#truly unfortunate. last night at work i nearly died and now im calling off of work today cuz i feel like shit

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[acemeaskipper]

okay this is so much longer than I thought it’d be, but okay. i started thinking of this au where instead of joining red dwarf to get back to earth, Lister joins to get away from earth and all the bad memories there. He works a little harder, understands Rimmer a bit more, and unfortunately, doesn’t have Frankenstein.

and this is a little fic about Lister’s first day on red dwarf and his meeting with Rimmer. It’s lowkey shippy, but only a little. Yeah, enjoy.

A star exploded the day Lister left earth. The supernova had reflected multicoloured on the inside walls of Red Dwarf, nearly blinding him.

He wasn’t sure if it was a sign of some sort, but regardless, it had been an interesting way to start his new job. More interesting than his room at least.

It was both bigger and smaller than he thought it’d be, and painfully plain. If only they were allowed to paint the walls, or get a nice rug or carpet, Lister mused, then it may look a little less like a sci-fi hell. Oh well, he was sure if he covered the walls in enough photos and posters it could look a little bit more like home. It wasn’t as if he was going to be here long anyway, he could handle a boring room.

He tightened his grip on his suitcase, shifted the strap of his backpack a little then walked in.

“Hello, Dave. You like the room?”

“Agh!”

Lister jumped and spun around to the source of the voice. The face of a tired-looking man on a screen. Ah, right. The AI, Holly. He briefly wondered why they had decided to make their AI look so exhausted, but shrugged the thought away. People were weird, what the hell.

“Uh, hi. Holly, righ’?”

“That’s right, my dude. So?”

“It’s alrigh’,” Lister shrugged, “I guess.”

“Bit boring, ain’t it?” Holly agreed.

“Yeah, it is. Is it at least warm?”

“Sometimes.”

“Great, great…”

“Oh, and heads up, your roommate is coming soon. Good luck.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Holly nodded, “Catch you later, dude.”

“Yeah…”

Holly disappeared, and Dave couldn’t help but snicker. Dude? They hadn’t mentioned that about Holly in the leaflet. Maybe it was intentional, a strange surprise for new workers. He supposed that was one way to prepare people for the weirdness of space, having the AI who looked like a middle-aged man going around say ‘dude’.

He shook his head and moved closer to the bunk beds, looking them over.

It was honestly hard to tell which one was already occupied, both beds were both neat, tidy and lacking in any personality whatsoever. There was one colourful timetable stuck on the wall next to the bottom bunk, however, and Lister concluded it was probably taken.

It seemed strange how bare the walls were, though. No pictures of family or friends, no posters, no nothing. Had this person only just moved in too? No, he knew for a fact this person had already been here a year or two at least. And gone through six roommates in the span of three months. A slightly daunting fact, but hopefully, the number would stay at six.

He slung his bags onto the top bunk, decided to unpack them later… maybe. The week was young after all, he’d have plenty of time to do that later.

Lister sat down on one of the chairs in the room and took a deep breath. Hardly nothing had happened, and already he was exhausted. His eyes ached, his limbs felt heavy, and he let out a yawn. A nap would be nice… but snoring probably wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself to your new roommate, so Lister held off.

He ran his fingers over his hair and tried to think of something to keep himself away. Maybe he should go back to dreadlocks, he thought, that’d been fun back when he was a teen. But. But he didn’t have anyone to help him with them anymore.

He’d left them all behind, just like they had left him.

Of course, he was alive when they had left, and they were all just bones now. So maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison… Lister hoped his friend Camille would remember to put flowers on all the graves every month, just like he’d asked. They probably wouldn’t, always too caught up in the drama that was their Casablanca-love affair to think of much else, but he could hope.

Lister sighed and slouched in his chair. Nah, his hair was fine as it was. Loose and tied back. He looked fine. Fine.

Then, the door opened.

The person on the other side didn’t walk in immediately, too busy snapping at someone Lister couldn’t see, to notice the door had opened.

A tall, skinny white guy with pale skin, and light brown curls that had been clearly forced into a flat and dull style. Every inch of his body screamed ‘tense’ as he barked insults, face going ever so slightly red.

Ah, what luck.

Lister stood up and waited until the yelling had stopped to speak.

“You’re Howie’s brother, aren’t you?”

The guy’s snapped in Lister’s direction, and Lister had the urge to apologise and slowly back away.

“’Howie’? The man repeated.

Yep, that was definitely him, Lister knew. He’d only met one other person before with such an obnoxiously posh voice, which he had been told was common on that planet.

“Sorry, Howard,” Lister apologised, “You’re Arnold Rimmer, right?”

Rimmer frowned even more.

“Yes, I am.”

Lister walked towards him, and with a big smile, held out his hand.

“I’m David Lister.”

“Oh.”

