#you are the reason I listen to mr archives have the worst day of his life every single day

[jumper-insectia]

I have been listening to so much tma recently and I have finally gotten into season three and more specifically the arc I’m gonna personally call “mr archives realizes some shit and now he can’t stop realizing and also mannequins want him to adopt a new skincare routine”

[greenjacketwhitehatdocmui]

Frozen:  In the Details

Summary:  Sometimes, the simplest of tasks can have a deeper meaning.  Agnarr muses on what washing the car has meant to him in the past, and possibly the future.  This was written for the “Summer Lovin’” issue of @frozines on Tumblr. Modern AU, Agduna and Kristanna.

This story can be found on @frozines and at Fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own.

Enjoy!

--Pearson “Doc” Mui

Frozen:  In the Details by Pearson “Doc” Mui

           Agnarr awoke early on a Saturday. With some grumbling, Iduna released him from their bed as he prepared for the day. She understood that this task had to be done early in the morning, but she didn’t have to like it. If things worked out, however, it would have been worth waking up early for.

           After a quick breakfast and some cleanup, Agnarr trotted to the garage. The spring in his step ran counter to the occasional crackling sound in his knees. Even the projected thirty percent chance of rain did nothing to dampen his spirits.

Eyeing one corner of the garage, he chose his tools for the day’s task. Buckets, wash mitts and car soap were laid out on the garage floor. After a moment, he opened up some folding chairs and a small table.

           Opening the garage door, he smiled at the sight of his girls coming home, if only for today. They were adults now; Elsa was working on her PhD while Anna was a year into graduate school. The nest was never empty for too long, thankfully. They made time to visit, even if it was just for small talk.

           Elsa eyed him ruefully before accepting a quick hug. She had a pretty good idea of what he had planned for their incoming guest. Anna, on the other hand, was pouting.

           “Dad, are you really going to put Kristoff through this?” Clearly, his youngest wasn’t pleased at the prospect.

           Agnarr raised an eyebrow. “The way you’re talking, you’d think that I was going to torture him. It’s just a car wash between men.” He sighed. “You used to love helping me wash the car.”

           “I remember that you loved using the hose,” Elsa reminded Anna. There wasn’t any real bite to her words, though. “We used to help while wearing swimsuits.”

           Anna’s pout faded as she sighed, briefly lost in nostalgia.  “Those were good times, weren’t they?”

           Iduna folded her arms and sighed. Both of her girls were wearing swimsuits underneath their shirts and shorts. Anna eagerly fingered the trigger to the hose while Elsa made sure the supplies were in order.

           Elsa was having a good day. It hadn’t taken too much cajoling to get her outside. Anna’s puppy-dog eyes were a formidable weapon, especially at the tender age of eight.

           Most men would have insisted on doing “man stuff” by themselves. Agnarr wanted to have as many family activities as possible. Everyone had a job: Agnarr would wash the car, Anna would rinse it off and Elsa would take care of the windows. Iduna was there for spot-checking and refreshments.

           “Is everyone ready?” he asked enthusiastically.

           “Ready!” Anna piped up.

           “I’m ready, Papa,” Elsa said more demurely.

           He nodded.  “Well, let’s get this car clean, shall we?”

           Iduna marveled at their coordination. Everyone worked their roles admirably. Of course, a family wash like this was more for fun than work. There wouldn’t be any intensely-detailed work like Agnarr had done before—

           She suppressed a shudder. Agnarr’s father had been a cold taskmaster. He was more of a sire than an actual, warm father figure. While she took no pleasure in anyone’s passing, she had admit that the town had been the better for it.

           The calm lasted almost the entire time the car was being washed. Then Anna got a little overzealous with the hose and sprayed into the air.

           “Look, Elsa! Look Papa! I’m making rainbows—oops.” Anna laughed nervously as she realized that both Elsa and Agnarr were soaked.

           Iduna sighed, safe in the garage. She knew that it was going to end up like this.

           With calm, deliberate steps, she retreated further into the garage and grabbed a third, covered bucket from its hiding place. She and Agnarr had prepared this little surprise last night. With some effort, she hoisted the bucket to the driveway and uncovered it.

           Iduna reached into the bucket and grabbed a water balloon. She gestured for everyone to do the same.

           “On three,” she said firmly. “One, two—“

           “THREE!” Anna squealed.

           The battle was joined. When it was over, they were collapsed on the lawn, soaked through and basking in the summer sun.  It had been a good day.

           “Morning, girls,” Iduna greeted them. “Have you had breakfast yet? I could fix something up.”

           “We’re fine, Mom,” Elsa reassured her. “We ate before we came here.”

           Anna blinked and winced as she ran back to her car, an unassuming Honda Civic.  Rummaging around, she extracted a bag and jogged back.

           “We stopped by Hudson’s Hearth,” Anna said. “Destin and Halima say `hello.’” She opened it up and the three women sniffed deeply at the smell that wafted out.

           “Hmm…chocolate,” they chorused. For a moment, they were lost in the smell of the pastries.

           Agnarr tried not to chuckle. The apples didn’t fall far from the tree.

           He turned away from them and tried not to look too anxious or expectant. In the brief encounters he’d had before, Kristoff had seemed like a nice enough young man. It was clear that he cared greatly for Anna.

           Unfortunately, Anna hadn’t been so lucky the first time. At first glance, Hans had seemed like a good person, too. But the devil was always in the details—or, in this case, the detailing.

           Hans had pulled into their driveway in a Ferrari. To Agnarr, this was the first clue that the young man might have been trying too hard.

           “Good morning, Mr. Arendelle!” Hans greeted him enthusiastically. “So, who’s going to get the royal car wash treatment?”

           “We’ll be taking care of Anna’s car,” Agnarr said. “I already waxed our cars last week. I figured that Anna’s car could use a cleanup.”

           Hans’s smile froze. There was a dark shadow of disappointment in his eyes.

           “Oh,” Hans said simply. Then he rallied. “Oh, of course,” he agreed. “Nothing but the best for Anna.”

           “I’m glad that you agree,” Agnarr said. “I have all the supplies in the garage. Was there anything you needed?”

           “Thank you sir, but I brought my own things,” Hans said smoothly. He almost strutted to the Ferrari and pulled out some high-end detailing supplies from the little trunk. They were all brand new and still in the package.

           “Do you use all this on your own car?” Agnarr asked.

           Hans paused. Then he smiled in an ingratiating manner. “I don’t compromise on quality, Mr. Arendelle. As I said before, I want only the best for Anna.”

           As the time passed, Agnarr noticed several things he wasn’t sure that he liked. Hans insisted on doing it all himself, even though Agnarr had offered to help. Whenever Anna caught his eye, Hans flexed and winked.

           It was clear to Agnarr that Hans had never washed a car in his life. He was washing randomly instead of methodically, “politely” refusing any suggestions. He was sloppy applying the wax, squirting a long line on the car and working from there. Furthermore, when Hans thought that neither Agnarr nor Anna was looking, he scowled.

           Agnarr did not have a good feeling about Hans. He tried to voice his objections to Anna, but she was entirely captivated by how charming, selfless and helpful he was. Hans was, in her eyes, flawless. It was not a good sign.

           “I’m not sure it’ll work out,” he admitted to Iduna later on. It pained him to see Anna clinging to Hans’s every word. It was obvious that Anna was utterly besotted with Hans.

           “I didn’t know that a car wash was a personality test,” she joked. Her smile faded as she noted his grim expression. “You’re serious?”

           He sighed heavily. “He doesn’t take any suggestions or criticism. He shows off when he knows that people are looking. When he thinks nobody’s looking, it’s obvious that he’s not really enjoying himself.” He paused. “And honestly, even Anna could see that he did a terrible job of it.”

           “Elsa doesn’t like him, either,” she said. “Something about how he seems insincere to everyone except the person he’s focusing on.”

           “Dad had that kind of charm,” Agnarr admitted. “He was better at it, though. Hardly anyone saw his dark side.”

           She flinched. “We should warn her.”

           “I’m not sure she’d listen. She has an incredibly forgiving heart and Hans will take full advantage of it. You saw how besotted she was with him. I could practically see the hearts floating from her.”

           “So we do nothing?” Those words left a bad taste in her mouth.

           “No.” He shook his head. “We hope for the best and prepare for the worst. If he tries to isolate her, we find ways to keep in contact. Elsa’s ready to intervene if she has to.”

           She nodded. “And what if he goes too far?”

           His expression darkened. “Then I will make certain that he never huts anyone again.”

          “Just you?” she asked. “You never let me have any fun.”

          “Fine, I can go after you,” he sighed. “Not that there would be much left.”

           Anna’s enthusiastic greeting to Kristoff’s truck broke Agnarr out of his reverie.  He chuckled as Kristoff parked his truck on the side of the road. It was a small gesture of consideration, one of many that he’d observed. Kristoff wasn’t rich and he hadn’t been able to afford the best education, but he was kind and sincere.

           “Woof!”

           Oh, and Kristoff had a big, friendly dog. The girls had taken to him almost immediately, with Anna babbling baby-talk as Elsa looked embarrassed. Iduna was not immune to Sven’s “puppy in a big body” charm. As for Agnarr, he was fond of the big dog as well—though he tried to be restrained about it.

           “Mr. Arendelle,” Kristoff greeted Agnarr politely—and a bit nervously. “Um, I hope you don’t mind that I brought Sven. The big lug didn’t want to stay home.”

           “That’s fine,” Agnarr said reasonably. “As long as he behaves himself, I don’t have any problem.”

           “He’s a total sweetie, Dad,” Anna said from behind. “Want me to keep an eye on him?” She asked Kristoff.

           “That’d be great, thanks,” he said.  “If he gets fidgety, you know what to do.”

Opening the door, he grabbed Sven’s leash. The big dog jumped out and waited for Anna to accept the lead. After the obligatory scratch behind the ears and baby talk, she and Sven headed to the shelter of the garage.

           “So, um, I brought some stuff with me,” Kristoff admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. “Of course, if there’s something you want to use, I’m okay with that.”

