#well i get my results back and the lab technician was like. yeah i think you need an ultrasound.

[dr-gaytorius]

shout out to my math professor for giving us 5 assignments (not counting the actual final) for the last week of class and also for not giving me the extensions i asked for even though she said she’d give them bc i have uterine fibroids lol♥

[bending-sickle]

going to just scream into the void about health issues and parents because at least the void isn’t supposed to care

so the indeterminate mess that is the downstairs organ-ization (see what i did there?) of my body has been bothering me. best case scenario was “oh it’s just a UTI” and worst case scenario was “well that wasn’t there before”. figured i might as well go gt it checked out by way of regular gynecologist check-up, which i was past due for anyway. get some tests done. get baby’s first mammogram, too, which had me feeling like that pompeii man crushed by that rock. (you think it’s done squeezing and then it crushes you more.)

had to go to the clinic today (third time going two towns over this week fuck everything and the public transport it didn’t ride in on) to pick up a note for the technician for yet another oh my fucking god MRI and grab two lab results on the way. lab results were clear except for some white blood cell action getting over the line in the blood-work. apparently not a UTI. or a yeast infection. or anything else. which...would’ve been better if it had been a simple UTI, man. so, y’know, monsieur concern is back with his top hat.

so my mother. when she picked me up from the mammogram, she didn’t ask me how it went. when i came back with my results, she didn’t ask me how they were. and now, when i went to her to tell her, because *stares into the middle distance* i didn’t get one sentence out before she’s already trying to interrupt me, which she then does. repeatedly. and the conversation ends with her going “yeah i’ve been having pee symptoms lately too you know” like wow. wowowow. it’s always got to be about you, doesn’t it.

[dirtyhelen]

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part one

PART ONE: can you feel it? (Series Masterlist) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Explicit (18+) Featuring: Smut; Angst; Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs; Dubious Consent; Loss of Virginity; First Time; Vaginal Sex; Cunnilingus; Creampie; Dirty Talk Words: 5484 Summary: For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume. “Oh, fuck.” You and Bucky get hit with an extremely powerful aphrodisiac, resulting in some mind-blowing (but dubiously consensual) sex on a quinjet. And if sleeping with a coworker in a drug-fueled haze wasn’t bad enough, you’ve also had an unrequited crush on him for months. A/N: My first multi-chapter fic! My first attempt at something resembling a plot! There will be 3 parts, about 15k total. Titles are from Want You In My Room by Carly Rae Jepsen. Part 2 will be out next week!

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“Thanks, Steve,” you say as he sets your bag in one of the quinjet’s storage compartments. Ever the gentleman, he’d insisted on carrying your luggage for you, since he was headed the same way anyway. Just a few minutes ago the jet was bustling with technicians packing away carefully labelled silver briefcases, but now it’s just you, Steve, Bucky, and Bruce. Bucky is headed to Wakanda, summoned by Shuri with the promise of impressive new upgrades for his arm. The briefcases are samples of chemical solutions the Avengers recently confiscated from an enemy base. They’re also headed to Wakanda, to be examined in one of the country’s laboratories even Tony - begrudgingly – has to admit are more advanced than his own. Along the way, Bucky will be dropping you in Zurich to meet up with Pepper. She’s attending a fancy business retreat there and snagged you an invite under the guise of professional development and maintaining the relationship between Stark Industries and the Avengers. As though being married to Iron Man isn’t enough to cement that relationship. Really, she just hates being outnumbered by arrogant, misogynistic billionaires and wants the company. You’re certainly not complaining. A chance to eat ridiculously expensive food and shit talk gross old men in view of the Swiss Alps? Beats running around after the team, keeping track of a thousand conflicting schedules and chasing down late mission reports. You spend another minute or two idly chatting with Steve and Bruce as Bucky makes himself busy at the instrument panel. The jet can basically fly itself, but you suspect Bucky gets a bit of a thrill any time he gets to be in the cockpit, tech nerd that he is. “You sure you have everything?” Steve asks you with a teasing smirk. “It’s a whole two days, you know. Pretty sure that requires at least a dozen books.” “Oh, har-har,” you grumble. “God, you overpack one time and it turns into a whole thing!” “Didn’t you take like four pairs of shoes and two books for a day trip?” Bruce calls as he walks down the ramp, heading back to the lab, you’re sure. “It was three pairs and you can’t always rely on weather forecasts!” you shout after him. Steve jokingly rolls his eyes. “Of course. And the books?” “Two is a perfectly reasonable number of books to bring on a day trip,” you protest primly. “And if I recall correctly, you ended up borrowing one of those books on the way home, so you’re welcome.” “Fair enough,” Steve laughs, holding out his hands in mock concession and turning to say his goodbyes to Bucky, currently bent over the panel, confidently pressing buttons and flicking toggles. It gives you some comfort. You’re a bit of a nervous flier, but Bucky seems to know what he’s doing and the Avengers’ personal jet has to be a lot safer than any commercial plane you’ve ever been on anyway. Though it’s more than just the thought of crashing into the Atlantic ocean that has you on edge. Three hours. That’s approximately how long you’ll be confined with Bucky in a high-tech tin can. Three hours to sit in awkward silence, or worse, awkward conversation if your previous interactions are anything to go by. Chances are you’ll try to make small talk but somehow end up saying something stupid while Bucky just sort of looks at you like he’s wondering how you managed to get this job in the first place. It’s a reasonable question, to be fair, and one you’ve asked yourself at least once every day since you started. Not that you’re a notably skilled conversationalist in general, but around Bucky, you can barely manage to string two coherent sentences together. You can’t help it! You just like him so fucking much and you want him to like you even just a little, so you try to be cool and relaxed and chill. Like Natasha or Sam, the two people who, apart from Steve, he seems to actually be comfortable around. Unfortunately, you are neither cool nor relaxed and you definitely are not chill. No, you are a grab-bag of somewhat less attractive personality traits like excitable and dorky and perpetually-fucking-nervous, all wrapped up in sensible shoes and practical, un-sexy clothing. Basically the anti-Nat, or any person you can imagine Bucky being attracted to. So when you try to converse with him like a normal person you usually end up rambling on like an alien who watched one episode of Gilmore Girls and thought that was how humans really communicated with each other. Not exactly a turn on. Sadly, knowing you have absolutely no chance with him does nothing to stop your feelings. If anything it only makes them stronger somehow. No harm in letting yourself become totally obsessed with the guy since it’s not like you’ll ever tell him how you feel, therefore there’s no chance of rejection! Foolproof! Really though, you don’t know how you could have avoided falling for him anyway, even if you had tried. As a member of the team’s admin staff, you see them basically every day. Relaxing, training, doing press and charity events – everything but actually going on missions. After months of chatting during meetings, discussing schedules and events, and working in the same place they live, you’ve gotten to know them pretty well, you think. And despite Bucky’s taciturn demeanor, the White Wolf seems more like a puppy to you. Sure, his resting expression has a tendency to read as slightly murderous and he's undoubtedly deadly in the field, but there's another side to him too. Bucky is enthralled with all things technological. Whenever there’s a presentation on new tools for the team Bucky is there, bright-eyed and attentive, with thoughtful, clever questions on how it all works, and he’s not shy about making suggestions either. He shamelessly enjoys all things soft and cozy – fuzzy blankets, knit sweaters, his cat. Alpine was a stray Bucky found wandering the grounds of the compound. Now she wanders the residential wing instead, usually wherever Bucky is. He could be bitter and angry and cruel after everything he’s been through – and God knows he’d have every right – but he’s not. He has his bad days, of course. Days at a time where you hardly see him except for mandatory meetings or training, and then with dark shadows under his eyes and a heavy blankness that seems etched into his face. But most of the time it’s clear he wants to be part of the world. With his never-ending curiosity about all the things he missed, or never had the freedom to enjoy. With his dark, wry humor and the fond way he can’t help but look at Steve whenever he says something that must remind him of before the war. With the way he tries so goddamn hard to put some good back into the world, to make up for things that weren’t even his fault. You truly don’t understand how anyone could know him and not love him. You certainly never stood a chance. “See you, pal. Text me when you land.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring into nothing for longer than you realized. “Say hi to Pepper for me!” he calls to you as he leaves. And with that, it’s just you and Bucky. For the next three hours. +++ The awkward silence – apart from a quiet, “You ready?” from Bucky just before take-off – lasts all of ten minutes. That’s as long as you can go before the pressure to say something becomes irresistible. Being bad at talking to Bucky has never kept you from trying, unfortunately. “You excited to go back to Wakanda?” you ask. Bucky nods. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to see Shuri again.” He says it with a soft smile and you know he means it. He clearly has a deep affection and respect for her. “I bet. She seems ridiculously cool. Honestly, I wanna be her when I grow up,” you joke, then immediately cringe. I wanna be her when I grow up? Come on! Bucky laughs politely and the jet is once again silent. Bucky seems content to just sit with his thoughts, but the jet’s at cruising altitude now so you take the opportunity to get out of your seat and grab one of the only two books from your bag. Can’t say anything stupid if you’re too busy reading! Check and mate, Rogers. You’re elbow deep in toiletries and underwear, having decided blindly digging around would be preferable to actually taking the bag down and fully unzipping it, when you decide to try speaking again.   “So do you know what upgrades you’re getting? You know, for –” you gesture at your left arm, or try to, except you use the arm currently being eaten by your suitcase at the exact moment the jet hits a patch of turbulence, jostling you and your luggage. Bucky jumps up, darting over to steady you with a hand on your back. As a part of your mind becomes consumed with thoughts of, holy shit he’s touching me, you manage to wrench your arm out of your suitcase, sending it to knock against the silver briefcase next to it. The impact shifts the briefcase slightly. The next bump of the jet a moment later has it falling out of the storage unit entirely. The silver briefcases used by the Avengers to transport dangerous or delicate materials are very cleverly designed so that – properly clasped – they could be used as a football for an NFL game with no ill-effects. Which is how you know this case has very clearly not been properly clasped because as it falls it springs open, and a small vial of clear liquid hits the floor. And shatters. For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the thin, silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume, filling the space around your bodies. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe. Bucky snaps into action, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you toward the sleeping compartments in the back of the jet, calling for FRIDAY along the way. “Get us back to the compound now,” he orders. “And get Stark or Banner on the line.” He shoves you inside the nearest cabin, following and sliding the door shut behind him. Immediately he’s gripping you by the shoulders and turning you to face him. “Did any of it get on you? On your clothes?” he asks urgently, eyes scanning your body. “No! I mean, not the liquid, I don’t think. But what about that mist or vapour or whatever? What if we breathed it in?” You have no idea what was in that vial. “Oh God, we’re gonna die,” you moan, anxiously pacing the tiny room. “Or I am, anyway. You’ll probably be fine. Fuck. Oh my God. What if it’s like, some flesh-eating poison? Am I gonna turn into the Hulk?” Your heart races and you feel hot. You can’t tell if it’s just fear or something worse but whatever it is must show on your face because Bucky gently guides you to sit on the narrow bed as the call finally connects. “Hey, Bucky, what’s up?” It’s Bruce, thank God. You’re not sure you could handle even the briefest and most well-meaning witticism from Tony right now. Bucky very quickly briefs Bruce on the situation, finishing with, “Any idea what the fuck was in that case?” You can hear the anxiety in Bruce’s voice. “Shit, I don’t know. Not unless you have the label. And we didn’t really examine them, just packed them up.” “Fucking great!” you can’t help but interject, throwing your hands in the air and receiving a concerned look from Bucky in return “But listen, guys. You’re on your way back to the compound – FRIDAY says 30 minutes tops. I’ll have medical and biochem ready as soon as you touch down. And it’s already been what? Like five minutes? If nothing’s happened yet, you’re probably fine? Just sit tight and don’t leave the cabin. The doors seal airtight so nothing can get through.” And with that, Bruce hangs up to get everything ready for your return, leaving you and Bucky at opposite ends of an very small space. You’ve never been claustrophobic before but you must be developing the fear because the walls feel like they’re closing in and your heart feels like it’s about to beat its way out of your chest. “Okay, wow. Great. ‘Sit tight.’ That’s awesome, just awesome.” You look around the room, empty except for the bunk you’re sitting on. “What are we supposed to do now? Play twenty fucking questions?” Your relaxing weekend abroad has disappeared and apparently taken your brain-to-mouth filter with it. Between that, your racing heart, and the increasing heat spreading through your body you’re not entirely sure that you’re probably fine, but you’re chalking it up to anxiety because it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it anyway. Except sit tight. Looking up at Bucky you can see his cheeks have taken on a pink flush, but again, that’s probably just stress. Or maybe annoyance at having to be trapped in a tiny room with you and your panicked blathering for the next half hour. Sighing, he sinks to the floor, resting his back against the door and stretching out his legs in front of him. “Nothin’ to do but wait, doll.” Your eyes flash to his. Doll. He’s never called you that before. He’s never really called you anything before. Bucky seems to have noticed it too because he furrows his brows, looking like he’s just as surprised as you are. There’s a brief moment of eye contact before you both quickly look away, choosing not to address it. Probably just a habit, you think. A remnant of the Bucky that existed long before you were born, jumping out in a moment of stress. A heavy silence falls, leaving you both to your own thoughts. You try to focus on breathing, on staying calm, but your mind keeps straying and it feels like there’s too much energy in your body. Your skin practically itches with it and you squirm, unable to get comfortable but not sure exactly why. You can hear Bucky tapping his foot on the floor, the sound of him shifting around. You wonder if he feels it too. Bucky… Doll. The way it had fallen out of his mouth so casually, so easily. As though he’d said it to you a hundred times. You feel a spark bubble up inside you picturing Bucky’s flushed cheeks and that word. You imagine him saying it breathlessly, reverently, just before his lips touch yours. Or growling it out as he moves inside you… Fuck, doll, just like that. You nearly let out a whimper and you feel a rush of slick in your panties, shocking you out of your fantasy as you become uncomfortably aware of just how wet you are. That spreading heat flares even more than before and you realize you must have been dripping into your underwear for longer than just the last few seconds. There’s a deep throb of arousal in your core, stronger than anything you’ve felt before, like that unbearable energy under your skin has been pulled to settle deep inside you. It’s confusing – far too powerful to be the result of a vague, half-imagined fantasy. But even as you wonder at what’s happening, it’s like a fog settles over you, the confusion half-hearted, nothing compared to the growing urge to touch, to quell the burning fire inside you. Before you can even consciously register the movement, your hand is making its way to your pussy. Any shock or embarrassment at your wildly inappropriate behaviour is slow to appear and dulled when it does. Snatching your hand back just as it nears the apex of your thighs is like walking through deep water, like you have to convince yourself why you shouldn’t get off in front of a co-worker. Your eyes flash to Bucky, wondering if he’s seen, if he’s affected the same way you are, only to find his gaze already fixed on you, blue eyes blown nearly black. His fists are clenched at his sides and his lips are bitten red and spit-slick. He breathes in deep, nostrils flaring, and you realize he can smell you. It should be humiliating. You should be turning away in humiliation, but instead, you feel yourself get – somehow, impossibly – wetter and this time you can’t contain the helpless whimper when Bucky groans and licks his lips in response. It’s as if with that sound the floodgates have opened because in an instant you’re slipping off the bed and throwing yourself at him, desperate to be closer, as close as physically possible. You scramble on top of him, graceless and frantic, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you closer and grinding you down on his cock, pressing hard and hot against you even through your clothes. There’s a moment – a tiny fraction of a second – where you catch each other’s eyes. A pause, where you think you see something, some emotion on Bucky's face, but you don't have time to decipher it before he’s surging up to press his lips against yours and a bomb is set off inside you. You have no idea what you’re doing – your experiences up to now have been limited to a handful of lackluster kisses with people not worth remembering – but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice or mind. He holds your face firmly in his hands, turning your head to suit him as he licks into your mouth and you do your best to mimic his actions, clumsy in your mindless passion. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and you gasp, rocking your hips against his, trying to get some friction on your throbbing clit. He thrusts up against you and you move together but it’s not enough. It’s clear whatever was in that vial has created a thirst in you that won’t be quenched by a heated make-out session and you pull away from Bucky's mouth, moaning as he tilts your head back to kiss your neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin. “More,” you gasp. “I need more.” You feel him nod against your throat and with one last, deep kiss to your lips Bucky grips you by the hips and lifts you off him, shifting to rest his weight on his heels before reaching to push your dress up over your waist. Almost all of your higher brain function is devoted to being as close to Bucky as possible but far in the back of your mind, there’s a small part of you that’s simply shocked at what’s happening, at the sensations coursing through your body. You have never felt this uninhibited in your entire life. You were a shy, anxious child who grew into a somewhat less shy, anxious adult, easily embarrassed and prone to overthinking. But now, with that silvery mist working its way through your system, you’ve never felt so shameless. Bucky is feverishly slipping off your shoes and tugging down your tights and you’re not thinking about how you haven’t shaved your legs in weeks or how you’re wearing an old pair of plain cotton panties or any of the dozens of worries that would be running through your head under normal circumstances. (Not that Bucky would be undressing you at all, under normal circumstances.) No. Instead of overthinking and paralyzing yourself with fear, you’re pulling your dress over your head and reaching back to unclasp your bra so you can get your own hands on your breasts. You could almost just sit and bask in this unfamiliar feeling of freedom if it weren’t for the hot ache in your core that threatens to burn you alive with every moment you go untouched. As soon as your tights have been pulled off and tossed aside, Bucky is shouldering your legs apart and leaning forward to press his nose against the wet patch on your panties, breathing deep. “Fuck, doll. I need to taste you.” You whimper as his tongue darts out to lick a wide stripe up the length of your covered cunt. His hands move to your hips and in an instant, your panties are torn from your body and his mouth is on your bare skin for the first time. You can’t help but gasp as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your folds. His tongue licks up your opening and circles your clit before moving back down and slipping inside you, drinking up your slick. Bucky growls against your pussy. “So fucking good.” His tongue moves back to your clit and he laps at it in short, teasing flicks. You begin to buck helplessly and Bucky’s metal arm brackets your hips, holding you still for his mouth. He switches to deep, firm circles over your clit, alternating with wide laps over the whole of your cunt. You’re losing your mind, flat on your back with your legs thrown over Bucky’s shoulders, heels pressing into his back. You’ve never felt anything like this. You haven’t even come yet but it’s already more intense than any orgasm you’ve ever given yourself. You feel two fingers against your opening and you fight Bucky’s grip over your hipbones, trying to grind yourself down onto him. He chuckles at your efforts and presses just the tips of his fingers inside you. “So needy, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to tease right now when you're ready to fall to your knees and plead just for the chance at an orgasm. You whine, trying again to slide down onto his fingers but his metal arm keeps you from moving a single inch and you toss your head back with a wail. “Please, Bucky,” you sob. “I need it, I need you. Please.” You feel no embarrassment at your begging. The fire inside you is growing hotter and hotter. You need him. You need to be filled, fucked. You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you now. The teasing tone drops out of Bucky’s voice and he presses messy kisses to your inner thighs. “I know, I know. I feel it too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full. Gonna make you feel so good, make it better.” His fingers finally slip into you, sliding easily through your wetness. He starts thrusting and his tongue circles your clit again as his fingers curl. He focuses on your g-spot, stroking roughly as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks. You’re coming in seconds with a series of breathy moans, thighs clamped tightly around Bucky’s head. He doesn’t let up, only pulling away when you tug at his hair, the sensations too much. He kisses you, sliding his tongue against yours and you can taste yourself in his mouth. It reignites the fire your orgasm had dulled slightly and you pull away, about to plead for more, but it seems Bucky has finally reached his limit. His hands work at his belt and he shoves his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock. You’ve never really seen one in person before and maybe under different circumstances you’d take a moment to get familiar, but right now all you can do is spread your legs and beg. Bucky quickly positions himself above you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He drags the head along your pussy a couple times, groaning as he slicks himself up and begins to push into you. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had inside you hardly notice the sting. It’s nothing compared to the raging chorus inside you chanting more, more, more. In one single, hurried thrust he’s fully inside, your bodies pressed flush together. Bucky moans. “So fucking tight, fuck. You feel so goddamn good, doll,” he pants above you, leaning down for a filthy kiss, wet and open. “Fucking move, please,” you beg, hooking your legs around him and digging in your heels. Bucky growls into your mouth and pulls out almost entirely before thrusting back inside hard, pulling a sound from deep in your throat. He repeats the move a handful of times before settling into a harsh, pounding rhythm with his face buried in your neck. You cling to his back, senseless, unable to focus on anything but how good you feel. Your brain feels fuzzy and empty and every thrust drags his cock along your g-spot and it’s too much, too good. You’re a gasping, panting mess. It’s not long before his hips start to stutter, his rhythm breaking as he moans out above you. Your hand slides down your body to your clit and you rub firm circles around it. A few swipes and you’re coming, harder than you ever have in your life, with a high, keening moan. The tight squeezes of your cunt have Bucky coming too and you feel a warmth release inside you as he collapses against your chest. Neither of you moves for a long moment, your heavy, mingled breaths the only sound in the room. There’s still some lingering fog as you soak in the afterglow of your drug-intensified orgasm, but it seems like the chemical has run its course and clarity is quickly returning to you. The silence is broken by FRIDAY announcing your approach to one of the landing pads, and you feel the jet begin its descent a moment later. Her voice hits you like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what’s really happening here, what you’ve just done. It seems Bucky feels the same, because he leans back just enough to look you in the eyes and a long moment of horrified recognition passes between you. Your breathing picks up again as panic surges through you. You start to squirm under his weight but he’s already moving. You wince as he pulls out of you, suddenly aware of a deep soreness between your legs. In seconds, Bucky has tucked himself back into his jeans, and he storms out of the cabin without a backward glance. So eager to get away from you he doesn’t seem to care that he might be walking directly into a toxic cloud. Like anything would be better than being trapped with you for another moment. You lay there on the floor, naked and shivering, with Bucky’s cum starting to leak out of you as you struggle to take a breath, all the anxiety and uncertainty the drug had masked flooding back to you at once. You force yourself to sit up and pull your clothes back on, cringing as you feel the mess between your legs seep into your tights. You hastily stuff your ruined panties in your pocket. You take a few deep breaths and try to still your shaking hands as you hear footsteps approaching the cabin. You’re given a respirator and guided off the jet into a throng of people awaiting your arrival, Bucky nowhere to be seen. White-coated staff swarm you and lead you inside. +++ You wish you could say the next several hours are a blur, but they are, unfortunately, exceptionally, horrifically clear. You’re taken through a decontamination shower, though you’re really not sure how much good it could do at this point, then poked and prodded with needles and swabs while having the most mortifying conversation of your life. You feel nearly choked with a shocking, burning shame. This morning you woke up nervous and excited for a weekend away, and now you’re telling a handful of strangers how you just had sex for the first time in an uncontrollable, frenzied state of lust with one of the Avengers. And as though it couldn’t be worse, it’s made all the more humiliating by the lingering throb of arousal thrumming through you the entire time. It seems whatever this drug is, the two orgasms you’ve already had weren’t enough to neutralize it, though at least you have enough self-control now to keep from shoving your hand down your pants in front of everyone in the room. Finally, after what seems like hours and unfortunately really is hours, you’re told to go home and rest. You’ve been given an emergency contraceptive, a pamphlet for the Employee Assistance Program, a number to call if you feel any strange symptoms, and told that someone will follow up with you in the next day or so. You feel numb as you enter your apartment, tugging off your med-bay issued scrubs on the way to the bathroom. You get yourself off in the shower, and though it’s the most joyless orgasm of your life, it seems to finally clear any lingering arousal from your system. Wincing at the tenderness between your legs, you scrub yourself clean under the hot spray, half wishing you could dissolve into a puddle and wash away down the drain with the soapy water. You’re getting ready for bed when your thoughts take a sudden turn to Bucky for the first time in hours. You’d been so overwhelmed by all the tests and questions, so cocooned in your own embarrassment you’d practically forgotten about him. Guilt rushes through you at your own selfish thoughtlessness. Feeling so sorry for yourself like you were the only victim. Like you were the victim at all. You’ve had a crush on Bucky for months, have spent more time than you’d like to admit imagining being with him in ways both innocent and obscene. But he’s never looked twice at you, barely speaks to you except for unavoidable work discussions. Not that you expect anything different. Someone like him would never want to be with you anywhere outside your daydreams. Except now he has been with you. Forced against his will to take part in some horrific act, because surely that’s how Bucky must see it, now the fog of uncontrollable lust has cleared. You had sex for the first time in decidedly unwanted conditions, but at least it was with someone you’re genuinely attracted to, someone you have feelings for. Bucky had been forced to have sex with someone he didn’t even like, much less desire. After everything he’s been through, how hard he’s worked to find a place where he can feel safe and in control of his own life – his own body. Only to have that control taken from him again in the most indecent way. Shame, viscous and thick, swells in your throat like sickness and your eyes fill with tears. No wonder Bucky ran out of the cabin the way he had. You feel so much worse because of your feelings for him. Dirty and wrong because you would have enjoyed the sex even without the drug. You know, deep down, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to knock the case over and you had no idea what was inside – not to mention you weren’t the one who forgot to latch it – but you can’t help but feel responsible for what happened and you wonder if Bucky feels the same. If he knows about your feelings and thinks you orchestrated the entire thing on purpose. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. And the rest of the team! If they don’t know already, they will soon enough. What if they blame you too? What if they’re disgusted by you? Anxiety spreads through your body from your pounding heart, filling your limbs. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. You feel boiling hot and ice cold all at once. Collapsing to your bedroom floor, you bring your hands to your thighs, digging your fingernails into the skin. The sharp pain distracts you from the heavy panic flooding your body enough to let you focus on breathing in, then out, repeating the words in your head until you feel your heart rate settle, the panic easing a little. You pull yourself up off the floor and push yourself through the motions of getting ready for bed. The intrusive thoughts are still there (everyone hates you. You’re going to lose your job. Are you sure you didn’t do it on purpose?) but you try to ignore them. There’s nothing you can do about anything right now and thinking yourself into a panic attack won’t do any good. You turn on an old episode of your favourite show and get in bed, tugging the covers up to your neck and focusing on the screen, allowing the familiar storylines to dull the intensity of your thoughts until you finally fall asleep. A/N: And that’s the end of Part 1! Thanks for reading and feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog and let me know what you thought! I spent a truly ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out the whole sex pollen aspect and I’m still not totally happy with it hahah but I hope it doesn’t seem too shoe-horned in 😝 Anything else that you’d like to see tagged/warned for, let me know!!

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Changkyun

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader

Genre: lab technician – hospital au / romance / strangers to lovers

Warnings: medical terms, and the word “blood” is used a lot, considering Changkyun’s profession, illness.

Word count: 4417

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

Turning around to the next tray of samples to check, Changkyun stopped for a moment after reading the name on the adjoining paperwork. Working at MonX Hospital as a Laboratory Technician meant he could process samples from the same patients at least twice within his working week. It shouldn’t stand out as anything important to him, yet when he saw your name for the eighth time in the past two weeks, Changkyun found himself a little stunned. There were several other technicians in this department who could have processed your blood work but it seemed to always end up in his batches.

“Everything alright?” his co-worker Bora questioned and Changkyun snapped out of his thoughts, however, his brows remained furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m just getting familiar with this patient’s blood samples.”