Rimmer’s frown dropped into something less ‘I will fucking kill you’ and more ‘ew, there’s a dead bug in my drink’. He did shake Lister’s hand at least.

“Howard’s told us about you,” Rimmer continued, “Poor little orphan boy from earth somehow manages to get into Io’s Space Corps training program on a scholarship, truly a success story for the ages.”

Lister twisted his lip but said nothing. Howard had warned him that his little brother could put a lemon to shame with how bitter he was, but Lister had been hoping Rimmer wouldn’t be this bad from the get-go.

“Doesn’t really mean anything though,” Lister shrugged, “Now tha’ I’m here, as a third blood technician.”

Was it too much to ask that he was at least made a second technician with all his qualifications? Maybe he was just being prideful, but he’d thought he enough skills to be more than a vending machine fixer.

But at that, Rimmer pulled himself to stand straighter and smiled. He looked a lot better now, Lister mused. Almost handsome.

“Third technician, aye? Well, don’t you worry, miladdo-”

“Mi-whatto?”

“-you’re in good hands with me.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re a third technician and my roommate, you’re likely to be working the Z Shift with me, as your immediate superior officer,” Rimmer explained.

Lister gave what he hoped looked like a real smile.

“Great.”

“Still though, I don’t see why on Io you would leave the Space Corps,” Rimmer mused.

“Because it’s filled with pompous, trust-fund pricks who like to spend their evenings bragging about how big their guns are.”

Also, it was a lot of work. A lot of hard work. A month in and Lister had already been ready to drop. He wasn’t too surprised when a drunk Howard had blabbed about the high suicide rate there.

Rimmer let out a sharp laugh at that, then quickly shut his mouth and blinked. He almost looked surprised. But he quickly shook his head and moved on.

“Yes, but it’s the Space Corps! It’s where you go if you want a career in space!”

“I don’t want a career; I just want to get away from Earth.”

Earth was a place were babies were abandoned under pub tables, were parents disappeared and left you a crying kid, and grans died just when you needed them most. Where people broke your heart and laughed, where people called you stupid and said you’d never amount to anything, so suck it up, buttercup.

Rimmer pursed his lips.

“I supposed I could understand wanting to get away from that horrid little planet, but really… giving up a job on the Space Corps for this?”

Lister shrugged.

“I just want to get some cash, find a nice planet with a nice beach, then settle down. Maybe open a farm, get a cat, sheep, horses, then spend the rest of my days doing whatever the hell I want.”

Rimmer didn’t seem to get it.

“But you could have been an officer! Howard said so, and he’s not one to give out praise like that.”

“Why’d you want to be an officer? They’re all smegheads, I mean, just look at your brothers.”

That earned another out of Rimmer, one that wasn’t as sharp and lasted a little longer. There, that was better, Lister grinned. Not the prettiest laugh ever, but he didn’t sound half bad.

“Fair point,” Rimmer said.

And before he could continue with ‘but still’, Lister began speaking again.

“The though’ of ending up like Howard could put anyone off wanting to be an officer, honestly.”

“Really? You didn’t like him? He seemed awfully fond of you…”

“Hid it,” Lister shrugged, “He was my tutor and said he’d help me get here, so couldn’t bitch about him too much. Wanted to though, I never had any free time thanks to ‘im. Almost every night I had to drag him out of the bar and to ‘is room.”

“What?!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“Yeah, don’t think he had any friends, so he’d bribe me into fetching ‘im. Used to buy cigarettes off me too. Dunno why he wouldn’ jus’ buy them himself, a lot of other officers smoked too…”

Slowly, a giant (slightly mad-looking) smile grew on Rimmer’s face.

“Really? He told mother he had a ton of friends.”

Lister wondered if he should mention it. On the one hand, it could lead to Rimmer freaking out (Howard had mentioned that Rimmer was a bit… neurotic), but on the other… it didn’t seem right not to mention it.

“Must be invisible then, ‘cause he was always alone when he went out… he told me a lot about you when he was drunk. The things him and the other two used to do to you.”

The smile dropped off Rimmer’s face.

“Oh.”

Lister risked it and gave Rimmer a pat on the arm. Rimmer looked at it like it was a radioactive butterfly; strange and possibly dangerous.

“Pretty shit childhood, huh?” Lister said. Rimmer stayed silent. “Mine was pretty fucked up too, so we match.”

Lister gave him a smile, then turned around to climb up onto his bunk bed.

Rimmer seemingly forgot to act like a human being for a few seconds, staring blankly into space while stood completely still. He shook it off a second later.

“No shoes on the bed,” he snapped.

“My feet aren’t on the bed though,” Lister pointed out.

Rimmer’s face went a little red.

“I- just take them off!”

“Okay, okay! They’re off!”

Lister kicked them off, leaving them to fall down loudly in a muddy pile next to the ladder. Rimmer frowned and glared at the shoes.

“And now you’ve made a mess, wonderful.”