           Agnarr scrutinized the equipment in the back of the truck. The microfiber towels had been neatly folded in their own, zip-locked bag. Two buckets with grates inside met with his approval. He did arch an eyebrow at the orbital polisher and pads, something that his late father would have taken issue with. There were spray bottles of wheel cleaner, “ceramic wax,” something for the upholstery and something called “instant detailer.” Everything was in good condition, but it was obvious that the equipment had seen some use.

           “Do you think I brought too much?” Kristoff asked nervously. “Maybe I overdid it.”

           “I think this will be just fine,” Agnarr said. He turned towards Anna. “What are you in the mood for today?” he asked.

           “Well, I really don’t need anything fancy,” she replied. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

           “I could probably get rid of some of those swirl marks,” Kristoff suggested. “If you want, I mean.  Think of it as kind of exfoliating your car.”

           She lifted an eyebrow at the metaphor. “Well…maybe just the hood and the trunk,” she allowed. She quirked the corner of her mouth in amusement. “You just want to use your little toy, don’t you?”

           “Well, I saved up for it,” he admitted. “So, smooth out the hood and trunk, got it.”

           Agnarr tried not to chuckle. “You have a polisher, don’t you?”

           “It’s nothing fancy,” Kristoff said. “I saved up for it, so I figured I might as well get some mileage out of it.”

           “He waxes his truck every few weeks,” Anna said. “You know, I kind of feel bad that you’re doing all this for my car. Maybe I could take care of the upholstery or something?”

           The two men shared a look. Anna was dressed practically for the warm weather. There was nothing objectionable about her jean shorts and t-shirt. However, crawling around to wipe down the seats would have been awkward, to say the least.

           “How about I walk you through getting your trunk polished?” Kristoff suggested. “It’s not that hard.”

           “You’re letting me touch your baby?” Anna asked dubiously.

           “My polisher is not my baby,” Kristoff protested. Then there was a warmth in his smile that made her flush. “I trust you.”

           “So…you’d let me wax your truck?” she teased.

           “Why don’t we start with your car first?” Agnarr gently interrupted. “We don’t want to wait too long, after all.”

           Elsa quietly smiled as the men worked on the car. They had been surprisingly efficient and coordinated well together. There were moments when one man had to offer feedback to the other, but neither of them took any offense. It was an unusual kind of camaraderie.

           Kristoff was a vast improvement over Hans. What he lacked in funds, he more than made up for in heart. He may have been a little rough around the edges, but there was no doubt that Anna was the most important person in his life.

           She heard one breathy sigh, then another. She noted the very contented looks on the faces to either side of her. Then she noted that even in the relatively cool summer weather, Kristoff and her father had worked up quite the sweat, their shirts clinging to them.

           With a quiet, resigned sigh, she went into the house. Her sister and mother were oblivious to her absence.

           A few moments later, she returned with a tray of drinks and two towels. She set the tray on a nearby work bench and took two tall glasses of lemonade with her.

           Anna still had a dazed, dopey expression on her face. Iduna wasn’t much better.

           Elsa took Anna’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding Sven’s leash, and gently placed the glass in her palm. With a start, she blinked as if she were coming out of a spell.

           Elsa did the same for their mother. Iduna’s reaction was much the same as Anna’s.

           Elsa couldn’t resist a little smirk. “I thought you two might want something to drink,” she said. “You both looked…thirsty.”

           Iduna and Anna rolled their eyes at the double-entendre. Behind the cool exterior that Elsa projected, she could be quite the joker—even if her humor tended to be on the dry side.

           “Very funny,” Anna returned. “We’re just appreciating their hard work.”

           “We certainly are,” Iduna agreed. “Both of them are very diligent.”

           “Well, maybe we could reward their diligence with a towel and a sports drink?” Elsa suggested, gesturing to the tray. “I think they could use it.”

           Agnarr wiped the sweat off of his forehead. While he still enjoyed washing cars, he was reminded that he wasn’t a young man anymore. Even though he and Kristoff were cutting the workload in half, he was still going to be sore tomorrow morning.

           Still, it was gratifying to see how seriously Kristoff took things. He was methodical and, more importantly, he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. He concentrated on the job at hand and accepted feedback.

           “You’ve had some experience,” he observed. “With washing cars, I mean.”

           Kristoff gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I worked part-time at the car wash one summer,” he replied. “I guess it kind of stuck.” He wiped at his brow. “I wouldn’t want to do it for a living, though.”

           “I had to…earn things by washing cars,” Agnarr said. “My father was a big believer in hard work.”

           Kristoff said nothing. He could tell by the older man’s tone that there were mixed emotions.

           Agnarr wiped the sweat off his brow, if only to not drip on his father’s Cadillac. The “beast,” as he jokingly called it, was an ostentatious symbol of his father’s wealth and practicality. It was practical in that any repairs or maintenance could be easily obtained within the town.

           As he wiped off a clear path in the baked-on wax, he saw his tired, sweaty reflection in the black depths of the “beast.” He had just spent the last four hours under the hot July sun. Every detail had been supervised by his father, who was resting in the shade with a beer. Every once in a while, his father would shout words of—

           “Come on, boy!” Runeard exclaimed. “Put your back into it! In my day, we had to deal with Blue Coral. You’ve got it easy with that wax!”

           Agnarr said nothing. His father often deducted from the anticipated payment if he talked back. It was one of the little ways that the family company kept people in line.

           It took another half hour to clear off the last of the wax. His arms trembling, he stood up straight and awaited judgment—and hopefully, payment.

           Runeard took one last draw of his beer and got up. He circled around the Cadillac and murmured in—well, it wasn’t quite approval. It was more like he acknowledged that the job had been done.

           Agnarr tried to keep calm. He didn’t dare show how eager he was to get paid. He couldn’t ever let his feelings show, not in front of his father.

           Runeard wiped his index finger down the hood and felt for any errant wax. There was one last murmur as he nodded.

           “It’ll do,” Runeard declared. With exaggerated magnanimity, he took out a twenty and handed it to Agnarr. Then the scowl returned as his nostrils flared. “Get cleaned up before you go, boy. And you’d better stay away from those filthy people.”

           Agnarr nodded once. The less his father knew about his outings with Iduna, the better.

           With one last scowl, Runeard shooed him away from the car. It was the same dismissive gesture he might have used for a servant. It certainly reinforced Agnarr’s place in the world—at least in Runeard’s mind.

           Agnarr trudged back into the house. He didn’t have to play up his muscle aches. He did have to remind himself not to smile in front of his father.

           Those long, hot hours had been worth it. The aches had been worth it.  Above all,   Iduna was worth it.

           Agnarr forced himself to take long, slow sips of the sports drink as he toweled off the sweat. The exterior had been cleaned and dried, including the wheels. All that was left was the interior and waxing the car.

           “You’re in good shape for your age, but don’t overdo it,” Iduna warned him gently. “There’s no one to show off to.”

           “I’m not showing off,” he replied. “I’m just…enjoying the moment.”

           “What moment?” she asked.

           He turned his gaze to where Kristoff was showing Anna the bottle of detailer spray and some sort of yellow clay. He sprayed the hood and wiped the clay across the surface. Then he took a microfiber towel and wiped off any residue.

           “See these little dots and specks?” Kristoff pointed to the clay bar. “These are contaminants that stick on your paint. We want to get rid of those before we polish out the swirls. After that, we put on the wax and we’re all set.” He paused. “Here, feel where I just cleaned it up.”

           Anna tentatively brushed a finger across the surface. Blue eyes widened in amazement.

           “Whoa, that’s…really smooth,” she said. “So, you do this every time you wax your truck?”

           He shook his head. “No, this is only once or twice a year. This used to be a big secret for the car shops until a few years ago.”

           Iduna turned back to Agnarr and nodded in understanding. There wasn’t a hint of arrogance or condescension in Kristoff’s voice. He merely wanted to inform Anna about something he liked.

           As the morning went on, Agnarr noted how patient Kristoff was with Anna. He was a good teacher, putting his polisher in Anna’s hands. It was obvious that Kristoff trusted her implicitly—and she felt the same about him.

           By the time they were done, Anna’s Honda had never looked better. Anna and Kristoff took a moment to bask in their shared accomplishment. The car gleamed in the light, despite the clouds coming in.

           “Good job, feisty pants,” Kristoff complimented her. “She looks great.”

           “Oh, I didn’t do all that much,” she demurred. “You and Dad did all the hard work.”

           “Oh, it’s not as hard as the old days,” Agnarr chimed in. “Believe me, I would have been a lot less sore if we had that ceramic wax back then. It’s a lot easier to take off than baked-on Turtle Wax.”

           Any further comment was forestalled when Sven sniffed the air. The big dog made a dissatisfied, grumbling sound. Moments later, the sky darkened with an ominous rumble.

           “Oh, no…” Agnarr groaned. “There wasn’t supposed to be any rain today!”

           “That figures,” Kristoff sighed heavily. He eyed the back of his truck.

           Elsa checked her phone. “Looks like there’ll be heavy showers for an hour or two.”

           “But we just finished it!” Anna groaned.

           Kristoff perked up a little. “Well, I’ve got a tarp in the back of my truck. I could cover up your car until the rain stops.”

           Anna blinked. “You’re prepared.”

           He shrugged. “Sometimes life is like that. You get little bumps in the road and do the best you can. Experience is the toughest teacher. C’mon, let’s get this done.”

           Moments later, Anna’s car was safely covered just before the deluge hit. Everyone watched the rain from inside the garage. Kristoff and Agnarr were toweling off their hair. They were both soaked form the rain.

           “Sorry it didn’t work out, sir,” Kristoff said.

           “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Agnarr replied. “I’d say that this was a very productive day.”

           Kristoff looked at him quizzically. “How so?”

           Behind him, Anna looked puzzled while Elsa looked satisfied. Clearly, something was going on.

           “Do you have anywhere you need to go?” Agnarr asked casually.

           “Not until the rain stops,” Kristoff replied. “Why do you ask?”