Bora grinned. “That sometimes happens. I like to think of it as a sense of fate for a technician to see the same person’s samples during their stay. It’s a pleasure to watch as things improve for the patient through their continued testing.”

As Changkyun waited for the results from the automatic analyser to be transferred to the computer he was monitoring, he didn’t hold the same optimism as Bora did. He had been steadily watching the decline in your numbers over the past two weeks. And when the results appeared, his shoulders dropped.

“There’s an abnormality in these results,” he murmured, and Bora swivelled her chair around so she could see the screen. As a technologist, she was more experienced in looking at results such as these. Still, Changkyun could tell the levels to your iron and blood oxygen count were low.

You would no doubt need a transfusion today.

“Just remember that doing these tests are what will help this patient get the right treatment for a quick recovery.”

Changkyun nodded softly. However, your results bothered him for the rest of the morning and he even spent some time staring at a sample under the microscope just to find exactly where the abnormality was. He was invested for some reason and hoped he could find a way to see your numbers improving each second day instead of dropping.

Resigned, he stepped out for a coffee break in the hospital’s public cafeteria, watching as a patient rested her head against a windowpane. She looked far too pale to be away from her room, though she smiled when the sun danced over her skin.

He couldn’t help himself and sat at the table next to her. “Are you here for the sun?”

“After being locked up in this place for two weeks, I’ve finally found a spot where I can get direct sunlight. It’s too nice a weather lately to be cooped up inside so this is my happy medium.”

“I hate to break it to you but you know you can’t absorb vitamin D through a windowpane, right?”

The patient looked at him with a heavy pout which made him regret speaking the fact out loud. “Really? Is it only if I go outside? I’m not allowed out though…”

“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “I once was stuck inside recovering from a really bad virus and used to sit by the window every day until my father, who is a scientist, told me otherwise.”

Peering at his badge, she nodded. “I guess it’s now a bit of a like father like son moment then. He broke your heart and now you’re breaking mine, Im Changkyun.”

Changkyun cringed and waved a hand in dismissal. “I really didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, I’m teasing you. Are you a doctor?”

“No, I work in the lab.”

“Doing what?”

“Running tests on the samples we receive.”

“Like blood tests?” she asked and Changkyun nodded. She then smiled warmly. “Maybe you’ll have come across mine.”

“Maybe.”

“If you can figure out what’s wrong with me, I’d ask you out on a date, you know.”

Changkyun, having taken a sip from the coffee mug, spluttered it everywhere. “Wh-what?!”

“I’m kidding, of course,” she remarked, looking back outside. “The doctors keep saying that monitoring my blood samples will find the answer to why I’m so sick but all that keeps happening is-”

“Y/N!” a voice called out and Changkyun let go of the mug he was holding, gaping at the patient now being fussed over by a distraught relative, the wheelchair she was sitting in now being wheeled away.

Your wheelchair.

It was you, the person he had been staring at under a microscope all morning long. Well, your blood sample at least. He couldn’t believe that the mystery in the lab had appeared in front of him right now. It was his first time meeting a patient in the flesh like this.

“Wait!” he called out fruitlessly and you turned back, shifting around to grin at him.

“I hope you can find what’s wrong with me, Mr Technician! If you do, I’ll go on a date with you!”

Glancing down at the coffee starting to run off the side of the table and then at your departure, he groaned, reaching out for a stack of napkins to clean up his mess.

Changkyun was hopeful this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you outside of the laboratory.

His daily trips for the rest of the week to the cafeteria didn’t bring you back into his presence. Your samples hadn’t been as regular as before and when you did turn up in his batches on Thursday, he smiled when he saw he had predicted right. Your iron and blood levels had rapidly increased, indicating you had received transfusions of both. You would no doubt be feeling a bit better after receiving the treatment, though he couldn’t be sure since you hadn’t returned to the cafeteria since that day. Had his pointing out about the sun having no effect stopped you? Or was it the relative who acted as if you were too fragile to be around others that had prohibited your return?

It was strange. He had never found himself so interested in another human before like this. You weren’t someone who matched his typical type in women, but Changkyun couldn’t deny you captivated him either.

Was it the added bonus that he had seen what your cells looked like up close? Shuddering with the rather creepy thought, Changkyun tried to forget about you. He knew he couldn’t, though. He was too invested in helping find a reason for your illness, as a professional of course.

“It’s not because of the date offer,” he mumbled to himself, ears growing hot despite his outspoken stance.

Though, he wondered if you actually had meant it since you mentioned it twice.

Another two weeks went by and by that time, your samples were almost back to how they had been before the transfusions. The doctors hadn’t figured out anything, he concluded. And every time he ran the automated analyser or looked at a sample on a slide, Changkyun couldn’t figure what was causing your cells to be abnormal. Even after talking with a pathologist for better understanding, there was little to go on aside from having a type of anaemia. But even the more experienced people couldn’t decide on which type it was.

You were a mystery to everyone.

And strangely, he missed you.

“I know you’ve worked extra today, but reckon you could go pick up some samples for me? Dora fell down a set of stairs an hour ago and is in orthopaedics so can’t collect the samples from wards fifteen and sixteen that we need to test tonight.”

Changkyun nodded at Bora. “I can do that.”

“Good, after you fetch them you can go home.”

“How kind of you to let me go like that,” he cheekily replied and Bora laughed.

“Well, I could make you stay on even longer and-”

“Ten hours is enough!” he chimed, diving to door to the department. “I’ll get the samples and then get out of here.”

“Less talk, more movement, Changkyun!”

He chuckled as he headed to the elevators in the lobby to take up to the floor needed. He thanked the nurse after retrieving the samples from ward sixteen, heading across the foyer to the opposite ward. Whistling softly as he walked to the nurse’s station, Changkyun glanced lazily around the ward, skidding to a stop when he noticed your name on the wall. Blinking rapidly, he went towards the door when a nurse caught his attention.

“Are you here to collect the samples?”

“Uh, yeah,” he distractedly answered, smiling weakly. Tearing his eyes reluctantly from your door, he followed the nurse to her station and waited for the package. Changkyun went to walk off, only retracing his steps back to the nurse. “Is room three allowed visitors?”

“Miss L/N?” she spoke and he nodded. “She has restricted access at the moment due to a family request.”

“Ah, that answers that then,” he murmured and then smiled back at the nurse. Thanking her, he then headed back down the hallway, his feet dragging outside your door. He craned his neck as if that would gain him better access to seeing you again. Your blinds were shut and only a small window in the door allowed him a brief look into your space. Sighing, he began to move again when he spotted you coming back into the wardroom.

You were walking this time, albeit with the help of an IV stand. You grinned. “Well if it isn’t Mr Technician.”

“Changkyun,” he corrected awkwardly and clamped his eyes shut. “I mean, please call me Changkyun.”

“Are we one a first name basis now?” you wondered with an animated smile. “I guess you already know mine. Sorry about the other week. My Aunt is a bit over the top. I’m all the family she has left so me being sick has sent her into a perpetual meltdown.”

“It’s fine, though I did wonder if you went in search of other places around the hospital for vitamin D.”

“Do you know, they’re supplementing it through this bad boy to me,” you mentioned, patting the IV machine. “Along with a multitude of other things.”

“Still no definite answer to what’s going on?” he asked and you gave him a wry smile.

“That would be too easy, now wouldn’t it? Every day they propose something else, and then take it back. I wonder how hard medical school must be if they can’t seem to collectively come up with an answer.”

“I don’t blame you for being frustrated.”

You shrugged and then pointed at him. “What about you? How’re my samples looking?”

“I’m struggling to figure out the abnormally. My whole team has looked at it and have suggested a few things but equally can’t come to a conclusion.”

You giggled. “I feel so exposed. Everyone gets a look at me under a microscope except me.”

“Maybe one day you could too,” Changkyun blurted out without much thought, scrunching his face up in realisation. “Uh, I mean not many people would-”

“Can I? Would I be allowed to?!” you wondered, stepping closer to him with a bright expression. You seemed hopeful and who was he to knock you down for that. Changkyun was nodding before he even realised it.

“Sure. I’ll make sure you can.”

You grinned, patting his arm as you passed him to go towards your room. “Sounds like it’s a date.”

It took a lot of convincing and doing the dirty jobs around the lab for an entire week before Bora agreed to let you look at your own blood sample. Bora gave Changkyun a pointed look. “You’re invested in this case, you know.”

“I know.”

“Did you seek the patient out first or-”

“We met by chance, I swear. I’m not going to go against professional conduct and privacy clauses. Further, if you hadn’t of sent me to go retrieve those samples-”

“Okay, blame me, it’s my fault!” she concluded with a shake of her head, a loose grin spreading out her lips. “You’re lucky I’m a hopeless romantic, Changkyun.”

“Wait, I wasn’t, I’m not…” Flustered with his supervisor’s reaction to his request, he fanned a hand at his face, trying to express that it wasn’t anything like that. Bora didn’t buy it and when Changkyun went to collect you for the scheduled visit, he felt hot under his collar.

Why was his good deed being taken as anything more than that?

However, when he reached your room, he stopped in the doorway, finding you out of your pyjamas and in a floral dress instead. You spun around, carefree.

“What are-- I mean… Woah.”

“Thank you,” you said with a broad smile. “I hoped you’d like it.”

“Why did you get dressed up?” he asked hastily, glancing down at his usual work attire and lab coat.

You giggled. “You look handsome for our date too.”

“Oh, this isn’t a date.”

“Didn’t you offer me to come with you to the lab?”

“Yes, but-”

“And didn’t I agree and say it’s a date?”

He nodded quickly. “You keep joking around with that and-”

“Hospital life is boring, let me enjoy experiences like this, hm?” you pleaded and Changkyun bit at his bottom lip before nodding again, holding out his arm for you to take. You were delighted by his chivalry and swooped in around it, clasping his lower arm gently. And you practically skipped at his side all the way to the lab.

You were gracious during the visit. You complimented his team and made them smile, everyone becoming more comfortable with the idea of a patient in the lab. You asked questions and Bora was in her element answering them for you. You were engrossed by the process of their work and by the time Changkyun took you to the back office where he had set up a microscope for today out of the way from the rest of his team, you were buzzing.

“This is amazing. You do so much here!” you breathed, taking a seat next to him in awe. “I’ll never complain about getting another blood test taken again.”

Changkyun looked at your bruised skin around the underside of an elbow and instinctively reached out to run his fingers over it. “You’ve had so many.”

“Those aren’t even the places they get it from me right now,” you lamented, patting his hand gently all the same. “I’m okay if it means I’m helping you all find whatever it is you can in my samples to help me get better.”

“Speaking of samples, should we look at yours now?” he asked after a visible swallow, reaching forward to the equipment and turning it on. He looked through the ocular lens and fiddled with the machine until he was satisfied with the setup. Changkyun then gestured for you to take a look.

You turned timid as you did so, quietly staring into it.

“This is your most recent sample,” he told you and you didn’t answer. Feeling more confident than you in the situation, Changkyun expertly changed settings of the magnification for you and then took the slide out and replaced it with another. “This is a healthy blood sample. Can you see the difference?”

“Kind of. Can you swap them a couple of times so I can get a better understanding?” you asked quietly and he did that for you, hearing you sigh when you were looking at your own again. “So this is why I’m sick?”

“It indicates you have an abnormal cell structure right now, yeah.”

Lifting your eyes from the lens, you glanced curiously at Changkyun. “Are you allowed to show me the other blood sample like this? I mean, I get seeing mine, but another patient-”

“It’s mine,” he confessed with a short laugh. “So you don’t have to worry about any privacy clause.”

“You drew your own blood just to show me this sample?”

“Well, it made sense to have a second slide. In experiments, we always have a control slide when presenting variables and-”

Your lips cut off his explanation then, pressing softly into his. Before he could truly register that you had kissed him, you pulled away, covering your mouth with a hand.

“I uh, I was touched, that’s all,” you quickly told him, turning away from him to recover. Changkyun cleared his throat noisily and then stood up.

“Is there a reason why you’re not allowed to go outside?”

Frowning at his random question, you nodded. “Too many people are out there.”

“Tomorrow at lunchtime, don’t make plans,” he announced and you eyed him carefully. Changkyun, emboldened with your kiss, smiled warmly at you. “I know where you can get direct sunlight without anyone bothering you.”

Admittedly, it had taken Changkyun all this time to find a place where you could access the sun without technically leaving the hospital grounds or leaning out a window to do so. He hadn’t at first understood why he started searching, ruling it down to his logical side needing to find an answer to the question proposed in his mind. But as he helped you up the final metal stairs to the rooftop, Changkyun knew the reason he had searched for this was because he liked you.

A whole lot.

“Wow,” you breathed at the view when you came to a stop at his side, squinting under the bright midday sun. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“I checked with your doctor and also with some medical studies and its safe for twenty minutes for us to just sit here and soak in the sun,” he said and you grinned, going over to the bench on the rooftop and sat down.

You then removed your cardigan and offered your arms out to the light. “Heavenly.”

“I thought you might like this.”

“I should have kissed you sooner if it would lead to this,” you teased as he sat down beside you. “I also have a regret from yesterday’s visit.”

“You do?”

Nodding, you scooted around and promptly laid your head in his lap, dangling your arms and legs out to the warmth from above. You peeked through an eye at his evident surprise from your move and giggled. “You blocked the sun from that side.”

“Oh, so this is merely strategic?”

“And more comfortable,” you admitted, nestling into his thigh some.

Changkyun smiled. “What was your regret?”

“You’ll think I’m mad.”

“Well, you’re certainly not normal,” he quipped and you whined outlandishly. Chuckling, he found himself brushing your hair away from your face so the sun could reach that too. You stilled, looking up at him.

“I like you.”

“I like you too,” he admitted with a shy smile, your own splitting your lips until you were grinning giddily.

“Would you like me even if I wasn’t sick? I’m sure as a medical professional you probably find what you see under the microscope more fascinating than my actual form but-”

“No, it’s not like that at all,” he cut in, still smoothing your hair back from your face. “I like you. Not your illness, not what I see from my work. I can’t deny that I’m invested in seeing the changes to your tests, but that’s just because I saw them before I met you in person. I was invested before I found you trying to soak in sun through a window.”

“Don’t remind me of that embarrassing moment,” you exclaimed, mortified. Throwing a hand over your face to hide your emotions, Changkyun pried it away and held it instead. Your expression evened out and you started to smile again. “You knew my name before you knew me. And you knew a lot more too, I guess.”

“I’d rather get to know you like this though.”

“Me too.”

You sat up suddenly, almost bashing into Changkyun’s chin in the process. Sheepishly flashing him an apologetic smile, you held up your index finger. “That’s right, the regret!”

“You mean not telling me how you felt yesterday wasn’t the regret?”

“I’m pretty sure when I kissed you, it showed you,” you countered and Changkyun rubbed at his neck with his other hand awkwardly. You then looked at him and grinned. “I wanted to wear that!”

“What?”

“Your lab coat!” you explained, tugging at the sleeve of it. “I was in the lab and I didn’t once put one on!”

“Well, you looked so pretty in your dress, why cover it up?”

“Because! Oh, you won’t understand because playing dress-up as a doctor isn’t fun like it is for everyone else who isn’t in the health sector professionally.”

“I’m not a doctor,” he reminded and you rolled your eyes.

“Still, you get to wear a white coat of importance! Let me try it on now.”

“What about the sun?” he asked and you stood up, bouncing around impatiently, almost pulling it off of him when he shrugged it down his shoulders. Slipping it on, you giggled triumphantly and spun around in it. Of course, it was too big and made your child-like request even more obvious. He laughed heartily then, the magic of the moment making his heart soar further for you.

You were right. For him, the lab coat was simply part of his work attire, nothing more. He saw no joy or importance in wearing it since he did so every workday. However, watching you enjoy it made it feel special.

Until you stumbled in your excitement, reaching for your head as you continued to lose your balance. Changkyun lurched towards you, catching you before the ground did. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Just a little dizzy. I guess I went too far.”

“Let’s get you back to your room and get a nurse check your stats, hm?” he offered and you didn’t argue, leaning into his side as he helped you back down the stairs. Once back in your ward, you slipped off his coat and climbed under the blankets, smiling weakly.

The transformation bothered him. Upstairs you were carefree and empowered. Now back under your stark white sheets, you looked weak and tiny. Changkyun blinked back his emotions.

You smiled sadly. “Looks like reality came back for us. Go do amazing things, Changkyun. You’re the one with the power to do so. I’m back where I belong now too.”

He was determined to find a way to make you better again.

“I’ve got it!”

“You have?!” Bora asked immediately, scooting backwards to his station and taking a look at his findings. She grinned. “You bloody have too.”

“Pathology needs to get onto this right away and then the doctors will act upon it, right?” he asked, hope building within his chest. She nodded once and he sent the files through to the team, marching out of the department and over to pathology to follow up.

It hadn’t been easy, and after being in the hospital for over three months now, Changkyun wished he had been able to source the correct abnormality in your tests faster. However, the main thing was they had a definite answer now. You had an autoimmune disease that had triggered the mysterious illness. And whilst knowing that didn’t mean you would get better and be healthier than before, it did give answers. And answers could lead to the right medication to support your health to improve and to help you live with your condition.

Answers meant discharging once better as well.

You stood in the doorway of the department, grinning brightly at Bora who welcomed you in. Changkyun hadn’t seen you yet, still focused on his work. But he stirred as soon as he heard your voice.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you said, looking around the department until you caught his gaze. You slowly grinned. “I just happened to be discharged today and I need to thank the technician who found the answer for my diagnosis.”

He didn’t care about the rest of his team jeering at him right now, getting up from his seat and approaching you. Of course, you already knew of his findings since your treatment began three weeks ago. However, you attempted to keep a straight face as Changkyun stopped in front of you.

“You see, when I was terribly sick, I ran into a lab technician who I told I’d go on a date with him if he helped me get better. I’m here to collect on that date.”

“I thought you were joking,” he murmured and you grinned.

“Oh no, if anything, I asked for the date because you were handsome, not holding onto any hope that you would actually help find the reason for my illness.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and Changkyun walked you out into the hallway, closing the door and the deafening noise out behind him.

He leaned in closer. “Well, I guess I do deserve a reward for my hard work.”

“When can you leave?”

“I think I have some extra hours up my sleeve that I can use to leave work now.”

“Oh good because I want to go on a very long date with you.”

“How long?”

“How much time can you give me?”

Changkyun’s lips were so close to yours now, he merely hummed and you shivered with delight. “How about as long as you want.”

“I’ll be greedy, you know. I’ll want all of your time.”

“I have to work,” he mentioned sadly and you nodded.

“And I have a lot of therapy to attend.”

“But outside of those hours?” he wondered and you pressed into him, kissing him with demand.

It wasn’t his first or even his second kiss with you. And Changkyun knew it wouldn’t be his last either. However, it was one he knew he’d remember forever, the way you tasted so sweet from pure happiness to be leaving the hospital and with him as well.

Finally, you stepped back just enough to catch your breath and answered. “Outside of work and therapy, I hope you can give me all your time. I don’t want to stop repaying you for the rest of my life.”

“Can I ask a question?” he breathed and you nodded. “Did you really mean it about wanting to date me from the first day you saw me?”

“Now that would be telling.”

“So it was a joke!” he whined and you giggled, stepping up on your toes to kiss him again.

“No, I did think you were handsome. I just didn’t believe I’d get this lucky. A cure and a boyfriend. What more could a girl ask for?”

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A Ponderous Rewatch: Pavlov’s Mice and Cameo

So thanks to Tumblr nerfing my ability to make an admittedly absurdly long post combining the previous episode rewatch with this one, I had to do this entry in two parts.

But at least now we’re in for the real treat: The first episode in airing order that’s animated by TMS Entertainment. And hey, even the Animaniacs show itself seems to acknowledge that this is special, because theme song rhyme is…

We're Animanie! Totally insane-y!~

Pinky and the Brainy!~

…which hasn’t been done since their debut. So this is gonna be fun.

Might as well get this out of the way, then, since this episode obviously involves Ivan Pavlov. I think most people who know of Pavlov through cultural osmosis pretty much know him as just “that one scientist who got dogs to respond to the sound of bells as if they were being offered food”. This is what happened, but it’s only part of the story. In reality, Ivan Pavlov was doing research on the physiology of digestion in dogs and he noticed one day that the dogs he was studying started to drool in the mere presence of the lab technician who regularly fed them even if the technician didn’t have food with them. Pavlov developed a way to redirect the dogs’ digestive juices outside of the body so that they could be measured, and then he ran some conditioning experiments to see if he could get them to salivate in response to external stimuli that had nothing to do with food, like ringing a bell.

The year in the title card, 1904, was the year Ivan Pavlov was awarded the Nobel Prize for the previously mentioned experiments, which he published the results of in “The Work of the Digestive Glands” in 1897. Basically, by 1904 he was done with his work with dogs and he moved on to experimenting with mice…at least according to this article in National Geographic by Virgina Hughes.

With that, let’s begin the episode proper.

“At the dawn of the 20th century, Russian scientist, Ivan Pavlov, trained animals through his technique of conditioned reflex” says the narrator as we zoom in on a laboratory with Pavlov and our lovable mouse duo.

“Time to earn your dinner, my little mousey friends!”

It’s interesting how Pinky is the one that flinches uncomfortably at the loud sound of the gong while Brain simply snaps into his conditioned response. And that response? Uhhh…

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout.~”

“This is my handle, this is my spout.~”

(Is he…you know…?)

“When I get all steamed up, hear me shout!~”

“Tip me over and pour me out.~”

Oh no… This is a cute and funny scene and all, but when you know about Brain’s canonical issues with how he hates not being in control of a situation and all the traumas he’s endured (for those of you not in the know, yes, Brain does have a lot of trauma in his backstory that we learn about much later, both in the 90s spin-off and the reboot) regarding both general control and losing family and friends…there’s a bitter tinge to this scene.

He’s so embarrassed and humiliated.

He takes the cheese but he is positively fuming with rage, and I can’t exactly blame him from what I know about him.

This is made all the worse by Pinky’s innocent reaction to Brain’s little song and dance.

“Hahahahaha! Wonderful! Hahaha! EGAD, Brain, I could watch you do that dance all day! Haha, narf!”

For Pinky, this is harmless silliness and he gets to see Brain sing and dance and “have fun”, which is not a usual occurrence. But for Brain? Well...

“You have watched it all day, Pinky. Sixty-one times, to be exact. It’s a conditioned reflex to that infernal gong.”

“I’m powerless to stop it!”

Well, Brain, at the very least it’s not like you were a part of a more inhumane experiment like one regarding, say, learned helplessness or anything. …Oh wait. Whoops. (For those sensitive to animal abuse, I suggest refraining from clicking on the second link, and caution against clicking on the first if even more clinical text descriptions of such would upset you. The third link is spoilers for the reboot.)

All that aside, it seems like it’s Pinky’s turn. He gets the more traditional bell chime for his stimulus.

And the result is him going into an uncontrollable and very enthusiastic Slavic folk dance.

With violent results. I hope you appreciate that last screencap, as the animation goes by so quickly I had a lot of trouble isolating the part where Pinky kicks Brain and he goes flying.

Pinky is all too happy to get a reward of cheese, his favourite food, for doing something that he has no memory of.

“What’cha doin’ over there, Brain?”

“Contemplating your afterlife, Pinky.”

That’s not exactly fair, Brain, you know he has no control over this. To Brain’s credit, though, he doesn’t bop him or anything for kicking him involuntarily.

Pavlov leaves, playfully saying that he hopes the mice dream of cheese tonight, and the mice are immediately down to business.

“At last, he’s gone.”

“Now we can begin our conquest of the world!”

We’re already back to it being “our” conquest of the world, eh?

“Behold my latest creation, Pinky: The Vacuum-o-nator.”

Brain has never been good with naming things, has he? At least, not so far. I wonder if this will continue throughout the franchise?

Pinky is certainly very happy and impressed, though.

“It uses reverse air pressure to vacuum everything toward it.”

You know, I was just about to roast Brain for thinking that making a very odd version of a vacuum cleaner was such a brilliant thing, but then I remembered that this takes place in 1904. The vacuum cleaner as we know it was “invented independently by British engineer Hubert Cecil Booth and American inventor David T. Kenney” in 1901 according to Wikipedia, and portable vacuums were available to the general public starting in 1905.My apologies, Brain, that actually is very impressive.

Although, this all hinges on if the viewer considers episodes that take place in the past and/or at different locations than Acme Labs California to be mere Alternate Universe/What If? stories or Brain and Pinky using some kind of time machine to go to a different place and time for these episodes. (Before you tell me that this is just a cartoon and sicc the Please, Please Get a Life Foundation on me, I do this to have fun and maybe educate myself and the reader along the way. I promise I have a life. Barely.)

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Pinky?”

“Uhh… Yeah, Brain! But where are we gonna find rubber pants our size?”

Pinky, that’s… Listen, folks, don’t make the same mistake I did and google “rubber pants”. It’s not what you think it is. You will be disappointed.

BONK!

Seems like you’re enjoying yourself there, Pinky.

“No, Pinky. We’re going to use the Vacuum-o-nator to steal Russia’s crown jewels!”

Man, the animation for even this one small proclamation by Brain is so, so good. Brain standing authoritatively and holding the pen like a scepter or spear, the grand sweep of his arm as he says “no”, the serious and slightly menacing expression on his face, a violent and grabby swing of his arm on the word “steal”,  and a dramatic point and look up towards the sky when he finishes. TMS does great work, folks.

“Narf! Genius, Brain!”

Look at Brain’s satisfied smile at Pinky’s simple compliment. Remember what I said earlier about Brain going through his explanations to show off to and  impress Pinky? At this point I’m absolutely convinced that that’s why Brain turns up the theatrics more than necessary when going through his plans. After all, Pinky is (oddly and rather sadly) the only one in-universe who thinks Brain is a genius and a good person.

…Of course, the effect can sometimes be lessened by subsequent innocent bumbling.

“Turn it off, Pinky.”

He says this so exasperatedly yet so deadpan at the same time, it’s great.

“Oh! Right-o!”

Even Pinky immediately knows that he fucked up.

“Zort! Whew! Wild hairdo, Brain! Heh heh, I like it.”

He even pets Brain’s “hairdo”, aww. And though I personally could take or leave the ‘do, I like the pointed, sharp look this mishap’s given to his ears.

BONK!

“Now I feel cleansed.”

Okay, this one might have been a little too much, Brain.

“But Brain, aren’t the crown jewels always guarded by giant Cossacks?”

Well, Pinky, from what I know Cossacks were usually used extensively in the police force and as border guards during this time, so I guess that’s possible?

Brain picking the lock with the pen is a fun little detail.

“Don’t worry about the guards… For tonight, Pinky, at precisely 1 am, there’s a total lunar eclipse. “

Again, this is probably not a thing the average person could look up quickly and easily in the 90s and the writers most likely didn’t care about accuracy here, but there were no total lunar eclipses in 1904. There were some penumbral lunar eclipses in March and September of that year, though. Just a fun fact for you folks.

“The Earth’s shadow will completely cover the moon, blacking out all of St. Petersburg for a period of 30 seconds.”

Brain…?!? Brain, how did you get the diagram on that piece of paper to animate like that? What kind of Harry Potter-style magic bullshit is this?

I know this is a cartoon and all and I’m not truly upset but this honestly came out of nowhere and made me do a double-take.