“You better get used to tha’, I’m a bit of a slob,” Lister chuckled, “Oh, and I snore too. Sorry. I do have a sleep cpap machine, but it got broke on the way here. They said I’ll have to wait a day or two for a new one.”

“So, I’m not getting any sleep either, splendid.”

“I can’ help it.”

“Why don’t they put people like you in a room of your own? Or at least with other snoring smegheads,” Rimmer muttered.

“Because tha’d be smart,” Lister snorted.

Rimmer looked a little happier. Right, compliments were the way to go if he wanted to survive this job. Lister could handle that; he could be a good suck-up if the situation called for it.

“Sounds like they could do with someone like you as an officer,” Lister said, “Might come up with some actual smart ideas.”

Rimmer lit up like the supernova and Lister’s heart fluttered a little.

Oh.

Handsome. Rimmer could be very handsome, it seemed. That was nice. Lister sent him back a lazy grin, revelling in the soft pink that settled on Rimmer’s cheeks. It’d been a while since he’d dated a man, Lister noted, maybe it was time to try again.

“I-I-,” Rimmer began. But then he stopped and shook his head. “Are you sure you’re even old enough to be here?”

Lister rolled his eyes.

“Course I am, man. Not like I could really trick anyone into thinkin’ I’m older than I am with this face, can I?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rimmer agreed.

Lister wondered why Rimmer would care about his age- oh.

Rimmer coughed and looked away.

“Well, um, have you been given a tour of the ship yet?”

He had.

“No.”

Rimmer turned back around and smirked a little.

“Come on then, get your boots back on and I’ll show you around.”

“Oh, thanks, man.”

Lister grinned and hoped down. As he put his boots on, he could feel Rimmer’s eyes on him. Yes, he decided, as he tied on his already tied laces for a few seconds later, this could be fun.

[bookish-but-corruptible]

Look at what I found in my hard drive

(Remus/Severus, post Battle of Hogwarts)

Remus was sent to the Dae Llwellyn ward, it turned out, on accident.

Amid the stream of bodies being sent to St. Mungos after the battle at Hogwarts, they had seen yet another "werewolf" scrawled in his file and hastily redirected his unconscious body to the ward for serious bites.

By the time they had realized their error, they couldn't be arsed to care. He was a quiet, unobtrusive patient- more plainly, he didn't regain consciousness until his second week in the ward.

The Killing Curse, even one that a patient had not borne the full brunt of, was nothing to sneeze at.

When Remus did finally wake, alive and still mostly paralyzed, he wished he hadn't. In all his scenarios of the possible outcomes of this war, he had not imagined that Dora, young and quick to laugh, might die while he lived. He should have known better- hadn't it been him, sick, impoverished, mistrusted, who had lived while James and Lily Potter had died?

He realized, as he lay there day after day, fingers slowly beginning to twitch, to grasp spoons, that he hadn't had a contingency plan for living. The hospital bill alone would be more than he could pay off in a lifetime, and now that his face had been plastered across the Prophet the prospect of paid work was nearly impossible. He could attempt to make his way back to India if Umbridge's restrictions were repealed, but it seemed a bit cruel to Harry.

Nearly every day since he'd first been committed to the ward, Harry had come by to visit, at first simply to keep up a stream of words even though Remus could not speak. He told him about the demise of Voldemort, the rebuilding of the castle, and one day came in with a look of bewildered pride and announced Ginny had agreed to marry him.

Remus had managed a hoarse congratulations, even as he felt a stab of pain- he imagined he'd worn nearly the same expression when he had realized Dora loved him. The simultaneous sense of paternal pride was why he could not leave England- he was Harry's last link to his parents, and after so much loss he couldn't truly entertain the thought of buggering off as he had in 1981. He would stay. He would figure something out. He had plenty of time to worry himself sick in the meantime.

Naturally, it was Harry who told him of Snape's hand in the downfall of the Dark Lord, the vicious attack he'd endured and very nearly died from at the fangs of his serpent. Predictably, Severus had a contingency plan- after seeing so many who had betrayed the Dark Lord killed in this manner, he had found it prudent to carry a healthy dose of an antidote to the venom.

It was not until after the night of the full moon when he had been brought down to transform in the Ministry's cells and wheeled back to the ward afterwards that he first saw Severus.

Or, rather, heard him.

"You insufferable wretch," a deep voice croaked down the hall, "How dare you condescend to me, as if my mental faculties were not intact! That you are paid a full salary to force fingerpaints upon the crippled is galling. Yes, go! And in the future, find an occupation worth the air you breathe!"

Remus, muscles still shaking with the pain of the transformation and still feeling vaguely as if he might vomit, smiled.

Remus worked his painstaking way to having just enough control over his fingers to feed himself, urinate on his own (thank the gods), and finally to operate a charmed chair that would take him out of his room.