           “Well, until then, I suppose that you and Sven are our guests. Do you have any requests for lunch?”

           Kristoff held up his hands. “Sir, I really don’t want to impose. I’m sure you were looking forward to time with your family.”

           “I am,” Agnarr acknowledged with a nod. “Of course, this can include prospective members of my family.”

           “But Sven—“

           “He’s covered,” Elsa said. She reached in her purse and held up a can of dog food.

           Kristoff blinked as Sven leaned against Elsa. “Did you know about this?” he asked Anna.

           She shook her head. “Nope. It’s news to me.”

           “Relax,” Agnarr said calmly. “I’m not bringing out the shotgun for you two. I’m just asking if you’d like to stay for lunch.”

           “I—sure, if it’s no trouble,” he agreed.

           “No trouble at all,” Iduna reassured him. “There’s plenty in the Instant Pot to go around.” She opened the door to the house and the smell of hearty stew wafted outside.

           “Useful, isn’t it?” Elsa remarked. She paused and dug out something else from her purse. She handed a large, folded square of cloth to Kristoff. “You’ll need this.”

           He grimaced at the t-shirt he’d been handed. It wasn’t his, but it was definitely his size. The words “love expert” were boldly emblazoned on the front, complete with hearts.

           “Elsa!” Anna exclaimed.

           “Yes?” Elsa could not have pretended to be more innocent if she’d batted her eyes.

           “You are a stinker. No, you are a scheming, plotting stinker. This was a conspiracy!” Anna declared.

           Elsa and Agnarr had matching smirks. That was unsettling to both Anna and Kristoff.

           “Well, I didn’t plan on the rain,” Agnarr admitted. “You are welcome in my house.” He paused. “While you are in my house, I do expect you two to…mind your manners.”

           Agnarr turned to go inside. He only briefly paused when he passed Elsa.

           “They’re blushing, aren’t they?” he murmured.

           “Oh, yes,” Elsa agreed.

           “Good.”

           Elsa lingered for a moment, a smug little smirk on her face. Then she tapped her thigh and Sven followed her inside.

           “Your Dad really doesn’t have a shotgun, does he?”

           “I…don’t think so. I think he likes you.”

           “That’s…good,” Kristoff got out awkwardly. “I mean, it’s better than the alternative.”

           Wordlessly, Anna reached out. He gently took her hand as her eyes shone.

           “Come on, Mr. Love Expert,” she said. “Let’s have a family lunch.”

           Kristoff’s expression softened. “Sounds good to me.”

The End

[kazoo5480]

Summary: Emma Nolan and Killian Jones had been best friends since they were kids. What happens when they begin to grow up, their friendship falling apart, but Killian is still in love with Emma?

“Fucking idiot, ” he said internally and stalked off toward his homeroom. He seriously had to try harder, because a girl that looked like Emma, was going to be shark bait. Upperclassmen would already be circling her, at least Liam would offer her some form of protection he thought as he walked.

He walked in and grabbed a seat next to Ariel and Mulan. Mulan smirked at him, her eyes seeming like she knew something, he would guess Ruby told her something.

Mr. Leroy came in and began writing on the blackboard. The wide portly man waddled around his desk and sat down, his chair squeaking. Killian bit back a grin at the noise it made.

“Alright Sophomores, I am not your den mother, I don’t coddle, if you have women troubles I don’t care, If ladies have female issues, go see the nurse and say nothing to me, I won’t ask, I don’t want to know. This is your home base, you need homework help, ask me. Otherwise, use this hour to finish homework, study, and if you have to talk keep it to a reasonable noise level. If you need the bathroom, the key is by the door, just go and come back. That is all, as you were” he said and swiveled in his chair, it creaking like it was going to snap as he opened a book.

Mulan laughed at Eric and Killian had to laugh. The man literally wouldn’t care what they did as long as it wasn’t unreasonable, and Killian had to appreciate that for the first time a teacher treated them like adults, expecting them to act like adults.

He pulled out his schedule again and made notes next to the classes with their room numbers. He also wrote down his locker combination.

“So I think Ariel’s parents are going out of town in two weeks. She thought it might be fun to have a few people over, just our friends though, not like a party. Should still be warm enough to swim, but the pool is heated anyways” Eric said, and Mulan nodded.

“She does have a pool, we could get some pizzas, might be fun,” she said and Eric nodded.

“How about you Jones, you in?” he asked, and Killian thought it over, but Emma would be there. He couldn't fix this unless he got her to spend actual time with him, so this was a perfect opportunity.

"Sure,” he said and tried desperately not to picture Emma Nolan in a bathing suit. “Can I ask Will?” he asked, and Eric nodded.

“Just Will though, and Belle is welcome if she wants, but Ari said to not let it get around,” he said and Killian nodded.

The next two classes were fine, and he had gym class at the same time as Emma too, Ruby didn’t tell him that.

She came out of the girl’s locker room with Anna and they began stretching on the floor, and he walked over sitting by them. Emma looked at him curiously but didn't say anything acknowledging him yet, or inviting him into their conversation.

He was going to really have to try hard here.  “Hey,” he said. “How’s your first day so far?” he asked them both.

Anna launched into a very detailed description, and Emma bit her lip as she stretched, and he knew what he was thinking. Thanks for opening that can of worms, we won’t ever get her to shut up now, he said internally in Emma’s voice.

To their surprise Anna’s boyfriend Kris came up, and also had gym so she turned her attention to him, leaving Emma and him on their own.

“You could try to make this less awkward Jones,” she said sarcastically.

Killian’s breath caught, “I didn’t realize that I was,” he shot back, but she was talking to him. That was good, he would take what he could get.

“Whatever. Just, I don’t care why you did it, let’s move past it, and try to be normal. You’re jumpy and it’s giving me anxiety” she said, bending forward, pulling her hair up into a ponytail, not looking at him, or realizing she had given him a straight view down her tank top.  

Killian felt his dick harden at the sight, and tried shaking the thought off. “I’m sorry. Ok? I am. I will try to be a better friend to you, I know” he said.

Emma fixed him with a curious look and nodded after a moment. “We aren't friends anymore. You made sure of that, but maybe there is hope for you yet” she said and took off running down the track.

There it was. She said it. He knew when Emma was giving him an opening, he knew her well enough to know that's exactly what it was. She was not going to make it easy, but lucky for her, he was prepared to fight for her.

“So, tell me how your day is going,” he asked as he caught up to her. Emma seemed surprised at his sudden reappearance, so she slowed, and they began to walk the track.

She shrugged, “I knew I was going to get targeted but two Juniors already cornered me by my locker before I even got to homeroom. Liam put his arm around me leading me away and dropped me safely at the door, I think they got the point. But wait, will they think Liam is my boyfriend? Shit, I didn’t think about that” she said in a jumble and Killian just listened, silently fuming.

“Jones, you’re doing that thing with your mouth. Stop” she said, and he stopped clenching his teeth.

“You don’t always have to point it out,” he retorted, trying to relax his jaw.

“Sorry. I am feeling kind of weird here, watching you get jealous isn’t something I am used to anymore, so I will work on that” and his jaw parted slightly. She just called him out plain as day, fucking hell, he thought.

His eyes went wide, “Jealous? I am not. I just think that upperclassmen creeps shouldn’t be hitting on you like it’s a meat market,” he said.

“Oh, okay” she sing-songed and huffed out a laugh.  

Mr. French, the PE teacher blew the whistle and they all began to run, and he knew Emma was fast, but the way her boobs bounced up and down while he ran next to her, he had the urge to give her his tee-shirt.

He tore his eyes away and looked forward, while Emma pretended not to notice his staring, not caring one bit.

They made it two laps before the teacher called them back in, and they headed to the locker rooms, heading their separate ways, and Emma wasn't sure what to make of the last hour. She could see he was trying, actively trying, but she didn't know how to feel about that yet.  

She quickly rinsed off, keeping her hair out of the spray, and dressed. She came out, shooting Ruby a text that she was on her way, and was surprised to see Killian waiting for her when she looked up.

“Lunch right?” He asked and she nodded silently.

“Jones!” Will called out, and Will smiled at Emma.

“Lunch?” Emma asked, and hoped it would be a yes, but he shook his head.

“No I have first, but here,” he said, handing Killian his notebook. I grabbed yours” he said, and Killian snatched it and tucked it in his bag, nodding in thanks. She could tell that something in that notebook irked Killian; he shoved it away too quickly for it not to be important. She decided if he could try, so could she.

“Shall we?” Emma said, and Killian walked beside her towards the cafeteria. Emma spotted Ruby who already had a table for them.

They got in line, and she grabbed her lunch, waiting for Killian to grab his, and they walked to Ruby, sitting side by side.

“How’s your day so far? Emma asked Ruby.

Ruby shrugged, "got a few catcalls, and one seriously dirty look from a girl when I kissed Mulan, but hey, if that’s the worst of it, I can handle it. It’s not like being a lesbian is a new thing, they’ll get over it eventually, I don’t care that I am gay so you can’t really tease me about it!” she said laughing and Emma and Killian laughed too.

“How was PE?” Ruby asked, chewing her pizza.

“Fine, track. Nothing big, Mr. French is nice, so he probably won’t hassle girls too much once it is indoor swimming and we don’t want to get in the pool because of Belle. Thank god he has a teenage daughter, it means he won't ask questions” Emma said, shrugging.

“Swimming? Why are we swimming?” Killian asked as he dissected his pizza, dabbing at the grease pooling on the top of it with a napkin. Emma and Ruby rolled their eyes at him.  

“What? I was in the weight room for football instead of PE last year,” he said.

“In the winter, they usually do indoor swimming and lifeguarding. I think you can opt-out for something, but it’s like a CPR course or something,” Emma said breezily.

“I see,” he said and suddenly realized he would be spending a whole semester watching Emma in a bathing suit with no way to hide. Fuck his life, he had to get this under control.