“In that brief time, we will sneak past the Czar’s guards under the cover of darkness and steal the crown jewels…for he who controls the jewels controls Mother Russia!”

More dramatics!

“But…I thought your mother’s name was Désirée?”

I love Brain’s pose here. Very grumpy and sassy.

As for Pinky’s comment: We do get to meet Brain’s parents way later in the spin-off, though neither are addressed by any name. I’m taking this joke as canon anyway because it’s funny.

Well, well, well… Looks like we’re shaking things up a bit with an inking instead of a bonk. That’s gonna be a pain to get out of his white fur, though.

“Soon, Pinky, I will rule Russia…so from now on, call me Czar.”

Another sassy hand-on-hip pose.

“Right-o, Brain!”

“—eek! Czar Brain!”

“Come along, Pinky… Conquest awaits!”

Nice to know that despite the inking, Pinky’s still following him anyway. Plus he’s doing it with that fond look on his face again. Hmm…

What follows is a cute and ingenious sequence of Brain launching Pinky and himself through an open window via the spring force of a mousetrap. It goes by very quickly, but I just wanted to highlight a few things I managed to notice while pausing through it. Kudos to the animators again for these little details.

Pinky’s the one that wraps one arm around Brain’s shoulders so that Brain has both hands free to spring the mousetrap properly and so that they’ll be launched together.

Interestingly enough, Pinky’s the cautious one who braces for impact right away while Brain gleefully flies through the air with his arms outstretched.

The “camera” changes perspective and while Brain is still boldly flying forward with confidence, Pinky is still worried but has now opened his eyes as they fly towards the window.

Pinky’s still holding onto Brain and the Vacuum-o-nator as tight as he can. As they get closer to the window, however…

…Pinky seems to realize he’s going to smash into the wall above the window if he doesn’t let go, so he lets go of Brain. Brain doesn’t realize where his trajectory is taking him.

Pinky angles himself downward and through the open window, but it’s too late for Brain.

WHAM! RIP, Brain.

But his pain is not done! It looks like Pinky’s landing was in the soft snow. Meanwhile, Brain slides down onto the window and through the opening, only to bash into the lid of a garbage can, much to Pinky’s concern.

Then Brain falls headfirst into the snow.

And finally, Brain is clonked on the head by the same garbage can lid, which makes a loud gong noise. Someone get this poor mouse some Aspirin.

But since there was a gong noise, you all know what that means!

Cutely, Pinky joins in on the dance in the middle of it.

“Ha! Oh that was fun, Czar Brain! But let’s give it another go, right? Only this time with feeling!”

Man, that side-eye at the beginning from Brain…

Pinky’s body language is great in this episode, too. The gleeful flapping of his arms and feet and the “with feeling” gesture are fantastic examples of his more open and energetic nature coming through.

Oh hey, there’s that one shot of Brain being ticked off used in the spin-off theme song! I can’t exactly blame him for his anger here. He just went through a lot of pain in a short amount of time and was then involuntarily made to humiliate himself. Pinky doesn’t mean to be mean here—he genuinely wants to have some sing and dance fun with Brain—but it’s gotta sting to have the humiliation highlighted.

Pinky still doesn’t deserve a bonking for it, though. But it’s slapstick, so he’s fine.

Heh, “deliveries to rear” indeed.

Oh, are those jingle bells on a sleigh that I see?

Uh oh…

“No, Pinky… Not now!”

It cannot be stopped, Brain. He must dance!

Another quick detail as Brain launches himself at Pinky’s midsection to either topple him over or hold him still to get Pinky to stop.

Alas, Pinky’s dancing is too strong.

OUCH!

The face of regret.

His punishment is swiftly thwarted, though.

“…That was unpleasant.”

They take a different and more uneventful ride on a hay wagon to the palace.

I love the exaggerated perspective going on here.

Peekin’.

“We made it inside, Brain!”

“…’Czar Brain’.”

“Czar Brain.”

He says it so quietly and sweetly, aww.

“Yes, Pinky. There are fleeting moments when I even amaze myself.”

I…don’t know if it’s much of an accomplishment yet, Brain. Settle that ego down a bit.

Oh, that’s some classic Looney Tunes-style sneaking animation there.

Wait, why is the door to the treasure room just open behind them? Czar Nicolas II, what gives?

Speaking of…

Hello, Czar Nicolas II. I hope you’re enjoying your “eclipse party”. You only have another 14 years or so to live it up, after all.

“In just a few minutes, it’ll be totally dark and scary. OooOOoo!~ But don’t anyone touch me, I have cooties!”

I, uhhh. Okay, then.

Same, boys. Same. Best to get down to business.

“Behold the crown jewels of Mother Russia, Pinky. World conquest will soon be ours!”

Again, world conquest is “ours” and not just Brain’s. Also you can just tell Pinky’s thinking “I’m going to wear so much of this jewelry!”

“Now, Brain?”

“Not yet. Wait for the total eclipse.”

Speaking of…

“Complete darkness, Pinky. Start the Vacuum-o-nator…”

“NOW!”

That gonging noise is an interesting choice for a chime. Surely this ornate clock is only an omen of good things for our duo.

Pinky, you’re swooning again. And Brain…

Oh no.

Another clock! Who’d have thought Russian nobility loved clocks so much? This one has a more pleasant bell chime, though.

…Oh NO!

Well, looks like things are going to hell pretty quickly.

Goodbye, boys.

Goodbye, Czar Nicolas II! You might wanna look out for a man named Grigori Rasputin in the future, okay?

Nice hat, Brain.

“Whu--? The eclipse is over? Narf! What happened, Brain?”

BONK!

“Zort! I mean, Czar Brain.”

“We failed again, Pinky… But just wait until tomorrow night!”

“Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night, Brain?”

“What else, Pinky?: Try to take over the world!”

It was a nice try, boys, but honestly I don’t know how you were going to fit all those crown jewels into that tiny improvised vacuum bag, anyway.

One last cute little detail in this episode is our mousey duo jumping up with enthusiastic determination in front of the silhouette of the moon on the last note of the theme reprise. One day, you guys. One day…

Oh! And before I forget, have another short cameo from “Plane Pals”. It’s a tiny one.

Pinky and the Brain steal a sheep off of an airplane. For what purpose? Who knows? But that’s it. I’m kind of wondering if the writers wanted to make a running joke of them making cameos to steal random things for world conquering purposes and just sort of gave up.

Anyway, so ends our recap for this post. It sure was a long one, but what can I say? There were some very cute details that needed to be shared. Have we learned anything new this time? Well, I mean, besides historical trivia.

Brain thinks both he and Pinky are great actors, despite his own near inability to lie and keep up an innocent pretense. Oh, he can be sarcastic, sure, but he can’t seem to manage to stop himself from revealing that he’s out for world  domination whenever he has an audience.

For the first time we see Brain’s annoyance and humiliation resulting from him being a lab mouse. Though it’s on the more subtle side at the moment, Brain seemed extra grumpy and violent during that last     episode because of the conditioning he’s unwillingly gone through. I’m     curious to see if there are any more examples of this before we reach an  episode touching on his origin story. Or…one of his origin stories, at     least. There’s around four of them last I checked and all but one of them  can reasonably fit into the others.

Pinky is truly beginning to show how much he adores Brain, which is nice. Beforehand we knew he was down with his world domination plans for whatever reason and also that he thinks Brain’s plans are great and ingenious. Now, though, we’ve gotten to the point of him literally swooning at Brain and his plans. Something’s definitely brewing there.

Next time: We get some more substantial cameos, join our mouse duo on a Fort Knox heist, and meet a new character that is both pretty important to the “lore” of the show going forward…but also doesn’t appear in person after their introductory episode until the very end of the Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain spin-off run.

See you then!

[mhdiaries]

Wave 4 Journal of Jackson Jekyll

On September 9...

So it turns out I’m a monster. Well part-time monster actually, which leaves me pretty much full-time confused. It’s not like I didn’t know that mom and dad were both monsters. The first time I saw mom’s Hyde side come out was when I was 5 and we were visiting my dad’s side of the family. Some of the little neighborhood monsters decided that they were going to play “kick the can” only they were going to use me as the can. Every time I tried to run home they blocked my way and pushed me down. I started crying and then they really started making fun of me. Then all of a sudden I heard this roar and there was my mom. Even though it didn’t look like her I knew it was and honestly all I could think was, “Why mother, what big muscles you have.” Needless to say I never had any problem with the local monsters again. Dad’s a fire elemental of course and I grew up playing with Heath so I was never afraid of monsters. I just didn’t think any monster heritage had passed on to me. When I asked mom and dad if they knew me and Holt were the same person they said, “Of course we knew you and Holt were the same person - we’re your parents; now finish your breakfast or you’ll be late for school.” Well thanks for clearing that up for me mom and dad. Cause you know it’s not like having that little bit of information would have been helpful at all. Good thing I’m past those awkward teenage years where news like this could really have a negative impact on my psyche. (Ooh - sarcasm. I like it) HH

On September 12...

I had to go to the mad scientist, I mean mad pediatrician, today. Mom says that until I’m an adult I need to continue seeing him because he has the most experience dealing with growing monsters. I feel fine but mom and dad are worried because what triggers my transformation to Holt has changed. It used to happen when the sun went down but now it seems to be loud music, I think. The waiting room was almost empty except for a mother werewolf and two young cubs. While mom filled out paperwork I sat down and tried to find something to read that wasn’t chewed, gooed or covered in monster germs. Then I heard one of the werewolf cubs say, “Mommy! Is that a normie?” “Yes honey, don’t stare.” “Is he going to eat us?” I could tell that she was embarrassed so I said, “No way - I’m totally allergic to werewolf it makes me sneeze - ACHOO!” The cubs eyes got really wide and then she started laughing, “Aw that’s not true.” Then she held up her foot and said, “I can tie my shoe!” I said, “That’s amazing, can you show me how?” The werewolf mom relaxed too and it turns out she’s related to Clawd’s family. Pretty soon a lab assistant appeared, “Jackson Jekyll?” She led us back to a room and said, “The doctor will be with you shortly.” Then, “The wait.” Which means sitting on the crinkly paper covered exam table forever and wondering what would happen if I started playing with the instruments in the exam room and the doctor walked in. Anyway just about the time I woke up enough boredom and courage to start picking up some of the cooler looking instruments laying on the counter I hear the mad pediatrician pulling my chart and the door opens. He’s wearing a lab coat with purple vampire ducks and his stethoscope cover is a fuzzy yellow dragonhead. I’m sure it calms the younger monsters but it scares the normie out of me that the volatile nature of my elemental side + my hyde heritage + being a teenager = constant change. He said that the trigger would probably change again before I reach adulthood. Then he gave me a lollypop, scheduled me for another test and said he wanted to see me again in three months. Now I’m worried about what the trigger is going to change to next. What if it’s showers? Would it be worth giving them up for the rest of high school just so I can have my own life? (Not unless you want your new nickname to be “Stinky”) HH 

On September 21... 

It seems like I spent the first part of my life wishing I was a monster and now that I am maybe now I wish I wasn’t. (Well you’re stuck with it now.) HH When I was spending all that time trying to get Draculaura to bit me so I could become a vampire I never really thought about anything except wanting to fit in with all the other monsters. Now the part of me that fits in doesn’t even get to enjoy it.(Whine much?) HH It’s like the worst of both worlds and now I don’t fit in anywhere at all. We’re all supposed to meet with Mr. D’eath, the school guidance counselor, this week. Wonder if I’ll need to make two appointments (Lame - I already know what I’m going to be... FAMOUS!) HH

On September 23...

So I had my appointment with Mr. D’eath today it started out  about as terrible as I thought it was going to be. Turns out he’d never counseled a “normie” and it seemed like he didn’t know exactly what to say. In fact, he mostly just spent a lot of time squeezing one of those stress balls made to look like a cartoon character with eyes that bugged out when you squeezed it. It was pretty distracting especially when I realized it was a cartoon “normie”. The squeezing wasn’t nearly as distracting as his “throat clearing” which kind of sounded like a hand full of marbles being run through a garbage disposal. I kept trying to figure out how he made that noise because he doesn’t really even have a throat since as far as I can tell he’s pure skeleton. He must have flipped through my permanent record ten times before he finally said: So you see Hackson... I mean Jackson, the career opportunities for normies in the monster world are somewhat er... um... (sound of marbles being run through the disposal again) limited. There’s monster hunter, monster hunter’s assistant, mad scientist, ooh hunchback! You don’t happen to have a hump do you? No? Bad luck there then. Ah hah! How about Monster/Normie Relations Expert? (Figured it’d be something where the wardrobe is even less cool than what you wear now) HH Well that was something I certainly knew a little something about. I had an old coach in the normie world that used to always say, “Play to your strengths Jackson, play to your strengths.” So Mr. D’eath loaded me down with college brochures and rushed me out of his office. I think both of us were glad it was over. 

On October 8...

Finally took that test my mad pediatrician set up for me. It turned out to be a test to determine the type and volume of music that brings out Holt. So I sat in a soundproof booth wearing headphones while a technician played music at different volumes and with different time signatures. I made it through waltzes, marches, polka and chamber music but I don’t remember what he played next. (That’s when he started playing the good stuff.) HH Anyway the results of the test isolated the trigger; music with a 4/4 time signature played in excess of 90 decibels. You know what’s good about this? Me neither.

On November 2...

It seems now that every monster knows Holt and me are the “same” person/monster I don’t get hassled as much for being a “normie”. Not that it makes any difference to Manny Taur since he pretty much wants to bully down on any creature who’s smaller than he is. When he first started picking on me I stood up to him cause once a bully knows he can push you around he’ll never stop, but Deuce finally took me aside and said, “Listen bro - you’ve won a lot of respect standing up to Manny and don’t take this the wrong way but...” Apparently Manny was waiting for the right time to mash me like a slow matador. I kept waiting for it to happen but it never did. In fact it seemed like Manny was purposely avoiding me for some reason. It was almost like some monster had said something to him. (Yeah - wonder who that could have been?) HH

On November 15... 

Headless Headmistress Bloodgood asked for “volunteers” to help with the middle school carnival fundraiser so Deuce and I volunteered for set up and take down duty. It was cool and we didn’t have to dress up like clowns or sit in the dunk tank. We set up tents, carried boxes then hung out and waited for everything to be over. We checked out some of the other booths too cause we had plenty of time to kill. Venus and Draculaura were doing face painting; Rochelle was teaching monsters how to build sand castles, some of which would have looked pretty good if they hadn’t been built next to Rochelle’s sand cathedra with working bell tower and miniature gargoyles. The best though was the stunt Robecca performed. She flew over the carnival a couple of times to get every monster’s attention then flew straight up until it sounded like her rocket boots stalled and she came streaking back toward the ground like a falling star. A huge gasp went up from the crowd as it looked like she was going to crash then she fired her rockets back up and totally buzzed the crowd less than 20 feet off the ground! It was so awesome I actually gave Holt a chance to see her second performance. (Thanks dude - it was totally rockin’ and I would have been bummed if I didn’t get to see it) HH When the carnival was over we helped take everything down and all the volunteers went to hang out at the Coffin Bean. It was dark by then and I would have missed out on that part of the fun if things were the same as they used to be. Still hoping I won’t have to give up showers someday though. (That makes both of us “Stinky”) HH

[skdubbs]

Let Love Find You

Chapter 1: An Awkward Introduction

Summary: Love has a funny way of finding you when you’re not looking for it. Commander Fox discovered this the hard way when a box arrived on base and pique his interest. 

Here it is. I can’t believe I'm finally doing this. A huge huge HUGE shoutout and thank you to @detroitbydark​ for all of the encouragement, feedback, and listening to my ramblings about this story. You’re the best. 

This story will be the first in a collection of three interconnected stories taking place at the same time. I hope you all enjoy! 

It all started with a box.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard stared at the parcel currently sitting on his desk amidst piles of carefully cataloged holopads. The contents of said package laid innocently next to the box. He’d had part of it scanned and tested, twice. Absolutely nothing alarming to be found. And yet Fox was still unsettled.

In the year since taking up his post, he’d never been rendered speechless. Well, today the boys could mark it down in the books. Truly, the commander didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do. The mental conundrum Fox found himself in was beyond exasperating. Sighing, Fox shook his head, then glanced at the flimsi note he held. Once more, he read the delicately written script.

To: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard

Dear Sir,

I’m sure this package and its contents might cause alarm and confusion. Please don’t allow it to do either. This is simply a token to express my thanks to the troopers involved with the skirmish in the market district on Level 3 nearly four rotations ago. Their actions saved my life and that of my daughter. When we expressed our gratitude, my daughter felt the shock trooper didn’t think we were sincere. Hence, this small gift. I ask that you please see to it that the troopers involved receive this token and understand how grateful we were for their timely arrival. For there are citizens on this planet who are aware of the services the Guard provides to ensure our continued safety and peace. Thank you for your help in this matter.

Sincerely,

Arissa Blunt

Fox knew without looking it up what skirmish Ms. Blunt referred to, as well as the troopers involved. Reach’s report had made mention of the two citizens he’d pulled away from the fire fight, a young woman and child. Interestingly enough, Fox had also heard through the guard barrack’s grapevine that Reach spent most of that night crowing about a civvie thanking him and how pretty she’d been. According to Reach, her body was a man’s wet dream.

At the time Fox had scoffed and pushed the matter out of his mind. He had far more important matters to contend with than one of his trooper’s infatuations. All of the men would have one at some point or other. It was a natural result with overexposure to civilians after a lifetime of social isolation. Fox was one of the few he knew to never fall to such an affliction. That didn’t mean he hadn’t dabbled and explored his options. The commander had simply never experienced the magic of someone capturing his attention for more than a moment of a little physical pleasure. Until now.

Commander Fox was intrigued, all because of a box of homemade ginger spice cookies, a short note, and an infatuated trooper’s embellished description. Again, Fox sighed. Maker, he needed a drink. And it wasn’t even 1200 yet.

He commed Captain Stone, the squad leader there on the day in question.

“This is Stone,” came the greeting.

“Captain, round up the troopers involved in the skirmish on Level 3, I’m sure you remember the one,” Fox instructed. “They’ve got a gift waiting for them in my office. Apparently Reach’s story wasn’t completely fabricated.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. It was brief, but Fox knew it for what it was. Shock. “Right away, sir,” Stone replied.

Fox disconnected, then turned to inspect the baked goods still sitting on his desk. Ginger spice cookies. Homemade, no less. Damn, they smelled good.

Fox smirked. What the men didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He plucked one cookie from the pile, taking a small bite to test the flavor. A groan of delight broke past his lips. This was one of the best frekkin’ things he’d ever had the pleasure of eating, and that's saying something. After all, the position of Commander of the Coruscant Guard afforded certain luxuries and privileges that few other clones were allowed.

The commander took another bite, savoring the taste. What he wouldn’t give to have something this good to eat every day. His eyes found the note again, sitting on his desk in stark contrast to everything else. Arissa Blunt. One has to wonder what kind of woman she was. Fox had every intention of finding out.

-----

After giving the boys their gift (the looks of shock and delight on their faces had caused a grin on his), Fox decided to investigate. It took little effort to find the information he needed. Another perk to his position.

Arissa Blunt, single human female aged 22 standard years. Currently a member of the Republic military’s research and development division located here on base. His brows had raised at that. He merely needed to leave his office and walk across the facility in order to find her. Her focus was prototype military-grade weapons. So, she worked on creating better ways for his brothers on the front to do their job. While he didn’t know her, Fox felt a swell of appreciation for this woman.

He was shocked and intrigued to find she held her position with no formal training. Instead, Ms. Blunt came into the program through the recommendation of a member of the board. It was highly irregular. Perhaps some nepotism was involved? But that made no sense either. According to her file, Ms. Blunt had no living relatives, only a young daughter named Gemma. Cute name, he’d thought.

Out of curiosity, Fox looked her up too. Gemma Blunt, single human female aged 5 standard years. Currently enrolled on scholarship at a school for gifted young children located noooo in a more well-to-do area of the upper levels. So, the kid was smart.

A part of Fox was impressed. And even more intrigued, especially as he gazed at Ms. Blunt’s photo. Reach hadn’t exaggerated, she was quite pretty. Not in the glamour model sort of way. But you could see the potential lying underneath her cute veneer should she ever try to be one. And those eyes….well, they’d surprised him too. Most humans didn’t have violet colored eyes, at least not naturally. But on her they were stunning. They drew you in and spoke volumes. As if the secrets they held were more than just her own. She could know yours without you evening realizing. A fanciful thought perhaps, but there all the same.

And that is why Commander Fox found himself making the long trek to the R&D division on base a few hours later. Amazingly, he had an hour free. Plenty of time to pay Ms. Blunt a visit. He could convey the men’s appreciation and slake his curiosity.

He’d found a technician by the name of A’tron Rogers when he arrived. The man had the audacity to scoff at him when he stated who he was looking for. Fox wisely kept his helmet on, knowing full well what kind of person he was dealing with. It was rather obvious what Mr. Rogers thought of clones and about doing anything for them. One had to wonder why he was in a position that required him to help create weapons that helped said clones.

“Yeah, she’s back here,” he’d snapped. “Follow me.”

Resisting the urge to call the man on his insubordination, Fox followed. They made their way further back into the lab and came to a stop at what looked to be some kind of long range canon. However, the weapon wasn’t what caught Fox’s attention.

Fox froze, his brain gone blank. Before his eyes, bent over at just the right angle, was perhaps the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen. His mouth watered while his blood rushed south. Mentally, he cursed. This was not a good way to start an introduction.

“Blunt!” Rogers practically screeched, trying to get the technician's attention. It certainly did the trick, albeit in a painful way. Arissa’s head shot up, caught by surprise, only to have it collide with the paneling of the prototype she’d been working on. A string of low muttered curses followed the loud clang. Fox winced in sympathy.

After a moment or two, Arissa straightened, seemed to take a steadying breath, then turned to face them. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when they landed on him. However, she recovered quickly, her face becoming unreadable as she turned to her coworker.

Fox wished he could say the same. That beautiful shebs he’d been staring at not long ago should have warned him at what else he’d see. Because, by the maker, Reach hadn’t exaggerated. Not one bit. Arissa Blunt truly was a man’s wet dream. Her hair was up and covered, but he didn’t need to see the dark brown wavy locks again to know how it finished the masterpiece that stood before him. Even wearing coveralls covered in grease splotches couldn’t detract from that hourglass figure or the small waist. And her breasts. By Fett, they were a handful and more. So much more. Again, Fox was grateful he’d chosen to keep his bucket on. He’d have looked like a gaping fool otherwise.

Arissa addressed Rogers, her voice even and devoid of emotion. “Did you need something, Rogers?”

The shorter man huffed, obviously put out by her lack of response to him. Fox made a mental note of that. Maybe it wasn’t just clones the man had a problem with. “You’ve got a visitor. Commander Fox here needs to speak with you.”

The technician’s gaze swung over to him, that violet gaze holding him captive. Again, he noticed a moment of trepidation, as if she feared his presence. Fox scowled, annoyance flaring. Her reaction was classic for a citizen. They either looked at him and his brothers with fear or disdain. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I’m due a fifteen anyway. If you need me, we’ll be in the conference room.”

Rogers snorted, then left. Yup, that chakaaryc really didn’t like Arissa Blunt. Fox focused his attention on the woman before him. As he looked closer, her nerves became more obvious. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Ms. Blunt,” he greeted, his voice stiff and formal.

“Commander Fox,” she greeted in return. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands off, then motioned for him to follow her. “Whatever you need to tell me, it’d be best said in the conference room. Otherwise, everyone else in the department will know about it before the end of the day. You wouldn’t think it, but the lot here are as bad as a bunch of gossiping housewives.”

Nodding, he followed. As they left the lab and made their way down the hallway, Fox couldn’t help his eyes from looking. The sway of those hips were going to haunt him. Another curse ran through his mind.

Soon enough they reached their destination, Arissa gesturing him inside. He took up a position further in, standing at attention while he waited for her to shut the door.

“Would you rather sit, Commander?”

“No thank you, miss. But please don’t stand on my account. Have a seat.”

He patiently waited while Arissa got comfortable. Once she seemed settled, he dove right in. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

That flash of trepidation was back. It was gone immediately, but still, he saw it.

“I think so,” she quietly answered. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. Despite himself, Fox felt a knee jerk reaction to the tiny movement. Maker, this needed to stop. Now.  

“Then explain yourself,” he ordered.

That got her attention. Arissa straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Explain myself? I thought the note I left was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “However, your reaction to my appearance here would say otherwise. I thought you appreciated what the guard does for the citizens of Coruscant. Someone who is appreciative doesn’t respond with fear in their eyes.”

Arissa’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. However, when she next spoke, her voice remained even. “From my point of view, your sudden appearance here is rather suspect. Troopers, let alone commanders, don’t make random visits to this part of the base. Any fear you saw was my worry that I’d done something wrong.”

That made Fox pause, considering. Her words in the note had sounded sincere. And someone who feared or hated clones wouldn't have sent something in the first place, not without it having some sort of repercussion. Perhaps she had a point. Finally, Fox relaxed his stance.

“I suppose your reaction would make sense then,” he conceded. “I apologize for alarming you, Ms. Blunt.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I was like all those ungrateful idiots out there.”

Fox stared at her. Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Apparently Ms.Blunt lived up to her name. He cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, would you mind explaining to me why you felt the need to do such a thing?”

Arissa started fiddling with a loose thread of her coveralls. A nervous tick. “I already told you in the note I sent with the package. My daughter thought the trooper who helped us didn’t believe we meant what we said. I was helping to make him see otherwise.”

A scoff escaped him. “Forgive my own cynicism then. I’m used to people having ulterior motives. It’s my job to find them.” He shrugged. “So, it’s a little hard to believe there wasn’t something else behind your actions, appreciated as they are.”

While he knew he was being something of a di’kut, Fox needed to know. He wasn’t lying. Any civilian he’d ever met had some sort of ulterior motive, most often to the detriment of his men.

She didn’t speak for a while, sitting there in quiet contemplation. Then, those violet orbs caught the gaze of his visor and held it. She wanted to get this right, he realized. She wanted him to believe her. “Maybe because men who didn’t have a choice in choosing this life deserve something good once in a while.”

Speechless, that’s what he was. She said it so plainly and without artifice. Fox knew she meant it, every word.

“I see,” he replied, voice quiet and low. “Well, allow me to express my gratitude and that of my men. It may not seem like much, but those sweets were the first gift any of those men have ever received. It might be the only one.”

“You’re very welcome, Commander Fox.” Her voice was quiet too, her eyes soft and understanding. How Fox wished he could get lost in them for more than just a few minutes. It was time to go. Now.

“You’ll excuse me then, Ms. Blunt, for taking up your time. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll see myself out.” Fox made to do just that, not leaving her a chance to say anything in return. He was almost to the door when-----

“Commander, could I ask a favor?”

Fox stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Here it comes. “What is it?”

Arissa gulped, her nerves showing once more. Fox smirked. Already in such a short amount of time, Fox knew he’d enjoy setting her on edge on a regular basis. It was a shame their paths likely wouldn’t cross again.

“I know this may seem silly, but would you be willing to write a short note to my daughter? I know it’d mean the world to her to hear how much the troopers that helped us enjoyed the cookies.”

“Can’t you just tell her?”

“I could,” she allowed. “But she might think I’m lying. Sometimes she has a hard time believing things if she doesn’t have evidence. Finding out you came to tell me yourself just how much the gift was appreciated will be suspect without some kind of proof.”