This afforded him only enough freedom to venture to the shared room where patients could socialize under the watchful eyes of medical professionals. In the afternoons, an aggressively compassionate witch named Hilda led them in small crafts. Several of the patients seemed to take comfort in her attentive interest as they struggled to make meaning of their suffering, and drew strength from her belief in their recovery.

Remus loathed her.

It wasn't entirely fair, he realized. It certainly wasn't something he was proud of. But on the fifth day that she coaxed him from his perch gazing out the charmed window currently opening to the depths of the ocean, he thought, call me honey again, and I will bite you.

Even Harry's visits had begun to exhaust him; he did not want to tell Harry that he was getting better, that yes, he would be out of here in no time, that he felt very grateful- he would nearly make a full recovery, after all. There were other words on the tip of his tongue that he could not possibly tell the boy- that sometimes, he thought he missed the war.

It was somewhere in the depths of this masturbatory angst, lingering in the doorway of his room, unsure if he might be more miserable staring at the bare walls of his room and navel gazing or socializing under the piercing stare of the crafts witch, that he heard the sharp clatter of a metal tray.

"Bancroft! Only Bancroft may make my potions, you imbecile! I will not accept this- oh, you're certain there are no poisons? Dimwit. Do you know how easily those tests are fooled? I betrayed the Dark Lord- has it not crossed your mind how many wish to see me suffer?"

A moment later, a young man emerged from the room, goblet in hand. "I wouldn't mind," he muttered to himself, then looked up to see Remus.

"Oh, hello Mr.Lupin," he smiled.

"Good afternoon, Bessel," Remus wheeled past him, silently thanking the mishap of paperwork that had brought him here- it was difficult to last on this ward with a phobia towards werewolves.

"You don't want to see ‘im," Bessel warned Remus, who had made his way to Severus' door.

"He's an old friend," Remus reassured him.

Bessel looked at him in disbelief.

"A coworker," Remus amended. "We went to school together."

"Your funeral, I s'pose," Bessel shook his head.

Severus' head was turned away from the door, and he ignored Remus as he wheeled slowly to his bedside.

"Is she sending in scouts now to coerce me into creating sculptures out of broomstick twigs?" Snape's baritone cut through his still torn throat like gravel.

"Hello, Severus," Remus greeted.

Snape whirled at this, and Remus controlled his reaction to the sight of him a moment too late. One eye was bloodshot all the way through, the other still swollen shut. In fact, entirely half of his face was grotesquely swollen; it was not difficult to imagine bones crunched beneath jaws and pieced together again.

"Lupin," Snape sneered, "I thought you were dead."

"Reports of my death were exaggerated, I'm afraid."

"I should have known," Snape pushed himself, shaking, onto his elbows. "Dark creatures are notoriously difficult to dispose of."

"Not up to your usual standard, Severus," Remus smiled. "And, as you yelled at Hilda the other day, your cognitive faculties are intact, so I shan't cut you any slack."

"That woman does not need nor deserve your pity."

"Perhaps not, " Remus allowed. "She is rather tenacious, isn't she?"

"She has the inexhaustible glee of the Demented given a victim to Kiss," Snape muttered.

"That's better," Remus wheeled himself to Severus' bedside.

"Leave, Lupin," Snape turned his head again, hiding his disfigured face. Remus could see that under the swathes of bandages, his chest and arms were a mass of swelling and purpling bruising.

"Do you know," Remus continued, "I think we may just be the last of our class? Certainly of the Gryffindors and Slytherins."

"You say that as if we have some shared history to fondly recollect, instead of the torment your dear friends inflicted upon me. We could, if you like, talk about that time you tried to rip me apart with your teeth, but I'm not sure you would remember that as well as I do."

Remus snorted. "As if you never gave back twice as good as you got."

"Well," Snape smiled fondly at that. "I do remember Potter and Black shouting their carnal love for one another at breakfast."

"That was inspired," Remus chuckled, remembering two boys standing atop the breakfast table, hooting audience gathered below. When Severus didn’t resort to retaliatory cruelty, he had a sarcastic streak that was nearly likeable. Unfortunately, it did not show itself often.

"We are not friends," Severus frowned at him.

"No," Remus agreed. "You are my captive audience. Hilda doesn't come for me when I'm speaking with someone else. And the other patients care that I lost my wife, my family, and all of my friends."

"I would rather be bitten again than listen to your sob story."

"Do you ever miss it?"

"The peace and quiet I enjoyed before you tried to foist your problems upon me?"

"The war," Remus said softly. "Having a sense of purpose to get you through. Feeling like you were needed."

Snape's single bloody eye widened. "You are insane, Lupin," he rasped. "Though perhaps that would make sense to a beast. Connected a bit too much with the inner animal, hmm?"

Remus watched him, silent.

Severus broke his gaze with a huff, and rolled away onto his side. “Leave. Spare me your nattering.”