“You know how to swim Jones, it’s not like you can't do it. If you’re worried about body issues, you’re fine there” Ruby said with a smirk, and Emma coughed.  Ruby eyed her, “What? I see Jones run, without his shirt on. You aren’t my flavor, but you have nothing to be ashamed of Killy” Ruby said, and his ears flamed red, Emma shaking in laughter next to him.

He didn’t even know what to say, “Thanks Red for that vote of confidence,” he said chewing his pizza.

“Close your mouth when you chew,” Emma said, elbowing him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Aw, you two made up,” Ruby said sweetly.

“Nothing to make up Ruby, just leave it alone,” Emma said sharply and Ruby's eyes widened.

“Swan, come on. I apologized” Killian said, practically pleading.

“Don’t call me that, we aren’t there yet. I accept your apology, and I am an adult and I am leaving the subject alone. I suggest you do too” Emma said, and got up tossing her tray, and stalked out of the lunchroom.

Ruby eyed Killian and he looked confused. “Care to shed any light?" Ruby asked.

Killian groaned, "We were doing perfectly fine before you meddled with it, Ruby,” he said, peeling at the label on his water bottle.

Ruby shrugged, “it is not my place to tell you. Ask her, or better yet, go after her before an upperclassman corners her alone,” she said.

Killian left his tray and grabbed his bag running out after her. He saw a flash of blonde hair heading into the library and he followed her in. He looked around and spotted her as she sat at a table in the back.

“Em?” He said quietly, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“I am fine Killian seriously. I don’t need you to say anything ok? I get it, I am trying to be an adult, and try to be normal with someone I am not exactly comfortable around. I am trying, I have been trying all day. So please, just let it go” she said looking back down to her book.

“Can I walk you home after school?” he asked quietly, and Emma looked up at him curiously.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want to say something, and here is not the place for me to say it. So can I walk you home?” he asked again. She waited a moment and nodded.  “I will be out front at 3:15, see you in English,” he said, walking out and leaving her alone. He rubbed his hand over his face, what the fuck was he going to tell her. Everything, some of it? He needed Liam.

To his luck, his brother and Graham were walking in from outside when he waved at them. Graham put him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. Killian shoved him off.

“You got a minute?” he asked his brother and Liam nodded leading him away from the incoming Seniors.

“How do I apologize for something to a girl, when I don’t want to explain the whole truth but I don’t want to lie?” He said.

Liam sized him up. “Finally going to tell Emma why you dropped her?” he said harshly. “You know if you weren’t an idiot, I wouldn’t have had to protect her from slimeballs, your arm would already be around her,” he said, poking Killian in the chest.

“I get it alright. I just don't know what to say, I can't say the truth, the entire truth. So what do I say?” he said.

“I find when I am in hot water, a little sucking up helps. Say that you are very sorry, that it is entirely on you, and you need some time to talk about it entirely. But that you are sorry you hurt her feelings and treated her like crap when she was and still is your best friend. That should soften her up a little, and then you will have to work like hell to get into her good graces. I heard Neil Gold mention her outside, and he is going to make a beeline for her. I suggest you or Ruby stick close to her, keep that asshole away from her” Liam said.

“Thanks, Liam,” he said, and his brother nodded.

He put his hands on his shoulders, looking him over. “No one is going to touch you, you’re my brother,” he said, and Killian nodded. “Now go put your head in a book, or do your homework, chase after Emma, whatever it is that you do,” he said and walked toward the locker room peeling off his shirt.

Killian thought about what Liam said, and waited until it was almost time for English, and leaned against the wall outside of their class to catch her. She looked surprised to see him there, but said nothing and walked alongside him into their class. He chose the seat behind her, and she opened her notebook and paid attention.

He had Science with her next, so he chose the same table as her, sitting in his stool a foot away from her, and was thrilled when their teacher announced their tablemate would be their partner for the duration of the semester.

Emma groaned internally. It seemed like the universe was putting him in her path deliberately, she could make it through this. She had made it through losing her best friend, she could certainly try to let him in a little since that seemed to be what every sign the world was telling her, couldn't she?

The bell rang, and they split off for electives, he had opted for Tech which didn't surprise her at all.  He asked her about her elective as they walked toward the science room and she surprised him, “Ceramics” she said.

“When did you start liking art?” He asked genuinely curious, he wasn't truly surprised, she could make something out of anything, one of the more resourceful people he had ever met, even as kids.

“When my mom took me to New York for my birthday last year, I thought this would be a good way to dip my feet in,” she said.

“I didn’t know you went to New York,” he said quietly.

“You don’t know a lot of things, Jones,” she replied softly, entering her classroom.

Man, Liam was right, he was going to need to fucking grovel to get things back on track with her. He spent most of the hour paying attention to Mr. Locksley and picking apart his brain to try and figure out how to make things right. Some truth, just not all of it.

Tech club flew by, Emma’s uncle Robin was their teacher, so it wasn’t totally terrible. His stomach churned the closer it got to Three O’Clock, and when the bell rang, he stopped by his locker and dropped his books off, and headed out front. He sat down and waited, and Emma came out a few minutes later.

“Ready?” He asked her and she nodded and extended her hand helping him stand. Two years ago he wouldn’t have let go of her hand, but now he had to.

They made their way past the houses and neared Main Street when she finally broke the silence that was smothering them.

“You wanted to talk, so talk,” she said, her hands tugging on her backpack straps nervously, her face tilted toward the ground.

“Still as blunt as ever. I wanted to say I am sorry. I know I hurt you, I know I did, and I am so sorry Em. I didn’t mean to, I can’t explain all of it, but I just had other interests, and I know if I had asked you to come to watch me play baseball, or football, or even watch me build robots you would have. I know if I had just asked, you would have been at every game," he said, swallowing.

"I don’t know why I pushed you away, or let the space get so big between us, but I am sorry. I care about you, a lot. I am trying to make up for that now. Honestly, I am. I want you to be my best friend, you have always been, despite space, you still are. I am just really sorry” he said.

Emma stopped walking. “You’re an idiot. You dropped our friendship, 13 years of it to play sports, and have guy friends. I'm not stupid, we hit high school and suddenly I wasn’t cool enough to be a part of your group. You didn’t think I could be a part of that, or support you playing sports? You could have told me, talked to me, instead you cut me off and just stopped being my friend. It was fucked up, and I am mad at you, yes, and I am still mad, but regardless of what you just said, it still fucking hurts Jones. I am trying to let you apologize, and move on, but I want to know why I should even try” she said angrily.

Killian pushed the brim of his baseball cap up, and stopped, turning to look at her. “Because I am still your best friend, even if I am an idiot. I care about you Swan, I want to be your best friend, I want to be let back into your life. I don't want to be on the outside of it anymore, not knowing the inside joke, or knowing how you feel. I know it's different, we are older, you've changed, I've changed, but I am still me, and you are still you” he said searching her face.

Emma stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, blood roaring in her ears. His eyes looked so sad, he was really just as messed up as she was.

“God, you're dumb. So dumb. I can't just let you back into my life Killian, you left it, you just dropped me. It made me feel like you were ashamed of me somehow. Your mom tried reassuring me that you were being a typical boy and would grow out of it, so is that what this is? You have grown out of being an asshole? Because I am not willing to budge further than being polite if you haven't grown up at all” she said.

Killian grabbed her hand, not letting her pull it away. “Em, I am, I have. I am sorry. Let me in, let me be your friend at least” he said searching her face, and he could see her green eyes glisten but knew she was too proud to let them fall. He tugged her to him and wrapped his arms around her waist as best as he could, his nose smelling her hair, and she sniffled.

“You're an idiot,” she said. He pushed her backpack off of her, throwing his on the sidewalk next to it in a heap. He pulled her against him tightly, not wanting to let her go.

“I know, I know. I am sorry. I shouldn't have shut you out, I am sorry. I will figure out a way to explain it all, but I don't have it all figured out today. I will try and I will tell you, just don't keep me on the outside, please Em. I care about you so much” he whispered.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her arms going around his neck and she crushed herself to him as tightly as he was holding her.

“I missed you too Swan,” he said back.

She stepped back, and swiped at her cheeks, and started walking. “I came, you know, for a while. To watch your games, with Ruby. I came to some football games, I know you saw me.  I saw you win the championship pitching too” she offered up, and he looked at her surprised.

“Really? Why?” he asked.

“Hope. Hoping you wouldn't always be an asshole, and here we are” she said, bending to pick up her bag, and kept walking.

“I am sorry,” he said one last time as they approached the walkway to her front door.

“Good,” she said and turned to walk up to her front door.

“Wait! You have a cell phone don’t you?” he asked and she nodded.

“Can I have the number?” and she shook her head.

“Baby steps Jones” and shut the door. She leaned against it as soon as she was inside, taking a deep breath, and completely freaked out that she was agreeing to let him back in.

@holdingoutforapiratehero  @hookedmom @xsajx @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @katie-dub @ohmightydevviepuu @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook​ @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @girl-in-a-tiny-box @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @kaoslikesstuff @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans  @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @xemmaloveskillianx @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @scientificapricot @cocohook38 @wisfan3000 @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere  @fallingforthecaptain @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelous @justanother-unluckysoul @anothersworld @purplehawkcaptain @jennjenn615​ @sailtoafarawayland​ @superchocovian​ @hookedonkillianforlife87

[lizwontcry]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Breaking Bad Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White Characters: Jesse Pinkman, Walter White Additional Tags: I hope y'all like kissing Summary:

A small, quiet conversation that turns into more. AU take on the scene from 5x6, Buyout.

Jesse lets go of Walt’s hand and Walt questions why he immediately feels so intensely disappointed, but Jesse doesn’t alter his gaze off Walt’s face. Instead, he gently removes Walt’s glasses and puts them on the coffee table. Walt is so moved by this seemingly innocuous gesture that it renders him speechless. And apparently Jesse has decided they don’t need words, anyway.

____

He's losing him. Walt is losing Jesse and it's making him feel the worst kind of helpless. Ever since he took down Gus, their partnership--hell, their relationship--has been thriving, and now he feels like he has to think quick to get them back on track. Ha, back on track--ironic since they almost got away with robbing the train of its methylamine, and then...