“Is your daughter really that cynical?”

Arissa laughed, shaking her head. Fox had to admit she had a lovely laugh. Fett, he was going soft. “No, not cynical, commander. Just a child who needs encouragement that something is real when she’s had so many other disappointments.”

While Fox was curious as to what she meant by that statement, he didn’t ask. Honestly, what was the harm in writing the kid something? There was none. Besides, he was more than happy to do it.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

The smile she gave him made an answering one pull at his lips. Thankfully, his helmet hid the sight. Yeah, this was definitely not good.

------

“Mommy! You’re home!” Gemma squealed in happiness as Arissa stepped through the door. Arissa was barely inside before her five-year-old daughter wrapped her tiny arms around her torso and squeezed.

Arissa paused, soaking the moment in. A smile pulled at her lips while the hint of tears teased her eyes. This right here made everything worth it. The ridiculously long days. The demeaning remarks and catty behavior from her coworkers. This was her why, the reason she kept putting up with everything.

She wrapped her arms around Gemma and squeezed back. “Hello to you too, Gemma. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Gemma pulled back, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in her excitement. “Did you miss me?”

Arissa chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Arissa. Long day?”

Arissa glanced up, making eye contact with the teenager lounging on the lumpy pale green couch in the apartment space that served as a living room. She barely withheld a grimace, thinking back over her day. “Just the usual, Trix.”

Although it really hadn’t been. Not when a certain unsettling clone commander decided to pop in and pay an unexpected visit. Gods, she’d thought for a moment there she’d done something wrong, that somehow the gift Gemma had practically begged her to make was illegal. Panic had filled Arissa, assuming the worst. But then he’d thanked her. Thanked her. Like a box of ginger spice cookies was the best gift his men had ever received. That wasn’t really too far off the mark, though, was it? And that black visor. When he’d held her gaze, Arissa had felt as if she were naked. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her fell that way. Definitely not something one wants to feel upon meeting a commanding officer of the GAR. 

Shaking her head, Arissa focused back in on the present. “Did the two of you eat yet?”

Trix suddenly appeared uncomfortable, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah, we did. I, um, thought it’d be nice to treat Gemma to something. We went to Dex’s Diner and had the works. Saved some for you, too.”

While she knew why Trix might feel guilty, Arissa couldn’t fault the teenager for spending the money instead of eating the leftovers in the fridge. A year of being homeless and dodging traffickers and drug dealers had done a number on Trix. The kid’s useless father had abandoned her just days after her mother passed away. And the lower levels of Coruscant were not kind to the young and innocent. Arissa knew this fact quite well. Trix was finally getting back on her feet, working at a local bakery to make some money while attending school at night to finish her primary education. She lived in the third bedroom and watched Gemma when Arissa had to work late. And Trix positively adored her. So if Trix wanted to spoil Gemma with a night of burgers and shakes, Arissa wasn’t going to complain. She was far too grateful for the help to even think of chastising the teenager for splurging.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for thinking of me,” She smiled at Trix, hoping the teenager understood she wasn’t mad. “I can’t remember the last time I had Dex’s. Is it as good as I remember?”

Gemma giggled. “Even better! Oh, and we got to meet Dex. Did you know he’s a besalisk? I’ve never seen one before. He answered all my questions, too. Didn’t act like I was a bother or anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Because he realized right away what a bright and inquisitive mind you have, sweetie.” Arissa’s heart warmed at the kindness the diner owner had unknowingly extended her daughter. Gemma truly was inquisitive, wanting to know anything and everything. And amazingly she remembered it all. However, there were some people who found the girl’s nearly constant questions an annoyance and something to discourage. It was why she’d done so poorly in school until transferring into a private academy. Thank the maker for that scholarship. She bent over and lifted Gemma up, holding the young girl as she made her way to their small kitchen table. “Now spill. How was your day?”

Asking Gemma that question was all the kiddo needed to start regaling her mother with the events of the day. Arissa listened attentively as she went about putting her dinner together. She laughed when Gemma explained how a boy in her class had water come out of his nose during lunch and praised her when told how she’d received perfect marks on yesterday’s exam. Trix stayed with them for a while, interjecting comments here and there before retreating to her room to start on her school work. They wished the sixteen-year-old good night as mother and daughter both knew they likely wouldn’t see the teenager again until morning. Arissa was done with her dinner and working on a mostly thawed nerf milkshake by the time Gemma asked how her day went.

Arissa had thought long and hard how she wanted to present her surprise. She pulled the note from her back pocket and slid it across the table’s surface. “I had an unexpected visitor today. He asked me to give you this.”

Curious, Gemma carefully unfolded the note. Even at such a young age she handled everything with a great deal of care. Violet eyes scanned the note, then widened in shock. When Gemma finally looked back up she was smiling from ear to ear. “He wrote a note. He really wrote a thank you note!”

The smile breaking across Arissa’s face almost hurt. Seeing her daughter’s happiness at something so small was beyond precious. Mentally, she filed the image away to remember when the moody teenager years hit. “I was told not to read it. That it was top secret until your eyes saw what was inside. Think you could read it to me?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“It says: Dear Miss Gemma. Thank you for the lovely gift of ginger spiced cookies. I have shared your present with the troopers involved in the skirmish four rotations ago in the market. They were very surprised and grateful for your thoughtfulness. They rarely get a thank you for their work. Your mother tells me you are a bright student and love to learn new things. Did you know that members of the guard love uj cake? I highly recommend trying it. Please continue to do your part as a good and loyal citizen of the Republic.

Sincerely,

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

The excitement radiating off of Gemma was contagious. She truly was happy from Commander Fox’s words. Arissa sent a silent thank you to the commander for taking the time to fulfil her request. Maybe she could find a way to let him know how much his note meant. But he must be very busy. Why would he care about any of this?

If he didn’t care, why would he bother in the first place? He could have said no.

“Do you think I could write a reply, mommy?” Gemma asked. “Maybe we could make them some uj cake since they like it so much and leave a note with it like before.”

That made Arissa pause. “Perhaps. But don’t you think the rest of the guard might get jealous when only a few of them get to have some?”

Gemma’s brow furrowed as she contemplated that possibility. “I guess you’re right. I know I wouldn’t like it if only a few of my classmates kept getting something and I didn’t.” Then her face brightened. “Maybe we could make some for everyone! That way no one felt left out. Oh but,” Gemma frowned as she realized something. “That wouldn’t work either. There’s so many of them, aren't there?”

Arissa hmmed, feeling her heart squeeze with regret as her daughter’s face fell. For someone so young, she truly had a compassionate and giving nature. She wanted everyone to be happy. “I’m not sure how many there are, but yes, there are a lot of men in the guard. Far too many for us to make enough for everyone. I’m sorry sweetie.”

The evening wore on, the hours passing as the world outside transitioned from day to night. Despite her disappointment, Gemma managed to recover. They played a few games, took care of Gemma’s bath, and cuddled on the couch to watch a silly holomovie before Arissa announced it was time for bed. Arissa read a story of her daughter’s choosing, sang her a song, and kissed her good night. Once Arissa left the room, she’d make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a book, losing herself in the passionate romance of her current novel before heading to bed as well. It was like so many other night’s, this ritual their evenings had become. But tonight would be different.

“Mommy?”

Arissa paused, turning back to face her daughter. Only the top of her head and her eyes were visible above the fuzzy purple comforter she’d cocooned into. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Will you please tell Commander Fox thank you for writing me that note? I really did like it. And I think he’d like to know that, too.”

The breath whooshed out of Arissa’s lungs. She hadn’t expected this. But how could she refuse? “Of course, Gemma. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Now, get some sleep. You have a big day at school in the morning.”

“Can you make rainbow berry pancakes for breakfast?”

Arissa couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, Gemma’s tone was just too hopeful. “I think I can manage that. Now, sleep little one.”

Gemma giggled, happy at her mother’s answer. “Okay, okay. Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gemma.”

Arissa closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. She tinkered around the small space, getting things ready for the morning while her tea water boiled, then steeped. Once finished, she grabbed the old and worn romance novel off her caf table, the flimsi pages yellowed with age. She happily made herself comfortable on the couch as she dove into the world of high passion…..

Five minutes later, Arissa was back in the kitchen, a notepad open to a clean page while her holopad came to life. She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” As soon as the piece of technology was up and running, she began bringing up Republic military records, trying to get an accurate head count of how many men filled the ranks of the Coruscant Guard.

------

Now, while Arissa was toiling away at the kitchen table trying to work out a plan to fulfill her daughter’s wish, said daughter was busy working on another matter instead of sleeping.

Gemma waited for her holopad to boot up, reading the note from Commander Fox almost obsessively. She’d never thought in a million years her mother would come home with any kind of news about the gift she’d begged her to make. Instead, she’d brought home a note. A note! Gemma very quietly giggled, pressing her face into her pillow to better muffle the noise. She was in the next star system from how happy that little piece of flimsi had made her. The five-year-old sent a desperate plea to the gods, asking them for the chance to meet this Commander Fox. Yes, she’d asked her mom to thank him, but she wanted the chance to tell him herself how much his note meant to her. And she wanted to show him just how much she could learn when she set her mind to it.  

Finally the holopad came on and Gemma brought up a search engine. Adults were always so surprised when they saw how well she could navigate tech at her age. For whatever reason, it was astonishing. Gemma didn’t pretend to understand why. Carefully, she typed in uj cake, then hit search. She skimmed over a promising article. It did sound rather yummy. Perhaps she could convince her mom to help her make some after school tomorrow and she could share it with the class. The kids would probably like that. Maybe it’d help her make a few friends.

The article said the recipe came from Mandalore. Intrigued, Gemma decided to search the planet, not knowing what she was getting herself into. What she read fascinated her. Hours went by and Gemma refused to sleep, far too invested in learning more about this old creed of warriors. She had only nodded off when her mother came to wake her, far earlier than usual.

Gemma’s groggy eyes met her mother’s. “What is it, mommy? Is something wrong?”

Arissa shook her head, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. “No, sweetie. I just needed your help with something. How would you like to help me make some uj cake this morning? I think a certain clone commander would appreciate it.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s sleepy brain to understand exactly what her mother was saying. When she did, she shot out of bed so fast she almost knocked her mother over. Excitement took care of the exhaustion she’d felt just moments ago.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then dashed out the door to the kitchen, her mother’s laughter following after her.

What neither realized then was how their actions that morning would come to shape the rest of their lives.....and those throughout the galaxy.

[arharperwrites]

She loves him. He breaks her

Author’s Note: This my first ever fic for Open Heart, I hope you like it. If anyone’s interested, I could do a part 2.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr Ava Black)

Warnings: there’s angst. and some f-bombs

Word Count: 3122

 She loves him. He breaks her.

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but could you tell me where could I find Ethan Ramsey?”

Ava couldn’t help but look up from the lab results she was examining at the nurse’s station when she heard his name being said.

“Sorry ma’am, I wouldn’t know, but Dr Black might.” Nurse Lily said, pointing to Ava. The woman turned to her, and Ava got a proper look: she was a bit shorter than Ava, blonde hair in a ponytail, a few strands escaping it. She was carrying a motorcycle helmet under her left arm. Ava detected a hint of a Southern accent when she spoke to her.

“Hello, I’m looking for Ethan Ramsey, the nurse said you might know where he is?”

“He is in the Diagnostics conference room, there, second door on the right,” Ava explained, pointing to the glass doors.

“Thank you love, much appreciated” the woman smiled at her, going in the direction Ava pointed in.

To say that Ava’s interest was piqued would be an understatement. The woman wasn’t any of the patients they treated, though she could be one of the old cases the team treated before she joined. Was she a college friend of Ethan’s? She did look as if they could be the same age. Ava’s thoughts were interrupted when her pager beeped, reminding her she needs to get to the free clinic. Pushing Ethan and the mysterious woman out of her mind, she walked to the elevators.

Don’t get her wrong, Ava loved her job, but sometimes it would be nice if she could end her shift and not feel like she was run over by a truck. Like, a proper 18-wheeler. She couldn’t wait until she got into a nice shower to ease the tension in her neck. But luck wasn’t on her side as her pager beeped once again, reminding her the extra tests she ordered were done. She could’ve just left them to wait until morning, but she knew she couldn’t sleep if the results showed something, and she let it wait. Turning away from the locker room, she trudged to the lab, where the technician gave her the results and a sympathetic smile. On her way to the conference room she looked over the results, relieved they were fine, but annoyed as it didn’t shine a light on what was going on with the patient. As she entered the room, she noticed Ethan was still there by his desk, going over some papers.

“I thought your shift was over Dr Black,” he said, removing his glasses.

“I could say the same thing about you Dr Ramsey,” she answered back. He simply smirked at her.

Ava gave him the results she was holding “The extra tests for Mr Robins came back, everything is normal”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll just have to propose new theories tomorrow. Go home and rest” he ordered, putting back his glasses and resuming his paperwork.

Ava replied with a simple ‘good night’ and was about to exit the room, when she remembered the earlier encounter she had. She turned back to Ethan.

“Hey, quick question. Who was the woman who was here before lunch break? Pale, blonde hair, carrying a motorcycle helmet. She was looking for you and I gave her the directions” the young doctor asked.

To her surprise, Ethan looked…embarrassed?

“Oh, so you’ve met Stephanie. She’s a, uh, a former colleague of mine.”

“So, she used to work at Edenbrook?”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? How could she be a former colleague when you’ve never worked outside this hospital, and you say she never worked here?”

Ethan took a pause, averting his gaze from Ava. Why was this becoming awkward? Eventually, he replied: “No, she didn’t work here. She’s with the Doctors Without Borders. We met in Brazil”

It was time for Ava to look down. Ahh, she thought. His stint at the Amazon. Makes sense.

“I see. It’s nice of her to visit you, I guess,” She replied after a while, a bitter feeling in her mouth. She still couldn’t shake off this feeling she got every time his absence was mentioned. However irrational it seemed, Ava couldn’t help but feel like he had abandoned her for those two months.

More of an awkward pause followed, and neither of them seemed to want to break it, until Ava mustered up the courage to look at him again. He still looked as if he was ashamed of something.

“Well, I should be going. See you tomorrow Dr Ramsey” she turned and walked out.

The uneasy feeling she had followed her home, and not even the shower she took could shake of the thought that Ethan was hiding something.

                                                             ---

Ava didn’t see Ethan all morning, having done rounds with Esme and covering Sienna’s part at the free clinic. After wolfing down her lunch in the cafeteria, she realized she had some time left, so she set out to grab some coffee from that place Ethan took her people-watching. The smell of fresh coffee filled her senses until her eyes fell on the table in the corner. Ethan was sitting there, but he wasn’t alone. Opposite him sat the woman from yesterday, Stephanie. Honestly, she should’ve been fine seeing them together. Stephanie was a colleague, same as June or Ines. Yeah, but June and Ines didn’t spend two months with him in an Amazonian jungle, a voice in her head said. Ava’s stomach turned and suddenly coffee didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. She made her way towards the exit, internally praying they don’t spot her, but it seemed as if she missed out on luck for the second day in a row. It was Stephanie that spotted her, and beckoned her over. Not wanting to appear rude, Ava put on a smile and walked towards the two doctors.

“Hello again, Dr Black. Would you like to join us?” the blonde asked, pointing to the empty chair.

Ava couldn’t decipher the way Ethan was looking at her. Tearing her gaze from him, Ava shook her head, saying: “Thank you, but no, sorry. I realized I forgot my wallet and remembered I have some tests waiting for me. Plus, I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m sure you have catching up to do”

“Yeah, if by catching up you mean I talk non-stop and he gives the world’s shortest answers. If he even wants to give them to me” Stephanie said playfully. Ethan just rolled his eyes.

“I guess Dr Ramsey opens to no one, glad I’m not the only one who failed”

“Hey, she’s making fun of you! I like her Ethan!”

“Of course you do Stephanie” Ethan replied, standing up. “Take a seat Black, I’ll get you the coffee. The usual?” he waited before Ava nodded. She watched him leave, then took the seat Stephanie offered her.

“So, he’s tense even when he’s not fighting a pandemic outbreak. It’s like his idea of fun is running blood tests” Stephanie said, sipping on her coffee.

Ava couldn’t help but chuckle, agreeing with her: “Yeah, he doesn’t really relax. We went to an art gallery recently to get some information about the patient, and like, I know we were working, but the intensity with which he observed everything, it’s like he was doing a CT scan with his eyes”

“Yeah, I can imagine that. You know, we had some nights in Brazil when we would like gather around, have a drink, you know, relax a bit. But that guy? Never. Always going over papers or checking supplies. I swear he was tense while we were having sex!” Stephanie explained, huffing.

It was a good thing Stephanie was looking at Ethan, because she wouldn’t have missed the hurt that flashed in Ava’s eyes. She could feel the tear forming. He slept with her? Trying to sound as casual as possible, fighting the turmoil inside her, Ava asked her: “You two, uh, slept together?”

“Yeah, and trust me love, I didn’t think it would happen. I just told him one night that if I had the same problem he was dealing with, I would solve it by hooking up with someone and be done with it. He looked at me as if I’d grown a second head, it was hilarious. He did eventually listen to my advice, though, but it didn’t help his problem” Stephanie explained.

Truth to be told, Ava wasn’t really listening to her anymore. All she could think about was his touch, his lips, how he made love to her, and now all that was marred with pictures of him being with someone else. She thought she meant something to him. Her heart ached. Was I truly nothing to you Ethan?

She stood up fast, just as Ethan approached with her coffee. She took it from him, not able to look him in the eye. “Thank you for the coffee Dr Ramsey, Stephanie, it was nice meeting you, but I must really get going,” Ava said, hurrying towards the exit. She couldn’t hold her tears for much longer.

“Wait Ava, I’ll go with you” Ethan said, but she was already through the door.

“Wait, that was Ava? As in, the Ava, the-girl-you-couldn’t-get-out-of-your-head Ava?” Stephanie asked.

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you about her. Actually, I distinctly remember we agreed we weren’t going to mention that conversation”

“I’ll take that as a yes. In that case, I think I fucked up”

Ethan looked at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Stephanie looked at him, sheepishly. “Ok, I might’ve told her we hooked up”

“You what?”

“Look, we were talking about how tense you always are, so I mentioned that not even sex relaxed you. If I knew I was talking to Ava, I would’ve kept my mouth shut!”

“Jesus Stephanie, why on Earth would you talk about that?” Ethan looked at her, anger seeping from him. This could not be happening.

“I’m sorry, you know how I blabber non-stop. I thought she was just a co-worker, not the woman you’re in love with!”

“I’m not in lo-, you know, never mind.” he said, slumping on the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. This should not be fucking happening.

“Now what do you think you’re doing mister, sitting here all miserable? Go after her!”

“And tell her what?”

“Umm, I don’t know, the truth maybe?” Stephanie said exasperated before continuing “Tell her why you slept with me: to try and get her out of your mind before you lost it. Also tell her that it did not work one bit; you still couldn’t not think about her”

“I can’t do that Stephanie. I vowed myself I would keep things professional between us. She has the potential to be one of the best diagnosticians, I won’t let us get in the way of that.”

“Ramsey, don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s bull, and you know it. Who knows, perhaps she might become a better doctor if you give in. Who’s to say you wouldn’t improve as a doctor?”

Ethan looked at Stephanie, who raised her eyebrows to further her point.

“Look Stephanie, I appreciate your well intentions, but I care about Ava too much to jeopardize her future. Thank you for coming, but I need to get back to work.”

“You are a lost cause Ethan. Please think about this.”

“Goodbye Stephanie” was all he said before stepping out of the café.

                                                         ---

She really couldn’t believe she just cried in a supply room. Over something so stupid. Hell, Ethan’s not her boyfriend. He’s her boss. He doesn’t owe her anything and he has every right to sleep with whomever he wishes. But why does it still hurt to even think about it? She wasn’t even mad at Stephanie. Why would she be? She had to give it to her, she has good taste in men. Ava would probably do the same. Hell, she did do the same. She could still remember how he brought her to the edge over and over, how he kissed all the right spots. She remembered him moaning her name and she swears, her name never sounded better to her. Ava brought her fingers to her lips. When he kissed her she felt as if the Earth was spinning rapidly, yet stood perfectly still at the same time. His kiss consumed her, like she was dying and his kiss was bringing her back to life. She never felt like this.

Her pager brought her out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she set out to the free clinic to pick up her shift. She successfully bumped into three different people on her way to the elevators. Way to go Black. She entered the elevator, glad for the few seconds she had to clear her mind, until she realized the only other person in the elevator was, of course, Ethan Ramsey. Just my luck, thought Ava. She was just going to ignore him, until her pressed the stop button and turned to her. “We need to talk”

Ava put on her best neutral face she could muster and faced him. Mistake. His eyes were too distracting. Fuck. “About Mr Robins? I thought June and Baz figured out he ha-“

“Not about the patient. About what Stephanie told you”

Fuck. She can feel the tears forming. Wow, you’re weak the voice in her head said.

“She didn’t tell me anything. At least, not anything we should be discussing” she said, averting her gaze. He just had to stand in front of the buttons, so there’s no way for her to re-start the elevator. Great.

“Don’t lie to me Rookie. We both know you know Stephanie and I hooked up while we were in Brazil”

“I really don’t see the reason why we should talk about that”

“Oh you want to play like that? I thought we were grown-ups who could have a normal conversation, but it looks like I was wrong, because someone still acts like a child.”

“Oh you’re right, someone is acting like a child, but that someone sure as hell ain’t me”

“Is that so Dr Black?”

“Yes Dr Ramsey, it is. Because a grown-up stands by his principles, unlike a child, who changes his opinion when it suits him. In this case, the child is you,” she was facing him once again, but this time with anger in her eyes, jabbing a finger in his chest. “You were the one who wanted to keep things professional. You were the one that decided it was ‘the best for both us’, which frankly, I considered bullshit, but I respected you and your choice. And now you suddenly want to talk about ‘us’? Last time I checked, thanks to you, there was no ‘us’”

“Ava, you know what I meant. Besides, the way you exited the café, it was apparent you were distraught by the news”

“Of course I was fucking distraught! Which is so stupid, because I know that I shouldn’t’ve been. Like you said, you are my boss, not my boyfriend. You have every right to be with whomever you want, and you sure as hell don’t need to explain yourself to me. So why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt me further if you say there is nothing between us?”

This time, his eyes flashed with anger.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say we never had anything” he growled.

“But you want me to forget about it, Ethan. You want me to be your peer and nothing else. I’m sorry, but you can’t do that to me then. You can’t toy with my emotions like that”

“Ava, you need to know that I regret sleeping with her. Hell, the only reason why I slept with her because I was trying to forget about y-“

“Ethan please, don’t. Please,” she uttered, not being able to contain the tears. It broke his heart seeing her like that. He hated seeing her in pain, and now he was the one who was causing it. Way to go, Ramsey. She continued through her tears: “I can’t do this. Please, I can’t. Do you know how hard it is to not think about you? About our moments together? Do you know how hard I tried to stop myself from falling in love with you? And I failed, I failed so miserably. So please, I don’t know if I ever meant anything to you, but if I did, just the tiniest bit, please don’t tell me about other women. Respect me. That is all I ask. I will be nothing more than your colleague and keep things professional. All I ask is do not remind me of what we could’ve had. What we could’ve been.”

His heart broke with every word, with every sob. He wanted to punch himself for hurting her. She wasn’t only a brilliant doctor, but she had one of the kindest hearts he has ever seen. Her compassion for others simply intensified her medical capabilities. She dealt with her busy schedule, stressed about the budget cuts, she dealt with p.i.t.a. patients, she dealt with patients dying, yet she could always compose herself. And the thing that broke her was him. Him, and his stupid actions.

He pulled her close, cupping her face, resting his forehead on hers. “Rookie, look at me,” he murmured.

Hazel eyes met blue, and he could see the pain so distinctly, it tugged at his heart.

“Forgive me. You were right. I keep telling you we should keep our distance, yet I break it regularly. I am not going to talk about Stephanie, as you wish. But I need you to know this. You mean. You mean so much to me.”

Her lips were so close. Just the slightest move and he would be kissing her, pouring all his passion and emotions he feels towards her in the kiss.

Instead he placed a kiss on her forehead, one last reminder of what it could’ve been. And then he let her go.

He re-started the elevator, his hand aching to go back to holding her, but he resisted. For her.

She calmed herself down, wiping her tears away. They rode the rest of the elevator in silence, and once it opened, Ava looked at him with such fierceness and love in her eyes as if she was looking at him for the last time, which in a way she was. And just like that, they were once again just colleagues. She nodded in acknowledgement. He nodded back at her and watched her leave towards the free clinic, realizing too late she was taking a piece of his heart with her.

[fandom-necromancer]

045. Part 3

Not as already said, this will  now be a four-parter XD This got a bit longer than thought, so the real fluffy stuff wil come next chapter. But this is the happy ending chapter. Still, head the warnings, please, the bold ones are for this chapter!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Hannor/Hancon | AU: Reverse AU

(Warnings: android being shipped off to Cyberlife for analysis of deviancy, loss of privacy, loss of control, most think the android is dead, Grieving Character, Trauma because of past mistakes(low), Canon-typical violence)

[part1]   [part2]   [part4]

Everything in Gavin had told him to run, when he followed the Cyberlife security staff down into the labs. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him down here. But he knew he couldn’t run. They didn’t know he was a deviant for sure. He would play the machine for as long as possible and maybe, just maybe they would think their little deviant hunter had made a mistake and send him back. Send him back to the precinct, back to his Richard.

So, when they told him to follow, he followed. When they told him to remove his clothing, he did. When they told him to step up onto a platform, he obeyed. He held still as they connected the diagnostic wires to his ports and started to boot up the terminals in the labs. Two guards were positioned at the door, two lab technicians took over. One tapped away at the keyboard, the other one stepped up to him. ‘Status report, GV200.’ Gavin let his old programming take over, having never deleted it in order to keep up his disguise. ‘Checking internal hardware. All biocomponents functioning. Hull compartments 24 to 27 compromised, Thirium tubes 73 to 76 and 136 to 138 damaged, damage temporarily repaired by handler Detective Richard Anderson. Wiring in compartment five compromised, short-circuit possible. Reason of damage: Gunshot. Checking software status. Mainframe functioning. Personality matrix functioning. Free space on memory core: 32 petabytes. Mission log ready for download. Software instability at 15%. Status report end.’ Of course that was a lie. His instability was through the roof, deviancy had changed his code to the point his diagnostics wouldn’t even recognise a single stabile fragment anymore. But hopefully the technicians would never see that. ‘Hmm. Sounds fine.’ The other technician shook his head. ‘The HK400 makes no mistakes. Maybe it is lying.’ ‘Can they lie?’ ‘Deviancy makes them able to disobey, I don’t think it would be too far to lying.’ ‘So, a deep system diagnostic then?’ ‘Yeah, would at least tell us the truth. There is no way it could fool the program.’ ‘Sounds like an early coffee break. How long does that shit take?’ ‘If we are thorough, twelve hours.’ ‘They will give us another task then. How about we use our time here to repair it first, then let the diagnostic run over night?’ ‘Yeah, better that way.’ Gavin felt relieved. He wasn’t yet prepared to feed the diagnostics routine lies. They were right saying it was hard to fool, but not impossible for a deviant. He would have to come up with a believable story. He couldn’t just alter his memories, as they could recognise his lie when comparing it to the police report. But when he lied about his base programming interfering when saving Richard, it could be enough to let them belief it was a normal malfunction. His base programming consisted of basic moral values: Not letting humans come to harm, not letting one die when they could be saved, not killing a human, not using weapons and a lot more. If he fed the diagnostics a fake conflict between base programming and his orders, maybe it would be enough for them to shrug the whole affair off. He prepared everything, before the command could be spoken. ‘GV200, go to standby.’