"Get some rest, Severus," Remus replied, and wheeled himself back to his room.

*

Remus returned the next day with a chess set, which he unfolded onto a stainless steel medical tray.

"You only have to concentrate on where you'd like the pieces to move," Remus explained. "It's charmed."

"Explain to me why I would do that," Severus lifted a violently trembling hand to brush the hair from his eyes.

"Because you're bored," Remus shrugged. "You've got to be, sitting in here all day."

"Perhaps I enjoy the company of my own mind," Severus replied, "more than mentally unsound werewolves."

"Your stipulation was that I be silent," Remus gestured to the chessboard. "This doesn't require speech."

"Stipulation makes it sound as if I gave you terms under which you could visit me," Snape peered at the chessboard. "I'll take the black."

Severus seemed surprised when Remus held his own and nearly won. Remus thought he should be offended, but he found he didn't much have the energy to care.

"What will you do when you leave here?" Remus asked.

"I thought we had agreed not to speak," Snape frowned. The shattered chess pieces were realigning themselves, erstwhile arms scrabbling across the board to join their bodies.

"I thought you never actually gave me a stipulation."

"I will be free of both the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. I will do what I wish."

"I don't know what I'll do either," Remus folded up the board, suddenly tired. "Thank you for the game, Severus."

*

Harry visited the next day, pacing the room the entire time with a barely contained nervous energy. Molly Weasley had decided that the wedding preparations should be underway, and Remus was adrift in a sea of talk about the appropriate flower to symbolize Harry's love for Ginny.

Remus tried to be the father Harry needed, but the more Harry paced, the more the room seemed strange and far away. Remus had a recollection of Dora admiring a sunflower in the field surrounding the Burrow, how appropriate that was, how open she was to life and to love, like Lily. Lilies, the flower of high summer, warm and vibrant.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus said softly, "I'm feeling very tired today."

*

"Harry and Ginny have scheduled a date for the wedding," Remus' white knight advanced.

"Pity. Ginerva was a passably clever student."

"They've invited you."

"Oh joy. Oh rapture unforeseen."

A black knight, after careful consideration, moved left.

"He asked me about flowers. I couldn't stop thinking about Lily."

At this, Severus stiffened.

"I wonder, sometimes, what advice she would give. She always knew what the right thing to do was. The right thing to say."

"She would tell you that your need to be liked is so pathological that you are recalling the memory of a woman some twenty years lost to ask how to best serve her son's needs. Your move, Lupin."

Remus moved his pawn forward, and Severus swiftly captured it.

"If you are not here for the game, I think you would be better served by the company of the other patients," Severus crossed his arms over his chest. Remus wondered when he might be able to leave his room unaided.

"You must check that tendency to shoot yourself in the foot."

"A muggle expression," Severus leaned forward to watch his queen take Remus' king.

"We were both raised half muggle," Remus leaned back.

"Yet another thing we can reminisce over," Snape's eyes narrowed. "Our incandescent childhoods."

"My childhood was fine," Remus became acutely aware of the fact the game had finished.

"Ah, yes,” Snape sneered. “I can picture it now. Gay romps through grassy fields, a healthy appetite for human flesh…”

Remus watched Snape quietly until the tirade petered out. "Same time tomorrow, then, Severus." Remus closed the board with a snap.

Snape did not contradict him.

*

"I thought we might try a rune riddle," Remus held the paper up. "Bit of a change of pace."

"Tired of being beaten?" Severus looked at the paper with interest.

"I beat you plenty," Remus passed the paper to Severus, who held it with a hand that only trembled slightly. "I beat you at least a third of the time."

"A quarter," Severus muttered. "This first rune is fire."

"Yes," Remus took the paper back, "the third line is the one I couldn't parse."

"Give me the quill," Severus demanded, and Remus handed it over without comment, watching him struggle to write with his non-dominant hand.

"Harry wants me to be part of the ceremony."

"Hmm," Severus squinted at the rune puzzle.

"I'm flattered," Remus sighed, "but when I'm around him, I feel like I'm trying to be the ghost of James."

Severus put the paper down. "Lupin," he rubbed his functional hand across his forehead, "you are miserable because you have spent your entire life attempting to anticipate and cater to the needs of others. You are not a house elf. You are a man."

"I don't think Hermione would appreciate that comparison."

"Granger is a-"

"Smart, compassionate young woman," Remus finished. "I can't just," he sighed. "Harry needs me. He deserves this. He's suffered enough."

"We've all suffered," Severus muttered. "Now be quiet and let me think."

*

"You didn't come yesterday," Severus said.

Remus blinked. "I- it was a full moon."

Severus' eyes closed briefly. "Of course."

Remus felt a grin break over his face. "You missed me."

Snape glared. "I don't have much choice for company."