He can't lose Jesse. Not now.

Walt reaches out and puts his hand on Jesse's shoulder. It's a little damp from sweating under their cumbersome, restrictive protective gear. The occupational hazards of cooking meth, Walt supposes. They were just taking a lunch break in another random stranger’s house when Jesse stumbled upon a news story about the kid in the desert.

Jesse is, understandably, still unhinged about Drew Sharp. Walt gives a half-hearted speech about “running the business their way” and soul-searching after they’ve made all their money, but he knows he's not getting through to Jesse. It's so frustrating to feel like Jesse is slipping further and further away from him when Jesse is the only person who remains faithful and loyal. The only person he can truly trust.

"Listen, why don't I finish this up? Why don't you... why don't you go on home, hmm?" Walt says. Maybe if Jesse had more time to himself, some peace and quiet, he'll calm down. Walt’s starting to see that’s not likely, however. He may not ever be the same. Walt is almost certain he at least used to possess as much empathy as Jesse has, but he can’t actually remember a time when he did. It’s sort of disconcerting.

“You sure?” Jesse asks.

“Absolutely,” Walt says. “Yeah. I’ll take care of this.” He claps Jesse one more time on the shoulder and gets up to go back into the tent. But Jesse grabs his hand and causes Walt to abruptly turn around. Walt is a little shocked by this gesture--Jesse rarely touches him; in fact it seems like he goes out of his way not to most of the time.

“Mr. White… I can’t go home--what's the point? I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I want to find Todd and I want to--ugh, I want to strangle that piece of shit!”

“I know. I know you do, and I've told you over and over again--we will deal with Todd."

"Oh, yeah? How is that? How are we going to deal with this nazi asshole who just shot a kid right in front of us? We have to talk to Drew Sharp’s parents, Mr. White. We have to do something."

"Saul is going to handle all of that, don't worry. That's why we pay him, Jesse. To deal with things like this. And Todd is not going to go unpunished. I promise you."

Jesse does not look convinced. Walt gets it--Jesse has a certain affinity for children; he can relate to their innocent young souls, or something. Walt is not made of stone--he mourns the senseless death of the kid, too, but he's become numb. It's just easier to be numb than to think about all the carnage that has fallen around him. Because of him, some might say. Walt disagrees, but that's another subject entirely.

Perhaps giving in to Walt's attempt at compassion, Jesse sinks into the couch next to him. Walt pats Jesse on the shoulder again; Jesse looks up at him, a somber expression on his face. His eyes are wet with silent tears.

"I just... don't know how we're going to move on from this," Jesse says softly.

"I know, but I will handle it. Come on, don't you trust me?" Walt asks.

Jesse shakes his head. "I don't know, Mr. White. I want to. But it just keeps happening, yo. Everywhere we go, someone dies. I can’t… I can’t do it. I can't keep doing this.”

Walt’s heart sinks a little. Again, he wishes he had the gift of comfort, but he’s never been very good at that. So instead he sits down with Jesse and awkwardly puts his arm around him. To his surprise, Jesse sighs and puts his head on his shoulder. Again, Jesse rarely shows any signs of physical affection towards him, but Walt isn't going to deny him of it. Jesse seems to need it now more than ever. The weight of Jesse’s head on his chest, his steady breathing, the warmth of his body… Walt feels like his heart is beating a little faster now. He tries not to think about that too much.

"Jesse... listen to me," Walt says in a low, controlled voice. “We've been through a lot together this past year, haven't we? And with everything that happens, I've managed to keep us moving forward."

"Yeah... I guess," Jesse says, sniffing a little.

"We got out of the Tuco situation, remember? My plan worked."

"Yeah, but you kinda got us into that one, too," Jesse points out. "I know you went all Rambo or whatever on him when I was in the hospital, but still... you got us mixed up with him in the first place."

Walt nods; he'd concede Jesse the point. "Okay, well, how about killing those dealers before they could kill you first?"

"Yeah, but I pretty much repaid you for that one, yo," Jesse says. He squeezed Walt's hand for emphasis. "Don't you think?"

Walt nods, and sort of feels bad for making Jesse think about Gale yet again.

"Yes, you did. Of course you did, Jesse. And I can never thank you enough for that.”

Walt is quiet for a moment. He doesn't want to lose this momentum they've been building up together, so he continues. "The point is... you can trust me. Saul will deal with the boy's parents and Mike will figure out what to do with Todd. We can overcome this. And I want you by my side when we do--I can't do this without you."

Jesse chuckles. "That's bullshit. You can get any asshole off the street and teach him what you've taught me. No big deal."

"That's not true. And even if it were, I wouldn't want to. It's you and me, Jesse. It's always been you and me."

Jesse looks at him again, his glistening blue eyes shining in the harsh light of the living room. Walt knows firsthand how much Jesse can get away with, with those eyes of his. How charming he can be when he really wants to. Walt admires the ease of Jesse's good looks.

“One more thing… one more reason to trust me--I got you into rehab, Jesse. I found you in that disgusting hellhole you were in and I picked you up and I brought you out of there. But first I held you in my arms, remember? I held you while you cried. And I made sure you would be okay. Doesn't that mean anything?" He's not trying to lay it on so thick, but Walt is getting a little emotional just thinking about it. The way Jesse clung to him that day, never wanting to let go. Walt's shirt was drenched in Jesse's anguished tears by the time he finally got him out of that godforsaken house.

"Yeah... I remember," Jesse says. He finds Walt's hand again and lightly intertwines their fingers together. Walt wonders where this is coming from, but he doesn’t want it to stop. In fact, just like everything else in his life lately, he needs more.

"I don't know what would have happened if you didn't take me out of there, yo. Honestly, I don’t even know how I ended up there in the first place. It’s all a blur."

“Well, that’s all over now. You’re safe, and I will always do my best to make sure you stay that way. That’s all I want, Jesse. That’s all I want you to know.”

“I get it,” Jesse says, but there’s no hint of the usual annoyance in his voice. Instead his voice is calm and unwavering.

Jesse lets go of Walt’s hand and Walt questions why he immediately feels so intensely disappointed, but Jesse doesn’t alter his gaze off Walt’s face. Instead, he gently removes Walt’s glasses and puts them on the coffee table. Walt is so moved by this seemingly innocuous gesture that it renders him speechless. And apparently Jesse has decided they don’t need words, anyway.

As Jesse leans in, Walt grabs his neck--maybe a little more forcefully than necessary, but god, in the moment in between Jesse looking at him and then meeting his lips, Walt decides he needs this. He needs Jesse, and more than that, he wants Jesse.

Jesse groans a little as Walt crashes into his lips. It’s as though if Walt doesn’t immediately claim Jesse as his own, this will all come to an abrupt end. And Walt can’t have that.

After a moment of desperate kissing, Jesse roughly pushes Walt back. “Jesus, Mr. White, you kiss like a fuckin’ bull in a china shop. Slow down, yo. I’m not… I’m not going anywhere.” He sounds so vulnerable (albeit somewhat annoyed), and Walt is finding himself captivated by this kid he’s taught so much. It makes him feel... defenseless. Exposed. He’s so used to feeling the exact opposite towards Jesse that this is really throwing him off his game. But Walt kind of enjoys the sense of being out of control for once. Especially with Jesse.

“Show me,” Walt says softly, almost in a whisper. “Teach me.”

Walt can’t prove it but he swears Jesse’s eyes get even bluer as he leans in again and places a gentle kiss on Walt’s lips. He moves even closer to him, nearly in his lap, and the tenderness of Jesse’s delicate kisses makes Walt weak in his already bad knees. If he wasn’t sitting down, he’d probably be falling to the ground right about now. And although they both probably smell like the chemicals they're using to cook, Walt can't help but appreciate Jesse’s natural scent as the kissing intensifies. Somehow the smell of tobacco on Jesse’s breath and the taste of saltiness from the chips he ate for lunch is only turning Walt on more.

“Come here,” Walt murmurs. “Come closer.” As always, Jesse obeys. He faces Walt on his lap, straddling him, his knees buried in the couch. He wraps his arms around Walt’s neck as he kisses him even more fiercely, while still keeping it soft and steady. Walt takes Jesse's lead, melting into the kisses, not being aggressive or rough; just enjoying how Jesse can't seem to get enough of him.

Walt moans as Jesse’s tongue finds his own. He moves his hand under Jesse’s thin black t-shirt and strokes his back as their lips continue to meet, over and over again, almost uncompromisingly. His back is so warm, and Walt can’t help but sink his fingertips into Jesse’s lean muscles, slightly scraping his skin with his nails. Jesse gasps and stops kissing Walt for just a moment, and Walt gets another look into those moody ocean eyes.

“Mr. White…” Jesse whispers, and Walt gets it. They should stop doing this. They never should have started in the first place. Why are they even doing it? To distract themselves? There's a million other ways to accomplish that, none that involve sticking their tongues in each other's mouths. This way does seem to be the most effective for the time being, though.

“I know, Jesse. It’s okay. I want this, too."

This seems to be what Jesse needs to hear, because his lips make their way back to Walt’s. Walt bites Jesse’s lip just slightly. Jesse groans a little.

"Sorry... you just taste so good," Walt says into Jesse's ear. He licks Jesse's earlobe and enjoys how Jesse trembles under the tender touch of Walt's tongue.

When Walt returns to his waiting lips, Jesse makes this humming noise that goes straight to Walt’s groin. He moves his hands down to Jesse’s hips; his pants seem to fit him better these days but Walt is still able to run his fingertips over the tender curves of his hip bones. Jesse gasps into Walt’s mouth. Walt’s heart is positively racing now and all he wants to do is lay Jesse down and explore every inch of his slight, diminutive body.

Walt loses track of time as they keep coming together. All he knows now is Jesse's lips, his tongue searching his mouth, his fingertips brushing Walt's neck, his shoulders, his collarbone.

Jesse finally pulls away, which is probably a smart idea because Walt’s about to consume him whole if they don’t stop soon.