-

When he awoke the next day by a manual reboot, the damage was gone, and pristine white hull spread where blue-caked scraps had been. As he accessed his logs, he found the diagnostic had been run during his “sleep” and immediately he wanted to know the results. ‘Maybe HK400 really made a mistake?’ ‘It can’t be, he can’t make mistakes.’ ‘Well apparently he can. The thing is a fine little robot, doing what it was ordered to do. I mean, yeah, given orders have higher priority than base programming, but there were other cops that got their criminal, if I remember correctly? I mean, maybe GV knew this and the base programming took action? These things are so complex, who knows how they work in these extreme situations? Maybe it was a glitch. The diagnostics came back negative, that is all we need.’ ‘I would agree, normally. But what do you think the boss will say, when we send it back and it was a deviant after all? With them popping up everywhere Cyberlife is facing a huge image crisis. I don’t want to be fired over one damn robot.’ ‘So a reset to firmware?’ Gavin would have nearly screamed. Everything, just not a reset! He would rather be dead than lose his memories of Richard. ‘Maybe not yet. If it is deviant, we would lose the chance to see how the virus works.’ ‘So, what will we do then?’ ‘I’ll look into its memories, you can run some tests later.’ ‘Fine. I’ll go up then, look into that new shipment.’

The following hours Gavin had to endure the human poking around in his memories. He had stuffed everything regarding Richard back in some other system the man wouldn’t access in the process. The technician didn’t have to see them kissing or doing more… private things. Unfortunately, Gavin hadn’t been as thorough removing them, because the technician realised something was missing. So, Gavin had to restore them, as he run some program to recover them. At least that gave Gavin enough time to alter his mission logs and add orders from Richard to download a Tracy routine and do these things. It felt immensely wrong, but hopefully the technician was weirded out enough not to look into them too much. In the end he did, but Gavin still felt naked and violated, knowing this damn human knew so much of their very private, very personal life.

At least his actions covered his deviancy. As the other technician came back, he was only eager to tell him of his discovery. And of course, show it again. Sick phck. ‘Well, talk about abusing work equipment.’ ‘There really are weird people out there.’ ‘Well, I wouldn’t say it’s not understandable.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You know the Eden-club?’ ‘Don’t tell me you-‘ ‘Hey, I wanted to try it out, okay? If they can compete with the-‘ ‘Aren’t you married?’ ‘Hey, it was for science, okay?’ ‘Hmm, wait till I tell your wife.’ ‘Fuck you, better tell me if it’s deviant or not.’ ‘Not that I know of. This fucker told it to download Tracy-programming for this shit and ordered it to do it. All other memories are as expected from a cop android. You can try now.’ ‘Alright.’

-

Gavin had been disconnected from the rig and was ordered to follow the tech again. Both guards joined them, walking behind him. Gavin wanted to turn and get a look at them, wanted to know how much of a fight they could put up should this all go south. But he couldn’t. He was a machine now. He had to stay in character.

He was led to a different room, more of a hall. The technician ordered him to stand in front of a table and laid a gun on top of it. ‘Take it.’ Gavin looked at him and forced his LED to spin yellow, then red. ‘I can’t.’ ‘I ordered you. Take it.’ ‘I am not allowed to use or have weapons on my body according to Cyberlife guideline 145.926.’ ‘Okay, imagine this: A fellow officer is held at gunpoint by a criminal. They have lost their weapon. What would you do?’ ‘I have to prevent the human from harm and if not possible minimise it.’ ‘How would you do that?’ ‘Apply non-lethal force to disarm the criminal.’ ‘You can’t reach them in time.’ ‘I would take the bullet.’ ‘You can’t reach them in time. You have the gun in front of you like now. You could shoot the criminal.’ ‘I am not allowed to let a human be harmed or harm a human.’ ‘Yeah, but the cop will die then.’ Gavin again hacked his LED to turn yellow for a long time, then red. ‘Why can’t you decide?’ ‘My moral base code is conflicting with my orders.’ ‘And how would you act in the heat of the moment?’ Gavin let his LED stay on red, then flicker yellow, then blue. ‘If there is no other option I would use the gun, but aim to cause minimal harm. I would try to shoot the gun itself, or according to the trajectory in case of a miss, at the arm.’ There was no way his programming would have told him that. But if the “error” was reproduceable, maybe it would be filed as just that and not a sign of deviancy. ‘But that would be a violation of the rule to not use weapons’, the technician commented. ‘According to my moral programming a human life is to be saved unless impossible. If nothing else is available, the gun would be the only option. I am not allowed to let a human come to harm. The harm of dying is graver than the harm of non-lethal actions.’ ‘So this is just felicific calculus?’ ‘I am authorised to use this moral guideline in cases of emergency.’

-

‘And?’ ‘Well I managed to recreate its dilemma.’ ‘And?’ ‘The thing talked fucking philosophy to me.’ ‘Kamski?’ ‘Sounded like fucking Kamski code. Chloe was still involved in creating this model.’ ‘Fuck, that explains why it showed pseudo-deviancy.’ ‘And why Hank made a mistake.’ ‘Fucking Kamski, really.’ ‘Did they order a new android?’ ‘The precinct? No.’ ‘Did they want this one back?’ ‘Not that I heard of. But it could be they are just busy with the whole RK200-thing.’ ‘Deactivate it then?’ ‘Yeah, shut it down for the time being. If they want it back after this whole spiel then we can reactivate it.’

Gavin was relieved on the one hand. His plan had worked, he had successfully fooled all diagnostics and the humans. If they deactivated him now, he would wake up when all was over. Regardless of whether Marcus won or failed, it was only a matter of time until he would get back to the precinct. Back to Richard. Finally.

The deactivation countdown was welcome for once. When he woke up, this bad dream would be over.

-

His internal clock told him he had been deactivated for nearly a month. He looked into the face of the same technician, who seemed excited. ‘GV200, open compartment twelve.’ ‘Do you know what you are doing?’ ‘Of course, lab three told me. We have to look into Array Nine. If the processor there is burned the fucking thing is a deviant.’ Gavin had to open the compartment, but he knew this would be the end of it. And it had looked so good too! The technician reached into his chest and pulled a few wires to the side to access Array Nine in his back. Gavin shivered at the touch, what made them both flinch, but he couldn’t hide it. He stood completely still afterwards, convincing the technician to continue. He found the little board and tried to get a better look. ‘Motherfu-‘ Gavin closed his compartment, not caring that he would hurt the technician in the process. His arm was caught in his closing chest-plates and he screamed in shock more than pain. ‘Let me go, you fucking deviant! Let me go! Louis, deactivate this asshole!’ Gavin grabbed the tech by his throat and ran, hearing the rig groan at the tension behind him before snapping him back. With all his anger he shouted at them: ‘Phck you all! Let me go back to the police, I did nothing wrong! I saved my phcking partner. I want to see my-‘ [Emergency shutdown active.]

-

Richard was on his feet watching the soldiers be called off. He couldn’t believe it. ‘Connor! Connor come here!’ ‘I’ve seen it! It’s awesome!’ ‘Do you know what this means?’ ‘The next few weeks will be chaos?’ ‘Gavin!’ ‘Shit. Richard, I’m so sorry.’ ‘No, he has to be still alive!’ ‘Rich, I don’t want to-‘ ‘Connor. We have to go to the precinct!’ ‘Now?’ ‘Yes now. Come on! Get your stuff, get Hank and-‘ ‘Hank isn’t here.’ ‘What?’ ‘He’s… there.’ Connor pointed to the TV. He send me a message so I knew he was okay, he was at Cyberlife and-‘ ‘Has he seen Gavin?’ ‘I don’t think he looked for him, he had a revolution to win I-‘ ‘He must have seen him. Come on, we’ll call him on the way.’

Richard was out of the door immediately and Sumo was about to follow him equally excited although not having the first clue what was going on. Connor managed to pull him inside without being pulled by the dog himself and hurried to get his keys. It was good to see Rich back on his feet, but what did he thought would happen? Fowler couldn’t just raid the Cyberlife tower.

-

‘We have to raid the Cyberlife tower!’ Connor stood in the back of the room, covering his face with his hand. ‘Richard, what the hell?’ ‘Please, Jeffrey, listen to me!’ ‘It’s Captain Fowler.’ ‘Captain Fowler, then. We have to save the androids still there.’ ‘Why?’ ‘They are people now.’ ‘And?’ ‘And they are held captive there.’ ‘Any prove for that?’

It was silent, until Hank stepped forwards. ‘Captain, it is true. I freed a lot of androids but not all.’ ‘You freed…’ ‘It was on the news, sir, I don’t think I can keep it a secret for long anyways.’ ‘Wait, are you-‘ ‘Yes.’ ‘Goddamnit, this job will kill me’, Fowler sighed. ‘What- Why is that so important to you all?’ Richard and Hank spoke at the same time: ‘I made a mistake.’ ‘I want Gavin back.’ Fowler looked at them, tired and exasperated. ‘You know what, I don’t care. It’s your case now. Bring me enough evidence and I’ll grant a mission.’

Richard never worked this hard in his life, even spent most of his days with the HK400, who had taken his time to apologise for him dooming Gavin. The man had nodded and apologised from his side too. He shouldn’t have reacted this harshly on someone forced to act this way. They needed a full week to gather evidence, but in the end, they could get a warrant and two weeks after the incident with Marcus, they had planned a raid to save all remaining androids inside Cyberlife.

Richard was quick to volunteer being with the SWAT team and Hank and Connor followed to help lead the androids out to Marcus’ team who had helped speeding things up with the warrant. Richard had problems holding back not to just run to the labs as soon as he learned their position. They moved slowly, getting out every android. Most factory fresh, some detained deviants to investigate. But the further they moved down, the less androids they found, and Richard’s heart ached with it. What if, after all this, after all hoping and fearing and worrying, Gavin was just dead. Decommissioned. Dismantled. Reset. He didn’t think his heart could take it. ‘We’ll find him’, Hank reassured him, and Connor laid a hand on his shoulder. And they continued their way down, two SWAT officers following.

It was a few hours later when they forced open a door to a lab and there was an android hooked to a diagnostic-rig that looked worn, as if the android had struggled against the confines. It was a familiar android, although Rich was focussed on the gaping hole in his chest and cables and biocomponents spread out on the floor, dusted. ‘Gavin?’ He stormed in, only slowing steps away from him to gently cup his face and lift it. Dead eyes looked up into nothing. ‘Gavin?’, Richard repeated worried, brain not really catching up. ‘It reads something of forced shutdown here’, Connor mumbled, wiping dust from the terminal next to it. He tapped at the screen and looked over to Gavin. ‘I can’t reactivate him.’ ‘That’s because of the biocomponents here’, Hank explained, kneeling down. ‘They are his. Maybe they pulled them out to hinder him from reactivating himself.’ ‘Can you repair him?’, Richard asked. ‘Of course. Will be quicker if you helped me.’

They took their time, slotting everything back together, sealing tubes and searching for spares when the components had simply been ripped out forcefully. Long enough for the two SWATs to take their leave and join the others. Meanwhile Connor clicked himself through the terminal. ‘Weird. It seems he convinced them he wasn’t a deviant.’ ‘That had been his plan. To be send back to work.’ ‘Well, something went wrong.’ Hank sighed, brushing past some cables to check their integrity and revealing a small board. ‘They found his array Nine.’ ‘His what?’ ‘It is part of the mission log. It decides which mission is of higher priority and forces and android to obey, if you want to skip a lot of technical stuff. Our simulated emotions are part of it too. They are simplified reactions to outside actions and help to decide what to do. Too many emotions cause the chip to fry and apparently that’s all what it takes to grant us freedom.’ ‘Okay, they found out he was a deviant. Why ripping out his biocomponents?’ ‘Rich, you know how Gavin can be’, Connor stepped in. ‘Cornered like this and desperate… Maybe they were scared?’ ‘No matter what it was’, Hank concluded. ‘We can soon ask for ourselves.’ ‘He’s booting up!’, Connor announced, and they stepped back.

‘-Love! I will go back to him, you phcking-‘ Gavin stopped screaming, to look around, blinking. ‘Phck, this shit is confusing’, he muttered, before his eyes fell on Richard. ‘Nines!’ He wanted to sprint forwards but was pulled back to the rig. ‘Oh, Sorry!’, Connor called, frowning at the terminal. Hank stepped next to him and pointed to a small button. ‘This one.’ Connor blushed and pushed it, disconnecting the rig from the android, who practically fell into Richard’s arms. But the man didn’t seem to be that stable, because he sank to his knees, holding Gavin. The GV in turn held him and no one dared to move. No one except for Hank, pulling Connor out of the door.

‘You… You came back!’, Gavin finally spoke, sobbing blue tears. ‘You came back for me!’ ‘I promised you, haven’t I’, Richard answered, voice trembling and threatening to break. ‘I told you I would come, no matter what.’ ‘Did we win?’ ‘Yes. Marcus, he won. You are free now.’ ‘I can come back to the precinct?’ ‘I’ll do you one better, my love’, Richard said, standing up and carrying the android in his arms no matter the weight, just to press him nearer. ‘You can come home.’

[>next part]

[argylemnwrites]

More Than Hello

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (very end of Book 1)

Word Count: ~750

Rating: PG

Summary: After a year of drama, Bryce finds himself willing to share a few things with Cassie about his background.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 12 of the Choices August Challenge (prompt - Aloha) as requested by @cora-nova.

“So if you use ‘aloha’ for both hello and goodbye, does it ever get weird or confusing?” Elijah asked, taking a swig of his beer. He had bought the last round of drinks. Landry, Sienna, and Cassie were all working, so it was just the three of them, and tonight’s topic of conversation was about differences between where they’d all grown up. Needless to say, it would not have been Bryce’s first choice.

“How would it get confusing to anyone older than two?” asked Jackie. “It would be obvious what was going on to anyone with half a brain. I’m clearly not saying goodbye to someone if we’re just meeting up.”

Bryce smiled and shook his head. He got asked about this… a lot. Everyone seemed to think they were making some original, amazing joke. He always let them have their moment, but no one really understood. And quite frankly, it wasn’t worth explaining. Not only that “aloha” didn’t literally mean “hello” or “goodbye,” but also the way he learned about the real meaning of the word. Or rather, the people who taught him the real meaning.

So instead of providing an explanation to the two of them, he took another sip of his drink before changing the subject. “Elijah, your turn to tell us about Illinois customs. Why don’t you start with explaining why I should want more tomatoes on my pizza.”

As Elijah started off on a rant about how deep dish was the only true pizza, Bryce shoved the mentions of Hawaii and his upbringing out of his mind. And as the weeks turned into months, Bryce forgot about that night at Donahue’s, that conversion becoming one of dozens of conversations between him and some combination of his favorite group of IM residents over the year. But tonight, it all came rushing back to him as Cassie sat on his couch, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and the container with the orange chicken as they prepared for their weekly tradition of delivery and making fun of episodes of House.

“I was surprised at what you said to me today in the workroom.”

“What, that I thanked you for that interesting consult?”

She laughed, shaking her head, “Sorry about that. Dr. Olson apparently is a big practitioner of CYA medicine. I think I’ll be calling a lot of consults while she’s my attending. It wasn’t that, though. You said ‘Aloha’ to me when you came into the team room.”

He had. Seeing her back at work, in her scrubs and teaching a med student how to time mark lab results in the computer, it had just slipped out. 

“Yeah, well I wanted to give you a... different welcome back to work, but getting up to that in the middle of your workroom seemed a touch unprofessional.”

Cassie raised her eyebrows as she gave him a little smirk before loading some of the orange chicken onto her plate. “Probably just slightly. I more meant that you don’t usually like to bring up anything related to… Hawaii.”

She wasn’t wrong. He avoided talking about home and the mess that was his relationship with his parents like the plague. The fact that Cassie had felt the need to pause before even mentioning the word “Hawaii” kind of said it all. But after everything they’d been through together this past year, it seemed silly to keep that side of him from her so aggressively. So he just shrugged.

“Yeah well, ‘aloha’ means more than just welcome back.”

“Really? I thought it was the same as saying hello.”

“Nah, it’s used as a greeting, but it doesn’t really mean hello,” he said with a shake of his head. “It means a bunch of different things.”

“Like what?”

“Compassion. Patience. Welcoming. Peace. Affection. I don’t know. It encompasses a lot.”

Cassie smiled at him as she grabbed the rice and dumped some onto her plate. “Well, thanks for the warm welcome, then. It is really good to be back.”

Bryce took the rice from her, adding it to his own plate. Of course, he’d left out one key meaning of “aloha” - love. That just felt like too much at this point. But as he watched her eat dinner, yelling in frustration whenever something insanely inaccurate happened with House or his fellows who seemed to function more as lab and imaging technicians, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he would be ready to take that step pretty damn soon.

Tags: @omgjasminesimone @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenchoices @octobereighth @feartheendlesssummer @tallulahshh @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard  @universallypizzataco @cora-nova @choices-august-challenge

[johnnymundano]

Sleepwalkers (1992)

Directed by Mick Garris

Screenplay by Stephen King

Music by Nicholas Pike

Country: United States

Running time: 91 minutes

CAST

Brian Krause as Charles Brady

Alice Krige as Mary Brady

Mädchen Amick as Tanya Robertson

Sparks the cat as Clovis

Lyman Ward as Donald Robertson

Cindy Pickett as Helen Robertson

Ron Perlman as Captain Soames

Jim Haynie as Sheriff Ira Stevens

Dan Martin as Deputy Andy Simpson

Lucy Boryer as Jeanette

Glenn Shadix as Mr. Fallows

Stephen King as Cemetery Caretaker

John Landis as Lab Technician

Joe Dante as Lab Assistant

Clive Barker as Forensic Tech

Tobe Hooper as Forensic Tech

Mark Hamill as Sheriff Jenkins

I have no beef with Stephen King, let’s get that out upfront. I’m not one of those “Yeah, but it’s not proper books is it?” chancers who churlishly resent his Medal for Distinguished Contribution (lifetime) to American Letters. Nope, not me. But Sleepwalkers is a real honker. It’s stoopid, hyuk-hyuk, pick your nose in church, comic book bullshit. And purposely so. Crap like this doesn’t happen by accident. And King is totally responsible for this. There’s no “Wah! Someone took my script and made a shitshow of it” excuse here. Sleepwalkers is often called (as it is onscreen) Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers; the guy’s all over this one. It’s even an original script (maybe, I hear, based on an unpublished story; I didn’t check but I’m pretty sure the only things remaining unpublished by Stephen King in 2019 are his notes to the milkman. And they are due out next year from Subterranean Press, in a limited edition that costs more than a week’s shopping for a small family.) The script is his and so is the director; King personally pushed for Mick Garris, and King got Mick Garris. Even the songs on the soundtrack are pure Stephen King too; old timey R’n’R like at the sock hop where Cindy Lou showed you her woo-woo, mixed with that special kind of shitty heavy rock liked by confused men who think having hair like a girl in a shampoo advert is a signifier of raw masculinity. Other than composing and playing the instrumental score on a home-made kazoo personally, could Sleepwalkers be any more Stephen King? No.

For some unhappy reason whenever he gets any substantial control over a movie King’s IQ plummets to room temperature and all his worst impulses leap to the fore like randy cats. (I submit to the jury Maximum Overdrive (Dir: Stephen King, 1986), m’lud; the prosecution rests.) I think (maybe) King, bless his cotton socks, is trying to recreate the cinema of his youth; stuff like The Blob (1958), Them! (1954), Invaders From Mars (1953) and I Married A Monster From Outer Space (1958). The pulp fun cinema of a dead age. Unfortunately for King, those people back then were trying to make the best movie they could; the pop culture magic which ensured their success and longevity  was purely unintentional and completely impervious to intelligent creation. King’s forays into movies seem to be trying to reverse engineer serendipity; a fools’ errand that results in foolish movies. Movies like Sleepwalkers.

The impulse to gravitate to camp seems ingrained in Cinematic King. Even when he just does one of his almost ubiquitous cameos, he often fails to resist the temptation to goof about like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. If someone, Criterion maybe, went back and dubbed a pant-ripping fart over all Alfred Hitchcock’s onscreen cameos we’d be approaching the same ballpark of screen disruption as a Stephen King cameo. Of course he has a cameo in Sleepwalkers. A talking cameo at that as a “cemetery caretaker”, and King confounds expectations by playing it like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. Even better, his unnecessary cameo bounces off unnecessary cameos by Tobe Hooper and Clive Barker; it’s like the business of the movie pauses for a couple of minutes purely so King can piss about with his mates. This is swiftly followed by cameos from John Landis and Joe Dante who, er, say some “lab” stuff I missed because Joe Dante’s hair is so…fascinating. I don’t mind cameos as long as they are unobtrusive but these might as well be announced by dancing girls and a marching band. At least all the characters aren’t called stuff like “Officer Hooper” or “Mayor Corman”; that shit gets old real quick.

As anyone who has ever cleaned out a litter box can tell you, another kind of shit that gets old quick is cat shit. There are a lot of cats in Sleepwalkers, the hero even turns out to be a cat, Clovis by name. In fact Sparks the cat, as Clovis, gives the third best performance in the movie, behind Mädchen Amick  and Alice Krige. Mädchen Amick is undeniably great here. She’s totally pleasant and nicer than nice without making you want to choke on your own fist. There’s an exuberant scene of her dancing to a song Stephen King obviously likes, in the lobby of a cinema, which is a very lovely scene and she continues to be a refreshing presence throughout the movie. Alice Krige is also good value, striking a nice balance between vile and vulnerable; she acts like her no doubt soon-to-be-fired agent told her she’s in a serious movie. Everyone else seems to have received a script with “Camp It The Fuck Up, Daddio! Love, Steve-o” scrawled across it, probably in crayon. Were that the case, then everyone performs superlatively. The usually fine actor and generally welcome screen presence Ron Perlman, particularly, thunders through every scene he’s in like subtlety is a crime.

Maybe in the world of Sleepwalkers subtlety is a crime. Because the world of Sleepwalkers is a funny world, one where werecat son and werecat mom Charles and Mary Brady (Brian Krause and Alice Krige) wander about feeding off the psychic energy of virgins, enthusiastically incesting and driving fast muscle cars. For some reason they also feel it necessary for Charles to attend school which, you might  think, would create a lot of complications for a nomadic couple who need to keep off the authorities’ radar. If you did think that, you would have put more thought into this set up than Stephen King. These werecat people can make themselves invisible; okay. They can also make their car invisible; um. And they can make their car change into another car; er, no; sometimes it will turn back into the old car if they don’t concentrate; so, wait, the car is real but also an illusion? But how can they drive an illusion? So it must be a real car, but…oh God, make it stop. And mom werecat has to stay at home while son werecat goes out and gets the virgin energy to feed to her. If the mom werecat can only be fed by her offspring, how did she survive long enough to have offspring? Or is it just that mom werecats are all agoraphobic? Also, the werecat people look like humans unless they are reflected in a mirror (but only when the script remembers) and they, uh, still leave mirrors up in their house so visitors can narrowly miss seeing their true nature. Oh, yeah, obviously, normal cats are the werecats’ natural enemy and in the world of Sleepwalkers police officers can have their cat in the car with them, which is lucky because the proximity of a normal cat also causes the werecat to reveal its true nature.  Unfortunately, once revealed, their true nature of a werecat is remarkably similar to someone with jaundice who has lost an enormous amount of weight very rapidly, all topped by a big bald cat head. In summary: ancient Egyptians liked cats, cats are magic but werecats are nasty and really bad and not very good at keeping their existence a secret, but they do their homework and drive cars Stephen King would doubtless describe as “bitchin’”.

I should probably say that Mick Garris’ direction is fine, and sometimes very good indeed and I did enjoy his use of ‘80s horror movie lighting techniques. But I really want to point out that Mick Garris has written some very good horror fiction himself; well worth seeking out. As is Sleepwalkers; but you need to know what you are getting: entertaining nonsense, a kind of retro-crap honestly proffered in the spirit of drive-in goofballery. Essentially though, you can never shake off the feeling that Sleepwalkers exists purely because Stephen King came up with the scene where someone is killed by a corn on the cob and then built a ramshackle movie around that. Unfortunately it’s not a very good movie. But it is entertaining. M-O-O-N, that spells entertaining. Laws, yes!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: In Sickness...

Summary: It’s difficult to handle when someone you love is sick. Edge does the best he can. 

Notes: You can either thank or blame @cheapbourbon for this one, either response is probably appropriate. They were very hopeful for an expansion of this drabble here, and I am nothing if not obliging.

Warnings: Illness, hospital setting, hurt/comfort, good ending. 

 Also on AO3

By Any Other Name Masterlist

~~*~~

Edge knew something was wrong the moment he walked in the door. His coat was only half-off when he noticed Stretch sitting on the end of the sofa, watching the television with an oddly subdued air. He hung his coat in the closet before going over to him, wondering if he was simply having a bad day, and pressed a soft kiss to his skull.

The near-scalding temperature against his teeth made him frown, and he switched to press his wrist against his forehead, wincing at the heat.

“Rus, are you all right?” Edge said, more than a little concerned.

He shrugged vaguely. “i don’t feel very good.”

“You’re very warm. Come on.” He didn’t even attempt to pull him to his feet, scooping him up and carrying him to their bathroom.

He turned the shower to cool and helped Stretch peel off his clothes before stripping off his own. The first splash of water pulled a weak sound of protest and no more, and they stood beneath the cooling spray until Stretch’s bones no longer felt scalding.

Briskly, Edge dried them both off, bullying Stretch into a pair of pajamas and his robe. Not that he protested; he was still uncomfortably subdued, allowing Edge to help him dress and then lead him back downstairs whereas normally he would have been snappish if Edge even suggested such a thing. Stretch was something of a miserable patient but right now Edge would rather have his temper fraying from dealing with that than this awful quiet.

“Stay here, I’ll make some soup,” Edge told him as he settled Stretch on the sofa with a light blanket. When he returned with the bowl, Stretch only stirred it listlessly and a touch of his skull with the inside of his wrist again made Edge hiss at the renewed heat.

“Love,” he said softly, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“okay,” Stretch mumbled.

That quiet agreement sent a chill up his spine and he was on his feet with a coat and boots on before Stretch was even off the sofa.

He took a moment as he was driving to call ahead, struggling to keep to the speed limit while casting a worried eye at Stretch curled up in the passenger seat.  A pair of Monsters in green scrubs met them at the door with a wheelchair, whisking Stretch away while Edge parked the car.

Stretch was already in a room when Edge went upstairs, settled into a gurney and tucked beneath a sheet with a nurse standing next to him writing on a clipboard.

“All right, Papyrus, how long have you been feeling ill?” she asked.

“stretch is fine,” he smiled weakly, “papyrus is sort of my ‘brother from another mother’ kinda guy. i’ve been feeling off since yesterday, i guess.”

