towards his office, the door sliding behind you with a quiet hiss.

“You were teasing me,” he ground out, directing you between kisses until the back of your thighs were against his desk. His hands gripped you then, around the waist, lifting you so you could sit. “And you didn’t even know it. Your voice over and over in my head, thinking about how it’d sound with my name.”  

“So, you stare at my ass instead of asking me, hmm? What a southern gentleman,” you laughed, and for that you got teeth against your neck, a hand shoving your skirt up. The tips of his fingers seemed to skate over your skin, tickling your inner thigh. But those slow circles never quite got where you wanted, just left burning trails in their wake. “Talk about teasing.”

“At’s what you get for having a smart mouth,” he chuckled, face still against your neck. But soon he was back to kissing you, making your head spin.

“That I know how to use,” you shot back, once again between presses of lips and gasps of air. “I’m – I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Never said you were,” he purred, and this time both hands lifted your skirt high, reaching for the panties that did a poor job of hiding anything. “But why don’t you let me use my mouth first?”

“What an offer.” One you certainly wouldn’t refuse, especially since he looked hungry for it, for you.

There was a brief moment’s hesitation, his finger curled around the elastic and so close to ripping them off. But while his body was begging for it, his pants more than a little tight, his eyes met yours.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, his tongue running along his lips as he got to his knees.

Your gaze didn’t waver, a grin coming over you. “That’s a fucking yes, sir.”

His grin matched yours, sharp and wily as he rid you of your underwear, hands on your knees so he could pull them apart. You were bare to the cool air, and your teeth caught your lower lip as he leaned forward with a hot gasp on your inner thigh.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

The first thing you felt was the swipe of his tongue, a furious push against where you were wettest. A taste, almost, before he licked a line through your folds until his mouth enveloped your clit. You were swollen, desperate for it, and your gasp was thick as fingers once again tangled in his hair. If you said anything, it was a “please,” a “yes,” a “god, right there” as he worked.

He took you apart with his mouth, no hesitation as his tongue worked you over, swirling around your clit as a finger began to tease your entrance. It was with a gasp you came, his hand spreading you open with two fingers inside of you, and when you were able to see straight you saw that grin again, his chin wet, his lips red.

“Holy shit, Doc,” you huffed, your hand falling from his hair to his chin, thumb swiping across the mess and bringing it up to your mouth so you could get a taste of yourself. He did you one better, leaning forward to kiss you again, and the taste of him and you made you smile.

“Leonard.”

“Leonard,” you repeated, and when you pulled back his smile was softer. Almost… vulnerable. “Suits you.”

“Well, I hope so,” he laughed. “It is my name.”

“And it’s my turn,” you pointed out, reaching for his waistband. “I think you should move to the chair.”

[avenging-criminal-bones]

Promises

Irondad & Spiderson (PLATONIC)

Word Count: 1669

Summary: Peter gets himself into trouble and this time Tony isn’t there to help him. 

Warnings: angst, whump, some fluff ish stuff

* * * * * 

"Tell me again why I should allow you to go without me?" Tony had finally stopped fiddling with his reactors long enough to know Peter was serious.

Peter sighs and sits down in a swivel chair, rolling it over to sit by Tony. The boyish grin that he wears after a second of thinking makes Tony's heart flutter, but he's careful not to let his emotions show on his face.

"Okay. Just hear me out before you yell about how it's irresponsible and such. Okay?" Peter rushes the words out, not wanting his mentor to interrupt him.

"If you already think that's what I'm going to say then why is it even a question?" Tony snarks, but doesn't argue. "Okay kid. I'll listen first. Just don't say anything stupid."

Peter's face lit up with a smile. "Mr. Stark. Captain America and Hawkeye want me to come on a mission with them! So did Black Widow. She was there too!" He was practically bouncing of the walls in excitement. However Tony's face fell with his shock.

"What? They shouldn't even know who you are!" Tony starts to stand, but Peter holds his hands in front of him and he pauses and sits back down. "Yeah, yeah. I said I'd listen."

"Mr. Stark. I was patrolling and they were there. And Steve- Captain America walked up to me and said. 'I need you're number, there's a mission.'" Peter tried to deepen his voice to sound like Cap's, but ended up sounding like failed Batman.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "You gave him the number."

"I gave him the number!" Peter confirms immediately. "And my name... Please, can I go?" Peter flashes his best wounded puppy look and waits for the inevitable... Tony cracking.

Apparently Tony knows that that's the drill too, because he shakes his head and tries to look away. He can't bring himself to do it. He lets out the loudest sigh known to man and nods a little, "Fine. You can go. But only if you promise not to die."

Crossing his hand over his chest, Peter holds the other one up. "I solemnly swear I am up to not dying." His cheeky smile is calming Tony's nerves a little, but not completely.

"Good, because if you die I'm going to resurrect you just so I can kill you for dying. Got it?" Tony thinks for a second and the realization flashes across his face. "Wait... did you say you told them your name?! Peter!" Tony looks down with a look that can only be described as, 'what the hell were you thinking?'

"Thanks Mr. Stark! Gotta run, sorry." He stands fast and is rushing out as quickly as he rushed in. In his hurry he trips over the swivel chair and tumbles to the ground. He is still smiling brightly, "I'm good!"

Now however, he was not good. He was anything but good. He couldn't think about that right now though, because Steve's voice cut into the comms.

"Status report. Everyone. Now." His voice sounded firm and calm at the same time.

Clint is the first to answer, "East wing in clear. Heading to the basement now to check on Spidey." Peter closed his eyes in relief and started to drift off. If he thought about the situation he was in right now everything would go to shit. He pictured Tony next to him and saying 'language' just to her Steve's sigh over the comms.

Except Tony wasn't here. Peter needed to get out of this himself. The second time a building had collapsed on him. He has experience with it now, but he couldn't act on it. He was at a total disadvantage. The angle he was sprawled out in did absolutely nothing to help him get leverage. And the metal pipe through his stomach didn't seem to help his leverage either.

He didn't realize that all of those thoughts had been in the span of a few seconds, but when Natasha cut him off to give her status report, he snapped back into reality.

A few grunts came through the mic before her voice. "West wing is secured. Do you need help downstairs Clint?"

"No, I should be fine. I'll let you know if that changes." Peter could hear Hawkeye's footsteps overhead, but eventually his own heartbeat drowned them out.

His breaths were coming to shallow. Too fast. Just like homecoming night. He was trapped. He was going to break his promise to Mr. Stark. "No, no, no, no. This can't... I-I. No." He forgot about the comms. Forgot that he hadn't given his status. Squeezing his eyes closed tight he tries to breathe.

Mr. Start taught him a method. He needs to do it, but he just can't seem to remember what it was. Oh!

One... two... three... four...

Four... three... two... one...

Forwards and backwards. In and out. In... Out...

Finally he feels grounded. It's almost like there are hands keeping him steady, just like how MR. Stark would do it.

In, out. In, out. In. out.

"Wait. I wasn't... Who?" Peter opens his eyes and sees three avengers staring down at him.

"Peter, what the hell happened?" Clint was the first to speak to him. Peter looked around and saw that Steve was the one who had been counting for him.

He tries to shake his head, but the action sends nausea through him. "Dizzy." The only word he mutter before his body went lax.

"-eter? Peter!" This time it was Nat's hands on his shoulder. And apparently Nat's palm on his face when he is slapped awake. When she sees that his eyes have opened she frowns a little, "Sorry kid."

In the second that he was out, Steve and Clint had apparently moved the top piece of rubble and gotten to the real problem.

A wince finds its way onto Steve's face and he is quick to hide it, but not quick enough for Peter to miss.

"It's really bad isn't it?" He feels his head start to get foggy and his voice sound weak. "I'm gonna die here."

All three of them are quickly shaking their heads, but Steve is the one to speak. "No." He sees the doubt on Peter's face and tries again, firmer this time. "No. Parker you listen to me. "You are not going to die, but you need to stay awake. Okay?"

Peter looks into Steve's eyes and finds that he trusts them almost as much as Tony's. "O-Okay."

"Good. Now Nat, go get the jet and call Cho. Tell her to set up Medbay." When she stands to leave she brushes hair off of Peter's face and Steve continues. "Okay, Clint. You and I are going to start moving the small rubble until we can get Peter without disrupting the rod."

"Aye-aye Cap." Clint has a newfound responsibility to him that Steve had never seen. He makes a mental note to ask about that later.

Peter cries out and his whole body tenses when the blocks around him shift and press against the rod at a new angle. "Ah! H-Hurts." He tries to keep himself steady by lifting off the ground with one arm, but it twists him in a weird way.

"Cap, we need to hurry, he won't be able to hold it for long." Clint's voice was soft, hoping Peter couldn't hear, but knowing that he could.

"I know. I've got him." Steve moved the last block that was preventing him and he lifted Peter gently.

As soon as they got Peter into the jet, Natasha was high tailing it back to the tower. "Cap. Cho had Medbay set up before I even hung up the phone. I told her not to tell Tony though. We don't need him to be calling every second while you and Clint help Peter right now." She holds the same air of authority that Steve does, surprising all of them.

"Yes, Widow." Clint mutters as he sits next to Peter. "Okay kid. Why don't you tell me how school was yesterday."

Even though Peter knew he was only asking to keep him awake, he felt tingles that and Avenger cared. "Same old. N-Ned and I got sh-shoved into lockers again." He pauses and squeeze his eyes shut for a second, but they don't open again.

The next time Peter regains consciousness, he's watching the walls of the compound speed by him. "No. No, I need Tony. Where's Tony?!" His voice grows louder with every word and he tries to sit up and look but something stops him and pushes him back down. It must have been delirium. He was alone. He died. He broke his promise.

"Hey, I'm here. It's me Underoos. I've got ya. Just stay still." Tony.

Tony was there.

"D-Dad?" Tony doesn't answer, not sure if he's fully aware. He just waits to see what the kid will say next. "I-I'm sorry I b-broke my pr-promise."

"Shh, no. It's okay kid. You didn't break your promise. You're going to be just fine." He notices the kid's eyes drooping and squeezes his hand. "You can go to sleep, Peter. We'll all be here when you wake up."

Peter listened easily, his eyes falling shut for the third time that night.

Tony didn't lie either. Didn't just say the words to comfort Peter. When he woke up, Tony was sitting right there. His head was on the hospital bed and he was gripping Peter's hand gently.

Peter groaned as he opened his eyes. Right away though he snapped them shut and Tony must have waken up, because Peter hears, "FRIDAY, lights at 25%."

"Thank's Mr. Stark." Peter kept his eyes closed though.

Tony didn't know why, but his chest deflated a little bit when Peter said, 'Mr. Stark'. Whatever. It doesn't matter. What matters is that his kid is safe and sound.

"Anytime Spider-Kid."

"Man." Peter mumbles in his sluggish tone.

[leonidas-banana-phone]

Sabotaged Equipment

I’m finally back with another 694th fic! This one does have a few trigger warnings: Anxiety, and a bit of PTSD. I’m still learning how to properly tag those so bear with me. Everything I post will always have them in bold before the fic. Thanks for reading!!! 

---------------------------------------------

Axta’s first mission with the 694th doesn’t exactly go to plan but when does it ever go to plan?

---------------------------------------------

It's an easy mission, get to the old outpost, fix the scanning equipment, and go home. This planet isn't even that bad, covered in deciduous forests, a little cold but nothing they can't handle.

Lieutenant Cerez wasn't that bad, she answered the questions that were volleyed at her, usually about her choice in weaponry, but otherwise kept her mouth shut. Ven was glad she didn't ask any questions about Kamino or their upbringing like most of the nat-borns usually do, he just can't deal with that right now. She carries her rifle in her hands, occasionally raising it to look through the scope and scan the horizon. She's been trained well.

Ven continues the march over the rocky ridge. Sage jogs up to him, "How much longer till we get to the outpost?" He asks.

"Two more hours. Why? Need a break?" Ven teases.

"We were built to not fatigue? Remember? I'm just bored." He knows Sage has a crooked grin under his helmet.

"You're a pain in the ass. Go bother Oli." Ven bumps Sage's arm.

"I'm already bothering Worm!" Oli shouts up to him.

Ven looks over to Cerez when he hears a giggle. She makes eye contact with him and clears her throat, looking down at the ground again. She raises her rifle again when a blaster bolt flies from up ahead. "Sniper! Get down!" She barks as she hits the ground hard.

A second shot goes off and someone cries out behind him. He can't even turn to see who's wounded, the enemy is pinning them in place with blaster fire.

She pops up and rests her rifle on one of the rocks, carefully taking aim and fires two shots. A commando droid falls from the rocky cliff ahead and everything goes quiet.

Ven braces for the "Idiot!" or "Dumbass clones!" that usually follows after a situation like this, but nothing comes.

"Is everyone okay? Soundoff." She asks. Ven releases the tension in his shoulders. "Who was hit?"

"I was, sir." Clocks' voice is small. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into its line of fire." He stumbles over his words as he clutches at his left bicep.

The woman hands her rifle to Enlo, "Keep an eye out for more." He nods and sets upon the rock she fired from. She pulls off her pack and crouches in front of Clocks. "It's alright. There's no need to apologize." She tells him as she takes off the armor covering his arm gently.

Ven is shocked when she pulls out bacta patches from her personal kit. She talks to Clocks quietly while she applies them to the burn and helps him put his armor back on. She stands and turns to look at all of them, "Everyone else okay?"