“Oh, don’t martyr yourself,” Remus tossed the morning paper at him. “You’ve run off anyone who tried to show you kindness.”

Severus looked surprised, briefly, at his bluntness. "And yet you keep returning to be abused," he recovered quickly, pulling himself up to sit cross-legged. He hunched over the paper. "You've already done the interesting bit," Snape glared from beneath his lank hair.

"I missed you too."

*

“They’re releasing me tomorrow,” Remus said conversationally, stirring a godawful amount of sugar into Severus’ tea. The anti-wobble charm was not quite enough to counteract Severus’ tremor in any two-handed task, and they both pretended amnesia at the first episode of spilt tea and sugar all over the linens.

“I’m sure Hilda will find other victims,” Severus took the tea in his left hand. “Though none quite as compellingly pathetic as yourself, I’m sure.”

“You’ve only to ask, Severus,” Remus met his eyes. “I’ll come visit.”

“We’re not friends, Lupin,” Snape’s eyes narrowed. Both lids retracted smoothly now, the swelling faded to a sickly green and black mottle of bruises, two dark puncture marks beneath the right eye.

Remus watched him, quiet.

“What is it, wolf?” Severus sat up, infuriated at the judgement he felt in the silence. Lupin’s easy retreat gave him no satisfaction, his containment no victory. “Are you so desperate in your loneliness that you thought I might consort with you of my own free will?” He sneered. “Had you imagined I would drop by whatever den you’ve crawled into with tea and biscuits? Pathetic, crippled mongrel-“

Remus regarded him for a moment. The expression was brief, but Severus was a master of reading intention. This was not anger, or hurt. It was pity.

Remus stood with his tea, almost elegant despite the hospital robe and noticeable limp. He walked out, and without raising his wand the door swung and clicked shut behind him.

Sound cut out all at once, and Severus could hear only his own quick, enraged breaths, steadying over slow minutes.

[chokememrstark]

The Soulmate Sam Never Asked For // Part 1

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2432 (Chapter 1 / 12)

Fic Summary: Sam absolutely hates the idea of soulmates and when he meets his own he stubbornly refuses to accept what fate has in store for him. Lucifer, his supposed soulmate, actually scares him to no end and he cannot imagine ever feeling any different, no matter what. The more time passes, however, the more he finds himself involved in his soulmate's life against his will. Soon, he's faced with the truth about the rude and cold punk's actual self and has to decide if he turns his back at his soulmate or does what feels right for him, despite the possible consequences.

college!AU, human!AU, soulmates!AU, dysfunctional families, abusive parents, dramatic romance, or romantic drama, your choice, big brother!Lucifer, soulmates hating each other, referenced alcoholism, death and abuse, some violence, and lots of feels, fluff and cuteness, some drama but not too much, lots of bickering, and two damn stubborn soulmates (!!)

Note: My lovely beta reader @brieflymaximumprincess called this a rom-com and even though I don’t believe it is, in my eyes, it does have certain elements of it. This is not the angst you know from me, not at all.

Yes, there is some drama, but there is also a lot of sweet and cute moments, much more than the dramatic ones. I guess you could say I accidentally wrote cute fluff? Because it was not intended, but here we are.

This fic is already completed and will be posted by the regular schedule from now on: Thuesday, Thursday and Saturday! So, enjoy ♥

Tagging: @shebahda   @sassysupernaturalsweetheart    @spnyoucantkeepmedown  @brieflymaximumprincess @multifandomhcsforinsanity @etysky @justasmalltownsuperwholock @humongouscandycoffee @blakechaos08

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Soulmates are bullshit, that was always Sam’s motto. Who wanted to spend the rest of their life with someone just because fate decided they had to be together? Worked out great for his parents in the end, with his mom dead and his dad becoming an alcoholic. He had decided a long time ago that he didn’t want his soulmate, no matter who it would turn out to be. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have enough problems without a relationship already anyways.

Sam was in college for a year now and things were stressful, to put it mildly. The last year had gone by faster than he thought was possible and even his summer holidays seemed to be over in a heartbeat. Now that his brother had volunteered to take him back to campus - a week earlier than necessary because Sam had insisted on it - he felt like he could use two more months to calm down completely.

“Relax, Sammy,” Dean grinned and tapped on the steering wheel with his fingers in sync with the music. “You’re going back to what you enjoy the most, studying your ass off, isn’t that something good?”

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” Sam huffed and crossed his arms. “You weren’t the one who had to listen to dad’s monologue on how I’m wasting his money on becoming a vampire to society.”

“He hates lawyers, you know that.” Dean rolled his eyes. “You’ll see, once you get your diploma he’ll change his mind.”

“If he still has some brain cells left to think by then.”

Dean glared over at his younger brother for a moment, angry and almost judging, but Sam met his glare with the same look, and in the end, they both broke out in laughter that filled the whole car, even drowning ACDC with it.