They both try to calm down and steady their ragged breaths before either of them figure out something to say. Or if they even need to say anything at all.

Jesse manages to speak first. “I think I’ll go ahead and take off, man. Um… Look. I’ll be at home. For the night. If like… you want to stop by or whatever.” Jesse is so cute when he can’t even meet Walt’s eyes.

“Good,” Walt says, nodding. “I might just take you up on that.” Might? Walt has never looked forward to anything so much in his entire 51 years. He can just imagine pulling up to Jesse’s house, finding his way to his bedroom, slowly undressing him… but he’s getting ahead of himself. Maybe steady heads will prevail by then; maybe either or both of them will have come to their senses. But from the way Jesse’s gazing at him now--and the heat coming from Jesse’s jeans that grew stiff while he was on top of Walt--he knows that’s probably not a possibility. He hopes it’s not a possibility.

“Yo, that’s cool. See you later. Oh, and thanks for finishing up here,” Jesse says. Walt just nods, and watches as Jesse gets his things, takes one last look at Walt, and hesitantly leaves the house, closing the door behind him.

Walt can’t help but whistle as he finishes the cook.

[pikapals16]

Just When It Gets Better, It Gets Worse (not finished)

tw: non-con, abuse, self-harm, sensory overload/panic attack, suicide attempt (these were planned tw's so not all of them are in this draft, but just to be safe)

A summer day spent at the mall with her visiting family should've been fun. It probably would've, excluding her past and her parents' denial that anything of any sort happened.

This isn't the case if you couldn't tell.

Kat's family was walking through the mall center when a group of people catches her eye. It's not like this group came together, they're all gathered up and definitely staring at something. Normally Kat would just walk on pass, but the sound of distress convinces them to sneak into the crowd.

After scooting to a place where she can observe, they see the subject of curiosity is a girl, about her age, and who's clearly in a sort of panic attack. Her hands are clamped and pulling at her hair, her body rocking back and forth.

The girl in pink watches as someone tries to approach her before someone else yelling back.

"Don't get close! She's probably one of those weirdos with autism." Kat pushes down their anger at the offhand comment. This girl doesn't deserve that, she's already in distress. Kat looks around for anyone the girl could've come with, as it is very unlikely that she'd have come alone

She sees two men, mid to late fourties, frantically looking around for something, which puts them as the most likely possibility. They consider going up to them to inform them of the situation, but she figures they already know, explaining the distressed look on the their faces (and assuming that they are who this girl arrived with).

Kat digs inside of her bag, looking for something that might help ground the panicking girl. Nothing that'd be remotely helpful, and she never brings their stress ball or fidget cube with their parents around. Something about disbelief in non-physical diseases, but she'd rather not risk it.

What they do take out though, is one of those toy rings with googly eyes. To be frank, Kat isn't sure why she has the old toy in her bag, but perhaps it will help the girl calm down? It's not like they have anything else to use.

Slowly, Kat slips closer to the girl, choosing to ignore any comments made, and sits in front of her, making sure to maintain distance to not make her feel uncomfortable.

Admittedly, they haven't been in a situation even remotely similar, but they've read some articles that give her an idea of what to do. The rest, she's just winging it.

Slipping the ring onto her finger, Kat raises their hand.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Goggles." Kat opens and closes her hand to imply that it's the one speaking. As it does, Kat can see the girl look up in curiosity. They guess that it seems to be working. "What's your name?"

Kat cringes a bit, this girl is probably a college student, she doesn't need to be dumbed down.

"C-Cathy." Cathy's eyes seem to light up at the character. Although her hands haven't moved from their position, they've stopped pulling, and her rocking looks like it's slowing down. Kat smiles at her, hoping she recognizes it.

She takes the ring off of her finger, and holds it out in their palm, offering it to her.

"You can have it." They say just loud enough for Cathy to hear. The latter looks at her in confusion. Why would the pretty girl be giving this to her of all people? She doesn't even know her. "It's okay, really."

At this point, Cathy's hand have since released from her head as she contemplates this. Hesitantly, she reaches out, causing Kat to scoot forward so she can hand it to her.

Cathy curiously spins and shakes the toy before putting the ring on her finger, like the pretty girl had. She opens and closes her hand, and her heart seems to flutter--at both the shaking sound of the googly eyes, and the little character that appears on her hand.

Kat smiles when they hear quiet coos coming from Cathy's mouth. What she did seemed to work, and she's calmed down.

Speaking of which, they should probably go and find their parents before she gets punished. Again. Yet, there's something that draws her towards this...stranger. She can rule out love, as she identifies as demisexual, but they're tempted to stay here in their little bubble.

Without any outside influence, just them-

"Oh my god, thank you." The two middle-aged men briskly walk over, one of them kneeling to communicate with Cathy through what looks to be sign language, and the other turning his attention to Kat.

Feelings and memories are shoved down into the archives of Kat's mind. She doesn't need or want to remember, and this guy shouldn’t have to worry over another panic attack.

”Thank you so much for calming her down. My husband and I really appreciate it. Not many people have enough patience to deal with our daughter’s autism.” The thought of these two men being married and raising a child calms some of Kat’s nerves, but just some.

”You’re welcome. Does she go to school here?” Kat curses at themself for asking that, but surprisingly the question isn’t taken a wrong way.

“No, we’re just visiting friends.” The other husband mentions as he helps Cathy up. “But thank you for being so kind. It’s rare that people listen.” Oh. Kat would know that firsthand. The countless times it’s happened.

“Yes, for sure.” Is what she settles with. They don’t need to know. “I should get going though. Wish you all the best!” With the goodbye, Kat runs off to find their family, praying they didn’t notice her absence.

But of course, they did, and while she’s being scolded at, Kat lets her thoughts take over for a bit. It’s not like it’d end any differently. It’s always the same punishment and Kat hates it each time.

They’ve felt nothing for the past couple of years but today just seemed to be different. An unlikely meeting, yet Cathy seemed to have an effect on them. And they only met for a couple of minutes if anything.

They don’t know why she’s putting so much thought into this.

What are the odds of them meeting again anyway?

-

Kat walks up to their meeting spot for lunch. She doesn’t have friends, acquaintances really, but they eat with them to trick themselves into thinking they are her friends. That she’s not completely alone. To distract herself from other things.

Right before they sit, Kat sees someone else, seated by themselves. People walk past without so much as a second glance, and Kat can’t take their eyes of them. They have brown curly hair, and they’re wearing a blue hoodie, which in itself is a bit odd for August.

Kat fiddles with their pink crop top. She sees herself in this mystery person. The emptiness and loneliness. Perhaps if they help the other, maybe they’ll feel less damaged as well.

”Do any of you recognize them?” Most of them don’t, but someone claims to have seen her in their creative writing class, and another claims that she has ASD. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

The girl in pink sees the strange looks from their lunch mates, but like she’s done before, it goes ignored.

"Hi." The girl on the bench looks up at the new voice. "Can I eat lunch with you?" The brunette scoots over and pats the empty space for her to sit. As Kat sits down, the other can't seem to take her eyes off her. She's pretty.....and someone she hasn't gotten the chance to thank yet.

Quickly the girl in blue digs through her bag, looking for a certain item that a certain someone had given her on a certain summer day at the mall. She shakes the rings back and forth to get the pretty girl's attention.

"Oh. Wait." Kat takes a better look at the girl she's sitting next to. No wonder she felt familiar. "We met over the summer. Cathy, right?" Cathy nods, smile growing on her face. "Well, I never told you my name, so I guess I'll do that now. Hi, I'm Kat. She/they pronouns."

"She/her." Cathy points to herself as she speaks, to make sure that Kat didn't think that Cathy didn't support their pronouns. "And thank you." Kat tilts their head in confusion. "For Mr. Goggles and helping me during my meltdown. You kinda saw me at my worst."

"Oh um, it's nothing." Lie. "Hold on, I thought you were just visiting?" ..Not a complete lie, she put some pieces together.

"My dad got a job here and my pop didn't want to be more than an hour away from me because....you know." Cathy realizes she's been stimming, but doesn't stop her actions, rather glancing at Kat to see her reaction. Nothing. Kat's eyes never leave Cathy's, well really her head since the latter isn't a fan of direct eye contact.

And that's another thing. Kat doesn't force eye contact like the other's experienced so many times before. Cathy's met very few people who are similar, and she holds them all close to her heart.

"Yeah."

The two talk for a little longer before departing for their separate classes. 'Two' honestly refers to Kat leading the conversation and Cathy commenting when prompted, but neither really care. They make sure to exchange numbers, but little did they know how much they would end up depending on each other.

-

She was minding her own business, honest. Cathy was never one to go into crowded places alone, for obvious reasons, but this is the easiest and closest place for her to meet with her new friend.

The ever so increasing volume of the area starts to bother the blue girl, so she takes out her headphones, blocking out most of the noise. She checks her watch again. Kat’s still not here?

Her initial thought is that Kat blew her off, but they’ve made it very clear that she’d never do something like that, not without explanation. To steer her thoughts away from becoming too overwhelming, Cathy plays with her fidget cube inside her pocket.

It’s never completely gone, but Cathy’s certainly learned how to handle her ASD better. Or at least, so that she can prevent any public outbreaks.

Unlike some people who just haven’t grown up from high school behavior yet. This particular guy thinks it's funny to copy her very subtle stimming. Just your typical jackass.

"Dude stop, she hasn't done anything to you." And that, would be the arrival of her friend. Kat turns to Cathy, tilting their head in the direction of her dorm, and the pair starts walking away. "He didn't make you uncomfortable, did he?"

Cathy shakes her head, and the two walk in silence. The silence isn't all that bad or foreign, but rather a comfort to the two. Of course, until the unsuspected thunder. Seriously, they don't know why they bother listening to the weather reports at this point.

In instinct, Cathy takes off her jacket and wraps it around Kat before pulling the both of them into the dorms.

"Cathy, you can stop running, we're inside now." Cathy doesn't stop. She doesn't want anyone else to see what she's done. No one's seen it. Not even her parents. She keeps her same pace until she's navigated the halls to Kat's dorm.