Murmurs and nods are all the replies she gets. Why does she care so much? They're clones. She wasted her own bacta supply on Clocks. The nat-borns get the good stuff, the stronger patches, ones with more numbing compound in them and she just slapped one onto Clocks' arm like it didn't even matter.

She straightens her comm headset and a lock of her pink hair falls onto her forehead, she doesn't even notice as Enlo hands her back her rifle. Her cybernetic eyes flit over the rock face in front of them, looking for more snipers. "Keep an eye out. If you see anything let me know." She says.

----------------------

When the shots go off she ducks behind a rock, looking into the scope and scanning the rock face for where the shot came from. A second shot betrays the sniper, one of the men cry out from behind her as the droid fires off a handful more. She locks onto the commando droid and pulls the trigger twice. Her shot connects and the droid teeters before it falls from the face.

She turns and sees Ven tense and almost flinch when she speaks, "Is everyone okay? Sound off." All of the tension leaves Ven's body, "Who was hit?"

The nervous trooper, Clocks, speaks up, his voice shaky as he clutches onto his left bicep, "I was, sir." His voice is small as if he's waiting for her to reprimand him for getting shot. "I-I'm sorry." He stumbles over his words, "I didn't mean to get into its line of fire."

She wants to tell him that there was no way for him to know there was a sniper waiting for them. That it was just chance. She hands her rifle to Enlo, "Keep an eye out for more." She pulls off her pack and crouches in front of Clocks. She keeps her tone soft as she pulls out a few bacta patches. "There's no need to apologize." She reaches for his arm slowly and starts to take off the armor blocking her way, "Let's get this off, and then we'll take a look. I'm no medic but I think you'll be alright, it looks like it was just a graze." She keeps her voice low and soft. She's able to tear his blacks just a little bit more to wiggle the bacta patch under it and wraps the patch and area in gauze. "There good as new." She slides the armor back into place before standing again, turning to look at each of the men, "Everyone else okay?" She checks in again.

She gets murmured replies and nods. She takes a cleansing breath as Enlo hands her rifle back to her. She puts the scope up to her eye and scans the rocks one more time to be sure before she lets Ven continue to lead with a nod. The trooper takes a moment to look at her before he snaps back into himself.

------------------------

The rest of the hike is uneventful but he can tell that Cerez is still on edge, something is bothering her. "Worm, get to work." Ven orders Worm towards the old consoles. He nods and takes his place.

Sage speaks to Cerez, her arms are crossed over her chest and she nods as she listens. He can't pick up on what she's saying back to him, the lack of a vocoder in front of her face makes her words smooth and soft. She smiles at him and nods when he excuses himself. "Emotionally constipated isn't a good look. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm fine." Ven defends.

"You don't like her." His brother shrugs. "You barely know her."

"She's just like the rest of the nat-born officers. You just like her because she has pretty hair." The ARC levels his gaze on the officer.

"You think her hair is pretty?" Sage taunts.

Ven sighs, "Not the point."

"You're worried because she used her own kit on Clocks." Sage always could see right through him. "She worked with a team of nat-borns. It was just a mistake."

"Lieutenant, come take a look at this." Worm calls out to her.

She doesn't respond right away, her cybernetic eyes still focused on what's beyond the door, she blinks before she answers, "Oh! Were you talking to me? I'm sorry, still not used to the whole Lieutenant thing." She slings her rifle onto her back before she crosses the room.

---------------------------

She moves across the room towards where the trooper is crouched beneath the dusty piece of equipment. "Alright, let's see what we're looking at." She drops her pack and rifle before she crouches beside him.

He points a gloved finger to the gouges in the durasteel, "What could have caused this?"

"Well, there isn't anything with claws that sharp on this planet, and based on the width between each slash I would say that this was done by a vibroknife. Someone sabotaged our equipment." She runs a finger over the divots, "They're rather recent as well. It might have been done by those commando droids but I don't understand why they didn't blast it to pieces unless they wanted it to malfunction and not destroy it." She stands, "They could have been expecting a full squad. This could have been a trap. I bet when they saw an ARC and an officer they were ordered to stand down."

"What do you want us to do?" Sage asks.

"I'll take the roof, set up a perimeter, two at each exit, Oli and Worm, repair what you can as fast as you can." She picks up her pack and rifle and jogs down the hall, looking for the roof hatch, her boots kick up dust as she runs. The roof hatch takes some muscle but she gets it open and scrambles onto the roof. "Alright, let's see what ya got." She murmurs as she sets up her rifle.

The commando droids move in one by one, she can hear Ven and Sage calmly giving orders to the others as they take up their positions. She takes a breath and aims carefully at the droid who slinks out of the forest to her right. She pulls the trigger and watches it fall to the ground. A droid runs out of the brush and towards Sage and Clocks."We got 'im, LT." Sage tells her over their comms.

She shifts her scope towards the three moving towards the back entrance. Each of her shots hit home and they all fall to the ground in a sparking heap.

Silence fills the air as they wait to see if any more will try and make a statement today. She can feel the tension over the comms, hear each of their bated breaths as they watch.

Two more commando droids barrel out of the forest, swords drawn. They hone in on Ven and Enlo, easily twisting to dodge their blaster fire. She takes aim but misses the first one, and barely clips the second one. She takes a breath and holds it adjusting her aim and fires off two shots, taking down the second one.

She watches as Ven pulls his DC-17s and fires off a volley of shots, taking the damned thing down. She releases her breath when it finally hits the ground.

"Everything is back up and running, sir." Worm informs her.

She takes a moment to close her eyes and just breathe, letting the adrenaline wash over her in waves, giving way to calm. "Good, we should try and get back before sundown. It's just going to get colder." She tells them as she stands again, making her way to the access hatch and climbing back down the ladder.

Ven pushes past her as he moves to where Oli leans against the equipment, she can't quite gauge the emotion rolling off of him with his helmet still on, whatever it is it isn't nice, his shoulders tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Is he mad? Is he worried about another attack? Is he alright?

-------------------------

Ven pushes past her quickly as she hops off the ladder, his hands shake so he balls them into fists. This is the first time he's had any combat outside of training since the attack. It feels like he can't catch his breath. He doesn't reach up to take his helmet off like Sage does, it would betray how he was feeling in that moment.

Cerez stops and stands beside him and he almost flinches when she speaks, "How much damage were we looking at?" She asks Worm.

"They tripped some of the sensors but nothing a bit of recalibration couldn't fix." Worm tells her.

She lets out a sigh, "Good." She nods, "I think we took out most of the droids. My theory is that they may be scouting this area. We will have to keep an eye on it." She crosses her arms over her chest, "Let's get moving. It's already later than I would like it, the last thing I want is to get caught on that ridge after dark."

Ven watches as she turns, her eyes squeezed shut for just a split second before she opens them and sends him a small smile, "You alright?" She asks him. it sounds so genuine, like she actually cares about his well being.

"All good, sir" The automatic reply escapes from his lips before he can say anything else. She gives him a look of doubt but doesn't push it.

--------------------------

It turns out that when the sun goes down on this planet, the winds pick up, enough that a ship can't make it through them, leaving them stranded until morning.

A shiver rocks through Ven as the wind blows straight through the gaps in his armor. He looks over to Cerez, she's huddled under an emergency synth heat blanket, goggles pulled down over her eyes to block out the cold gusts. She doesn't say anything, doesn't complain about being stranded with a bunch of clones, she just places her chin on her knees and stares out into the forest surrounding them.

Watching her is different than watching his General and Commander. She doesn't feel his eyes on her like they always managed too. He honestly doesn't even think she's paying attention. It's like her mind shut down for the night after her watch shift. She fiddles with something under the blanket, her arms around her legs, and her hands and the object on top of her boots. It's a black metal tube, it almost reminds him of a lightsaber but all of the ones he's seen are silver and gold. She seems to be screwing and unscrewing the bottom piece. It must be a piece to her kit that he's not familiar with.

She flinches against the next gust of wind, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

"You sure we can't get a gunship down here? I'm freezing my balls off." Sage bumps him with his elbow.

Ven just shrugs, "They said we had to wait till morning for extraction. I'm not arguing with Tyme on this."

"It's not the surface conditions we need to worry about, it's the atmospheric conditions," Cerez speaks up, not looking away from the forest. "If they won't even fly a gunship down here that means it's worse than anything down here, we're the lucky ones."

--------------------------------

The saber in her hand is freezing, the metal biting into her fingertips. She fidgets with the pommel as she stares out into the dark forest. The Kyber crystal used to talk to her, nudge her ever so slightly. Now it's silent. She can't even remember the last time she ignited it, the warm yellow glow used to be a comfort, something she would stare at when the nightmares were too much.

In her peripheral she sees Sage plop down beside Ven, "You sure we can't get a gunship down here? I'm freezing my balls off." She huffs in amusement.

Ven shrugs, "They said we had to wait till morning for extraction." His face goes a little soft at his next words, "I'm not arguing with Tyme on this." She understands what he really means, I'm not risking any of your lives or the lives of our pilots. We'll be fine here until morning.

"It's not the surface conditions we need to worry about, it's the atmospheric conditions," She says, not taking her eyes off of the trees. "If they won't even fly a gunship down here that means it's worse than anything down here, we're the lucky ones."

Ven straightens at her words, a frown gracing his features, she wants to tell him about how it takes more muscles to frown than to smile but she knows he won't like that. "Fine," He turns to the rest of his men, "Hunker down. We'll be here a while."

A chorus of groans sound from them but they don't argue with the ARC. She tucks her saber back into its clip on the back of her belt before pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, usually, she would have Beetle or Doc to share warmth with. Now she just has a squad of wary clone troopers decked out in plastoid complete with enviro controls so she'll just freeze out here alone. She tries to chastise herself for sounding so bitter, she knows the clones don't like nat-borns, it shouldn't have surprised her that they're keeping their distance. She settles again, her chin resting on her knees.

When her eyes blink back open she notices a few things, one she isn't freezing anymore, two she's curled up on the ground, her arm tucked under her head, and three, something is digging into her ribs on her right side. "Owww." She groans.

"Whaa?" A voice slurs behind her, the thing digging into her side moves away and she realizes it was an arm. She tries to scrabble away from them but they just clutch tighter. The synth heat blanket is wrapped tightly around them, she wiggles and turns enough to see that Sage is the one behind her, the top half of his armor stripped away. "Sorry, LT. You were shivering somethin' fierce last night, though you were gonna freeze to death." His voice is low and sleep laced.

"You're lucky, it could have been Oli." Worm calls over.

Oli elbows Worm, "Hey!"

She reaches over for her hat and headset, tucking the pink strands into it, the pins are useless now, after a night sleeping on the ground there's no way it's going to be able to be made pretty. The length falls just below her jawline, an easy length to keep up with. She yanks the pins out and places them between her teeth as she manhandles the tresses.

"Your ears are pointy!" Oli shouts from across the camp.

She shoots him a glare, it's way too early for his enthusiasm. She pulls the pins from her mouth and shoves them into a pocket on her belt.

Sage finally sits up beside her as she puts her headset back on. He reaches for his own armor, sneaking glances at her every now and then, "Can I ask what species you are? You don't have to tell if you don't want to."

The rest of the squad looks on in interest.

"My mother was a Twi'lek, the pink variation, of course. My father was Sephi. I got most of his looks." She explains.

"What color were your eyes? Before the cybernetics, I mean." Clocks is the first one to speak up.

"A blue-green. I think." She blinks a few times, trying to remember.

"Alright. Enough questions, let's get moving. We have five klicks before we get to the rendevous point." Ven cuts their conversation short.

She hops up from the ground, stretching her back, sure the bunks are shit but it beats sleeping on the ground. She tries to dust off some of the dirt but eventually just gives up. She slings on her pack and picks up her rifle before letting Ven take point.

-------------------

After a shower and mid-meal rations she feels a lot better, the ache in her back eased, and her hair rearranged carefully.

"LT!" Someone shouts from down the hall. She turns to see Sage jogging towards her, the paint on his armor looks touched up, the sage green, she smiles to herself when she puts two and two together, lines are sharp, the little sprout on his temple carefully outlined in a darker green.

"Sargent, what can I do for you?" She asks him.

"Oli and Clocks have something to show you in the hangar. I'm just here to retrieve you, sir." He's trying to hide a smile with professionalism.

She has a feeling this has something to do with the missing chest plate, pauldrons, and bracers from her kit. "Lead the way, Sargent."

-------------------

Ven watches nervously as Clocks puts the finishing touches on her armor, they never had a CO that wanted their colors adorning their armor. He looks down at his own armor, the ARC pauldrons painted in a fresh coat of the sage green, different from the other units he's seen, they have lime green, forest green, the 41st had emerald green. The sage is softer, lighter.

Sage comes through the doors with Cerez, a grin plastered on his face. She has another can of that horrible energy drink with her, this one a purple, it probably tastes like purple, not some fancy fruit on some far off planet but the manufactured version that just tastes like purple.

She sets the can down on the workbench as Oli snags her chest plate, for once he looks shy, he knows this could go horribly, she could yell and scream at them, write all of them up. He holds it out to her and a smile spreads across her face, "Are you sure?" She asks him.

"Your our LT. You need the colors to prove it." He says to her.

She reaches out for the plate and he hands it over.

-------------------

The plates are amazing, leaves snake their way over the plastoid, similar to Ven's but oh so different. The same leaves decorate her vambraces and there's a sprout on her left pauldron, the dark grey of the right one has been painted over completely with the green. "Are you sure?" She asks. This is huge, the clones don't give their colors to just anyone, she's only seen a small handful of nat-borns who have been graced with painted armor.