“You’re not wrong, sadly,” Dean eventually sighed and turned on the blinker to switch lanes. “It’s getting worse with him lately. While you were there he was actually nice, I’m glad I can move out soon so I don’t have to live with how he’s gonna be again once you’re gone.”

“So you’ll take the room?” Sam raised a brow. “I thought you wanted to keep looking to get into a house with only girls.”

“Well, I had to change my plans.” Dean shrugged with a smirk. “The guys are pretty cool, two brothers actually, and they don’t care for what I do as long as I pay the rent.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Sam groaned. “My pothead roommate luckily dropped out, so I won’t have to deal with him anymore. Thank God!”

“As long as it doesn’t get worse with the next one,” Dean pointed out, and Sam literally shuddered at the thought.

“I’m gonna drop out too if the next one is worse, trust me.”

Sam had no desire for a new roommate and as far as he knew no one was scheduled to live with him yet, but unfortunately that could change any day. He hoped to be able to use the first week to plan out his classes and everything in peace; a new roommate wasn’t at all what he wanted.

“You think Dad will manage?” Sam asked instead of continuing the topic, to which Dean shrugged.

“Probably,” he answered. “Either that or we’ll get a call one night that he wrapped his car around a tree. We can’t change it, Sammy, you know that. He just doesn’t care anymore.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed and looked out the window. “He never recovered from her death, am I right?”

“Happens when you lose your soulmate,” Dean just said, but it didn’t make anything better. For Sam, it only made things worse.

There it was again: soulmates. Did the robber that broke into their house care about soulmates when he stabbed their mom twenty-two times before letting her die on the kitchen floor? Did the police care about soulmates when they interrogated their dad for hours and hours because they suspected him to have killed her? Did their dad’s boss care for soulmates when he fired him because he had to take care of two little boys all by himself and was completely overwhelmed? Of course not. No one gave a shit about soulmates if it wasn’t about their own. Sam hated it so much.

“I hope my soulmate died already,” Sam huffed, meaning every word. “I don’t care for this crap, look what it got us into.”

“You’re just bitter, that’s all. Once it happens you’ll forget this nonsense.”

“You’ll see,” Sam scoffed, dead serious. “I won’t let this bullshit dictate my life.”

Maybe he was bitter, so what? Sam had seen how much suffering and pain soulmates brought upon families and people, and he didn’t want to be a part of it.

The rest of their drive was mostly silent, but when Dean dropped Sam off at Stanford they hugged and Sam promised to be home for Thanksgiving, even though they both knew he probably wouldn’t be. Thanksgiving was always an awful time in their house, they both didn’t want to be there at that time. Maybe they’d see each other on Christmas, that was possible.

During the first week, Sam managed to calm down from his awful holidays slowly. He finished organizing his schedule and by the time the first other students came to campus at the end of the week, he was actually looking forward to his classes starting. Dean called him once to tell him he moved in with the boys, as he called them, and gave him his new address, but other than that nothing really important happened.

His second year officially started and Sam walked into his first class - that’s when things started to change. Sam suddenly began feeling very weird when the doors closed and their professor began speaking. He barely heard his first words because he was too confused by the strange tingling in his body and actually looked around the room to see if he could find the reason for this unusual sensation. At first, he didn’t even think about soulmates, he feared he was just getting nervous or sick when all other students looked at the professor - apart from one here and there that simply showed no interest at all.

Sam shook his head slowly and tried to concentrate, but it remained a difficult task as if something inside of him constantly wanted to look elsewhere. He barely managed to take any notes properly and cursed himself for screwing up his first lecture like that already when it was over. When he walked over to the next one, he truly hoped this annoyingly distracting feeling would go away. Much to his relief, he actually felt much better during his next lecture. Whatever had happened, Sam tried to convince himself that it was just random anxiety flaring up. The rest of the day went by rather smoothly, which helped him in believing his very weak excuse.

There was only one tiny problem that burst Sam’s happy little bubble the next day. While sitting in a different course, he began feeling the same tingling and lack of concentration again, this time much more intense, however. It got so annoying that Sam spent almost the entirety of the time looking at other students and searching for familiar faces in the crowd. By now he did fear that his body’s weird reaction was due to what he hated so much and it didn’t help at all. There were a lot of people he had seen in his first course already sadly, too many to narrow it down to one or two, and they all looked rather disinterested, unlike Sam.

Sam tried his best to ignore this feeling whenever it came back for the rest of the week, but it was nearly impossible. By Friday night, he was so exhausted that he couldn’t even eat before dropping onto his bed and falling asleep. It was draining to constantly ignore his body’s needs and go against his instincts.

When he woke up on Saturday, around noon, which never happened before, Sam decided to call Dean to find out if he knew what the hell was going on. Sadly, his brother knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You really have no idea, do you?” Dean asked, almost laughing at the other end of the line. Sam was not happy about this reaction.