Only then does she let go.

And she immediately regrets it.

"Cathy...." Without the long sleeves as a cover, Cathy's scars are exposed. Even as she tries to hide it with her hands, they're still visible. She does nothing except curl in on herself, soft noises coming from her mouth. Kat does nothing except open the door, trying their best not to stare so hard.

Thank goodness her roommate is out of town, that would've made for some awkward conversation. Kat and Cathy walk in, the latter with a brisk pace, the former with a moment of hesitation.

"You did that yourself, didn't you?"

-

and that's where i gave up, basically, where i was going with this was that cathy opens up about the self-harm, then kat opens up about her trauma yea, they're friends! cathy is a year older than kat, so she graduates and although they still talk, it's not as often as kat would like. long story short, kat starts to feel lonely and depressed again, and they feel so disconnected from the world that she kills herself by overdose. little does she know that cathy and her friends were just on their way to surprise them, but see kat just in time for it to happen. cathy runs up, and begs kat to stay with her (the others are calling an ambulance) and kat's like "shit no, wait, you're here" then black out.

whether or not kat survives is up to interpretation! or....would've been hehe. idk, i'm kinda rambling now, but yea here's an abandoned oneshot

[smolthealmighty]

Who’s on the Roof?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640127

Did anyone want to see Mr. Compress give Skeptic an aneurysm by quoting the classic Abbott and Costello routine “Who’s on First?”

No?

Too bad!

Skeptic was not having a good day. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had a good day ever since the moment Re-Destro issued his declaration of war to the League of Villains.

Not only had their plan backfired in almost every way possible, now they all had to work for this group of utter maniacs. He swore that trouble followed these loose cannons wherever they went, as each interaction with them always left him five seconds from having a conniption by the end of it. Toga acted like she was having a perpetual sugar high, Dabi would schedule meetings with him only to blow him off half of the time, and he had no idea how the rest of the league were able to understand Twice's constant contradictions. The only saving grace was that he didn’t have to deal with the full force of the league –yet– as Shigaraki was held back somewhat by his healing injuries, and Spinner usually hovered around him.

But they weren’t the reason why Skeptic wasn’t having a good day. No, the blame for that lay solely on Mr. Compress’s shoulders. He may be the voice of reason for the league, but with the company he kept it was like saying he was the tallest dwarf. The flashy magician always talked as if he was delivering a soliloquy on center stage with all the spotlights fixed on him. Worst of all was how his arrogant tone of voice made it impossible to tell whether or not he was joking at any given moment.

Needless to say, he was not looking forward to their scheduled meeting, which he was on his way towards at the moment. Dabi had once again left in the middle of an earlier conference before Skeptic was able to plan out the fire-wielder’s own meeting with the pro-hero Hawks, and for some reason Mr. Compress volunteered to help. Now they just had to finalize the details and make sure they got to Dabi before he tried to go off on his own again.

Skeptic entered the conference room, barely acknowledging the showman as he walked over to sit across from him. As usual, Mr. Compress was wearing one of his many masks, this one being a version he hadn’t seen before. It was plain white like the others, but the design was of a diamond divided into four smaller ones. He didn’t bother looking at it for long; there were more important matters to get to.

"Alright, this better not be a waste of my time,” Skeptic grumbled as he sat down at the table across from the showman and began pulling out his laptop. “Hawks is going to bring proof of his loyalty tomorrow night, if Dabi’s to be believed, and we need to make sure there’s at least some type of back up in case something goes wrong. So you’d better have come up with a plan for that."

He looked up from his laptop, now displaying a blank document to take notes with, and gave Mr. Compress the most serious look he could muster. This was his last meeting of the day and he was not going to end it with an anger-induced aneurysm.

"Oh Skeptic, there’s no need to look so grim. Of course I have a plan!” exclaimed Mr. Compress, pausing to dramatically unfurl a set of blue prints, which he spread across the table. Upon closer inspection, it was of the warehouse Dabi intended to hold his meeting at.

“When Hawks arrives for his rendezvous Dabi, I believe the best strategy would be to have the least detectable people scattered around the place to listen in, that way they can intervene if need be with Hawks being none the wiser.”

‘Well good,’ thought Skeptic, ‘He actually seems to know what he’s doing for once.’

“With that in mind,” Mr. Compress continued, “I have reviewed your lists of members –goodness it was a lot– and I chose the best candidates for the job based on their quirks. I also went ahead and the most secure positions as follows. So, Who will be on the roof, What is behind the wall, and I Don’t Know is by the window…"

‘Never mind, I jinxed it,’ thought Skeptic, as he quickly interrupted the showman. "Hold on, stop! Excuse me?"

Mr. Compress paused for a moment, raising his head to look at Skeptic instead of the blueprints, before repeating himself, slightly slower this time. "Who is on the roof, What is behind the wall, and I Don’t Know is by the win-"

"No, why are you asking me?"

At that question, Mr. Compress tilted his head to the side before responding condescendingly –the nerve– "I’m not asking anything."

Skeptic looked at him, stunned into silence, then quickly recomposed himself. "Look, you’re the one setting everything up here, right?"

"Right."

"So you should know where everyone is and their names so you can give them their stations."

"Of course," Mr. Compress replied eagerly.

Skeptic sighed in relief, thinking that whatever mix-up had occurred was now resolved, and asked, "So, who’s on the roof?"

"Yes."

Skeptic startled at how matter-of-factly the answer was. "No, I mean his name."

"Who."

"The one on the roof."

"Who."

"The person stationed on the warehouse roof."

"Who."

"The guy-"

"Who is on the roof," Mr. Compress interjected.

“No that’s what I’m asking you!” Skeptic shouted in confusion, “Who’s on the roof?"

Mr. Compress pleasantly replied, "Yes, that’s his name."

"Who’s name?" Skeptic asked perplexed.

"Yes."

"Alright so tell me his name."

Mr. Compress shrugged his shoulders as he responded, "That’s it."

"That’s who?"

"Precisely."

Skeptic growled, "Stop fooling around and give me his name!"

"Who."

"The person that’s going to be on the warehouse roof!"

"Who is on the roof, Skeptic."

"WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?!" Skeptic bellowed, shaking in utter frustration. Two minutes. Two minutes into this meeting and Skeptic was done with whatever Mr. Compress was doing! After taking a moment to take a deep breath and recompose himself, he tried to steer the conversation back on track. “Look, Mr. Compress, I just want to know. What’s the name of the one on the roof?"

Mr. Compress gasped, "Goodness no Skeptic! What’s behind the wall."

"I’m not asking who’s behind the wall!" Skeptic exclaimed.

"No, Who’s on the roof."

“Stop, one position at a time!” cried Skeptic, hammering the point home by slamming his palm onto the table with a loud bang. “Now, what’s the name of the guy on the roof?"

Mr. Compress interjected, "We went over this, Who is on the roof."

“I don’t know!”

“Oh, he’s by the window,” Mr. Compress responded delightfully, “Are you quite alright? You keep switching topics-"

Skeptic, at this point utterly baffled, cut him off, "Wait, how the hell did we get to talking about the person by the window?"

Mr. Compress paused, and replied in a slightly patronizing tone, "...Because you brought him up, Skeptic."

Ignoring that insulting tone, Skeptic attempted to draw the connection needed to finally make sense of the planned positions. "So, if I mentioned his name, who did I say is by the window?"

"No. Who's on the roof."

"What's on roof?"

"What's behind the wall."

"I don't know!"

"He's by the window."

"OH GREAT, NOW WE’RE BACK AT THE-" Skeptic threw his arms up in the air as he cut himself off, taking another breath to prevent himself from shrieking  again at the quick succession of confusing statements he just went through. ‘That pompous bastard! Calling me inept when he can’t even make his own plan clear! I wonder how he’d take that same implication.’

With his face still visibly red, Skeptic decided to give the magician a taste of his own medicine and shot back, "With all due respect Mr. Compress, do you even know the names of the people you’re using for this plan?"

"Oh my,” muttered Mr. Compress, looking genuinely flabbergasted from what Skeptic could see in his body language, but he also knew that the performer could very well be acting the part. “Skeptic, I think there may be a misunderstanding. You see, there’s a man I want to station on the roof-"

Skeptic was not keen on retreading this particular ground again, so he interrupted, "I know you have someone on the roof! I’m asking you, what’s-"

"No, What’s behind the-"

“Oh no I’m stopping you right there! I am asking you, Mr. Compress,” Skeptic demanded, jabbing his pointer finger on the blueprints, “What is the name of the person stationed on the roof?”

Mr. Compress looked down at where Skeptic was pointing, then back up at Skeptic, and said, just as matter-of-factly as he had several times before, "What is behind the wall."

"I don’t even- Alright, who’s behind the wall?"

"Who’s on the roof."

"WHAT POSITION DO YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT?!" Skeptic screeched, punctuating his outrage by smashing both of his fists on the desk hard enough to bruise.

Mr. Compress was unfazed by this, choosing to lean his head upon his hand before replying, "Whichever position you want to focus on."

Skeptic hollered, "WHO’S ON THE ROOF?"

"Yes." Mr. Compress happily nodded.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGH!!!”

~

Dabi was taking a walk, meandering through the corridors of the mansion at random. Suddenly, one of the double doors in his path slammed open and out tumbled Mr. Compress, with the roaring voice of Skeptic following him.

“Get out of my sight you IDIOTIC ILLUSIONIST!”

By the time the doors slammed closed, said illusionist had gracefully transformed his tumble into a somersault and ended up back on his feet in a victorious pose. He then turned to Dabi and waved, “Why hello Dabi, and how are you this fine day?”

Dabi took in the man’s composure, then observed the newly formed cracks on the door frame, before shrugging, “Nothing much. Just taking a walk around.”

“Ah yes, avoiding your responsibilities as usual. May I join you?”

“Eh, knock yourself out.” Dabi said, rolling his eyes at the showman, as if he was going to leave Dabi alone if he told him to scram. As he continued down the hall, now walking side-by-side with Mr. Compress, Dabi decided to address the elephant in the room. “Alright, I’ll bite. What exactly did you do to piss off I.T. McGee?”