"Your our LT. You need the colors to prove it." Oli tells her gently.

She takes the plate in hand and secures it to her chest before Clocks hands her the vambraces, Sage secures the pauldrons in place and steps back to look everything over. He looks proud.

Ven steps forward, "Welcome to 694th, Lieutenant."

[graglithans-library]

Welcome to Paris Fur-ance Ch 6: Panic, Rematches, and Comfort

I apologize for the delay. I have the organizational abilities of a newt, and my boss switched up my schedule thanks to Thanksgiving.

NOW ON TO THE STORY!

Ladybug rushed through the air towards where the explosions had been coming from, panic warring its way to making itself known in her eyes. She found it all too convenient that they had stopped so shortly after she’d left to find any comfort in the silence.

She had to figure out what had happened.

She had to know that everyone was okay.

She had to make sure Chat was okay.

Startled a bit by the last thought, Ladybug landed on a rooftop and started running. She didn’t have much time to ponder it, as her worry was somewhat abated by the very same hero leaping up from an alleyway and catching up to her. “Evening, My Lady. You seem to be in a bit of a rush.”

Ladybug scowled for a moment before sighing as she stopped her run. “Chat, now isn’t the time for jokes! There’s an Akuma still out-”

“About that.” Chat pulled out the launcher from behind his back and handed it over to Ladybug. “Friend Finder is currently tied to a light post. All that’s left is to purify the Akuma.”

Ladybug fumbled a bit as she was handed the launcher and blinked in confusion. “R-really?” She just looked between the device and her partner with a look of surprise.

A slightly hurt smile flashed across Chat’s face, but he shrugged it away before she could notice. “Well, My Lady, I did have some help.” Ladybug’s eyebrow rose as she looked at him. “Remember our tanuki friend? She helped me with distracting the Akuma long enough that I was able to subdue them.”

“Wait, did you say she helped you?” Ladybug frowned in thought as she put a hand to her chin. “Interesting.”

Chat looked back to where the fight had been with a frown himself. “I’m starting to wonder if they’re actually being affected by Hawk Moth at all. There’s no way he’d willingly let anyone go against him.”

“You’re right.” Ladybug pondered for a moment as she pulled out her yo-yo. “The wolf from earlier didn’t know who Hawk Moth was either...”

“Wait, you met him?” Chat looked surprised.

“More like he tackled me into a roof.” Ladybug grimaced as she started to twirl the launcher for a moment. “Now, let’s get this over with.” Ladybug took the launcher in both hands and brought it down on her knee. The launcher split in two with a crunch, pieces of hardened foam littering the ground.

And nothing coming out of it.

“It wasn’t the launcher!?” Chat reeled and looked back to where he’d come from with panic.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder, and his attention snapped to the serious look on her face. “Chat, this isn’t the time to panic. We should head over to where you left Friend Finder to keep them from hurting anyone.” Both heroes rushed off towards where Friend Finder had been left, a sense of urgency bleeding into their movements.

An urgency that affected none more than it did Chat.

________________________________________________________________

Shirou had dealt with many situations across his long life. Terrorists, assassins, muggers, murderers; you name it, he’s probably fought it.

But this... was new.

“So you’re telling me, you’re all guarding someone who’s been possessed by dark magic, and waiting for these superheroes to show up to purify them, with absolutely no means of stopping them should they break free of the only bindings they have?” Shirou asked the four assembled teenagers with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

Michiru and Nazuna both looked a bit sheepish as they shared a glance, and the former started rubbing the back of her head. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Alya just looked confused until Kagami translated, in which confusion transitioned into being a little bit indignant. “Je ne vois pas quel est le problème.”

Shirou felt his eye twitch as he turned to her. “Le problème est qu'ils pourraient se libérer à tout moment et mettre votre vie en danger.”

Michiru’s eyes lit up as she gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, you speak French!?”

Shirou gave her a deadpan stare before sighing and pinching his muzzle again. “Michiru I’m over a thousand years old. Is it that surprising that I know more than one language?” Alya didn’t get a translation for that one, as Kagami’s eyes were about to fall out of her head. Well, as close as they could get with her.

So maybe a centimeter wider than usual.

As they kept talking, Friend Finder was messing with the bindings on their arms. It was as a feral grin started to spread across their face that their arms came free, and they reached a hand into their raggedy cloak and pulled out a blue sphere. Shirou’s ear twitched, and he quickly looked over to see the blue ball landing near his feet.

The explosion sent all five of them flying back. Michiru and Nazuna landed against the brick wall of the building behind them, while Kagami and Alya were sent down the sidewalk. Shirou, however, had been standing practically on top of the ball when it landed, and he was sent flying into the air, landing twenty meters away with a sickening thud.

Friend Finder just laughed and started to walk over to where Nazuna and Michiru were. They pulled out a spray can from behind their back and started making a glob of foam on the ground, before reaching in and pulling out a brand new launcher.

Michiru got ready to fight back but noticed something was off.

She stared into Friend Finder’s uncovered eye, and there was a shift. If only for a moment, burning red was replaced with a terrifying blue. The change even made Friend Finder flinch before they growled and gripped their head. A purple mask in the shape of a butterfly formed over their eyes before the blue changed back into red. “Fille stupides! Tu n’as pas ton mot à dire sur ce que je fais!” Friend Finder hastily shoved the spray can back under their cloak as they turned to the four stunned teenagers.

Alya hesitantly stepped back away from the Akuma, horror in her eyes. “L’akuma... se bat tout seul?”

Nazuna looked at Kagami, and the fencer shook her head. “I’m not sure what is happening.”

Michiru’s eyes moved past Friend Finder and landed on Shirou. His body had a small pool of blood starting to form around it, and she gulped. Come on, Shirou. Get up! The Akuma however, kept their advance, making the four girls back into the building behind them, back to the glass display. “We need to get out of here...”

A snarl from behind Friend Finder made Michiru and Nazuna perk up with a smile.

“Hey.” Shirou’s hand grabbed Friend Finder by the back of the head and lifted them off the ground. “Est-ce le mieux que vous puissiez faire?” Friend Finder kicked and struggled as they dangled in the air. Shirou reached behind them and pulled out the can of spray foam, before dropping the Akuma to the ground. The moment they landed, Shirou’s foot fell onto their back, and His free hand grabbed their arm as he pinned them to the ground. “Rester.”

Michiru’s eyes were filled with smug satisfaction, as was her smile. She leaned forward and got in Friend Finder’s face, relishing in their irritation. “I have no idea what he said, but you’re not going anywhere.”

That was when Friend Finder punched Michiru in the muzzle.

“OW!” Michiru flailed as Nazuna and Kagami grabbed onto her and started to pull the two apart. Alya ran over and stomped on the Akuma’s hand, making them yowl in pain. Michiru glared and scooted away from the villain. “Who does that!?” Friend Finder just snarled in response.

Shirou’s foot got just a touch heavier on the villain’s back, making them wince. “Essayez à nouveau quelque chose comme ça. Je te défie.” He looked to Michiru and frowned. “Are you alright?”

“The only part of me that’s hurt is my pride.” Michiru pouted and hissed a bit as she let go of her nose. A small trickle of blood started to trail down and dripped onto the sidewalk. “And maybe my nose.” Alya reached into her pocket and pulled out some tissues, handing them over. “Thank you.”

“Pas de problème.”

Nazuna frowned as she watched Michiru stuff a tissue up her nostril. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Michiru waved a hand and shot Nazuna a quick smile. “I’m fine! I’ve had worse than this.” Kagami noticed how Nazuna stiffened a bit but didn’t ask.

It wasn’t long after that they all noticed two more teenagers, this time in spandex, land nearby.

________________________________________________________________

Ladybug dropped from her swing and found that she had more surprised faces in stock than she’d known. She had been expecting that she’d have to figure out a way to save a possibly large number of hostages.

She wasn’t expecting the wolfman from earlier to be pinning the Akuma down with his foot. More so, she noticed how there was now a fox girl involved, as was both Kagami and Alya. All three of them were helping the tanuki- Michiru, get to her feet, and there were quickly reddening tissues sticking out of her nose. It just had to be Alya again. Why doesn’t she listen when I say this is going to get her hurt one of these days!?

Chat, equally surprised, looked over at her with a shrug. “Well, I think it’s safe to assume they’re not with Hawkmoth.”

She glanced over at Chat and nodded before the two walked over to where the wolfman was standing. He was still pinning the Akuma with his foot, glowering down at them. His turning to look at her made her stop for a moment before she steeled her nerves. “You never answered my question earlier. Who-?”

“Ladybug!” Alya practically teleported over to where they were, and Ladybug had to blink a bit to shake away the shock. “Where were you during the Akuma attack? Is there a reason you left Chat on his own earlier? Who are these new heroes? Is their appearance a side effect of using a Miraculous?” The last question sounded slightly nervous, but considering she’d been Rena Rouge, it was understandable.

Chat gently put his hand over her phone and pushed it down. “We’ll answer any questions you have after the akuma has been purified.” Blushing a bit, Alya backed away and stepped out of their way. It didn’t stop her eager eyes from locking onto the two the entire time.

The wolfman held up a can of spray foam that was off-colored, before tossing it to Ladybug. “I take it you were looking for this?”

Ladybug looked at the can in her hands with a hint of surprise, before glancing at the Akuma. “I was, but could you please remove your foot from them? Once the Akuma is purified, they’ll go back to normal, and I don’t want a civilian to be injured as a result.”

Lifting his foot off of their back, the wolf nodded before Ladybug handed the can to Chat, who used cataclysm on it. As the can fell into dust, a purple butterfly flew out. “No more evildoing for you, little Akuma.” With a flick of her yo-yo, the Akuma was captured and purified. “Bye Bye, little butterfly.”

A purple cloud of smoke washed over Friend Finder, making Michiru’s group jump slightly. The cloud widened until not one, but two people were left on the ground, rubbing their heads. Both Rose and Juleka were groaning and disoriented.

Rose gasped as she looked around and stared at her hands. “Was... Was I akumatized?”

Juleka put a hand on Rose’s, and when she looked over, the two hugged as Rose started to cry into Juleka’s shoulder.

Ladybug walked over and put a hand on Rose’s shoulder, making Rose look up to her. When she had both of their attention, she gave them a comforting smile. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“We... we were in class when the last Akuma alert had gone off. Everyone was getting worried when Marinette went missing, and... And Lila said something about how suspicious it was, and how she could be working with Hawkmoth.” Juleka’s grip tightened a bit around Rose. “I... I just can’t believe...”

Ladybug shook her head and helped the two stand. “I can guarantee to both of you, Marinette is not working for Hawkmoth.” At their shocked reaction, she continued. “One of the reasons it took me so long to get here was because I had to help Marinette hide somewhere far more reasonable than where she’d managed to squeeze herself.” Ladybug couldn’t tell what she hated more at that moment. How she had to lie or how she was getting better at it. Marinette getting stuck somewhere was something that Rose and Juleka would believe, considering it had happened before when she was ten.

Though she since made them swear never to tell a soul about the Haunted House Incident.

Rose hesitantly looked up from Juleka’s shoulder, “R-really?”

“Really.” Ladybug stepped back a bit and pulled out her yo-yo, before tossing it into the air. “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

Michiru’s eyes widened at the sight of thousands of ladybugs flying through the air. Everywhere they passed, the damages caused by the fight were being repaired. When they passed over her face, she had to blink in surprise at the sudden lack of pain. Pulling the tissue out, she gasped and beamed at the fox. “Nazuna! Hana ga naotta!”

“Hontōni!?” The fox girl (Nazuna?) grabbed Michiru’s head and narrowed her eyes as she inspected for any injuries. “Sugoi...”

Turning away from the two, Ladybug went back to Rose and Juleka. “You two should head back to the school and let them know you’re okay. I’ll go and let Marinette know it’s safe.” As the two walked off, her earrings beeped, as did Chat’s ring.

The wolf raised an eyebrow at the two as they walked off, but his attention mainly fell on Michiru and Nazuna. “Daijōbu?” Nazuna looked over and gave him a nod, making a cute ‘un’ noise as she did.

Chat put a hand on his chest and groaned a bit.

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug lightly smacked him on the arm. “This isn’t an anime. You’re not going to have a cute fox girlfriend. Besides, don’t you already have one now?” As Chat sputtered, Ladybug walked over towards the group and frowned. “I’ll ask one more time. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

The wolf looked at her with a raised eyebrow before facing her. “So you don’t know how we were brought here.” He sighed a bit under his breath before shifting back into human form. “My name is Oogami Shirou. I believe that we have a lot to discuss.” Behind him, Nazuna and Michiru both shifted to human form, with Michiru complaining as she did.

Ladybug smiled until her earrings beeped again. “I would love to, but I’m unfortunately running out of time. Can I meet you tonight at the Eiffel Tower?”

Shirou examined her earrings for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

With a nod in return, Ladybug spun her yo-yo, and Chat readied his staff. “Bug out!”

_______________________________________________________________

After they had all left, a gloved hand reached into the garbage and pulled out the bloody tissue. Strikingly red eyes scanned over the blood before a chuckle escaped the individual. “A roundabout way of getting what I needed, but I suppose this works.” The tissue was swiftly placed in a test tube and pocketed as they walked away. “Let’s hope the sample is large enough to make a usable dose.”