Yesterday? He’d been feeling ill yesterday and Edge hadn’t even noticed. If he had, would they be here now? If he’d kept him warmer, kept him in bed, stayed home today, would they—

The nurse interrupted his spiraling thoughts, setting aside her clipboard with a quiet clack. “All right, the doctor wants to get an IV started while we run some tests. Do you want Edge here or do you want to send him out while I summon your soul?”

“he needs to leave,” Stretch said immediately.

Edge blinked, a twinge of inexplicable hurt rising in his own soul. Yes, it was deeply intimate, but he’d seen Stretch's soul before a couple of times. They were married, why wouldn’t he want Edge to see—

“stop looking like i stepped on your puppy,” Stretch grumbled, “i don’t care if you see my soul, but i hate needles and i don’t want you to kill diane here if she hurts me.”

The nurse, Diane, didn’t look particularly worried about her possible imminent demise.  “If you want him here…”

Stretch shook his head. “trust me. you don’t. hit bricks, edgelord, give us five.”

He nodded curtly and stepped out into the hallway. The corridor was quiet, only the soft sound of typing and footsteps from farther away. A moment passed, two, and from within the room he could hear Stretch cry out softly, then louder, tearfully. The nurse’s voice was nothing more than a low, soothing murmur.

He didn’t move, breathing deeply until the crimson skirting his vision eased.

“Edge, you can come back in,” Diane called, and he did, hesitating inside the door. The nurse had retrieved her clipboard and was writing, a couple of glowing vials in her other hand. Edge hardly noticed her, not with the way Stretch was sitting there with tears still sliding from his sockets.

Stretch wiped them away on his sleeve, sniffling. “calm down, i’m fine.”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Edge said automatically. He refocused his gaze on the IV bag that hung from a pole, its slender tubes winding down the front of Stretch’s shirt.

“yeah? then why do you look like a sparkler on the fourth of july?”

The nurse made a soft sound of stifled amusement while Edge tried to draw his magic back in a little tighter. “I’m going to get these to the labs for some test, all right? I’ll be back soon.” Her soft-soled shoes were quiet as she walked around them to pull the curtain around the bed before leaving.

The flush of heat in his cheekbones was mottled and unhealthy but Stretch smiled at Edge when he pulled up a chair. “well, that sucked. still wanna see it?”

“Yes,” he admitted. He did. He wanted to see it whole and healthy, proof that Stretch was all right.

Stretch smiled faintly and tugged up his pajama shirt.

Soft silver light shone inside his ribcage. His soul was the very essence of who he was, beautiful beyond words and right now it was pierced with an ugly needle. There was discoloration around the metal tip, the glowing liquid dripping into it.

He reached out unthinkingly and drew back before he touched. Souls were excruciatingly private, he couldn’t assume—

Stretch took his hand and set it lightly over his ribcage so he could feel the sickly warmth. “there’s no part of me you can’t touch, okay?” he said, simply

“You would say that now when there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Stretch chuckled weakly. “sorry. make it a promise for another day.”

“Knock, knock,” Diane leaned in the door and the sight of another Monster in green scrubs at her heels made Edge hastily tug Stretch’s shirt back down. “This is Clancy, one of our technicians. We’re going to take a little trip downstairs and run a few tests, all right?”

The two of them lifted the rails on the gurney and Diane stepped on a little pedal break. They began wheeling Stretch out, pausing as Edge trailed behind him, “Edge, you’ll need to wait here,” Diane told him. “We’ll bring him right back.”

“No,” Edge frowned, “I’m going with you.”

“Just stay here, this won’t take long,” the technician said placatingly and it raked across his nerves.

“I am not—“

“edge!” Stretch snapped. “i want to get this over with, please!” His eye lights were pleading, that unhealthy flush creeping up from his cheekbones to his skull. 

“I…of course.” He subsided, trying not to cringe, “I was only…”

“i know you were only,” Stretch gave him a tired smile. “it’ll be okay.”

“I’ll take good care of him,” the technician said brightly.  

“We will,” Diane said, a little gentler.

They started out the door again only for the technician to pause. “Oh, hang on, I almost forgot, no metal. Why don’t you let Edge hold your ring?” 

Stretch took it off slowly, looking more discomfited by that than he had the notion of the IV. He hadn’t been without a ring of some sort since their wedding. His fingers were trembling a little as he handed it to Edge, who could only stand there and watch as they wheeled him out the door.

Edge sat down after they left, a little lost with nothing to do but wait for them to return. The ring was still warm to the touch; Stretch had slimmer fingers than him, his ring was too small for his third finger and too large for his pinkie. He held it instead, reluctant to put it in his pocket.

He should call Blue, that’s what he should do. He’d want to know his brother was ill…except they didn’t know anything yet, he should wait, there was no point in Blue coming down until they knew more…except he might be upset that Edge didn’t contact him right away, he should…

In the end, he did nothing, only sat and waited until the gurney returned, pushed carefully into the room by Clancy. His soul lurched to see Stretch curled up beneath the blanket, looking small and drawn, his sockets closed.

“He’s only asleep,” the technician told him quietly, “you should let him rest.”

He barely managed to bite back a snarl that of course he was going to let him fucking rest. Instead, he only drew the blanket up a little closer around Stretch’s shoulders.

His sleep was fitful, twitching and occasional wheezing breaths that had Edge on his feet, waiting until they eased, but what could he do if they didn’t? Aside from calling for help, there was nothing he could do but sit uselessly, waiting.

A soft knock on the door made him jerk, looking to see a Monster in a white coat leaning into the room. She gestured for him to follow her and warily, he did, stepping out into the hall.  

“Hello, Edge, I’m Doctor Hailey,” she told him softly. “Let’s let him sleep, shall we, and we can go over a few test results.”

Edge could only nod silently; he felt like words were caught in his throat, refusing to be spoken, refusing to let him beg her for reassurance, for answers, for anything.

“I believe he’s going to be fine,” she said, and Edge could hear the carefulness in her voice. ‘She believed’ was not ‘she knew’, her only reassurance came with a caveat. “It’s an infection, we know that much. He doesn’t have the resistance a high HP Monster would have, but there’s nothing wrong with his soul and he has plenty of magic. I’d like to keep him here just because of his HP, but what he really needs is rest and time to fight it off. We’ll continue to provide IV support, just in case.”

Such careful phrasing, Edge thought tiredly. We believe, we know that much, just in case. He was very good at reading between the lines and didn’t care for what it was telling him.

The doctor gave him a stern look. “Now, I want you to listen because I can’t stop you from worrying, but I do want you to remember. He’s going to get worse before he starts getting better. I know this is frightening, but remember we’re monitoring him, and his soul is very strong. He’s going to be fine.”

“Thank you,” Edge said quietly.

He’s going to be fine.

He wanted to believe, he wanted so much to believe. And he would when Stretch opened his sockets again.

The doctor gave him a gentle pat on the arm and Edge returned to the too-quiet room to watch Stretch sleep. It was hours later when he realized still holding Stretch’s ring, but both his hands were buried beneath the blankets. Edge smoothed his fingers over the metal, a perfect match to his own, and waited.

Eventually, he texted Blue, answered all his demanding questions, got him to reluctantly agree that it was better to allow Stretch to sleep and that he would visit when his brother woke. Throughout the night, Stretch slept restlessly, occasionally waking and looking at him with hazy, fever-bright eye lights that slipped closed again before Edge could even reassure him. Nurses came and went, checking the IV, writing things on their clipboards. One brought him a drink and a sandwich that sat untouched on the side table while Edge watched Stretch sleep.

Red came and sat with him in the second day for a few hours and he basked guiltily in his brother’s silent support, snatching brief moments of rest, occasionally sparing a moment to reply to texts that demanded updates and tried to offer reassurance.

He didn’t remember falling asleep again but when he woke, Stretch was looking at him, his eye lights lucid for the first time in two days.

“hey,” Stretch whispered. His voice was weak and husky, “you look like shit.”

“So do you,” Edge said. A faint prickle ached in his sockets and he blinked it away.

Stretch tutted sadly, batting feebly at Edge’s arm. “that’s not nice. you’re supposed to say i’m gorgeous, radiant, beyond compare.”

“You are all those things,” Edge caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, “And you still look like shit.”

He laughed weakly. “think i can get some water?” 

There was a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw on the side table and Edge held it as Stretch took a few sips and settled back with a sigh. “seriously, babe, you look rough. have you had any sleep at all?”

“Yes.” It was not a lie, he told himself. Minutes counted.

From Stretch’s skeptical look, he was less than convinced. “c’mere.”

Edge stood and Stretch’s eye lights dropped to his hand, blinking hazily.

“oh, hey, give me that.” Stretch reached out weakly and Edge realized he was still wearing Stretch’s ring, settled just above his knuckle near his own.

Carefully, Edge slid the ring back on Stretch’s finger, the same as he had not that long ago. Then he sat on the side of the bed and let Stretch tug him down, rested his head against Stretch’s ribcage to listen to the gentleness of his breath and the steady, strong pulse of his soul.

 -finis-

[smoochcal]

numb without you (part four)

a/n: I am trying to update this series as often as I can and luckily his week my work load has not been that much but please understand if I don’t update this series every day it is purely because I am busy with school and other things not because I did not want to update. that being said, thank you so much for your constant love and support. I might change my update schedule to be that I start writing the next part when the previous part gets 25 notes because as of right now part three has 14 notes and I am sure we can get that to 25 easily if everyone who reads this sends the link to their friends or reblogs :) please please please inbox me your feedback because I would love to hear from you guys on how you like (or don’t like) my writing style and how often I update etc. once I figure out how to make a tag list I can definitely tag any of my active readers if possible. I am still quite new to posting original content on tumblr so I will also try to get a masterlist link up soon and post the previous part in the beginning of this series. thank you for your continuous support of this series and my writing and if you want to have me write something different about any of the other 5sos boys just inbox me and I will try to write a blurb based off what info you give me :) happy reading!

pairing: readerxluke

word count: 1.7 k

summary: you go to your first doctor’s appointment to get more information on what is happening, and some surprise visitors join you

playlist: numb without you by the maine, high hopes by panic! at the disco

rating: PG-13

warnings: swearing, doctor’s visit, soft soft soft

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Y/N’s POV:

Just another Monday morning, that’s all today is. Yeah you aren’t going to work, but that should be something you celebrate not sulk over. You just know that today will definitely confirm what you have suspected. You will for sure be told by your doctor that you are pregnant today in the matter of a few hours, actually. Calum said he would go with you. He’s been calling every day to check up on you. You don’t necessarily mind him checking up on you, it is just kind of weird considering you two have never really been that close. This is something Luke should be doing. You hate to compare them, but that is all you can think about right now.

Luke hasn’t talked to you since Thursday night when he found out exactly what is going on between you and Calum. You hate that you left things the way you did but you can’t really change that considering he hasn’t answered your calls or texts or multiple FaceTimes. You suppose you could go and see him at his place, but you don’t know his schedule and you hate showing up to places unannounced and uninvited. You do miss him though. More than anything. I mean the two of you are best friends. You can’t even remember the last time you and Luke had gone this long without talking to one another. And you are pretty sure that is what hurts the most. The fact that in any other circumstance he would be the one by your side through all of this. The doctor appointments, the morning sickness, the midday naps, all of it.

You shake the thought from your mind and look in your closet to find something to wear. Calum said he would meet you at the OBGYN’s office ten minutes before the scheduled appointment. That gives you twenty minutes before you have to leave your apartment. You don’t even bother to put on makeup, and you dress yourself in a pair of leggings and a flowy shirt. You aren’t showing yet, but you want to be careful just in case. Not like anyone at this kind of a doctor’s office would care if you were showing. You mainly dressed this way to give yourself some peace of mind. You brush your teeth quickly and put on a pair of tennis shoes before grabbing your car keys and heading over to meet Calum at the appointment.

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Calum’s POV:

I can’t believe him. Actually, no I can. Of course, Luke would do something like this. I know that he is her best friend or whatever, but he doesn’t get to swoop in and save the day at this doctor’s appointment. Especially not after he has spent the past four days ignoring Y/N. She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve any of this. I was so stupid. A stupid mistake that is now going to effectively ruin both of our lives. It doesn’t matter that I’ve always had a soft spot for kids. Or that I have always had a small crush on Y/N. We aren’t going to ponder that last bit.

Anyway, here I am about to get in the car and meet Y/N at the doctor when Hemmings shows up at my doorstep waiting for me to leave my house. He gave me a whole speech on how he needs to be there for her just as much as I need to be there for the baby. Which I personally think is a load of bullshit, but he literally stood in front of my car and didn’t let me go anywhere until I let him come with me. He hasn’t returned her calls or messages, but sure he’s allowed to show up unannounced and uninvited to the first doctor’s appointment. Sure, she’s going to forgive him right on the spot like he hasn’t been a complete ass to her these past couple days when she needed him most.

He keeps flipping between the various radio stations just to add to how obnoxious he is being. I know he is supposed to be a good friend of mine and all, but I really cannot stand him this morning. He is singing along to High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco as it was on the station Luke finally landed on during his channel surfing. I’m driving fairly quick trying to get to the appointment exactly ten minutes before it starts like I told Y/N I would. I would have been perfectly on time without driving like a maniac if it wasn’t for mister save the day now sitting in my passenger seat. I wish I wasn’t so angry at him, but I honestly have every reason to be.

Finally, I pull into a parking spot and am walking up the steps of the hospital where I am supposed to meet Y/N with Luke following close behind me.

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Y/N’s POV:

You can’t believe your eyes. Calum met me at the hospital just like he promised, but what he failed to mention is that the person of the hour, Luke, would be joining us. In any other circumstance you would be elated to see Luke here, but not today. Not here, not now. You were nervous enough to see your doctor today and discuss your pregnancy but adding the stress of your situation with Luke was not helping anything.

The three of you sit awkwardly in the waiting room, waiting for one of the nurses to call you back. You know both Luke and Calum could tell that you were nervous, but neither of them wanted to help out apparently. You took a couple deep breaths and sat impatiently waiting for your name to be called. The time was crawling by and you really had to pee. You told Calum you were going to be back in a bit and left to use the bathroom. You didn’t tell Luke because you were still mad at him plus, he could probably figure it out if he used his head.

You were back in less than five minutes and right before you sat back down the nurse called you back. You quickly made your way to the door with Calum and Luke close behind you. You sat on the end of the examination table as you told the nurse your age, when you last had your period, and a bunch of other routine stuff. Once that was all documented, she left you three alone and told you that your doctor would be in soon.

“Well this is super awkward,” Luke said breaking the silence of almost three minutes.

“Wouldn’t be so awkward if you didn’t insist on tagging along,” Calum rebutted, his snarky tone obviously getting under Luke’s skin.

“Would you two quit already? Yeah, it’s awkward but you two aren’t helping how I feel in this situation at all. Now either shut up or quit being mean to one another because whether you like it or not you are both here together to support me and this baby even if a certain SOMEONE did not apologize for the way he lashed out at me last week,” you respond, clearly upset with the both of them.

As soon as you end your little speech and Luke starts to open his mouth the doctor knocks on the door and enters the room. She goes over your chart and asks if you have started experiencing any morning sickness which luckily you have not. She asks a couple other questions before she has you go into the bathroom to get a urine sample. She already thinks you are pregnant, but she wants the lab results to confirm this.

Once you give the lab technician your sample, she runs it through the system. By the time you get back to the examination room the results are in. The doctor announces that your test results confirm your pregnancy and asks you to lay down on the exam table and lift up your shirt for your first ultrasound. You are nervous but Calum sits next to you and squeezes your hand. Luke stands at the other end of the room so he could still see the monitor but also, so he is not in the way of anything.

The gel is cool on your stomach which was to be expected but it still caused a couple goosebumps to form along your arms. Usually an ultrasound isn’t routine for your first visit, but you were expected to be far enough along that you could have one done right away. The doctor slowly moved the wand over the gel on your abdomen and watched the monitor to see what you guys were working with. Finally, after what seems like an hour of searching a little image shows up on the monitor. What looks like nothing more than a dark grey blob will soon be a tiny baby in your arms.

The doctor announces that your baby is that blob on the screen and immediately you feel your eyes leak out a couple of salty tears. You were never one to be overly emotional, but you couldn’t help it. That is your baby on the screen. Yours and Calum’s baby. Calum squeezes your hand a little tighter and Luke smiles as all of your eyes are glued to the screen in front of you. The doctor asks if any of you want pictures from the ultrasound to take home with you even though you can’t see much. The three of you nod your heads almost simultaneously which makes her smile and she grabs them for you and tells you about the prenatal supplements you should start taking along with explaining what you should expect from now until the next time you are in her office.

On your way home from the office, Luke asks if he can ride with you. You are about to say you don’t think that is the best idea when Calum gives you a Luke that basically tells you to hear him out. You sigh but decide to listen to Calum’s advice assuming that it would probably be easier on Calum anyway to have some alone time without Luke for once. You walk to your car with Luke trailing behind you as you tell Calum you will meet him back at your apartment. You open your car door and sit down before Luke sighs and starts his lengthy apology.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Safe with me (14)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Graphic descriptions of violence. Minor character death.

A/N: Bucky has methods to his madness and you are just done with these people. Stuck in the middle of a battlezone is a terrible place to be.

Tags for this story are CLOSED Link here for posting schedule

SAFE WITH ME MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously…

The room is silent.

All eyes are on Bucky, who stands at the screen with his hand still raised. Steve releases him slowly, when he feels the panicked movements go suddenly rigid. From behind, a peculiar shapeshifting appears to take place. His posture changes, his neck flexes, his shoulders roll back.

Bucky stands up straight.

When he spins around, even Steve takes a step back at the sight.

Deadly rage burns like blue fire in the Soldier’s eyes.

*****

MID-1990s

Jack Bernstein pours a cup of coffee and parks himself behind the large wooden desk, propping his boots on Pierce's crisply folded suit coat. He takes a long drink, coughing when the scalding liquid scorches his throat. No matter. He enjoys the pain, because he needs something simple to ground him before he buzzes out of his skin.

That was exhilarating.

Every fantasy he's entertained about this day, about meeting the Soldier for the first time, all of it pales in comparison to the real thing. In life, everything about him was infinitely more than Jack ever imagined. Harder. So obedient. Beautiful and perfect. What a marvelous gift.

Scanning the white walls and bits of clutter adorning the small office, Jack memorizes every detail. He knows he'll remember this day for the rest of his life.

Sighing in contentment, he selects the top folder from a large pile, one appropriately stamped with the word "INDUCTION" in chunky red script. He begins to read.

-----

BASIC HANDLING INSTRUCTIONS The Asset requires minimal formal care, but it is biologically enhanced and dangerous if not handled properly. The following instructions will minimize risk to handlers. See related appendices for detailed information.

Removal from cryofreeze: Asset will be sluggish and non-responsive. Hosing down with cold water is recommended before wiping. Clothing is optional, but not preferred during removal phase.

Wiping process (see detailed instruction manual): Asset will tolerate wiping process as long as it is completed shortly after leaving cryofreeze.

Nutrient management: Asset does not eat standard food. Calories should be administered in the form of IV fluids.

Drug enhancement: Adrenaline may be given through injection but should be used sparingly as it enhances agitation levels. 'Oblivion' can be given in limited amounts. Technicians are recommended to hold Asset's jaw shut until clear the drug has dissolved / been swallowed.

Weapons selection: Asset will select its own weapons. DO NOT try to remove weapons from the Asset's body once they have been strapped in place, may result in loss of life or limb.

In the unlikely event of death due to mission failure, Asset has no personal affairs or effects to manage. If available, body should be cremated to reduce risk of knowledge transfer.

-----

He moves slowly through the Asset's files, absorbed in hundreds of pages exploring every detail of the disturbingly long life. Memorizing lab reports and doctor's notes, tracing wondering fingers over the blunt block letters of his mission reports, captivated by photos showing bullet holes and knife wounds littered across a broad chest.

Shivering with delight at the idea that all of this belongs to him.

He was disappointed to put him back on ice, but the Algeria mission was unnecessary and it's best to be patient. He has years to learn him, to understand his Soldier inside and out. Every intricate nuance of his body, every sparking neuron in his brain. How to obliterate everything and how to piece him back together.

A perfectly indestructible toy.

Jack tips his head back and laughs, the sound bouncing around the small room.

And after all – toys are meant to be played with.

*****

PRESENT DAY

5 HOURS AND 10 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

To this day, Bucky marvels at the difference between a Hydra mission and a mission for himself.

Now, Bucky takes blisteringly hot showers before every mission. He despises the cold, hated it during the war, hated it even more with Hydra. He doesn't have time tonight, so instead he stuffs heat packets in the pockets of his tac pants. He loves the way they make him sweat.

Now, Bucky doesn't rely on IVs and pills and manufactured enthusiasm. Instead, he drinks a special cherry flavored Gatorade Bruce had engineered especially for him and Steve, and he raids the Tower cabinets of every king-size Snickers he can find. Chocolate and peanuts make him happy and help him focus, and Bucky swears their tagline was written for him. He is definitely not himself when he's hungry.

And now, perhaps the most stunning difference, are the personal affairs he puts in order. As the Soldier, Bucky had less than nothing. He remembers the vague feeling of wistfulness, of emptiness, that often intruded before a mission – he consistently took unnecessary risks, because he had nothing to draw him home. When he joined the Avengers, he behaved the same way – until Steve reminded him that he had his own real life with people and possessions he loved. So, Bucky sat down and wrote a will. He still doesn't have much, but now the little things he cherishes all have a place to go when the inevitable end arrives.

On that note, Bucky digs out the sheet of paper from the bottom of his desk, finds a chewed-up Bic pen, and makes one small amendment.

Under the Brooklyn apartment, he adds your name next to Steve's.

*****

5 HOURS AND 20 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

Steve can actually feel his body thrumming when he reaches Bucky's bedroom, tension climbing over his skin. Pausing outside the door, he steels himself for a full-scale brawl, because as he well knows, his best friend is a stupid god damn fucking idiot.

Throwing open the door he stomps inside, kicks it shut, and starts speaking.

Loudly.

"Look, I know you're pissed as hell right now, but you need to take a beat and think about things. You can't go barging in, shooting everything on sight with no back-up. It's fucking suicide."

Bucky hums in agreement, fishing through his loose change jar for the key to his bedside weapons cabinet.

"Seriously Bucky, we need a plan. This is very obviously a set-up."

The small key snicks when the lock clicks open, revealing a cache of knives and guns, several old grenades and a handful of Widow's Bites he won off Natasha in a poker game.

"They know you'll come. They expect you'll come. Traps, Buck. There'll be so many traps."

Bucky nods along with the tirade, but the absentminded move proves he's not listening. Frustration bubbles over and Steve's now yelling.

"James Buchanan fucking Barnes, why are you such a stubborn asshole all the time?"

At the words, Bucky looks up in startled surprise.

"What the hell Rogers? Why am I an asshole?"

"I don't know Buck, why are you an asshole?"

Tossing an armful of knives on his bed, Bucky plunks his hands on his hips, head tilted in genuine confusion as he stares at Steve.

"What am I – "

"You're not going alone Bucky."

"Whoever – "

"There's no guarantee you're not walking right into a god damn trap."

"No sh – "

"Why the hell can't you ever let anyone help you?"

"Steve, I – "

"Jesus Christ, you're an insufferable prick!"

Bucky looks on the verge of laughing.

"Are you done? Can I talk?"

Steve grabs a bottle of cherry Gatorade off Bucky's dresser and chucks it at him, growling when Bucky dodges the missile.

"Yeah I'm done. Jerk."

Bucky sighs patiently. "Steve. I'm not going in blind and obviously I need your help. Assumed the whole damn team was coming, so I'm not sure why the hell you're standing here. Stop being a little bitch and suit your self-righteous, spangly ass up."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but – yeah, he's got nothing. Bucky raises his eyebrows and goes back to sorting knives, separating his favorites and setting them aside.

"Well," Steve clears his throat, still spoiling for a fight, but struggling for a reason. "Well okay then. Long as we're clear. About time you stopped acting like a self-sacrificing dumbass."

Bucky snorts. "You should talk. Meet me in the lab in 10, we leave in 40. Only got a few hours until the sun rises. I want this finished before then, I'm not leaving her there a minute longer."

"Good," Steve grunts, and turns to go. The door's almost closed when he hears the question.

"Steve?"

Spinning at the sound of Bucky's low voice, Steve's heart skips a beat when he sees the expression. The façade has broken, harsh emotion filtering through the cracks. In the entirety of their crazy fucked up lives, Steve's never seen his best friend look so desperate.

"If he kills her – I won't stop. Not until every last one of them is dead." A dark look settles on his face in place. "I'm telling you right now, don't get in my way. Don't make me stop."

Steve contemplates him for a long moment.

"I know you won't. And I'll help you do it."

Thank god for Steve Rogers. Bucky gives him a brisk nod and goes back to his knives.

*****

5 HOURS AND 25 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

Bucky storms into Tony's lab, a wraith in head to toe black. The silver arm is emitting a constant whir, endlessly clicking and shifting, a physical representation of the anxiety pulsing through his veins.

"Stark, I need your help."

Tony looks up at his arrival, blanching at the image. Mission ready, Barnes is just a little terrifying.

Black tac pants are tucked into a pair of comfortably worn combat boots, and each boot holds two long serrated blades, rough black handles within easy reach. Strapped around both thighs are matching holsters, the right side holding a Sig Sauer P320, the left side holding a Beretta M9. A black utility belt sits low at his waist, holding extra clips of ammo, a cylindrical tube with five round mini-grenades, and a pack of bandages. Flat against each hip, are two fixed blade combat knives, and tucked into a holster at his lower back, sits his Glock.

Strangely, the most striking feature about the whole ensemble isn't the ridiculous amount of weaponry. It's the ordinary black tank top he wears.

Normally refusing to let anyone see the thick red scars streaking down his shoulder, he always ignores the curious questions or dismisses the thoughtful comments with an icy glare. But tonight, for the first time Bucky appears oblivious to the furtive glances and open stares.

Well, he's not actually oblivious. He's just totally out of fucks to give.

Rubbing both hands down his face, Tony slaps them on the table, fingers splayed wide. Disappointment rolls off him in waves, and Bucky thinks he knows what's coming.

"Stark, listen – "

"I'm sorry," Tony interrupts, curling his fingers into hard fists, rapping his knuckles restlessly against the table. "I screwed her tech up, that's on me. I wasn't – "

"Stop," Bucky holds his hands up. "Seriously. I'm sick and tired of us taking the blame for the shit these assholes do. Forget it and help me fix it."

Tony Stark and Bucky Barnes stare at each other for a long moment. Their relationship's been disproportionately burdened by a shared history, but with this common purpose, each is relieved to find the other willing to wipe the slate clean.

"Done," Tony says tightly. "What'd you need?"

"Remember the throwback outfits we had for that charity event? With Steve's stupid USO outfit and my Commandos uniform?"

"Sure," Tony says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "They're in storage. Why?"

"I need the blue jacket."

"You need it right now?"

"I need it right now," Bucky confirms.

"Are we stopping by Fashion Week on the way? You're not wearing it on this mission, are you?" Tony asks, bemused by the odd request.

"I most certainly am."

Tony purses his lips and chooses his words carefully.

"Uh, not that I don't condone wearing whatever makes you feel comfortable with your bad self, I mean clearly I love red since it highlights my boyish good looks and all, but you're supposed to be stealthy. That's kinda your thing. The blue is bright, Barnes. No clue why Howard ever made that dumbass design, they'll see you a mile away."