“I have one and I don’t like it,” he huffed and plopped down on the floor. “Tell me I’m going insane or have Malaria or whatever, just not this!”

“Sorry, little brother, but it’s true. That’s your body’s reaction when your soulmate is near you.”

“Oh, come on!” Sam protested and threw his hands up. “Not here! Not now, goddammit! I’ve got lectures to attend, I don’t have time for this shit!”

“You can either live with it or try to find out who’s causing it,” Dean suggested, obviously still grinning like the idiot he was. “It’s your choice.”

“And how do I find out who they are?” Sam asked annoyed. “There are dozens of students and none of them looked like they had the same thing happening to them!”

“Then they hide it pretty well, that’s funny.”

“I’m not laughing, Dean! I called you to help me, not make it worse!”

“Okay, okay,” Dean laughed again. “Allow your brother some fun, geez. You can try to narrow it down if you’re patient, might work.”

“And how do I do that?” Sam was out of ideas and completely pissed off about this.

“Be in class first and watch who comes in. If you start feeling like that again, bingo! You got your soulmate.”

“Seriously, that’s your big advice?”

“A bullet to the head should get rid of it too but I doubt that’s very helpful.”

Sam groaned and slapped a hand against his forehead. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean’s idea wasn’t the worst. Searching for his soulmate his own way had not worked and he had no energy to walk around campus to maybe spot them somewhere. It was worth a try at least.

“I swear if it’s that ugly guy with the dreadlocks and piercings all over I’m gonna throw up and kill myself…” Sam eventually sighed, to which Dean laughed again.

“Who knows, maybe it’s a hot chick with big arguments? You won’t know if you don’t try to find out, right?”

“I’m gonna kill you one day, I hope you know that.”

“Of course, bitch. Tell me when you start dating the dreadlock guy, alright?”

“In your dreams, jerk,” Sam huffed and hung up, but he couldn’t hold back a smile at Dean’s last comment. The idea was laughable, but he still didn’t know who it was, so it might not be too far away from the truth.

Sam debated his new plan over the weekend - luckily he didn’t experience any weird distraction or sensation over those days - and came to the conclusion that it was the best idea he had. There was no downpouring rain when someone met their soulmate or bells ringing or anything like that, so there really was little else to do and find out. When Monday came and his first lecture was ahead, Sam walked into class thirty minutes early just to be completely sure.

At first, nothing happened. Several groups of girls walked in, giggling and laughing, but he felt no different than before. In fact, he didn’t feel anything at all for the whole thirty minutes and already cursed Dean in his mind for this stupid idea when the professor started talking, but then it suddenly happened and he basically spun around in his seat, eyes wide and heart beating mercilessly in his chest. He would have even been happy about the dreadlock guy when he realized who he was looking at right now.

“Mister Milton,” the professor said strict and very annoyed, to which Sam’s heart dropped in his chest. “I won’t tolerate being late to my lectures, this is your one and only warning.”

Sam wanted to hide in his seat when he saw the death glare the blond gave their professor, but all he could do was stare. The guy was definitely older than him, a few years probably, and looked like he jumped straight out of a punk band from twenty years ago. His blond hair stood up in spikes and his clothes were torn and ripped and had spikes everywhere possible. Even his face was creepy, kind of, with this slightly disgusted expression and the pierced lip and ears - Sam only saw one but he was sure both were covered in holes.

“No reason to wet your pants, go take a Valium or something...” the blond said with a low and grumpy voice that sent shivers down Sam’s spine and began walking towards an empty seat in the back row, maybe twenty feet away from the other.

“You can drop this attitude right here and now, Mister Milton,” the professor scolded the student again when he sat down and promptly put his feet down on his desk. “All it will get you is a trip to the headmaster. And now I would like to continue, since everyone arrived finally.”

“You can drop dead for all I care,” Sam heard his supposed soulmate mumble and his jaw nearly dropped at that.

As fast as he could, Sam turned around again, just so he didn’t have to look at this guy anymore. This couldn’t be, this had to be a joke! His soulmate couldn’t possibly be this rude punk that looked like he was in his mid-twenties already and that apparently thought he owned the world?! Sam covered his face in his hands and stopped paying attention to the professor altogether, just cursing himself for even listening to his stupid brother and his idiotic ideas.

During the whole class, Sam couldn’t bring himself to listen to his professor more than half-way, even though he tried his best to focus. He felt nauseous and nervous all the time and it just wouldn’t go away.  At one point it was so bad that he couldn’t stop himself from looking up, of course promptly meeting a very suspicious looking pair of blue eyes. He blushed heavily and immediately turned back around, a cold stone in his stomach and his hands sweating like crazy. Dammit, he should have expected that. The guy was the reason he felt like this and it got even worse when he looked at him. Sam was sure he’d die within another week.