[mara-tevith-solo]

Real Funny - part 1

Something I’ve been slow cooking for a few years, a little all over the place. Some plot pieces aren’t mine, just something I played with.

Trigger Warning; Contains swearing, violence, mentions of nudity

The battle for Dathomir was beyond ridiculous. The Separatists had decided that they really wanted the planet, and both the Nightsisters and Nightbrothers had decided to remain neutral in the fight for their own planet. So, we had to fight for the planet, for them. "Can't wait to get off this rock." Hardcase groused, coming up to my perch during a quiet period between waves.

I kept my eyes out for droids, it being my job, as a sniper, to remain as a lookout while everyone rested "You and me both, vod. Sooner we get off this shit hole and back to hot water, the better." I agreed jokingly, narrowing my eyes at any movement. 

"I forgot, you can't maintain body temperature very well." He chuckled, bumping my ribs gently as though to goad me. While it was true that I used hot water to warm up quickly, I could maintain body temperature decently enough. 

"Dickhead." I laughed as I nudged him towards the edge of the branch slightly.

"You know you love me." He winked when I did finally look at him.

I fixed him with a deadpan and paused for a few moments "Let me get back to you on that." Laughter roared from other vode that were sitting at the base of the tree. He made a funny face at me before I turned away in time to see a green mist approaching "Incoming!" I shouted, alerting the generals. Before anyone could do anything, it smacked Hardcase square in the face, seeming to enter through his ears, eyes, and mouth. He coughed and waved it away before it disappeared. He climbed down the tree to go see the generals and I stayed in my perch until relieved. Boy, was I in for a shock. 

"Go see the generals." Was all my replacement said as he settled in on the other side of me, getting comfortable for a long shift. The entire way down the tree and to the command tent, I thought I had done something very wrong and my commander didn't want to even deal with me. 

"You wanted to see me, Generals?" I asked shyly as soon as I entered, focusing on them instead of what was on the table behind them. 

"Yes Val, it seems that we are in need of some... special assistance..." General Kenobi admitted, looking a bit shamefaced as he blushed and clasped his hands behind his back.

I looked between he, Skywalker, and Plo Koon before finally looking down at the table... and burst out laughing "Sergeant Val, this is serious." Plo reminded me, seeming to be more concerned for his tiny commander than angry at me.

"I'm sorry sirs. It's just... Oh my god!" I couldn't stop laughing as the tiny Wolffe and Dogma both glared at me. 

"Laugh it up, Jerkface." Hardcase squeaked, his voice high pitched because of how small he was. It only made me laugh harder until I had to stand with my hands on my knees.

"We need you to take care of them until we return from the Nightsisters. It is highly contagious to other clones, so don't let them touch anyone." Skywalker instructed once I had calmed enough.

"O-of course sir." I giggled, unclipping my helmet from my belt and holding it next to the table "All aboard the Helmet Express." I snickered, earning more glares from Wolffe before he jumped in. Jesse, Rex, Cody, Kix, Dogma, Tup, and Hardcase followed soon after. The Generals left soon after and I left the tent, holding my helmet close to my chest so that the boys all had a solid support system as they all leaned over the edge to watch where we were going from their new perspective. 

"Can I get out of the helmet?" Tup asked politely, his squeak making my grin reappear.

"Sure. But go anywhere perverted and I'll rip you a new one when you get back to normal size." I warned as he started climbing up the armor on my arm. They all followed suit except for Commander Cody. Cody, being the Extra little shithead he was, decided that he wanted to take a nap on my head... tied in some of my loose hairs. That didn't feel weird at all. 

"Woahahahaha!!!" Jesse and Hardcase laughed, enjoying the wind that was generated by my walking while Captain Rex stayed on my forearms, arms and legs crossed as he leisurely watched the base go by.

"You boys hungry?" I asked, knowing that I surely was. Everyone except Cody made sounds of affirmation. Cody was vibrating slightly in a rhythm... I think he was asleep... So, I got us all a tray, earning strange looks from other troopers as they passed, and sat at the very furthest corner of the furthest table with my back to a tent wall. I kept my head steady for Cody as the others gathered around the tray and ate their fills, watching the others in the tent as they stared and whispered.

"Val." Came the warm voice of Commander Tano as she entered the tent, her hands cupped to her middle. She came over quickly, seeming concerned about the clones around the tray and whatever was in her hands. She took a seat next to me and opened her hands on the table, revealing an unconscious Fives who was curled in a shivering ball. "I found him after the Generals left. He won't wake up." 

She kept him in her hands as Kix checked him over "His body is in shut down because of how cold he is. If we don't get him warm, he may die."

"Everyone in the helmet." I instructed, gently taking Fives from Ahsoka and keeping him close to my middle. Everyone did as instructed before I stood and quickly made my way to my tent where we'd be able to stay warm for the night. Night time on Dathomir was cold enough for someone my size, I couldn't imagine how bad it was for someone who was about six inches tall. Once inside, I poked Cody awake as Kix and Rex got Fives out of his armor as the others made a sleeping space for themselves. Once he was out of my hair, literally, I took off my torso armor and rolled up my blacks top so that my midriff was showing. I kept Fives tucked close as we all laid down, thankful that the two had left him in his blacks. Kix sat close to him as he shivered harder than I've ever felt anyone shiver. "Do you think he'll make it?" I whispered softly, not wanting to disturb the clones that decided that they wanted to sleep close to their sick brother as well. 

He watched Fives for a few minutes before answering "We're made out of tough stuff." He himself didn't seem so convinced. 

"Get some sleep Kix, I've got him." I assured, moving a corner of blanket over my torso and gently pushing him down against the crook of my elbow, tucking him in with some of the corner. 

"No, I'm the medic." He tried to argue, yawning widely as he tried to push himself up.

"Even medics need sleep, Kixy." I smiled warmly. Not even a minute later, he was snoring away. It took some time, but eventually, Fives stopped shivering and spread out on the exposed flesh of my torso, relaxing and falling into a more deep sleep. I too fell asleep, assured that he wasn't in anymore danger. When morning came, Hardcase and Jesse were practically jumping on my chest to wake me up faster while the others were talking amongst themselves. Fives was still laying in his spot, awake and grinning like an idiot. 

I rolled my eyes and shooed the other two before sitting up "Hey." Fives winked.

I raised my brow at him "Kix, your patient is awake." I said flatly, putting Fives on the bedroll as I stood with a stretch and put on my armor. "Dogma, wanna help me with patrols?" I asked, knowing it would annoy a certain three. 

"I wanna help too!" Tup piped up, jumping to get my attention as I fixed my hair. 

"Ok vod, you can help too." I chuckled before picking up the helmet everyone was waiting in and leaving to find Ahsoka. "Can you watch them for a little bit? I have patrol duty until oh seven." I asked, making sure to make it seem like she was helping me a lot. 

"Of course." She chirped, grinning broadly as she took the helmet, letting me scoop up Dogma and Tup before thanking her and moving along with my job. 

It was a pretty boring two hours to be certain. "Val, come in." General Kenobi's voice came over the comms on my left arm.

"Here, sir." I answered, making our way to find Ahsoka and the others.

"Can you bring all of the effected clones to the coordinates I'm sending you?" He asked just as they popped up on the little screen.

"Of course sir. We should be there within an hour." I promised before the comm was disconnected. I wasted no time in finding Ahsoka and then rushing off to the point Obi-wan sent to me. "You know, I'll miss ya'll being this small and cute." I teased when we were halfway there.

"Hey, most of us are cute when normal sized. No offense, Fives." Jesse pipped jokingly as the others chuckled.

"Hey!" Fives cried indignantly. 

"At least I'm the cutest!" Hardcase laughed, earning a few 'ya rights' and a 'you dwang!' from the others. I just laughed, shaking my head as I entered the old fortress built into the mountain side, watching the Nightsisters I passed warily, clutching my helmet tighter. They all watched me with the same degree of wariness, even when I passed through the doors and came to a stop in front of the Generals and the Nightmother. I bowed to all of them, careful of Cody who seemed to have an obsession with my hair.

"Right this way." The Nightmother said in the two toned voice, giving a flourish of her arm as she turned to lead us further into the fortress. It wasn't long until we were at a pool with other Nightsisters gathered around it "Put them into the water." She instructed. I did as she asked gently, even taking Cody out of my hair at the cost of a few strands because he had become tangled. When they were all in the water, waiting patiently, I stepped back next to General Kenobi, who looked up to NO GOOD. The Nightmother and the Nightsisters chanted and seemed to dance with bowls of green liquid as that green fog wrapped around the boys in the water. The fog got so thick in the room after a few minutes, we couldn't see anything until the boys stepped close to us, all back to their proper size. Hardcase was twitching like a tweeker because he wanted to hug me but couldn't, because of the Generals. 

[no-goddamn-cilantro]

I've got you, Kid

Or, five times in which Tony Stark has his kid's back, and one time where his kid has him.

*One*

"Hey Penis! Penis Parker! Going to your pretend internship tonight?" Peter heaves a long, slow sigh, hitching the straps of his backpack up a little more comfortably onto his shoulders and attempts to ignore the irritating bully, increasing his pace to the exit. Alas, if nothing else can be said about Flash Thompson, it's that he's persistent.

"I bet it's just an excuse for you to hide that you don't have any friends besides that weird Ned kid." The boy in question takes this opportunity to rise to the bait and while Peter appreciates the continued staunch support of his best friend, on days like today he's nothing short of exhausted. Patrol went way past curfew and he just knew Mr. Stark was going to have something to say about it.

"Peter's internship is real! You're just jealous he gets to spend time with The Avengers." Peter could actually hear the capital letters on the Avengers and he felt a tension headache begin in one temple. Before Flash could continue berating him for the internship, Peter escapes out the door and makes a beeline for where Happy is normally waiting for him. Instead of the SUV with staid coloring, a familiar orange Lamborghini sits with the genius owner of it casually leaning against the passenger door. A single eyebrow ticks up as he meets Peter's eye.

"What's up kid? You ready for the conference this weekend?" One blink, then two. No, Peter isn't hallucinating. Mr. Stark is really here to pick him up from school. In front of God and Flash and everybody and oh my God Mr. Stark is here. Peter's grin lit up his whole face and he bounded over to the car in four long strides.

"Mr. Stark! Yeah, I-I think I've got everything," a little breathless, Peter continues to grin at his mentor, a thousand words jockeying for space in his brain and exactly zero getting air time. Mr. Stark pushes off from the side of the car and saunters around to the driver's side, leaving Peter to scramble to get in and shut the door.

Once they're on the road headed to the compound, Peter breaks the companionable silence.

"Hey Mr. Stark?"

"what's up Underoos?"

Slight hesitation, then a very quiet, "How did you know?"

With a deliberately casual handwave and shrug, the genius billionaire gives a breezy, "That guy in the chair of yours- Ted? Ed? Bread?- is pretty protective of you. I notice these things." Peter's face blooms with a mortified blush and buries his face in his hands. Chuckling, his mentor reaches over with one hand and runs his fingers through the teen's hair, disguising the gentility with a playful ruffle.

"Hey. I've got you, kid. I wish you'd talked to me about this stuff before, but you know I've always got you."

The warm glow in Peter's chest kept him warm all weekend.

*Two*

"-and son, I need you to come along in wave two with Widow and Falcon and work on webbing 'em up while they fall. Let's try to minimize property damage if we can, but civilian safety come first." Peter zoned back in just in time to hear his part, giving the Captain a jaunty wave in acknowledgement before shooting a web to the nearest building, waiting for the orange and green... Giant frogs? Giant frogs, ranging in size from an oven to a Buick, crawled out of the wormhole between two buildings and began attempting to... What was that?

"Uh... Mr. Captain America sir? Are they eating the road? And the cars?"

Over the comms comes the somehow both angry and delighted voice of Hawkeye. "You're goddamn right they're eating cars and road! They just ate a Camaro right underneath me and the asphalt underneath it. That was beautiful!"

"Do we need another talk about language, Barton?" Tony's snark was never going to get old to Peter- he snickered and began shooting webs, lifting the oversized frogs and sticking them to the sides of buildings nearby-

-only for them to begin eating through the buildings they're webbed to. "Heckin darn it!" Thinking quickly (and ignoring the suspiciously Tony-sounding laughter in his earpiece), he shot a web and snagged the underside of one of the alien's jaws, flicking his wrist just so and managing to wrap the strand of web around the- frog? Not-frog? Whatever's- mouth, effectively cutting off the wanton destruction of innocent vehicles and roads. Giving a whoop of triumph, Peter went to work on each of them that he could find, swinging between buildings and city blocks to cover as much ground as he could.

Then one of the largest Asphoads (as Peter had secretly named them in the privacy of his own mind) opened its mouth at exactly the wrong time and caught his web directly on the tongue. Immediately it have a hard jerk of its head, stronger than he'd expected, and pulled him off course. The frantic release of the now-being-eaten web and attempt at sending out a web to the next building didn't arrest his fall in the slightest and before he could do more than panic-flail, a metal arm wrapped around his chest and brought his fall to a very sudden halt. As he was lowered the last few meters to the ground, Tony's amused voice sounded in his ear.

"I've got you kid. What would you do without me?"

"Get squished by a rolled up newspaper?"

A bark of laughter and he landed gently on his feet. The Asphoads appeared to have no interest in eating him now that he was on the ground, but he still went out of his way to finish webbing up the original target.