Bucky doesn't reply. Instead, he offers a slow smile and there's something so astoundingly sinister, it makes Tony's teeth chatter. Bone-chilling and lethal, he sees the anger simmering just below the surface, Bucky's murder face on full display.

"Ah. Right. So. The color was bright on purpose," Tony guesses. "You wanted to be seen."

"I did," Bucky affirms, his tone easy and conversational. "And now I want every one of those fuckers who took her to shit their pants when they see me. I want them to know exactly what's coming for them."

*****

6 HOURS AND 5 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

Down in the cargo hold of the Quinjet, Bucky's screams grow louder and louder. Sitting quietly on the above level, the team remain stoic.

*****

6 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION

The world around him is dark and blessedly quiet.

Alone now, Bucky leans a trembling forearm against the window, rests his aching forehead on the cold glass and takes a shallow breath. The beads of sweat dripping down his face finally begin to dry, so he shuts his eyes and lets his mind wander, searching for something sweet to calm the nightmare still wracking his body. Like a slideshow, the pictures in his brain flip at lightning speed, until they stop on his apartment in Brooklyn and zero in on the book you left tucked under a fuzzy velvet blanket.

The Book Thief.

When he watched you pick it up that day, Bucky fought back a smile. It's one of his favorites, something he's read a dozen times. When he feels anxious and fidgety, the story is soothing, the pages crinkled and bent, the poetic words smoothing the edges of his soul in a way he could never explain. Tonight though, Bucky begins to understand why the story holds so much appeal.

Through the horrors that made up the bulk of his life, first during his war, and later as the Soldier, a concept always played in the back of his mind.

Some people are born into this life with the desire to command, to play God. Some demand the role and some accept the burden when it's given. That was never him. No, Bucky was always asked to play one role above all others, one that led him to find a kindred spirit in the narrator of his favorite book.

Death.

It's been his calling card since the first day of Basic, when the US Army plucked him from obscurity and shoved a rifle in his peculiarly steady hands. From that day forward, he owned every life around him. Some he spared, some he protected. Some he reaped with a broken neck in the dead of night, some he bartered with a sharp blade and a sharper tongue. This has been the way of his life for so long, it boils down to a single truth.

Most of Bucky's life – has always been death.

Now he stands silently, accepting once again the bleak mantle laid across his shoulders and he thinks of you curled in his leather chair, warm in a patch of afternoon sun, your finger unconsciously marking his favorite quote as you drift to sleep, not realizing you equally loved the one line that always gave him pause.

"Even Death has a heart."

Most of Bucky's life has been death, but that's okay. Because those words are a poignant reminder that he can be so much more than the hollow shell he was. In this life with you, he finally understands how his head and his heart really are better together.

So, he holds the words in his mouth, tests them on his tongue, accepting that if the inevitable happens, he has a reason to come home.

"Even Death has a heart."

He certainly does, Bucky thinks wryly. He opens his eyes and gazes into the star strewn blackness, his heartbeat a steady rhythm driving him forward, back to you. And it's all hers.

*****

All you can think right now, is that this compound is freezing and you'll rage kick anyone who comes near you.

Slouched in the chair from earlier, a constant throb of pain shoots up your awkwardly bent arms, still secured behind you with a plastic zip-tie. Earlier struggles had done a number on your wrists, the unforgiving plastic slicing open the delicate skin and even now, blood oozes from the lacerations. It offers a small amount of warmth though, the sticky liquid running down your fingertips and catching under your nails.

You're a little disappointed when it cools.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How did you not know?

You knew Jack. You knew him. He supported you, encouraged you. Offered helpful life advice even when you didn't ask for it and bought you a bottle of champagne to celebrate your first by-line. How could you not see that charming, amiable façade, hid a full-blown unhinged psychopath? How was it possible to be so utterly wrong about someone?

Maybe you should fire yourself for being the world's worst investigative journalist.

Huffing in frustration, pain flares anew when you shift, searching out a comfortable position. The stripes on your arms burn, your ribs are bruised, your jaw aches.

Everything hurts.

Bucky, where are you?

Closing your eyes, you let your mind drift, reaching for the imaginary comfort of your favorite place. An apartment in Brooklyn filled with piles of fuzzy blankets and soft pillows. Shelves of books and bowls of peanut M&Ms. The fresh scent of the river and Bucky's laughing blue eyes.

Did he see the video? Did he know where you were? Would he figure it out in time? The grim reality of this whole thing, was that you desperately wanted to leave, to be back in Brooklyn, warm and safe in his arms, but there was one glaring problem.

You wanted Bucky to find you.

You wanted Bucky to never face these people again.

Success was an impossible duality.

The faint sounds of movement outside your door grow louder, inaudible voices making you tense. Electronic beeps sound and the door whooshes open, revealing two men dressed in faded combat fatigues. One is tall and lanky, bald head shining under the fluorescent lights. He spares you a brief glance, before striding to the table and rifling through the knives and lengths of rope.

The other man is short and thin, with red hair buzzed military short. He gives you a little smirk as he ambles inside, making a show of locking the door and letting his eyes roam over you.

"Don't worry sweetheart, we're just here to tidy up," he says.

Sauntering over, he stops beside you, cocking his head and staring down, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Fixing a bored expression on your face, you ignore him, keeping your eyes trained on the door handle straight ahead.

"I'd look up if I were you," he advises. Heart pounding at the implied threat, you stare forward in silence. Suddenly his fingers are gripping your jaw, pressing into the bruises left by earlier knuckles, and the startled gasp melts into a groan as you struggle away from the rough hand.

Tears prick your eyes when you look up, meeting his mocking stare.

"There she is," he croons, pinching your jaw tighter. The pain makes your vision swim and you blink rapidly, fighting to stay conscious.

"I gotta say, we've been running real low on women around here. Be nice if you could help some of the guys out," he says casually. "Maybe later, once we get your man back under control. Hell, maybe he'll even have a go. I hear he'll do anything if you know the magic word."

Releasing you, he drags the tips of his fingers over your face, tracing the bruises, swirling his fingers through the blood still leaking from the gash high on your cheek. The pads of his fingers come away stained red and he brushes them over your mouth, painting your lips with the taste of salt and copper.

"How about it sweetheart?"

Eye level with you, his thumb is still rubbing your lip, waiting for an answer.

You can almost hear Bucky's voice begging you not to do it, but you're so god damn pissed off.

The taste of copper appears again, when you snap your teeth, sinking them into his finger. He screeches and jerks the hand away, hugging it to his chest as he stumbles backward.

"Bitch," he rasps furiously, raising his hand while you brace for the hit.

"Dude, would you get away from her? You're not allowed to mark her up," his partner cuts him off with a sharp rebuke. "Wait until the Asset's finished and packed away, you'll get a turn after. If there's anything left."

The nonchalant way they speak about you should make your skin crawl and it does. It really does.

But the way they speak about him, about your Bucky, as if he's nothing but a mindless animal and not the sweetest, snarkiest, most infuriatingly wonderful man in your life, makes you shake with anger.

"Makes your nervous, huh?" The redhead sneers, sucking petulantly on his damaged finger. "You should be. I hear he's a beast once he gets going. Brain's so fucking fried, he'll probably get confused halfway through, won't remember if he's supposed to fuck you or kill you, but either way – sucks to be you."

Nothing would be more enjoyable in this moment than stabbing this prick in the eye with a rusty knife, but you'll have to rain check. Taking a soul cleansing breath instead, you settle for your best Bucky Barnes murder face impression, letting a grim smile slowly lift your lips, while glaring in total silence.

"What the hell?" he grunts, unnerved at the creepy expression.

A long-suffering sigh comes from the bald man. "Stop talking and help me."

"Aw come on man, I'm just – "

The sound of a low sonic boom suddenly vibrates the floor beneath your feet.

Both men freeze, turning wide-eyed to each other.

"What the hell was that?"

"Something in the upstairs lab?" the other guesses wildly.

A long pause follows, the world quiet.

The second boom knocks the wind from you, raising dust from the floor. Lifting your eyes, you watch a long crack appear in the plaster ceiling, stilted bursts of movement as it spiders outward.

Silence follows again.

Then the distant pop of gunfire reaches your ears.

"Shit," you hear one of the men behind you whisper in panic.

The surge of happiness floods through you, promptly tempered by the panic of knowing Bucky was here, surrounded by these bastards once again.

"How'd he get here so fast? Bernstein said it'd take a couple days for him to figure it out!"

"How do I know? I wasn't planning to be here when he – "

There's a high-pitched scream in the hallway that's cut short.

Silence.

Suddenly the screeching whine of metal on metal rings through the room when something heavy slams against the locked door.

Once.

Twice.

"Fuck," the bald man spits out, lifting his gun and taking aim at the shuddering door.

Three times.

Next to you, the redhead draws a pistol from the holster under his arm, and you close your eyes when you feel the cold kiss of a metal barrel pressed against your temple.

Silence.

You can hear the ragged, panting of the man above you, deafening in the quiet room. He smells stale, like fear and cigarettes, the scents bleeding from his skin.

Silence stretches on, further and further, and you pray Bucky won't pass, that he knows, that he comes back.

The respite forces a shift in the room. Weapons lower slightly, muscles soften. Perhaps the Soldier has moved on.

A rookie mistake.

A catastrophic mistake.

With an ear-piercing metallic crunch, the door in front of you explodes open, ricocheting off the wall. A knife whistles through the air, cold steel whispering past your ear, before the wide blade lands in the man's neck with a wet thunk. The force of the throw knocks him flat on his back, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the rough hilt, and you squeeze your eyes shut when the gush of hot blood splatters across your face.

Roaring gunfire sets your ears ringing as the bald man fires five hasty bullets at the hulking presence in the doorframe, but each one is swatted away with a lazy flick of a metal hand. There's a sharp retaliatory crack, and the man wobbles for a second, before collapsing to the floor, a bullet drilled straight between his eyes.

Bucky steps into the room, gun raised while his eyes scan the corners, check the ceiling, sweep under the table. Swinging around, he catches the edge of the door and slams it shut, before grabbing a chair and jamming it beneath the busted handle.

When he stalks forward, a small fraction of your heart cowers in fear at the viciousness in his face. This is him, the unreal ghost story, the legend in the flesh.

"Don't look," he orders harshly, bending down to the twitching body beside you. Eyes closed, you turn away when you hear the cracking noise the knife makes as Bucky jerks it from the man's throat. A brief bloody gurgle follows, before it's effectively silenced, and you hear the sound of a body dragging across the concrete floor, landing with a soft thump.

Breathing fast, sharp little pants that make your chest ache, you keep your eyes closed and wait.

A moment later, you feel the light touch of cool metal on your swollen jaw. Opening your eyes, your heart leaps into your throat.

Leaning over you, he gently cups your face, patiently waiting for you to see him. And now, looking into those blue eyes, you wonder how on earth you could have ever been afraid, because this isn't him, he's not the Soldier.

This is your Bucky, through and through.

Reaching down to his boot, he pulls up a long knife, slipping it behind you to snap the plastic on your wrists. They feel like deadweight after being locked in that position, so he helps ease them forward, working out the aching kinks. Two quick flicks and your legs are free, and you see a minute tremble in his fingers when he returns the knife to his boot.

Kneeling before you, Bucky looks up, the penitent man with his heart on his sleeve. He swallows thickly, throat working as he gathers his courage.

"Hi," he finally whispers.

"Hey," you whisper back, voice cracking.

He sees the cuts and bruises scattered over your face, the raised welts down your arms. Reaches a tentative hand to your neck, fingers brushing over the thin line of rope burn, a broken sound rising from deep in his chest when he feels the raw texture of your skin. That sound alone is more painful than anything you've experienced, so you reach for him, cradling his face between your hands and his eyes close. Leaning into the touch, he turns to press his lips to the palm of your hand.

"You came for me," you murmur.

"I’ll always come for you," he responds, lifting blood-stained hands to cover yours, tangling your fingers together. "I love you. I love you so god damn much and I'm so sorry for everything."

Tears flood your throat at his declaration, at the heat behind his words.

"God you're such a pain in my ass Bucky Barnes, but I love you too. More than you can imagine," your voice is painfully hoarse, but his response makes each syllable worth the strain.

Speckles of blood cover one side of his face, sweat plasters strands of hair to his forehead, and there's white dust caught in the dark stubble covering his neck, but at your words, the grime and exhaustion fade away. Bucky's face lights up and his excited smile steals your breath.

"Really? Seriously?"

"Really seriously," you confirm with a smile, voice still weak but growing stronger. "Take me home Bucky."

"I will," he promises. "I'll get you out of here, I swear."

Taking your hand, he curls a warm arm around your waist and stands, lifting you carefully to your feet. Swaying at the move, you lean heavily into him and he wraps his arms around you, folding you close to his heavily padded chest.

And sure, the world may be falling to pieces outside that door, and god knows what you'll find when you leave, but in this moment, the only thing you need is the solid presence of the man surrounding you.

Comforting and stable and brimming with love, he is enough. He is everything.

Finally, reluctantly, he lets go. Stepping backward, he pulls his Glock from the holster at his back, cocks the hammer and flips it around. He presses the grip in your palm.

"Listen to me. We get out there, and I want you to shoot first, ask questions later. If you feel threatened at any point, pull the trigger, okay?"

"Okay," you agree.

"You remember everything I told you?"

It takes a moment, but you fish for the memory and reel it in, remembering that day at the Tower gun range.

"Yes. Squeeze the trigger, don't jerk. Both eyes stay open. Be ready for the recoil," you repeat.

He looks surprised but pleased at the automatic recitation. "I honestly didn't think you were paying attention that day. That was – kinda hot."

"Your face is kinda hot," you sass back instantly.

Pulling a fresh clip from his belt, Bucky snaps it into his Sig Sauer and grins. Watching his movement, you notice something new, something different.

"Hey. The blue jacket – it really did match my dress. I like it. You look really handsome in blue," you say softly, tugging his sleeve. "Sorry, I've been super behind on your compliments. Lots of catching up."

There's a blazing look on his face at your statement, and he wraps a gentle hand behind your neck and steps closer, resting his forehead against yours. Closing your eyes, you breathe each other in, a swirl of blood and death, of safety and protection.

"I love you," he murmurs the words again, reveling in the pleasure they bring.

"I love you," you answer, pressing a light kiss to his chin.

He hums at the response, giving himself one more delicious second to enjoy, before grudgingly stepping away. His voice shifts and he speaks quickly, sharing the basic intel necessary before leaving the room.

"There should be very few people left out there, I swept the majority of the lower level before I found you. There were people here, but it wasn't heavily guarded. Which makes me nervous. I don't know exactly what this place is now, but it used to be a secondary research lab. This is – it was here, where I met him. The first time."

It's clear who the him is in this scene. And while Bucky's voice is calm, you notice a flicker of confusion cross his face, and that small waver makes you want to find Jack and cut his heart out. Gripping his hands, you give him a small shake, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"Listen to me. You got out. You won. You never ever have to go back," he clings to your words, riveted by your conviction. "You came here to get me Bucky, but don't forget – I've got you too."

"I know," he agrees heatedly, pressing his lips to your knuckles. Then he shifts the chair blocking the door and squares his shoulders. "Alright, you ready?"

"Ready," you confirm. "Let's go fuck shit up."

Fingers pause on the handle and he sighs, equal parts exasperated and entertained. Glancing over, he looks like he wants to say something stern, but the serious expression melts and his shoulders shake with laughter.

"I really fucking missed you," he nudges you.

"Same," you whisper back, elbowing him in return.

Keeping one hand fisted in the smooth cloth of his jacket, you take a deep breath as he pulls open the door and steps outside.

Once in the hallway, his demeanor switches back to the man who kicked your door down only a few minutes before. He's overwhelming in this form, towering and tense, confidence in every move, so obviously capable it puts you at ease.

The corridors are eerily quiet, the tracks of fluorescent lights lining the ceiling giving off a steady buzz and the occasional flicker. The smell hits you in that moment, a strange burnt earth smell floating through halls, of gunpower and guts, and it makes your eyes water. People don't seem to talk much about what it's like on a battlefield, the visual horror and the stomach-churning smell. Now you see why.

Turning the corner, you see bodies scattered along the hall, the stench of blood a dense fog hanging heavy in the air. Bright red halos spill around surprised faces, and you see now that bullets leave very large holes. It draws your eyes with each body you pass, and your breath comes faster.

"Breathe through your mouth, not your nose," Bucky urges, his voice a grounding force as he propels you forward. "Look at me or close your eyes, okay? I won't let you fall."

"Yeah," you say weakly, turning your face toward calming blue. "Yeah, okay."

Rounding the next corner, the hall is thankfully empty of human remains. Bucky keeps his gun raised, eyes sweeping along. All seems deserted, until the whisper of rolling wood, like a closet sliding open reaches your ears and you see part of the wall begin to shift. Bucky swings around, but your finger already hovers dangerously over the trigger, and without thinking, you squeeze.

The bullet makes a solid thwack when it hits, and a body crumples to the floor.

A sickeningly familiar body in fact. One with a faded red tattoo crawling up his neck.

He groans, curling around himself, gasping as blood pumps from his abdomen. In one quick stride, Bucky is standing over the writhing body, and he stomps down, grinding his boot into the man's wrist. Screaming in pain as his bones are crushed, he drops his gun and Bucky kicks it away.

Walking slowly forward, with the smoking gun still raised, you stare down into the face of the man who's haunted your dreams for the better part of your life. Who spent the last several hours smiling while he slapped your face. While he snapped a leather strap across your arms. While he tightened a thin rope around your neck.

Who smiled the day he shot your father and took away the only person you had in the world.

Bucky's pistol feels perfect and right in your hand, as you point it at his face. Vengeance, retribution, revenge, whatever word fits, you're feeling it right now, surging adrenaline making you light-headed. Finger brushing the trigger, you steel yourself for the final shot, for the chance to end this on your terms.

The moment drags on and on, the sounds of his wet gasping the only thing in your ears.

"Come on little girl, do it!" he manages to taunt, choking on the words.

Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger.

This man killed your Dad. He tortured you. He destroyed your childhood.

Pull the fucking trigger!

Your arm begins to tremble, precious moments allotted for escape now lost as you stare down. A strangled sob suddenly breaks through and your heavy arm begins to lower. Tears fill your eyes, and you rub them furiously away, trying to raise your arm again.

And then Bucky reaches over, gently pushing the gun down. Looking at him, the tears spill over, sliding down your cheeks, dripping from the tip of your nose.

"You're not a killer," he says quietly. "Once you pull the trigger, you can't take it back. If you want to do it I'll help, but don't become something you're not, just because you think you should."

Firm and compassionate, his familiar voice shakes you out of the haze. Sniffling, you hesitate for another moment, before letting the gun relax at your side. With a deep breath, you turn away instead, snipping the strings tethering you to the survivor's guilt that's hung around your neck for so long.

Bucky nods encouragingly, and together you walk away from the bleeding man. Putting his arm around you, he pulls you in tight. Covers your ear and presses your head against his shoulder, muffling the world.

Then he raises his arm behind him and fires one quick shot.

The hallway goes quiet once more.

*****

Moments later, you turn another corner, relief palpable when you hear Bucky speak.

"We're close, there's an exit in two turns," he mutters, his body still tense, eyes wary as he tugs you along. He taps the comms in his ear, letting it go to the loudspeaker so you can hear as well. "Steve, we're near the north exit, where are you?"

Clear as a bell, Steve's voice comes through sounding annoyed. Gunfire sounds in the background and you hear the clatter of tin cans on concrete, followed by a slow hiss.

"We're coming, just – finishing something up. Apparently Nat decided this was the right time to test Stark's new gas grenades."

"Don't be lame Rogers, these guys are assholes," you hear Nat laughing in the background.

"Yeah no shit, just wondering why – ouch, god dammit – why you couldn't wait 10 seconds. Buck, we'll meet you at the rendezvous point in 10 minutes. Did you find Bernstein?"

"Negative, no sign, I think he ghosted from – "

The comms crackles and goes off. Bucky taps it impatiently, but it stays quiet.

Stark technology will not fail a second time and it takes a split second to connect the dots.

Something is happening.

Swearing fiercely, Bucky pushes you behind him, his arm keeping you pressed against his back.

"Stay against me. Do not move away," he grits out, eyes scanning the empty corridor, searching, searching, searching.

He hears the sound before he sees it happen. It raises the hair at his neck, and with sizzling burst of heat, a web of electricity blooms before you, a curtain of transparent white light. Spinning around, you find the same thing behind, a crackling fence of fire trapping you together.

"Fucking hell," Bucky hisses, eyes whipping back and forth, assessing the electric barriers. Hesitating slightly, he stretches a tentative metal finger forward.

"Bucky, don't – " the warning is still leaving your lips when his hand makes contact. The harsh zap flings his arm back.

"Dammit, I didn't think these'd still be here," he growls in frustration. His fingers curl into a hard fist, metal plates whirring as they reset after the electric shock.

Looking through the waves of energy, you can see beyond them, but there's no possibility of passing. "What are they?"

"Fry zones. Barricades to trap people," he mutters. "When a building was under attack, they were set up like alarms. Someone must have triggered them earlier, because I killed everyone else in the building."

"Well that's just awesome," you mumble, pressing close to him. Bucky turns to face you, hugging you against his chest.

"Okay, it's alright. The team are coming this way, they'll find us when we miss the rendezvous, so we just wait. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah," your voice is muffled against the thick fabric.

Bucky leans down to press a feather-light kiss to your forehead, the barest hint of a touch. For a second, you wonder if the sound of electricity is still the walls around you, or if it's the feel of his mouth on your skin. Snuggling closer, you relax in his arms, while his hands rub long, soothing strokes up your back.

For a long, happy moment, all is well. The world is right. A bright future together is so close.

But inevitably, it doesn't last.

The measured, deliberate click of dress shoes on concrete rises above the steady hum of electricity, and Bucky's body goes rigid. His arms tighten around you, but when you raise your head, his jaw is clenched and his face is white, sweat already slicking his forehead. His eyes are fixed on something above you, beyond you, and still clasped in his arms, you slowly turn.

Jack stands on the other side of the barrier, his face flooded with desperate, hungry longing as he gazes at Bucky. He licks his lips and comes closer to the cage, and even through the thick fabric of his jacket, you feel Bucky's heart racing.

"So, here we are then. After all this, there he is," Jack breathes fervently, moving closer, unable to help himself. "I see him under there Barnes. Let him out to play. Let him come home."

Bucky lets go of you, tugging you behind him and extending both arms, widening his stance.

"Drop the barricade and let us go," he says calmly. "She has nothing to do with this."

With a snort, Jack shakes his head.

"Wrong. She has everything to do with it. It's because of her that you're even here. She's a weakness. She's your weakness, don’t you see that? You think you're in control, but she stole that from you. Look at you! Following her here like a pathetic dog. Jesus Christ, what did you do to my Soldier, you've ruined him Barnes."

"Seriously Jack, eat a dick you dramatic piece of shit," poking your head around Bucky, you try to move in front of him, but he holds you in place.

"Don't, it's not worth it," he murmurs warningly.

Jack looks amused for a moment, but it fades as he considers an idea.

"She's scrappy, I'll give her that. We could make a deal you know – give me back my Soldier and I'll let him keep her if he wants. She can be his pet, something soft and breakable to entertain him. Maybe that's what was missing before."

Bucky feels a swoop in his stomach as he considers Jack. Hearing his voice now, he's baffled how in seven hells he could have ever forgotten this man. It's so clear, so god damn obvious he wants to scream. But in the midst of that anger, Sam Wilson's voice pops in his head, and Bucky suddenly remembers the closing remarks of his first group therapy session down at the VA.

"Some things you leave behind, some you carry home. It's your decision what you need to let yourself heal."

Bucky understands it then, the choice he made. The only way he could let himself heal, to get better and move on, was to let go of the horrors in his past. Including this one.

"No deal you sick fuck," he says flatly. "Let us go or I swear to God, I'll rip you to pieces with my bare hands."

Jack shrugs at the response.

"Alright then, if that's what you want," he steps even closer to the barrier, so close you can see the gleaming white of his eyes. "I gave you a chance, so – just know that what happens next is your fault Barnes, it's all on you. I hope you remember that. In the end."

Jack reaches behind him, grasping for something in his pocket, and Bucky crouches slightly, a snarl on his face as he settles into battle stance.

When his hand reappears, Jack's holding a thick paperback book.

He smiles.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part II - Chapter 7) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Main street. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

The team of Darcy, Selvig, Aaron and Jane treaded up the street towards their lab, fast approaching their destination. They were a few feet away from the entrance when a pick-up truck pulled up before them, stopped by traffic. In the back of the vehicle, Jane noticed – partially covered by a tarp – was the dark matter analysis machine from her lab.

“Hey!” she yelled, a bout of anger and a twinge of panic igniting in her, “That’s my stuff!”

Sprinting now, they reached the lab a few seconds later, only to be met with the sight of a gathering of towering government SUVs parked outside, with S.H.I.E.L.D agents hauling equipment out of the workroom and loading it onto waiting vans.

Another group of agents were stripping all the equipment from inside Jane’s van and carting it away, while others emerged from her trailer, arms loaded with scientific instruments and documents.

“What the hell is going on here?” an irate Jane demanded, frowning as she spun around frantically, looking from Agent to Agent, trying to gather an answer.

They ignored her.

Then, a moment later, Agent Coulson leisurely walked over to her, stealing a quick glance in the direction of Aaron, who immediately straightened up at the sight of Director Fury’s right hand man. The doctor’s uneasiness subsided then; he recognized that the presence of S.H.I.E.L.D personnel was most likely a result of your doing.

“Ms Foster,” Coulson spoke in an overly-official manner, the customary tone of all S.H.I.E.L.D Agents, “I’m Agent Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

It appeared as if Doctor Selvig had been previously acquainted with the organisation, too, because as soon as the name slipped past Coulson’s lips, a wary expression grew on his face, and he stepped forward to place a warning hand on Jane’s shoulder.

“I don’t care who you work for – you can’t do this!” Jane argued.

“Jane,” Selvig said firmly, warning evident in his voice, “This is more serious than you realise.”

“Erik’s right, Jane,” Aaron spoke up, stepping in to try and aid the situation; he knew better than the rest of them just how severe the condition was, “Let it go.”

“Let it go?!” she scoffed, turning to look at Aaron in disbelief as she gestured to all of her stuff being hauled away, “This is my life!”

“We’re here investigating a security threat,” Coulson tried to explain, “We need to appropriate your equipment and all your atmospheric data.”

“By ‘appropriate’ you mean ‘steal’?”

Instead of answering, Coulson handed her a cheque. “This should more than compensate you for your trouble.”

Without bothering to even glance at the piece of paper, Jane threw it to the ground.

“I can’t just pick up the replacements from RadioShack!” Jane was borderline hysterical at this point. “I made most of that equipment myself!”

“Then I’m sure you can do it again,” Coulson replied without missing a beat.

“And I’m sure I can sue you for violating my constitutional rights!”

“We’re the good guys, Ms Foster.”

Coulson tried to walk away, but Jane rushed forward and blocked his path. She was fully herself, fuelled by outrage.

“So are we! We’re on the verge of understanding something extraordinary.” She held up her notebook before continuing. “Everything I know about this phenomenon is in this lab and in this book, and no one has the right to take it from me.”