Later, back at the compound, Barton and Sam put on a dramatic reenactment of the fall for Rhodey, complete with Peter's doe eyes and a tearful, "Thank you so much for saving the day Mr. Stark! You're the best dad a nerd could ask for!"

Well, Peter didn't exactly disagree. So it all worked out.

*Three*

His kid was gone. His kid was gone. Ash between his fingers, along with almost everyone else that was on this godforsaken rock. He was vaguely aware of a high-pitched, keening noise, before abruptly realizing it was him. He was making that sound, and he couldn't seem to stop until the violent, racking sobs began to rip through him and he bent to push his forehead into the (ash ash ash Peter's ash) dirt beneath him.

In between the sobs he berated himself.

"I've got you," he said

"Liar!" he accused

"Not enough," he knew

"Bring him back!" he demanded

"Oh God, Peter..."

The name sat like the ashes (all that was left of his boy oh my God my boy my kid gone gone gone) on his tongue, terribly heavy and burning.

He clawed at the ground, as if he could dig through the ashes and dust and, like a phoenix, Peter would rise reborn. All he did was dirty his hands and seem to tear something inside the stab wound he abruptly remembered.

Exhausted, he picked up his head and looked dully up at the blue woman that was watching him fall to pieces without so much as a hint of pity. Somehow, this steeled him against his breakdown and he stood, meeting her eye.

"Nebula, right?"

A nod, her gaze unwavering.

"What's next?"

Her voice is rough, the only sign of any emotion from the cyborg.

"We find him. We kill him. We get our families back."

Tony nods.

"We need help. Get us to Earth and we'll have it."

Without a word she turns and stalks towards the Guardians' ship. He follows, after about ten steps realizing that it isn't dust in his eyes, but his vision blacking out. As he hits the ground, he hears Nebula turn and come back, lifting him and carrying him to the ship. She's still eerily silent, but that just leaves room for Tony's last thought before he succumbs to the darkness taking over his sight and his mind.

I've got you, kid. I'm bringing you home. I promise.

*Four*

Tony and Peter are sitting in his workshop, doing what they do best- tinkering. He's letting the kid go nuts with one of his older gauntlets while he works on a new arm for DUM-E. It's peaceful, and he's quietly enjoying the light chatter from the kid as he discusses his latest Spanish test and Mr. Stark, it isn't fair that we have a test every week, it unfairly skews our grade!

He hasn't actually turned and looked at the kid in a few hours, engrossed as he is with this wiring that just isn't working for whatever reason. But the chatter is soothing, a balm to his soul that is deeply weary.

... why is his soul so deeply weary?

... what's going on in the outside world?

What time is it? Shouldn't Peter be tired? Hungry?

Tony shrugs it off and continues for a few more hours, blissful in the unanswered questions. He notices a bit of (ash) dirt smudged on his hand and for some reason (oh God my boy) it's really bugging him all of a sudden.

"Hey Pete, will you pass me a clean cloth from the bucket under your workbench?"

"Mister... Stark...?"

His hands begin to shake.

"Peter. Buddy. Cloth please."

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

His heart pounds in his chest and he turns around.

And he's not in his workshop anymore. It's Titan, and there's Peter. Bruised, battered, and scared. Looking to him. Reaching for him.

He runs and catches his boy in his arms, lowering him to the ground just as he crumbles to ash.

"Peter! No, Peter... I've got you. I had you... God I'm so fucking sorry... Petey..."

With that mournful cry he jerks awake, met with the darkness of the dead ship he shares with Nebula.

I've got you kid. I'm bringing you back. Just hold on a little longer, wherever you are.

Sick from his injury and exhausted, Tony sleeps.

*Five*

It's over. It's finally over.

Thanos is gone, back where it all began for him.

Back on Titan.

The gauntlet weighs heavy on Tony's arm, not just physical weight but the weight of purpose. The weight of promise.

He breathes deep. Lets it out slowly. Focuses on his exact desires. Personally and as an Avenger. Another breath.

Then. Tony Stark Snaps.

A serene pool stretching into infinity around a tiny Pagoda is before him. In it, stands Soul. Wearing Peter's face, but most definitely Not Peter.

"What did it cost?"

Tony stares at Not Peter.

"Everything."

Burning pain.

Exhaustion.

Then, brightness and relief.

The Infinity Gauntlet, and Tony's entire left arm, fall to the ground, burnt and mangled far beyond repair. Where the stones rested are burnt husks.

Tony doesn't care.

Standing where he fell, looking confused but unharmed, is Peter. His kid, his boy. Whole and healthy. Vaguely aware of the return of the other Fallen, but deeply apathetic to it, he rushes to Peter, wrapping him in a tight hug with his remaining arm. Peter, confused and afraid ("Mr. Stark what happened to your arm?!") but utterly trusting, hugs him back just as tightly, burying his face in Tony's chest.

The genius rests his face in the chocolate curls, whispering fondly.

"I've got you kid. I've finally got you and I'm taking you home."

*And One*

A scream rips through the once-silent hallway, waking up three people simultaneously.

Rhodey sits up, sighing and reaching for his braces again.

Steve rolls out of bed, going to stand watch outside the door with the screaming.

And Peter takes off in a mad dash towards the sound. Even though it's a nightly occurrence, it never stops the spike of terror drilled into his spine hearing Tony scream his name like that.

As with previous nights, Peter and Steve exchange nods before Peter walks through the door, hurrying to the bed where Tony is tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Another scream escapes his throat, ending with a plaintive whine and rattling sob. Peter sits next to him on the bed, pulling the blankets and sheets off of his mentor and reaching to wake him.

The teen speaks loudly over the sobs, firm as he tries to bring his mentor back from his own personal hell.

"Mr. Stark I'm right here. You saved me from Titan. We're back on Earth. Mr. Stark, I'm right here!"

Finally, dark eyes open and lock on to Peter who opens his arms to the anticipated and much-needed hug. He still jumps a bit at the cold metal of Tony's prosthetic arm, but quickly melts into the embrace, rubbing the genius' back until the shaking stops.

Into the dark, Peter finally summons the courage to say what he's been thinking in the weeks since they returned.

"Mr. Stark, you don't have to try to be so strong anymore. You did it, you saved us. You saved me. Now let us save you. I've got you, Mr. Stark."

Peter pretends to not feel the wet heat of tears in his hair. He adds one last, soft whisper as he pretends to not feel his own tears.

"I love you Mr. Stark. We'll get through this together."

[ravenvsfox]

I'd be so down for some klance! How about Lance jumps in and takes a bullet for Keith when they're separated from the group and it seems like a fairly minor wound but the bullet was poisoned and now Keith has to get Lance back to the castle and feels a lot of feelings.

PREMIUM prompt, here’s another 7k

The city is built like a labyrinth, high, sprawling concrete walls with uniform homes and shops built into them, everything coiled tightly around the shining city centre.

It’s a genius kind of protection, Coran tells them. No ship is small enough to land in the heart of the maze, and by the time foot-soldiers are lost in its twists and turns, defence has already sprung into action, soldiers who have been solving the puzzle since childhood.

Allura deploys the paladins to three different entry points — her and Hunk to the East, Pidge and Shiro to the North, and Keith and Lance down South. She gives them each a rough holo-map of how to navigate to the centre, where they think refugees have been hiding with dwindling supplies.

A Galra ship is suspended in nearby territory, close enough to appear in the sky like a moon from the face of Griathen. The implicit threat has kept the citizens behind a barricade for weeks, firing distress signals out into space.

The paladins already ambushed the ship and subdued their forces, so this rescue mission is like a victory lap.

When they ease down onto the windswept surface of the planet, Lance cranes out of his seat, as close as he can get to the window. The capital city rises up out of the dust to meet them, like a beast from the sea. 

“Well that’s ominous,” Lance says.

Keith follows his gaze to the slender, dusty mouth of the Southern entry point, the imperfect slabs of concrete pitched slightly inwards like bared teeth.

“It’s a maze,” he says, shrugging.

Lance scoffs, undoing his harness busily. “Your observational skills have really been honed by your time with the blades.”

“Shut up,” Keith says.

“Wow, snappier comebacks too? Will the wonders never cease,” Lance teases, ducking out of his seat to grab their gear. He flicks Keith in the cheek on his way past.

“We don’t have time for this,” Keith tells him, tracking Lance’s movement across the cockpit, studying the tapering, exaggerated lines of his armour. “We’re losing daylight.” When Lance glances back at him he looks quickly away, securing his bayard against his hip and reaching up to push the release on red’s jaw.

Lance spends a beat too long looking backwards towards the haze around those fortress-like walls, and Keith reaches out with a foot to kick him in the calf.

His leg gives out and he yelps, barely catching himself on a low hanging rafter. He looks back at Keith, disbelieving. “What the hell?”

“Get out of my lion,” Keith says flatly.

“Alright bossy,” Lance replies, “a man can’t even stop and enjoy the scenery when you’re around, huh?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s not scenery, and you’re barely a man. Come on.” They stride down the long stretch of Red’s gangway, and the grimy air hits them hard.

“Says the dude with no chest hair,” Lance grumbles.

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Oh, but you want to do something with me?” he asks suggestively. He cuts ahead to walk backwards in front of Keith, who speeds up so that Lance almost trips, jogging the wrong way down an incline. He grabs at Keith’s forearms to keep his balance.

Keith can’t figure out why he’s been doing this lately, trying to throw Keith off guard by flipping the switch between fighting and flirting, like some messed up tactic to get ahead.

“Yeah,” Keith says, stubbornly unaffected. “I want to do this mission.”

“Boo, okay,” Lance says, and they hop one by one out onto a barren stretch of sand.

The whole planet is a vortex of grey so light it almost looks like it’s blizzarding, except Keith is already sweating in his armour. The panel of shade cradled in the mouth of the city is sorely tempting. They cross the chasm of the desert slowly, struggling to stay upright in the swirl of sand and debris.

When they finally duck between the walls, backs to the stone, they’re both breathing hard, their visors fogging up.

“Why would the Galra,” Lance pants, “even want to take this shithole?”

“Maybe they want it because it’s so hard to take,” Keith says, squinting into the lukewarm light and open space. Every line of every wall is clean, plain, and nearly identical to the last one.

“That does sound like Galra logic,” Lance groans. “Someone needs to have the ‘consent is sexy’ talk with Sendak.”

“Are you volunteering?” Keith asks, playing along, one hand on his weapon.

“Oh, definitely. I’m going to single-handedly defeat the Galra empire by teaching them sex ed.”

Keith laughs, startled.

Lance grins. “And I could start right here with you, if you want,” he teases, stupid and salacious.

He knocks their shoulders together and Keith’s mind goes blank. “Uhhh. Do you have the map?” he asks quickly.

“Um,” Lance falters. “Yeah dude, one second.” He fumbles for the tablet in their pouch of supplies, and when he pulls the two halves apart, a hologram springs up, glitchy and silvery blue. “Okay so… left up here, and then we hang two rights in a row and go straight for a while. Got it?”

“Got it,” Keith confirms.

They tramp through the barren corridors of the maze, ducking their heads into shallow rooms with destroyed tables and canvas awning out front, passing cubicles that look like they’re built as single-person sleeping quarters, tiny pockets carved out of the walls.

“Tell me this doesn’t remind you of the old west,” Lance says, hip-checking a low swinging door and hopping away when it comes back at him. “The abandoned town, the whistling wind, the heat, the dust.” He says it like he’s narrating a movie trailer. “I keep expecting John Wayne to round the corner with a pistol, ya know?” His face changes, and he looks a little uneasy.

“There’s no one here,” Keith reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says, and then he gasps, slapping a hand to his weapon. Keith’s heart makes a dive for it, but Lance just says, “maybe I’m the John Wayne in this town.” He wiggles his bayard.

“Don’t do that,” Keith says, punching Lance hard on the arm, but he’s undeterred.

“A more handsome, Latino John Wayne, who like, respects women and stuff.”

They round a corner and face three diverting hallways, and Lance spreads the map open again. Keith glances at it and walks straight forward, but Lance catches him by the arm. When he looks back, Lance’s face is serious, and his gaze is trailing along the tops of the walls.

“This would be a pretty sweet place for an ambush, actually,” Lance says softly. Keith follows his gaze, squinting at the mass of dust that reaches almost to the walls, like a roiling, smoky ceiling.

“We already scanned the place, and it’s a ghost town,” Keith says, slipping free of Lance’s grip and forging ahead. “Plus we’re nowhere near the Griathenian base yet.”

“Right,” Lance says, but he’s tapping his helmet and opening up communications anyway, following Keith at a distance. “Hey guys, anyone else feelin’ that warm and fuzzy ‘I’m being watched” feeling?”

The comms hiss. The wind wails. Lance’s eyes flicker anxiously to Keith’s, and he stops walking.

Finally, there’s a spritz of sound like a hose being turned on, and Shiro’s voice stutters through. “L—ce? —hear me? Comms aren’t—ing—well. Pidge thinks—in the walls.”

Lance holds his helmet over top of his ears like he’s trying to block out background noise.

“Something in the walls? Wait, what? Like something jamming communication?”

“Y—exactly.”

Lance shares another look with Keith, who shakes his head.

“We won’t bother you then,” Lance says. “Nothing to report, just a squiffy feeling. And hey, last one to the middle has to clean out kaltenecker’s pen.”

Disrupted air that might be Shiro scoffing, and then “—ger that. Try—ay focused.”

“Aye aye captain. Over and out.”

“You’re disgusting,” Keith points out as soon as Lance hits mute.

“I’m providing the team with incentive,” Lance says, “it’s called leadership.”

“Stick to the map. It’s called navigation.” They trudge through an archway, and come out into a tiny courtyard, with woody looking flora and spindly hallways outstretched in all directions.

“Is that all I am to you?” Lance asks from behind him. “A hot piece with an eye for directions?”

“Please. You’re just the guy holding the tablet,” Keith says, and he doubles back, striding to the middle of the little room and reaching out to grab the map for himself.

“You just don’t want to admit how badly you need—“ Lance’s teasing smile slips halfway off his face, and he lurches forward like he’s going to tackle him. Keith staggers a couple of steps backward in shock, but Lance grabs him hard around the shoulders and swings him around.

He has a second to register Lance shoving him against the wall with the full weight of his body, his arms folding around Keith’s head so tightly that he can’t see anything. Then there’s a sound like breaking wood, and something impacts Lance’s torso so hard that he rams into Keith with the force of a running start.

He makes a choked sound, and then his whole body slips down Keith’s. He catches him heavily by the elbows, looking down, bewildered, at Lance’s hanging head. When he looks up again, he sees the shape of a Galra sniper across from them taking fresh aim.

Keith forces them both into a duck exactly as a bullet zings into the concrete behind them, and Lance’s legs give out. His knees wag against the ground, but his hands are vice-like on Keith’s shoulders.

“Shit, Lance, come on,” Keith says frantically. His brain is a broken circuit, a twitchy lightbulb that won’t stay lit. He realizes too late, in terrified pieces, that Lance has been shot in the back.

“I’m trying,” Lance says, sounding annoyed. Keith sidesteps another bullet, dragging Lance to his side almost too late. “Controls aren’t working.”

He gets them both behind the nearest wall, watching the flash of the soldier following their movements, and then it’s a mad, adrenaline-fuelled sprint around as many corners as possible. Lance gets his feet under him for a few stray steps, but it’s mostly Keith keeping them two steps ahead of the gunfire.

They duck into an alcove, and Lance finally has long enough to activate his bayard. A blaster unfolds gracefully along the line of his arm as he swings it towards the doorway, and as soon as the sniper enters Keith’s field of vision, Lance has shot him down. He collapses off the side of the wall, and Keith sinks gratefully back, catching his breath.

“Oh fuck,” he says, laughing inappropriately and holding his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. He thinks of Lance’s tight expression when he’d looked up at something Keith couldn’t see or sense. “Sweet place for an ambush.”

“Right?” Lance says, wheezing. “I don’t know why you distrust the gut. It has all our most important organs.”

“Speaking of important organs,” Keith says, scanning Lance’s crumpled body, those long long legs akimbo, his hand clutched over his own side.

“Yeah, about that,” Lance says, reaching up to slide off his helmet. “I’m definitely going to die.”That’s how Keith knows he’s okay; if the dramatics are intact, then so is he.

“Let me see.”

Lance nods tightly, reaching around to unfasten his chest plate and then crying out. “Goddamn,” he curses, “the bastard really got me.”

“I felt it,” Keith says hollowly. He keeps reliving the thunk of it, the way Lance was all around him and then he was dead weight. He crouches down to reach around Lance’s body for him, and he can feel his uneven breaths on his neck. “Since when do they use projectiles and not lasers,” he mutters, peeling Lance’s under-suit down.

“Maybe they—“ Lance pants, “heard my old western idea.”

Keith ignores him, busily detaching pieces and feeling overwhelmed, sweat beading at his brow and inexplicable tears clogging his throat. He shakes his head against all of that feeling.

“Why did you have to do that?” he asks tightly. There’s nothing on his front, so Keith manhandles him into turning over.

His hands go stiff on Lance’s sides when he sees the blood slicking most of his back, but the wound itself is unassuming, tucked to the side, nowhere near his spine.

“Was I supposed to let him get you?”

“You could’ve used your words,” Keith says angrily. “Given me a chance to fight back. Not left me completely powerless.” Tears threaten hotly, so he screws his eyes shut.

“You mean safe?” Lance counters.

He stretches the skin around Lance’s wound, but it’s not bleeding very much. He makes this choking noise though, and it sounds so much like the one he made when he was hit that Keith takes his hands away altogether.

Lance rolls gingerly onto his back, looking up at Keith and then away again. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admits, probably delirious from the pain. “I saw him pointing at you and I—“ he shakes his head, looking disturbed. “I wasn’t thinking. And anyway it doesn’t matter, I’m fine.”

“You’re shot,” Keith snaps. “You made yourself into a human shield.”“Well excuse me for thinking you’re worth protecting.”

Keith clenches his jaw. His whole head is full of fire, and nothing in it is recognizable anymore. He can’t tell his anger from his fear from his love.

“More of them will be coming,” Keith says slowly. “We need to warn the others.” Lance nods distractedly, brow furrowed. His top half is bare, and it makes Keith uncomfortable to look at, crushed into the dirt and streaked with blood.

He taps his comms open, and calls out into the void. “Anyone there? Guys? It’s a Galra trap. I repeat, it’s a trap. We were ambushed in the third sector of the Southern quadrant. Lance is hurt, and more Galra sentries will be nearby.”

They both wait through the static. Keith watches Lance close his eyes with a dawning sort of panic. He kicks him awake, nodding meaningfully to his torso when Lance gives him a perturbed look.“I’m not concussed, idiot.”

Keith shushes him. The comms continue to modulate and hiss, but no voices come through.

“Great,” Keith says.

“Hate to say it Keith-o, but we’ve gotta keep moving. We’re still close to where that dude was last stationed, and when they find us we’ll be fish in a barrel.”

“Can you even walk?” he asks doubtfully.

“Can I walk,” Lance mocks. “My legs aren’t the part of me that got shot.”

“Clearly neither is your mouth, because that’s still running.”

“Oh, wordplay, that’s sexy. I didn’t know danger could bring out this side of you, Keith.”

“And we’re standing up,” Keith says, sliding an arm around Lance’s blood-slick waist and hoisting him upright. They overbalance and Lance has to catch himself on the lip of the doorway.

“Jesus mary, this hurts. Why did no one tell me gunshots were gonna hurt this bad?”

“Every piece of media you’ve ever consumed has told you gunshots hurt.” He holds up pieces of armour for Lance to shrug back on, wincing whenever Lance makes a pained noise.

“I’m just saying that you should feel sorry for me,” Lance tells him frankly, and Keith scoffs.

“You jumped in front of the bullet!”

“Yeah!” Lance agrees loudly. “You should be gratefully weeping and embracing me ‘we almost died’ style.”

“You’re delirious,” Keith says through gritted teeth.

“You’re ungrateful,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Let’s get out of here.” Lance stumbles over his own feet on the way out, but he doesn’t need Keith to balance him, and his gait looks almost normal.

He trains his rifle on the grey rectangles of open space above them, and Keith follows close behind in case he falls backwards. They fall silent, listening for footsteps in the constant whispering of the sandstorm.

He’s impressed by Lance’s constant vigilance, his dead-serious eyes and unfaltering grip on the trigger. He’s only a little unsteady as he tracks both sides of the wall, turning slowly, checking the tablet with the gun cocked on his hip.

 Keith almost forgets that there’s a bullet lost somewhere inside of him, that the Galra most likely outnumber them and have the advantage of height and invisibility.

“I don’t like this,” Keith says quietly.

Lance doesn’t stop squinting down the barrel of his rifle. “Oh yeah?”

“Why are they using different weapons? Why didn’t our sensors pick them up?”

“The Galra work in mysterious ways,” Lance says. “Don’t worry too much about it right now. We’re still in the staying alive part of the mission.”

“You didn’t seem to care too much about staying alive before,” he says bitterly.

“Keith, seriously,” Lance says, exasperated, dropping the arm holding his gun to his side. “Are you mad at me for that?”

“Forget I said anything.” He fiddles with his own bayard uneasily.

“I keep trying to, and you keep sighing like some—wronged boyfriend.”

“I’m worried about you,” Keith blurts. “I hate that you’re hurt, and I let it happen.”

“Well—I mean. Okay,” Lance says, flustered. “But it’s not…”

He looks down at his abdomen, looking surprised, and then he drops like a stone.

“Lance?” Keith just stands there for a second, looking at where he’s crumpled and unmoving, not really understanding what he’s seeing. And then he’s rushing forward all at once, dropping his weapon in the sand and skidding to his knees.

Lance’s face is wan, and his head is thrown back like he’s too weak to lift it.

“What the hell,” Keith says. He can hear how reedy and panicked his voice is, and he barely recognizes it. He props Lance’s head up with his hand and struggles to take his helmet off again. His hair is drenched in sweat.

His eyes slit open. “I don’t feel so hot,” he murmurs.

“Is the shock wearing off? Is that what this is?” Keith feels quickly for more blood, for fever, for anything.

“Don’t think so,” Lance says, eyes opening properly. His pupils are twin pinpricks in unbelievable blue. “It hurt before, but now it’s worse. Way worse. I don’t know why my body isn’t—“ he tries to make a fist, but his fingers don’t close all the way.

Keith looks up at the empty walls, the stretch in front and behind them that look completely the same. They’re so exposed that it’s like a physical burning on his skin.

“Can you move?”

“Uh. Gimme a sec.” He breathes in and out a couple of times, laboured, and then he seems to use most of his energy to get halfway to sitting. “Keith,” he levels him with a serious look, and he thinks for a second that he’s going to tell him to leave him behind, or something equally ridiculous, but he just says: “we can do this.”

He catches at Keith’s neck, and leverages himself the rest of the way to sitting.

“Hey, not so bad from this angle.” He cracks his neck and shakes his hands out, obviously for Keith’s benefit.

“Let me,” Keith starts, and he shifts into a crouch so that he can lift Lance up off the ground by the armpits. As soon as he’s up he teeters into the nearest wall, and Keith hands him his helmet first, then his bayard.

“Lean against me, okay? We’re taking this maze side by side.”

“Neck and neck,” Lance says sort of hazily, rolling his head to look at him and smile, open-mouthed. “Okay.”

They move as an eight-limbed thing, and side by side they cover almost the full span of some of the passageways. Keith fumbles with the map and his bayard, sometimes leaning over to adjust Lance’s grip when his own bayard slips and the gun wobbles and ceases to exist.

“As far as missions go, this isn’t in our greatest hits, Keith, gotta say.”

“Whose fault is that, huh?” Keith asks, but he can’t tease the gentleness out of his voice. Lance looks so weak, and his helmet keeps knocking against Keith’s when his head droops.

“It’s your fault for not listening to my wise and beautiful guts.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith says, holding him tighter, trying to keep Lance together first and himself second.

“Hey, nah, you gotta argue with me,” Lance says. His voice is starting to slur.

“What do you want me to say?” Keith asks, blinking through tears and sweat.

“I dunno. Blah blah blah, I’m a dick. Blah blah, I ignore Lance’s golden instincts, and—and…”

“And what?” The next step Keith takes, Lance’s feet drag underneath him. “Lance? And what?” He reels around and feels for Lance’s pulse, finding it absolutely hammering. He remembers Lance’s pupils, the weakness of his grip, and the strange bullets, and he sobs with realization. “Fuck. The fucking— they poisoned you. Do you hear me?” He props him up against the wall, and keeps him in place with his own body, tapping at his helmet and trying to radio the team again.

“Anyone? Is anyone out there? Anywhere? Please. Please. It’s me, it’s Keith,” he says, choking, looking at Lance’s closed eyes and the dark freckles sprayed down his cheeks, the two that overlap on the tip of his nose. He holds his drooping jaw to keep his face forward. “We need help. Badly.”

There’s no reply, and Keith starts to cry in earnest. Lance’s brow furrows, and he sort of moans, hands lifting weakly to Keith’s forearms.

“Hurts,” he whispers.

“I know,” Keith whispers back. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Lance sighs. “Keith. Are you still running for your life?” He squints. His mouth is so pale.

“I’m running for ours,” Keith corrects, petting at Lance’s helmet stupidly, just trying to stay present. “Do you want to join me?”

“Hell yeah,” Lance says, but when he tries to stand, his body jackknifes and cracks back against the concrete. “Oh.” He coughs, and shakes his head. “My body says no.”

“I’m gonna carry you on my back, okay?” Keith says, already arranging his limbs.

Lance nods, face screwed up in pain. “Okay.”

He clips Lance’s bayard to his hip and wedges himself low against Lance’s body, easing him over so that he’s sprawled out on his back. He straightens slowly, keenly aware of how terrible it must be to have all your pain manhandled like this. 

He hikes him up by the thighs, and Lance turns his face into the back of Keith’s neck. He’s burning up even through his armour, and Keith tries to focus on the heat as a sign that he’s alive.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on Hunk and Pidge when they’re trying to—to make engineering into a game, or whatever. They’re just trying to feel normal.”

“What?”

“Pidge has the best the best head I’ve ever seen, man, and—“ his voice goes tense, shocked through with pain. “Hunk has the best heart. And tell Shiro how great he’s doing, would you? How much we love him. He always keeps everyone together but—but he really needs to hear it.”

Keith shakes his head. “What are you doing.”

“Allura needs someone to be family for her, so be her family, okay? You have a whole lost species to make up for but you’re… you’re pretty good.”

“I’m so mad at you,” Keith says, shaking with rage that he can’t do anything with. He squeezes Lance’s thighs. He hasn’t even looked up in the last seven turns.