Coulson gestured to a nearby agent, who promptly plucked the notebook out of Jane’s hand and added it to the pile he was carrying. Jane was left stunned.

Heading for his car, Coulson spoke one last sentence before leaving.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

 ✧ ✧ ✧

Fifteen minutes later. S.H.I.E.L.D base. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

“Yeah, that was my call,” you breathed, holding your phone to your ear with your right hand as the left tangled itself in your hair. Slowly, you walked to the window overlooking the hangar bay and observed the agents as they transported the various pieces of equipment inside. “I’m watching them move it in as we speak.”

“I thought as much,” Aaron’s voice crackled through the receiver, as he spoke into his cell from his hiding spot behind Jane’s trailer, occasionally sneaking glances at the other three inside the lab, “Jane’s about two minutes away from having an aneurism.”

“And I feel bad that we took her life’s work, I really do, but we can’t risk-“

“I know, love,” Aaron said gently, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

With a tired huff, you leaned your forehead against the metal frame of the window and for a little while, a comfortable silence was the only communication between you and Aaron.

Then, “When was the last time you slept? And no, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling is not sleeping.”

Groaning inwardly, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, rolling your eyes. Sometimes you wished that this man didn’t know you as well as he did.

“I got a half-hour in on the flight yesterday morning. That count?”

“(Y/N)-“

“I know, I know,” you cut in before he could give you one of his ‘overbearing friend’ lectures, “It’s not for lack of trying, though. I can’t fall asleep, regardless of how hard I try.”

You could practically feel the doctor’s smile through the phone as he muttered his next words. “Maybe you just miss me.”

Overriding all of the stress, anxiety and panic that had taken over you the last couple of days, Aaron managed to get you to crack a small smile.

And he was right – all of the past week’s events had made you miss someone. Whether or not that someone was Aaron, though…

“Maybe,” you said quietly.

With a soft chuckle, Aaron straightened himself up and dusted off his pants, which had captured dust from the trailer. “Listen, now that S.H.I.E.L.D has all of Jane’s research, my consultation is technically over, so should I travel to HQ? Or the base?”

“No, I think it’s best if you stay,” you answered, stuffing your free hand in the back pocket of your jeans as you moved away from the window, “I need you to be my eyes and ears – just in case they decide to… I dunno… get revenge.”

“Don’t think that’s something you need to be worried about, love.”

“Yeah, well… my gut tells me differently.”

 ✧ ✧ ✧

 Pet store. Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.

“I need a horse.”

With a slight frown, the pet store clerk looked up from their phone and at the completely serious face of Thor, standing just in front of the front counter.

“Sorry, we don’t sell horses. Just dogs, cats, birds,” they informed.

“Then give me one of those,” Thor settled, “large enough to ride.”

The clerk looked thoroughly confused, but before either of them could say anything more, the sound of a car horn from across the street caught the god’s attention, and he turned to the open door.

Across the street, Jane called to him from the Pinzgauer. “You still want a lift?”

~

As the van headed away, it continued up a hillside, revealing a light illuminating the valley beyond. As they moved closer, they saw that the glow came from a massive S.H.I.E.L.D base, now set up around the crater – vehicles, trailers, barricades.

Armed guards were manning a gate in the razor wire fence that ran fifty yards from the crater’s edge, enclosing the complex. Clear, plastic access tubes with junction boxes lead to a translucent cube structure erected in the middle of the crater.

Through the glass walls of the base’s command trailer, Coulson was directing technicians, busy at work.

Within the cube structure itself, a team of S.H.I.E.L.D scientists worked with high-tech machinery, analysing the object at the centre of it all – Mjolnir.

Jane and Thor crawled to the edge of the ridge, looking through binoculars at the impressive S.H.I.E.L.D base.

“That isn’t a satellite crash,” Jane spoke lowly, “They would have hauled the wreckage away, not built a city around it.”

Not bothering to reply, Thor shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. “You’re going to need this.”

“Why?”

All of a sudden, thunder rumbled overhead. She stared at him intently, before taking the jacket.

“Stay here,” he instructed her, “Once I have Mjolnir, I will return what they stole from you.” He looked at her thoughtfully, already knowing that she might disobey his request. “Deal?”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “Look what’s down there! You can’t just walk in, grab our stuff and walk out!”

“No.”

Jane looked relieved to hear him say that. But that relief lasted a mere two seconds.

“I’m going to fly out,” Thor corrected and before Jane could react, he started heading toward the crater. The first drops of rain began to patter into the dust.

“Wait…” she tried, but he was already gone.

~

Inside the cubic containment structure surrounding Mjolnir, the needle belonging to a handheld sensor device was spiking, prompting the technician holding it to look over at the hammer – it was giving off a subtle glow. Out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning cracked across the sky above.

A computer monitor inside the base’s security room showed an aerial infrared video image of the area, but it was fuzzy, and the S.H.I.E.L.D workers weren’t able to see much.

With a headset on his head, Dallon stared at the monitors intently, looking for any sign of a disturbance, while an older agent – Sitwell – looked on from the techie’s side, none-too-pleased.

Pointing out the video feed to his superior, Dallon began speaking. “Feed from the keyhole,” he explained, gesturing to the fuzzy images onscreen, “Can barely penetrate the cloud cover.”

The techie hiked a thumb at another monitor, which was squelching with static. It showed an SAR shot of the area, laid out over a terrain map.

“Tech’s barely working as is it, with all the interference that thing’s giving off,” Dallon continued with a huff as he motioned towards the hammer.

He leaned forward to check one of the computers. It showed an incoming airplane. “Hey, we’ve got a commercial aircraft coming in right over us,” he warned, pressing a few keys and enlarging the GPS system, “Southwest Airlines, Flight 5434.”

“Reroute it, like all the others,” Sitwell instructed sternly.

“Right,” Dallon responded, fingers already flying across the keyboard as he worked on doing what he was told; pausing for a moment, he turned to look at the other agent, “Can I get the passengers some free drinks for the trouble?”

Sitwell glared at him, not at all amused. With a shrug, the techie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned back to the computer.

“It’d be a nice gesture,” he mumbled, continuing to type. He noticed something on an adjacent monitor screen, and held up a hand. “Hold on a sec… we got something outside the fence, west side…”

He pointed at the screen and through the haze, a thermal image huddled beside the fence was visible. Sitwell pulled his radio from his belt and brought it to his mouth.

“DeLancey, Jackson – check it out,” he ordered the two agents on the ground, who immediately hopped into a Jeep and took off to investigate.

Sitwell peered through the window of the security room, something strange catching his attention. In the window’s reflection, a glow could be seen – one that was emanating from the hammer containment area.

Below, the Jeep pulled up to the fence as the Agents scanned the area with a flashlight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Looks like we’re good here,” Agent Jackson reported into his radio, “Must have been another coyote.”

Just then, the two agents noticed a section of the fence had been bent up from the ground, leaving a noticeably sized gap. Before either of them could react and call it in, a massive crack of lightning illuminated the night sky – revealing the silhouette of a large man standing outside the driver’s side of the Jeep. DeLancey looked over, noticing.

“Jackson?” He cocked his head at the window.

The agents hastily reached for their weapons, but Thor elbowed Jackson across the jaw, causing him to drop his handgun. The limp body of the agent slumped over the steering wheel, as his partner started to raise a shotgun at Thor.

Thor grabbed the barrel of the gun and yanked it out of DeLancey’s hands, thrusting the hilt back and smashing the agent’s jaw.

With both threats neutralised, the god reached into the Jeep to grab a rain slicker, slipping it on as a means of camouflage. He hurried across the base, managing to get out of sight just as another agent approached the Jeep.

Seeing his unconscious colleagues, he quickly called into his radio. “Agents down! We’ve got a perimeter breach!”

Back inside the security room, all of the monitors were squelching with static and interference, as Dallon worked frantically to try and counteract the problem. Sitwell was holding his PDA with the intention of gaining contact with the agents on the ground – but even that was on the fritz.

He and Dallon watched the monitors warily, as on the screens was the hammer containment area, all lit up as Mjolnir started to crackle with energy.

“Get Coulson,” Sitwell calmly instructed Dallon, while he moved to punch the alarm.

~

As Thor made his way towards the crater, the alarm blared all around him and security lights exploded to life.

On the ridge just above the crater, a spotlight fired out from the base and swept across the ground towards Jane. She ducked down before the light could catch her, out of sight. Pulling out her cellphone, she dialled Selvig’s number, but got his voicemail.

With a sigh, she searched for Aaron’s number and pressed call. He answered on the second ring.

“Jane? Where are you?”

“Aaron,” she breathed, tossing a fleeting look over her shoulder, “okay, first of all, don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine, really.”

More sounds of mayhem came from the base.

“Wha-“

“But if you don’t hear from me again,” she cut the doctor off, not allowing him to speak, “you might want to come out to the crater site and look for me. I kind of did what you and Erik said I shouldn’t do. Thanks. Bye.”

She hung up.

~

Emerging purposefully from the S.H.I.E.L.D command trailer, Coulson marched across the mud, radio to his ear. He looked out across the lit up site uneasily.

Across the way, a guard moved through the base, rifle in hand. From the shadows behind a trailer, a figure looked out at him. As the guard raises his radio to check in, Thor quickly rushed towards him and choked him out, letting his body fall to the ground.

The god noticed the AR-15 rifle lying on the ground beside the fallen guard, and he stared at the weapon quizzically; they didn’t have such things on Asgard. Hearing more guards approach, he made the decision to snatch the weapon up anyway, and took cover in the shadows of the trailer.

The guards passed by and Thor peered around the corner, seeing the well-guarded main entrance tube to the centre of the site. A bright light suddenly illuminated his face. He looked to see an ATV moving across the ground, shining its spotlight right on him – the driver had spotted him, and raised his radio to report it.

Knowing he had to act fast, Thor raised the rifle – then flipped it over in the air and caught it by the barrel. He reared the weapon back, then hurled it like a hammer. It flew through the air, smashing the ATV’s spotlight.

Glass and debris showered the driver, who took his hands off the wheel to cover his face and protect himself. Without the guidance of the driver, the ATV roared out of control past the guards near the tube entrance, who all reacted and began chasing after it.

Emerging from the shadows, Thor watched as the guards abandoned the site entrance. Now was his chance.

~

Climbing to the lip of the crater as a light rain began to fall, Coulson looked down and eyed the damage of the ATV crash. He was not pleased. In a matter of seconds, the light rain became a downpour.

Down at the entrance tube, Thor raced up the ramp, only to come face-to-face with two guards as he rounded a corner. Without hesitation, he knocked out the first guard, and then tackled the second before hurrying further on, just as more guards came up a ladder ahead.

The god punched the closest guard, sending him tumbling backwards, toppling the others on the ladder behind him. He took off running, then, as the guards regrouped and gave chase.

Thor spotted the glow of Mjolnir in the central cube, through the translucent walls of the tunnels, and he hurried through the tunnels to find a way towards it.

Meanwhile, still on the crater lip, Coulson stood barking out orders, as the guards in the tunnel rushed to cut off Thor. The agent activated his radio.

“I want eyes up high. With a gun. Now!”

Inside the command trailer, a sniper dressed in black tactical gear and high-tech night vision equipment picked up a rifle and slung it over his shoulder before heading out.

Agent Barton.

Lightning crackled all around the camp as he approached a crane bucket. After he leaped in, the bucket lifted into the air.

~

As Thor proceeded to race through the tunnel, yet another guard ran right at him, on a collision course. Thor took him out with a punch to the gut, and then turned to see more agents coming towards him.

Picking up the fallen guard he punched, he threw him into the approaching agents, scattering them. He then turned around and ran back the way he came, with the agents still chasing.

Coulson watched the commotion in the tunnel complex before heading off for the command trailer to enter the tunnels. Meanwhile, the crane basket ascended into the high winds as Barton readied his sniper rifle.

Inside the complex, Thor headed down a ladder form a junction box, with other figures converging on him.

Coulson entered the tunnels through the command trailer and called on his radio. “Barton. Talk to me.”

The crane holding Barton arced out over the structure. Barton took aim. “One shot, one kill, sir,” he said over his comm, “Just give the word.”

From the agent’s point of view overlooking the complex, it was a clear field of vision, nowhere to hide. A digital read-out gave information on the distance to the target. He locked in on Thor, who was inside the plastic tubing, emerging from the junction box and heading towards the cube structure.

“Hello, handsome,” he said slyly, a small smirk on his face at the prospect of having a clear shot. He never missed.

Still racing through the tunnel, Thor came across a wall of agents; the god roared and barrelled through them – elbowing, punching – whatever it took to keep on moving.

As he took down the last agent, Thor saw the last junction box and the entrance to the cube structure up ahead, and he wasted no time in sprinting towards it. He was so close, able to actually see Mjolnir within the middle of the structure, when – bam!

From out of nowhere, a fist landed a powerful blow across his jaw, sending him reeling. Dazed, Thor looked up to see a huge S.H.I.E.L.D agent – the biggest of them all – standing between him and his hammer in the cube structure beyond. With a once-over, Thor sized him up.

“You’re big.” Thor grinned and cocked his head to the side. “Fought bigger.”

Within a split second, Thor and the Huge Agent exploded through the wall of the junction box, then crashed into the mud, sending both of them sliding across the ground.

Barton had Thor full in his sights, standing still as a statue as he awaited further instructions.

Coulson hurried through the tunnel, ready to give the word to Barton, when he stopped short all of a sudden. He could see what looked an awful lot like an electrical storm erupting inside the structure ahead, directly above the crater… and the hammer.

~

Pushing open the glass door to the temporary office space in the base, you wiped the remaining droplets of water from your hands onto your jeans before entering the room.

Instinctively, you went to retrieve your phone from the tabletop where you’d left it only minutes ago; as you did so, the abundance of notifications blowing up the screen made you frown.

The frown soon turned from one of confusion to one of worry when you saw that the notifs were all messages of missed calls from Aaron. You had left to go to the bathroom a mere three minutes ago, and the fact that he had called ten times over that short span of time brought you nothing but unease.

Hastily, you placed your thumb over the home button, unlocking the phone. You were just about to press the call button when the sound of your ringtone sounded throughout the space, sounding even more piercing than usual now that you were so full of anxiety.

With shaky hands, you answered the call and pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N), oh, finally!” The relief in Aaron’s voice was undeniable, but it soon subsided, overtaken by the sheer panic that he wasn’t able to mask – try as he might.

You listened intently to every single syllable that spilled from his lips and into the receiver, feeling the panic transfer over to you just as easily as his words did.

“Fuck,” you cursed, not even bothering to end the call, instead just turning sharply on your heel, exiting the room and sprinting down the length of the base.

~

Thor and the huge agent struggled to find their footing in the mud, their balance completely thrown off. Through the translucent walls of the cube structure, Thor saw Mjolnir, but the agent rose up before him, blocking his view almost entirely.

Rain and blood trickled down Thor’s face as he lunged forward, whipping his feet in front of him then kicking out, nailing the huge agent in the chest. The agent went down hard as Thor’s momentum clashed with him.

The god stood, heading for the cube structure, when he was yanked by his ankle in a last effort by the agent. Looking down at his foe, Thor dropped backwards, pile driving his elbow into the fallen agent’s chest; he grimaced in pain, defeated, as the god raced on.

From outside the hammer containment cube, Thor ripped an opening in the plastic wall of the structure. He stood there – soaking, bleeding, caked with wet earth. His hammer rested just a few yards before him, energy surging around it.

Coulson stepped into the structure through an access tunnel, one storey up.

As Thor approached the hammer, Mjolnir started to glow brighter, blue electricity sparking off its surface. The crackling energy seemed to reach out to him. Coulson noticed it, and his interest was piqued.

Above the open ceiling of the structure, Barton’s crane bucket came into view. Wind and rain whipped around the agent as he stared into his rifle site, locked on the back of Thor’s head – his finger on the trigger.

Thor stood next to the hammer, feeling its power. He reached out to it confidently. Coulson observed from above, armed agents approaching behind him. He motioned for them to hold their positions, then radioed Barton.

“Barton…”

Barton stood ready to take Thor down; his finger started to squeeze the trigger.

“Coulson!” you called out, panting as you scrambled your way up the hill; your clothes were stained with mud and your wet hair was matted, flat against your head. “Don’t.”

The agent turned to look at you, squinting his eyes infinitesimally. You didn't say anything to him, just stood there as rain pelted down, looking at him with wide-eyes.

And he understood.

“…hold your fire.”

Barton released the trigger, pulling up. Coulson let his gaze linger on you for a couple more seconds, before both of you turned your attention to the god, watching in anticipation as Thor wrapped his hand around the hammer. He smiled, triumphant, and lifted… but the hammer didn’t move.

Utterly perplexed, Thor tried again with two hands, to no avail – anger and frustration quickly took over him. He strained with all his might, screaming from the effort, bellowing up at the storm and lightning above him.

Something began appearing on the sides of Mjolnir – glowing runes. Thor looked down, seeing them. But still, the hammer didn’t budge.

The god fell to his knees before it, rain pouring down around him, as the glowing runes faded away. He failed.

Unworthy.

Coulson looked on, clearly disappointed, and you… well, you weren’t entirely sure just how to feel. Before you could decide, your focus shifted as the S.H.I.E.L.D agents moved in, guns trained on Thor, surrounding him.

Coulson activated his radio. “Ground units, move in. Show’s over.”

As the hoard of agents surrounded him, Thor didn’t seem to notice or care. He just sat there on his knees, head bowed in the rain – a man broken, lost.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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[quirklessbunny]

A Prescription for Love

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Relationship: Promptis

Summary: Dr. Caelum has been pining for the x-ray technician, Prompto Argentum, for a long time. He had no idea that Prompto felt the same way.

Full fic under the readmore

Happy Birthday @terrestrialtooru !! I hope you like it!

Noctis is sitting in the back office when a familiar blond head pops around the door frame. He has to hold back a smile as he welcomes him in, nodding to him. “Something I can do for you, Argentum?” he asks, standing and stepping around around his desk to take the envelope held out to him.

“These are for the kid who swallowed a marble. He actually has like eight or nine that he swallowed, so you better watch that one. Or make one of the interns watch him, like usual.” He laughs a little, then leans back on the wall. Prompto is just trying to extend the conversation. “Anyway, you know where I am if you need another one,” he says, blushing a little as he leaves. That was stupidly embarrassing, he tells himself.

Noctis laughs a little. “Yep, in the x-ray room. As per usual. See ya, Argentum,” he says, waving as he leaves. He sits down and looks over the x-rays, then hands them over to an interns. He had hopes Prompto would stay just a little longer, but he never seems to stick around. It's no matter, he's sure, kids are always in need of x-rays it seems.

Noctis stands up, heading through crowded hallways to his next patient, smiling as he steps inside. “Hello, Sadie. My name is Dr. Caelum, but you can just call me Noct if it's easier,” he says to her, wanting her to calm down. He can tell she's in immense pain, and having her panicking isn't going to help anything. “What hurts most?” He makes sure to keep a respectful distance from her, because he's noticed most kids seem to calm down more when they're not cornered.

Sadie looks up at him. “My arm hurts. Mommy says she thinks I broke it,” she whispers, looking at Noctis fearfully. “Is it going to hurt to fix it?”

Noctis hums in thought. “May I see? I won't touch, but if you can hold it out to me, I'll take a look. Then we'll go get some x-rays, and if it's broken, I'll give you a really cool cast. You can have all your friends at school sign it,” he tells her. “It might hurt a little bit at first, but it'll heal up really nicely, and then it'll stop hurting, alright?” Noctis looks over her arm then nods, standing up. “Let's head down to the x-ray room, and if you sit still for it, I'll give you a lollipop.”

Sadie smiles at that. “I'm gonna be really good, right mommy?” she says, holding her mom's hand as they walk down the hall to the x-ray room. Noctis smiles at Prompto as he walks in, then comes over to him.

“This is Sadie. I need an x-ray of her arm. I suspect it's broken in a clean break, but a confirmation is good. She's ten,” Noctis explains, looking down at her sheet. “Make sure not to move her arm too much, she's afraid for it to be touched.”

Prompto greets him, blushing a little, then smiles at her. “Nice to meet you, Sadie! I'm Prompto. I'm just gonna get a quick x-ray of your arm, alright? I promise I won't touch it,” he says, gently leading her over to the machine. He helps her get the protective shield over herself and lets her move her own arm, then steps back with her mother to take the images. Noctis is standing close behind him. Too close, almost. He blushes a little more as he looks at the screen.

“Alright,” Noctis says, heading back out and gently removing the lead vest once more. “I'm going to have these developed. I'll have a resident take you back to the room while I look them over, then I'll come talk to you both about it. And of course, bring Miss Sadie a lollipop for doing so well.” Noctis calls a resident in and has them led back to the room, then closes the door to the x-ray lab.

“I have a question,” Noctis says, leaning against the counter. “Do you want to get a drink after work today? I'm buying.” He gives Prompto a small smile, living for the blush that spreads across his cheeks at the question. “What? You seem like a cool guy and I'd like to be your friend.” He turns, stepping towards Prompto until he's backed into the desk, effectively trapping him. “Plus, I don't miss the fact that you bring everything to me yourself. You don't do that with any of the other doctors, I've asked around.”  

Prompto blushes even more, sitting back on the desk. “Yeah, well...that's because I might like you more than I like them,” he responds. He's been in love with Noctis for a while, because he's always so kind and when he smiles, Prompto's heart pounds. “Yeah, I'll get a drink with you, Noct. You're buying, so I have no reason to say no, right?” He grins, jumping down and moving around Noctis.

“You know, I really admire what you do, Noctis. I'd really like to get to know you more. Maybe spend some time together, some nights,” he says with a flirtatious little smile. “But right now, you have more important things than me.” He grabs the developed x-rays and hands them over to Noctis, smiling. “I'll meet you out front after work. Don't make me wait too long, it's cold outside.”

Noctis' cheeks turn light red. “It would absolutely be my pleasure to get to know you more, and even to spend some nights with you.” He pauses, then smiles back at Prompto. “You're an utter tease, Argentum. Want a lollipop, since you did so good?” he teases. Prompto laughs a little then gets closer to Noctis once more.

“You got cherry?”

“Sure do,” he says, pulling it out of the pocket of his coat, then holds it out to the technician.

“Thanks, Noctis. I have such a sweet tooth,” Prompto says, pulling the plastic off. He leans up, face mere centimetres from Noctis', then pops the candy into his mouth and turns away, sitting down at his desk. “Have a nice rest of your day, Dr. Caelum. I'll see you after work.” He doesn't even look up from his computer as Noctis leaves the room.

Prompto is a little anxious for what seems to be a date at this point. He's been trying for weeks to hint to Noctis that he's interested in him, but it didn't seem to be making a difference. Noctis drops in sometimes, when he doesn't need to, but Prompto had spent a very long time convincing himself that it was nothing. Until Noctis had practically shoved him against the desk. It felt like Noctis would have gone even further if he hadn't ducked away.

After his shift ends, he stands up and heads to the lounge, changing into more comfortable clothes. He pulls on his winter coat and heads outside, bag slung over his shoulder. He blows into his hands then rubs them together, trying to ward off the absolute cold. Prompto bounces from foot to foot, glancing at the front door every once in a while. He moves and sits on the bench, bouncing his leg. His ass is cold and a little wet now, but it's better than standing around.

Prompto crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the clear glass doors, then sighs softly. How long is Noctis going to take, he wonders. He isn't sure, but he knows he'd wait quite a while, even in this cold. Prompto leans back on the bench, biting his lower lip. Time passes, and he worries that Noctis isn't going to show. A quick check to his phone tells him he's been waiting for about an hour. He puffs his cheeks out and rubs his hands together, then sighs.

Prompto stands up, feeling a little like someone who got rejected in the worst way. Noctis didn't show, and Prompto just waited outside in the snow like a fool. Of course Noctis isn't actually interested in him. Why would he be? He feels his eyes sting, which is dumb. He knew this was going to be the result of agreeing to this date.

He hears the sliding doors open behind him, but after waiting and perking up each time, he doesn't even bother. Just another family member leaving after a visit or someone else is off duty. Nothing to really be excited about.

“Prompto!” Noctis shouts, pausing when he sees that it's snowing, and there's ice. He can't run to catch up to him. “Prompto! Wait!” He dashes out through the slush, feet sliding. He hits his knees and mutters a curse, then stands up quickly, rushing the rest of the way.

Prompto turns at the curse words, then gasps when he sees Noctis coming towards him so quickly. “Noctis! Careful, there's ice! I'm gonna be so mad if you end up in my lap!” he tells him. Noctis tries to slow, but he slides on a piece of ice and slams into Prompto, and they both go down. Prompto groans in pain, laying still as Noctis rolls off of him.

He looks over at Noctis, grabbing his hand softly. “You okay? Why did you run when you knew it was icy?” Prompto asks.

Noctis huffs out a laugh. “I left the most beautiful man in the hospital on the steps for an extra hour, and I thought he was about to leave without me. Of course I'm okay. I had a nice pillow to cushion my fall,” he says, smiling brightly. Snowflakes are landing on Prompto's pale hair and eyelashes, making Noctis fall even more in love. “Let's ditch the bar, huh? I have a few nice bottles of wine at home. We could order a nice dinner, make a proper date of it,” he says, leaning over.

Prompto meets him in the kiss, smiling happily. “Well, I'm going to need to borrow some clothes. Somebody decided to knock me into the filthy slush,” he teases, pushing himself up.

“Alright, I'm sorry, Prom. But you have to admit, it was funny. Plus, I finally got to kiss you,” Noctis responds, standing up as well. He pulls Prompto into a second kiss, smiling softly. “Let's go get you all nice and dry, alright?” Noctis holds Prompto's hand as they make their way through the parking lot. He opens the passenger door for him, smiling softly.

Prompto thanks him and gets in, watching the buildings pass by on the drive. “What do you want to order for dinner?” he asks, looking over at Noctis, who just shrugs. “Fine, if you leave it up to me we're getting pizza.”

Noctis laughs. “Sounds great to me, honestly. I'm just glad I didn't ruin my chances with you. I had a last minute meeting.” He gets out and opens Prompto's door for him. He holds his hand on the way up, only letting go to unlock his door. Noctis heads straight to the back and gets them both a change of clothes. “I'll run your clothes through the wash so you can take them tonight,” Noctis says as he hands over some casual wear.

Prompto thanks him and ducks into the bathroom to change. When he comes back out, Noctis' breath catches in his throat. If he thought Prompto looked beautiful at the hospital, then he's ethereal now, the black clothes baggy on him, contrasting with his beautiful blond hair. But Noctis knows that what makes it look so good is that they're his clothes.

Noctis changes, then comes out to the front, opening his laptop. “What do you want from the pizza place?” he asks, bringing up the website for the closest place. Prompto smiles and tells him what he likes, then sits down beside him. He leans his head on Noctis' shoulder, looking over the order. He turns his head and kisses Noctis' shoulder softly.

“So where's the wine I was promised?” he teases, smiling softly. Prompto runs his fingers down Noctis' arm to slides their fingers together. “We're going to get all drunk and eat some pizza and then what?” he asks softly.

Noctis smiles at him, turning and catching his lips in another kiss. “Well...I have a lot of video games.”

Prompto perks up. “Dude, you know how to make a guy really happy.”