“Coran reminds me of my dad, a little,” Lance muses. “Really loud because he really cares. You gotta tell him how much it meant to me… that he took me in. Like a dad.”

“I’m never going to forgive you if you die,” Keith says hoarsely.

“Keith, I really, really wish we had more time.” He’s so lanky and slippery on his back, he feels like he could pop off like an elastic. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” It’s getting hard to keep walking. The map keeps flickering, Lance keeps sliding down, and the sand underfoot is clingy like mud.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He sounds so lucid. It’s weird how he perked up to deliver this weird, verbal will to him, like he had a backup generator of energy for exactly this purpose, like he was saving it for everyone else, never for himself.

“I’m not,” Keith says thickly.

“You are,” Lance insists. “Even if the end of the maze is a Galra base and our team is all taken hostage and you walk in carrying a dead body as your only weapon—“

“Shut up,” he interrupts viciously.

“You’ll do great. You’re the top of your class. You’re my favourite person in the universe.”

Keith closes his eyes, and slowly stops moving. The gusting wind is starting to sound like constant, mournful crying. He hears a smudge of sound against rock, and he goes absolutely still.

“I really… loved being a part of your team,” Lance says, sounding drunk and sincere. “You make me feel….” his words go soft and broken, and he passes out. 

Keith bites his lip hard, hearing footsteps come nearer, then stop, farther, then stop. Someone is circling, searching for them. Lance is dying, and Keith can’t make a sound.

He creeps a single step forward, and sand crunches beneath his boot. He curses silently, over and over, his heart in his mouth right behind his clenched teeth. Footsteps come faster, and Keith lifts his bayard.

Nothing happens for a heart-stopping second, and then the bayard shimmers into a sleek red blaster. Keith gapes at it, tears drying on his face, and when the two galra soldiers find him, they look as surprised as he feels.

“Hey! He’s over—“

Keith shoots the first one in the chest and he topples off the wall. The other one takes aim, and Keith runs with renewed strength, firing off inaccurate rounds behind him. Lance bounces against his back, and Keith keeps him away from the line of fire as best he can, pulling him awkwardly around to his side, cradling him on his hip like an overgrown child.

He makes an erratic run for it, trying to remember what was on the map and trusting his gut. It’s impossible to run very fast with the whole weight of a body balanced against the socket of his leg, and he’s not a marksmen like lance is.

He can hear the soldier radioing for help, but he’s obviously struggling to multi-task, and Keith takes advantage of his lag, making a couple of wrong turns and then doubling back and plastering himself to the wall around the last corner they took.

He can hear the stutter of feet. He kisses the helmet above Lance’s temple, and prays.

After a terrible minute, the footsteps pick up again, tracking farther and farther away from their hiding spot.

When he’s certain they’re alone, he jostles Lance to his back again, feeling an ache down the entirety of his body. He walks slowly this time, down the centre of each path, keeping his eyes on the grey overhead.

“Hey Lance,” he whispers, “we’re close.” No response. “You gonna let me save your life too?”

The paths are getting wider now, opening up a little. He can hear the faint sound of activity somewhere nearby, the bustle of a city. It doesn’t sound like a Galra base.

“You were right, about everything. As usual.” He peers ahead and tries to imagine seeing anything but grey. He squeezes Lance’s fingers where they’re dangling around his neck.

“Don’t you wanna say I told you so?”

He doesn’t take the bait. His hands are cold.

“Hey guess what,” Keith says. Lance hangs like a dead thing from his body, and he isn’t completely sure that that isn’t what he is, anymore. “I’ve always, always loved you.”

He can hear laughter, somewhere. It seems like some sort of scientific impossibility that someone could laugh, right now, at the end of the world.

He sinks to the ground, laying Lance out on the sand and following him down, like they’re going to bed. The wind cries and cries and cries.

“Keith?”

He looks up.

Hunk is staring at them, horrified, bayard deactivating in his grip. “Help,” he whispers. Then louder, “help! Get help, Pidge, get supplies over here, Lance and Keith are hurt.”

Keith looks into Lance’s face. He can feel Hunk coming over to them, manhandling Lance’s body, listening for breath and feeling for a pulse, asking Keith questions.

“He’s cold,” Keith tells him.

“You’re in shock,” Hunk says.

“Not shock,” He says, memory fluttering like tattered curtains. “It hurt before. Now it’s worse.”

Moments pass. His body aches badly. Someone else is there, and Hunk’s talking to them in hushed tones. “—happened to them?”

“—the same poison.”

“How did they—“

“—must’ve been exhausting.”

“His pulse is really, really weak, Pidge—“

“Someone should get Keith out of here.”

“No,” he hears himself say. “I carried him all the way here.”

“I know,” someone says gently. Shiro, he thinks, from far away. “We need to carry you the rest of the way.”

“The Galra—“ he starts.

“Are taken care of.”

“It never should have happened.”

“They have new tech,” Pidge says. “Some sort of cloaking device and those— those fucking bullets—“

“We captured most of them. Had a few casualties, but none of ours.“

“Lance is one of ours,” he says, confused. He feels like he’s talking through taffy. There’s an uneasy pause.

“He’s not dead, Keith,” Hunk says softly.

“Where is he?”

He’s not holding onto him anymore. He can’t imagine having let him go, but he’s not in his arms or on his back. They’re not even in the labyrinth, he realizes. The grey and the wind are tempered by colour and movement.

He looks up and the paladins are all nearby, looking grim and exhausted. He’s sitting down outside one of the little structures that litter what he can see of the town, and he can tell that he’s lost time. He can smell something burning nearby.

“He’s getting help.”

“I need to see him,” he says, wheeling to his feet. Four sets of hands fly out to stop him.

“You need to see a doctor first,” Shiro says. “I know you’re gonna be stubborn about this, but you’re in shock, and you’ll be helping Lance by helping yourself.”

“Can’t we let him go? What’s he gonna do, un-heal him?” Pidge says.

“It’s not Lance who would be suffering from this encounter,” Allura says tightly.

Keith shakes his head to clear it. “I’m okay,” he says, almost convincing. Time is starting to make a little more obvious sense. They told him Lance was alive, and he knows they wouldn’t lie about that. “I’m okay, but I have to--I told him I would save him, but I must’ve--must’ve passed out.”

“You did save him,” Hunk tells him, squeezing both of his shoulders, eyes glassy.

“He took the bullet for me,” Keith feels compelled to say, like he’s leaving out a crucial part of a confession.

“Idiot,” Pidge mutters.

“Hero,” Shiro corrects.

Keith shakes his head. He’s tired of talking about it like it’s some objective event, like he didn’t just wake up from living it. “I need to see him,” he repeats.

“Okay,” Allura says tiredly. “Okay. I get the feeling we’re only making things worse by keeping you apart.”

The gentle hands barring his way disappear. Hunk hooks a sad smile at him, and leads him by the elbow into the nearest building, stopping just inside the doorway, maybe to give them privacy. His arms cross and his lip wobbles, but he stays fixed at the door. Keith’s guard lets down a little for the first time in hours.

The interior is shadowy, panelled with pale wood but completely windowless. There are walls full of vials, wax tablets covered in writing, and those same woody plants from before.

The burning, Keith realizes, eyeing a collection of glowing instruments, was the physician cauterizing Lance’s wound. He can’t linger on the thought for too long without his eyes watering.

He walks, trance-like, towards the platform where Lance is face-down and stripped to the waist. He doesn’t even look at the doctor working quietly at his side, hanging bags of fluid and mixing herbs into pastes.

Keith’s eyes fix on a little coppery bowl, part of a tray full of frightening looking instruments. When he peers inside he finds the bullet that had been collapsing Lance’s body piece by piece, dragging him unconscious through an endless grey. It’s a tiny, blood-soaked thing crackling with purple energy, some kind of rotten quintessence.

The wound is ugly, infected, and bigger than the last time he saw it. His whole back looks like its contorted around the impact of the gunshot, and his skin seems too dusky to belong to living flesh. The doctor packs the wound with paste and gauze, and Keith swallows uneasily, looking away.

His gaze finds Lance’s upturned face instead, his parted mouth and slicked back hair, still dark with sweat. Keith puts his hand to the pieces that always stick up at the crown of his head, and he exhales all the terror he’s been keeping in his spine, the paralyzing stillness and feral anger.

He kneels quietly, hand sliding from his head to the curve of his jaw.

“You’re my favourite person too,” Keith tells him. His thumb slides against the hollow of his cheek. “Idiot.”

The doctor taps gently on Keith’s hand. Their skin is sun-bleached, with navy patterns running down their arms to their hands, which look almost like they’re dipped in paint. Their face is apologetic, tender with sympathy. “So sorry, paladin. I need to move him, if you’ll let me.”

“Where?” Keith asks sharply. “Why? Right now?”

“Just,” they say, holding out placating hands, “up high enough to wrap his wound.”

“Oh.” He steps awkwardly back and watches the doctor grip Lance’s biceps, maneuvering his upper body so that his head droops heavily forward.

“Wait, let— just let me do it.” He doesn’t know why he feels so protective over every bend and dip in Lance’s body. He wasn’t exactly being gentle with him when they were running and sweating and thumping against the earth and each other.

He reaches out and gathers Lance’s weight onto the front of his body, his head fitting neatly against Keith’s neck. He allows himself to rest his cheek in his hair and breathe.

The doctor wraps silky looking gauze around Lance’s waist, and when he runs his thumb along the seam, it seals against his skin like tape.

“Is he going to be okay?” Keith asks quietly.

“Oh yes,” the doctor says, helping Keith to lower him gently back onto the table. The way they’re looking down at him is pleased, fond. Lance had been unconscious the entire time he was in the room with this person, but he still managed to charm them. “He’s blue, right? Good with water?”

Keith nods jerkily, crossing his arms over his chest so he doesn’t have to focus on the way his heart is racing for no reason, and his arms feel empty without the weight of a body to support.

“Water is creative, healing, resilient. He’s smarter than this galra poison.”

Keith snorts. “I beg to differ.”

“Fire,” the doctor says sagely, eyeing his scuffed red armour. “Stubborn.”

Keith look skeptically to Hunk in the doorway, but he just shrugs, half-smiling.

“I’ve done all I can. And so have you.” They pat Lance’s calf firmly, then cross to the doorway. “Don’t let him move around too much, alright?” They smile warmly and disappear out into the celebration outside, the after-party of a liberation.

“He’s not gonna like that,” Hunk says, and Keith’s mouth twists, amused.

“No. It’s amazing how lazy he is until someone tells him to sit still.”

“Yeah, and then he’s trying to teach us salsa, right?” Hunk grins at him, eyes bright and knowing. Keith isn’t used to it, the way loving someone can become this whole community experience. His expression must be wrong, because Hunk’s smile fades. “What happened out there, man?”

Keith’s teeth grit. He remembers that first impact of Lance’s body, the coil of his arms protecting Keith’s face, the endless slip to the ground. He can still taste the sweat from the exertion of running. He can feel the soreness of the muscles that Lance’s weight tested when he’d been swung around his side, gangly but heavy. He remembers his voice, drizzling over Keith’s neck with the last of his consciousness, you make me feel…

“We were ambushed.”

“How many?” Hunk asks gravely. Keith faces Lance, touching the clean lines of his shoulder blades, ghosting his fingers over the bandaging.

“Just one. One soldier, one bullet.” His hand reaches the spot where the gauze is thickest, and he can’t bring himself to move any farther.

“How exactly did they outdo a sharpshooter and a former blade of marmora?” Shiro asks from where he’s ducking into the doorway. Pidge follows, going all the way up to Lance’s bedside and plopping down cross-legged in the side chair. Allura leans up against the doorframe opposite Hunk, the pair of them look like some kind of mismatched security team.

“They took him out early,” Keith replies, swallowing hard. “He just kept getting sicker and sicker, and we couldn’t figure it out. He tried to keep walking, but his body was shutting down, and the Galra knew where we were, so--so we had to move as quickly as possible.” He shakes his head. “You don’t realize how loud it is, carrying someone.”

He catches Shiro and Allura exchanging a loaded glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Then my bayard turned into a gun, and I kept firing until I hit something.”

Allura gets this troubled look on her face, and Keith ignores it. He can’t even fathom trying to deal with the mysteries and magic and fear of something bigger than one foot in front of another, or the next ash-grey wall in a maze.

“That’s cool,” Pidge says, thoughtful. “Do you think your bayard transformed based on the range of your target? Maybe it’s equipped to adapt to your needs?”

“I don’t care,” Keith says simply.

“I think it’s like Harry Potter, and his patronus changed to match the person he’s in love with,” Hunk says, sly.

“Are we talking hp?” Lance asks faintly.

“Lance,” Keith chokes before he can stop himself. He drops to his knees at his bedside, and he’s the first person to see those eyes open, deep summer blue.

Lance smiles slowly. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Fuck you,” Keith says, his voice raw. “I’ve never been that scared. Not for myself. Not for anything.”

“You’re okay,” Lance repeats, scanning his friend’s faces, corners of his eyes crinkling and then drifting closed again.

Keith shakes his shoulder. “You’re not allowed to go to sleep.”

“I was almost fatally poisoned,” he says irritably.

“A choice that you made,” Keith reiterates. “We’ve already had this fight.”

“And I told you it wasn’t, like, a conscious choice that I made,” Lance says, shifting in place and hissing at the pain. “I mean. You said — said I was just the guy with the tablet.”

“Jesus,” Keith says, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I never mean it.”

“It’s cool,” Lance says evenly. “It’s just, like. I didn’t want to be the dude who brought a map to a gunfight. I didn’t think about it for even a second. Your back was exposed. You were smiling. I couldn’t just… I mean I really couldn’t just…”

“Yeah,” Keith says weakly. He would’ve done it too, to save his life. No thinking, no hesitation.

“Is everyone else okay? The Griathenians?”

“Everyone’s been freed,” Allura tells him, beaming.

“Thank god,” Lance says. “This isn’t some kind of prison hospital. I don’t think I’m ready to be some Galra’s slave.” His gaze finds Keith and his mouth turns up wickedly at the corners. “With one important exception.”

Keith flushes, and Lance laughs until his voice stumbles into hurt. He holds perfectly still and breathes through it.

“I’m glad it was me and you though,” Lance says, looking up at Keith from his pillowed arms. “You—were a shithead. Distracted me. Didn’t hurt so much.”

“Romance,” someone says behind them.

“And now?” Keith asks.

Lance shakes his head. “I’m good. Hurts like a gunshot should hurt, I think. Less like I’m being burned alive than before.”

Keith bows his head, forehead to Lance’s hands. They turn over against his scalp and comb through his hair. “No more missions until you’ve spent a week in a healing pod.”

“You don’t have the authority to do that, bucko.”

“No more missions until you’ve spent a week in a healing pod,” Allura echoes, and Lance curses.

“How about no more mazes,” Shiro offers. “Ever.”

“Deal,” Lance says.

“Deal,” they all chorus.

“How about you never get hurt again,” Keith says quietly, small and serious.

“I dunno,” Lance says, mouth twitching. “I’m pretty sure if I do, you’ll carry me anywhere I want.”

It’s a joke, Keith knows it’s a joke, but he still looks up to say, “I’d do that anyway.”

Lance face goes as still and flushed as steamed-up glass, and he says, “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Keith’s chest throbs, a lash of heat, and he nods jerkily.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Pidge says.

“We should give them a minute,” Shiro announces, backing up in the direction of the doorway, dragging Pidge with him. “Not too rough, Keith,” he says, like he’s trying not to laugh.

Keith glares at him. The team files all the way outside, letting the curtain swish over the doorway, and then they’re alone in the shadows, and everything feels so real, and close together. 

Lance presses up into him, and pulls his head down. He remembers hitting the sand, thinking that he’d lost everything, and now he can’t wrap his head around the proof of him, the heat from his body and the tenderness of his hands. 

Lance presses a kiss close to the corner of his mouth, and holds the place that he just kissed like he’s pinning it there for safe-keeping. His mouth ghosts over Keith’s and touches down on the other corner, holding there, lush.

Their noses slide alongside each other, and their warm, tacky skin catches together. Lance’s eyelashes feather over his cheek, and It’s so intimate that Keith’s breath comes out choppy against Lance’s lips, and he reaches up to hold his damaged back as close as he dares.

Lance kisses him properly, his lips chapped and warm, and Keith feels so much for him that it’s like a whole second pulse, shaking him and leading him to the very edge of tears.

It’s so quiet now that he can hear the haunted sound of the wind again, only this time it fits right in between the sound of their shared breaths, and Keith isn’t afraid.

[evilispretty-dead]

Blackhawk

Not my best work but it a idea that been going on my head

Agent Coulson walked in to the training room where some of the new trainees where being shown the ropes by the top agent of S.H.I.E.L.D agent Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye and he was the best that shield had and he was only 20 years old, from what Coulson could see Clint was getting ready to face off with one of the new agents, the agent that Clint was going to face off with looked a little older than Clint but they were on similar builds so most would think this would be an even match.

Coulson walked over to his fellow agent standing at the side of the mats opposite to where the class was standing “agent hunter” he nodded his head in acknowledgement of Coulson “began” agent hunter gruff voice called out making both men move. Both men walked around each other feeling each other out the agent made a lunge for Clint leading leg , Clint moved out of the way stepping to the side as the agent runs around looking at Clint as he had a smug smile on his face now the agent came in swing punches making Clint bob and wave out of the way with that he throwing a kick Clint bob out the way so now he was standing behind him making him throw tow more kicks Clint’s way , for the most part Clint was on defensive till he saw his moment to get him a hit on him then he was on the attack with a smile on his face he throws some kicks at the agent till the agent hooked his leg and swapping Clint another leg out from under him with this Clint kicked of his ribs getting some separation between them quickly getting to his feet waiting for the agent to come back at him , he did throwing punches at him with one landing on the side of Clint in the face with this Clint try to punch him back as the agent lunged at his hip as the agent picks him up Clint hooked his arm round the agent's head and twisted send the agent over his body separate them again.

Clint headniped upstanding back up seeing agent was pissed off making him smile more the agent ran at him and Clint wanted this over now as he had other stuff to do , as the agent made a grab for him and Clint locked him in a rolling armbar as both their back hit the floor Clint pushed his hips up making the agent cry out in pain “Clint play nice” Coulson voice called out making Clint stop and let go rolling backwards pushing up on his hands in to a handstand bring him back to his feet , agent hunter walked out to the mat clapping his hands “now you all see why Hawkeye is the best shield has” turning to Clint “thank you Clint hope you can show them through the assault course just so they can see what time they need to beat” the last part hunter laughed know in truth no one could come close to Clint time . Clint smile at this as he hadn’t had the time to beat his own time and thinking of this the idea of swing that in sound good to him just as he was going to answer him “debriefing 10 minutes fury’s office” with that Coulson walked out the room still on the phone , Clint looked back at hunter with his game face one “next time” with that he walked away going after Coulson .

Coulson was standing outside of the room waiting for him as his sign to Clint to got to his room and get ready then walked off not waiting for clients answer , Clint walked back to his room stepping in to his room he pulled his top off and walked in to his bedroom going to the wardrobe pulling out his duffel bag setting it on the bed for when he got out of the shower picking out his clean uniform laying that out on the bed then heading in to his bathroom to shower.

After coming out he packed his bag with clothes just the basic he needed until he found out what his mission was so that he could pack to the mission looking at his watch he had 4 minutes till he needs to beat fury’s office so with that he grabs his iPod loading up the music he put his headphones in and made his way to Fury's office.

Coming round the corner Clint pulled his headphones out of his ear, down the hall was agent hill ,agent Parker and agent steals “well it must be a party” Clint cherub out making all of them look at him “Barton” steals said as he moved to side down Clint just look at him as he was going to say something the doors to the office opened and they all were called in as they walked in there could see their handlers sat in front of fury’s desk .

Fury has his back to them looking out of the window “agents this mission is to infiltrate a arms deal” fury was now looking at them as Coulson handed them the mission file Clint flicked throw it taking in bits “so we have an invite in or we have to get one” Clint asked not looking up “yes you have an invite the time and place is in the file but don’t engage till we find out who the target is meeting” fury’s eyed them all “we believe the target is meeting with Eric Von and German drug dealers”

They all nodded as the listened to fury and what had to say but client zone out just getting bites of what he was saying with that they were all dismissed so they could go pack as they were wheels up in an hour client walked back to his room to pack his bow and guns, before he could get back to his room coils on walked up be hide him ”clint? Did you listen in their ” ”yes I did and what I go got was wait for the arms dealer to show up and meet with the drug dealer and bring him in and don't kill him” both men walked into clint's room as client walked over to his wall of weapons picking out what guns he would take and also picking out his arrows putting them in the travel bag that sat under his weapons, the whole time he kept up the chat with Coulson about the mission and having him tell him that he had to play nice with the team but Coulson knows he would as client and Parker got on well have worked plenty of missions together and worked well but at them some time him and agent steals don't get on to tell well after a long time together and this mission was looking like it could be 4 days and that for the two that was too long but Coulson had faith in hill that she could keep them from killing each other.

It was time for Clint to meet up with them at the hanger so the team got to go ,Packer caning to the side of Clint “want me to co-pilot with you” Clint looked up at him than then nodded as Packer slipped into the seat next to him both of them going through the checks they need to do before taking off “wheels up boys” Coulson called from behind them as Clint look to see agent hill step on board the jet nodding to the men waiting for her .

They had landed in Uzbekistan and they were in the jeep on the way to the safe house, steals was driving them client was fighting not to fall asleep in the back seat of the jeep shaking his head he asked when they would be their and being told that they would be there in 30 Clint hoped that he could stay awake but found out that he could not but the stopping of the jeep woke him up so the others didn't notice that he was asleep in the back and he was happy with that.

The safe house was a shit how from what clint could see but he was not moaning about it, they all went over the mission and what they would be doing and soon it was time to move out, going over his guns and his sniper making sure they were all in working order he was bit bummed out that he couldn't take his now but like Colson said it stands out so he had to take his guns ”vest hawkeye” agent hill called out to him as she pulled her kevlar best over she chest then putting her over top on ”yes mum” he smiled back at her as he picked up his vest putting over his head pulling it down pulling it tightly over his chest.

As they were loading up the jeep to move out Coulson walked out ”be safe ladies” he was talking to all them as they got in the jeep client was the last one to get in as he was the driver Coulson stopped him ’one piece Barton’ he signed to him, Clint smile at him then signed back ‘will try’ with that he got in.

Pulling up down the block from where the meeting was meant to get down in the back of some shady place from where they could see they could make out the gentlemen that were meeting with their target walking into the building ”let move out” client did as he got out of the jeep walking to the back of the jeep to get his guns out the back as the rest of his team got out. Over the comm links, the could hear Phil telling them where they had to go and who was it what place ”steals I want you up top and client on the ground ” ”Phil you know I'm better up top ” ”yes but we need you on the ground, your expertise in Bomb disposal maybe need as from are new intel it seems Eric is after one” Clint was just about to kick off but with him the only one knowing disposal of one he know understands “just what we need now” hill spoke up over the comms ”don't matter now just let get this over with some of us have a date” steals calls out over the comms making client shake his head ”Eric has just pulled up to move in to place” Phil called over with that they all moved out getting in to place as Clint, hill and Parker moved in to the building through as steals climbed up high getting to his advantage point where he could get a clear shot on the target as they were moving in to place Parker called him on the comms ”yes love” client award with a smile ”fuck off Barton and don't die” client grind it was their thing to do before every mission that had together ”yes mom”.

Upon getting inside the building they could hear talking and it sounded heated over the comm links steals filled them in what going on and drone what he said it looked like this guy was trying to rip Eric off as something about the stuff not being what he asked for ”guys it getting heated in their we may what to move in now” steals huffed as he moved his to get a better look down his scope ”hill in place to break if you are Hawkeye?” ”parker in place” client move into his place with his assault rifle in hand ”in three” soon the sound of gunfire ring out ”now” client shouted as he kicked the door in taking down two men standing next to the make with two shot as they were turning to run voting to take his next shot Hawkeye saw hill be thrown to the side as some exposed next to her, it was as if the world was going in slow mod for Clint now as two more bombs went off one of them sending count forward to the ground knocking him out for a bit.

Coming to everything was muffed and the ringing in his ears was not helping Clint could make out someone calling his code name shaking his to try and clear it coming round a bit more he put his hand to his ear pressing the comm link ”Phil come in ” healing it fizz in his ear he pulled it out of his ear ”fucking nice” dropped at the side of him he pushed himself up grabbing his gun ”agent hill parker ” to his left he could hear someone choking for air ”Hawkeye” in moved over to the sound of parker ”you good” looked over him as Parker looked up at him nodding his head “let hey you up and Find hill” moving over to where Clint lost saw her before being knocked to the floor, passed the body off the target dead on the fall ”your commlink working ” ”no busted” client looked round spotted hill on the floor running over to her seeing if she was ok rolling her over she moved ”ouch” she smiled at them ”you hurt?” Parker asked ”no just had the wind knocked out of me” smoke was now to filling the room and the way they were going to use to get out was blocked so they had no choice but go the front ”lets move there one way out” client pulled them to the way out at the same time keep an eye for attackers.

Making it into the back though that bar the building had started to crumble a round them ”help people out” client called out,

As he moves over to help someone up passing them to hill so she could help them out as Parker help some more people out , Clint looked round to just make out someone stuck under a large bit of wood getting close the green eyes snapped up with fear and pain flash throw her eyes then was gone as she looked at him from under hijab that was covering her face “ من به شما صدمه نمی زنم ”(I'm not going to hurt you) client put his hand up to show that he meant what he said, he watched as she pushed at the wood ” پایم را چسبيده است. ” (my leg is stuck) as Clint look down he of seeing the wood sitting over on her legs trapping it from her thigh down with that he put his gun to his back to pulls the wood off her as he pulled it back he saw that it had cut her leg she gaped in pain as the weight of it was taking off her leg feeling the blood on her leg ”fuck that not good” Clint grimaced he watch as she pushed herself up ”ok then let go” she stumbled as she went to walk as more of the building came down around them with that Clint picked her up and ran out the building a hi and Parker don't to his side to help him with the girl in his arms “fucking hell Hawkeye that was close” Parker said a he looked him over seeing the girl in his arms “who she” Clint looked down and shrug then over to the family that they had saved “hey let get that leg look at then you can go to you family” she looked at him then nodded to him with that he did what he said he would to and let her go . Steals ran over to them “good your all ok I didn’t see them plant the bombs, I call in the bird to take us home” Clint was still fixing up the girls leg the hold time her eyes was on him watching him drinking him in