The masked magician visibly lit up, in spite of his concealed expression, and immediately began to answer Dabi’s question. “Well Dabi, in order to tell you about what just happened, I’d have to give you a quite a bit of backstory to get there. You see, when you make your rounds as an entertainer…” Mr. Compress continued as he took off his mask to show Dabi his Cheshire grin, “… you learn a few classic routines.”

[supercasey]

TMA PMV Idea “The Dreamland Archives”

Fuck it, TMA ended so now I’m gonna post my draft sheet for a PMV I desperately wish to make, but don’t have the skills to do so. If anyone wants to use it, go ahead, but I’d like to at least know about it beforehand because I am INVESTED in this idea. (Spoilers for seasons 1-4)

(Credits/intro plays before the vocals begin)

Song: Dreamland by Glass Animals

All characters belong to Rusty Quill

*Insert list of PMV participants*

Supertheodore presents: The Dreamland Archives

Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head [Camera is focused on the door to the archives, which opens by itself after the word “backstreets”] Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist [Camera shows the archives empty, and then filled with all of Jon's assistants after the word “dreamland” (including OG!Sasha, though her and Tim appear to be ghosts), all of them appearing happy and hard at work] Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head [A photograph of Jon with all of the S1 assistants + Elias, everyone smiling; after the word “backstreets” it’s the S3 crew, everyone appearing upset/angry, save for Jon, who’s crying and covering his face with his hands, and Elias, who’s still smiling and has his hands on both of Jon’s shoulders] Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist [Jon is on his knees as he looks through a filing cabinet, clearly frustrated; after the word “dreamland” a ghost of Gertrude appears behind him, her arms crossed as she stands behind him, appearing disappointed]

That first friend you had, that worst thing you said [Martin is bringing a very tired Jon, who has his head in his hands, a cup of tea; Jon looks up and snaps at him after the word “had”, causing Martin to startle] That perfect moment, that last tear you shed [Tim, Martin, and even Jon are laughing at a joke that Sasha said, all three of them surrounding her desk; after the word “moment” Sasha is gone, and the others are left crying/upset] All you've done in bed, all on Memorex [Martin is alone in the archive’s storage room bed, wide awake and holding a corkscrew for dear life; after the word “bed” it cuts to Tim, who is angrily throwing a tape recorder against the nearest wall] All 'round-'round your head, all 'round-'round your head [Camera pans down from a single light-bulb to focus on Jon, who's silently crying in his office chair and surrounded by tape recorders splattered with blood (all in the shape of eyes, all staring at him)]

Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head [Jon is traveling the tunnels alone as he uses a flashlight to light his way; after the word “backstreets” it's a similar shot, but now he's running for his life from Not!Sasha] Slippin’ through dreamland like a tourist [Jon is sitting in front of Jurgen Leitner as Jurgen explains what’s really going on to him; after the word “dreamland” Jurgen is bloodied up and dead, with Jon looking horrified, a bloody pipe rests on the table between them] Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head [Martin and Tim run into Michael in the tunnels; after the word “backstreets” they find themselves in the realm of the Spiral] Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist [Martin and Tim are both shocked upon finding Jurgen Leitner's body; Tim becomes angry while Martin becomes worried after the word “dreamland”]

You've had too much of the digital love [Jon is sitting on the floor of Georgie's apartment, one hand holding a tape recorder, the other holding his head; after the word “much” the Admiral crawls into his lap, making Jon smile slightly] You want everything live, you want things you can touch [Jon is sitting across from Jude Perry at a cafe, looking nervous while she gives him a mischievous grin; after the word “live” it cuts to Jon free falling through the sky with Mike Crew, Mike seemingly unbothered by the whole thing while Jon looks terrified] Make it feel like a movie you saw in your youth [Shows the scene of Jon, at 8 years old, following his childhood bully to Mr. Spider’s house; the door opens and several spiders legs come out and take the bully after the word “movie”, leaving Jon terrified and covering his mouth to keep back a scream] Make it feel like that song that just unopened you [Camera is focused on Jon tied up and gagged in a chair as Nikola Orsinov brags into his tape recorder about having kidnapped him, her back turned to him the entire time; however, Michael and his door appear beside Jon after the word “song”, Jon looking very surprised/scared to see him] You were ten years old, holdin' hands in the classroom [Tim is helping Jon limp through the tunnels under the institute, the two of them looking pretty beat up; their holds tighten on each other after the word “old”, with Jon pressing his face into Tim’s shirt. Even though they’re scared, they still have each other’s backs] He had a gun on the first day of high school [Tim has his back to the camera and is facing a burning circus, triumphantly holding the detonation switch over his head; after the word “the” he presses it, causing the circus to explode, with Tim being lost to the explosion after the word “of”]  ((This line and the one before it are the reasons why this stupid idea exists)) You want something bizarre, old conceptual cars [Helen is standing in the doorway of the Spiral, grinning at the camera; after the word "bizarre” Peter Lukas is standing at the frontmost part of the Tundra, smoking a pipe with one hand while the other is in his coat pocket] You want girls dressed in drag, you want boys with guitars [Melanie slashes at the camera with a knife, her eyes glowing red; after the word “drag” we see Gerry as ghost levitating in the air and lying on his back, his arms behind his head and a content smile on his face while Jon’s panicking right next to him (and wearing a tacky “I <3 NY” t-shirt ‘cus I said so)]

Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head [Jon is lying in a hospital bed during his coma, fast asleep, with Elias sitting in a chair beside him, reading a statement aloud; Elias lays a hand on Jon’s forehead after the word “backstreets”] Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist [Oliver comes to visit Jon at the hospital, and is leaned over Jon (from Jon’s POV for the camera angle); after the word “dreamland” it cuts to him having his back to Jon, hands up in surrender as he faces a suspicious Georgie] Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head [Jon looks incredibly stressed in a shot of the archives, looking around for Martin; after the word “backstreets” Martin shows up in a cloud of fog behind him, visibly sad] Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist [Jon is crawling through the Buried, looking for Daisy, who he finds as a disheveled mess after the word “dreamland”]

You see Kodachrome, you see pink and gold [Melanie is laughing while sitting on Jon’s desk facing Basira after recording a statement; after the word “Kodachrome” it’s the same scene, but her and Jon are standing up, and she’s hugging Jon before she’s about to go and blind herself] You see Mulholland glow, you see in airplane mode [Jon and Daisy are sprawled out together on the floor of the archives, listening to the Archers and laughing; after the word “glow” it’s Basira and Daisy kneeling in the same spot, Basira trying to hold onto Daisy and keep her from giving into the Hunt as she begins to change into a werewolf] All 'round-'round your head, all 'round-'round your head [Jon and Basira are interrogating Manuela about the location of the dark sun; after the first use of the word “head” it cuts to Jon seeing the dark sun with his own eyes, tears running down his face as he smiles at it] All 'round-'round your head, all 'round-'round your head [Martin and Peter are navigating the tunnels together, Martin looking frustrated while Peter smiles; after the first use of the word “head” it cuts to Martin discovering the body of Jonah Magnus, his expression one of terror]

You float in the pool where the soundtrack is canned [Jon is searching the Lonely for Martin, calling out for him through the fog; after the word “pool” a smug looking Peter appears behind him, causing Jon to jolt in surprise] You go ask your questions like, “What makes a man?” [Jon confronts Peter, screaming at him from a few feet away; after the word “like” his eyes begin to glow green, and several glowing green eyes surround him and Peter, with Peter bending forward and clutching his head in pain] Oh, it's 2020, so it's time to change that [Jon is facing Martin in the Lonely, pleading with him face to face with his hands on his cheeks; after the word “2020” Martin’s eyes light up as he finally breaks free of the Lonely’s influence] So you go make an album and call it Dreamland [Jon and Martin are seen hugging each other for dear life; after the word “album” the scene cuts to them walking out of the Lonely together, hand in hand with their backs to the camera; the camera zooms in on their hands holding onto each other at the word “Dreamland”]

((I’m open to a few changes, but I will die before I let go of the Tim & Jon scene, which lives in my brain rent free))

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 17

Chapters: 17/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

The gallery hums with gentle energy, full of people drinking, chatting, considering the art on the walls. It's a strange little bubble, practically outside the real world.

Martin is standing alone for a rare moment when a voice comes out of the crowd.

"Can it be? Martin Blackwood, in the flesh."

Martin's blood runs icy at the long-buried voice, rising from his past like some kind of bad joke. Of all the times, in all the places, how could this be happening now?

He turns to find his worst nightmare, Peter Lukas, standing right there in the flesh.

"Peter?" He asks stupidly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

"My goodness, it is you. What an incredible surprise." Peter grins, oozing smultz and satisfaction. He looks Martin up and down like a prize cut of steak. "And here I was, thinking the art would be the best thing on display tonight."

"I-" Martin begins, in the hopes he can tell Peter to take a hike and disappear into the crowd. He wonders how angry Gerry would be if he simply walked straight out the door and called to explain from the safety of a taxi.

"It has been so many years. What is it? Six, seven?" Peter's voice booms, his barrel chest amplifying it across the gallery.

"Seven," Martin replies, far more quietly. He is terrified that Jon and Gerry will reappear at exactly the wrong moment, overhear precisely the wrong thing.

"Goodness! So long, and you're all grown up, aren't you? Like a good wine, only improved with a few years on you."

"Maybe that's because I was practically a child when you seduced me." Martin still whispers, but many years of anger and loathing have begun to bubble up inside of him.

"Now Martin, there's no reason to be like that. We were so good together. We could be, again." Peter steps towards Martin, hand outstretched to touch his arm.

"Mr Lukas," Gerry says, voice smooth and dangerous, inserting himself firmly at Martin's side. That part of him that fosters a keen awareness of his lovers blaring with alarm. "What brings you out this evening?"

"Oh Gerard, a pleasure to see you, as always." Pater's voice remains jovial, but his eyes crease at the interruption. "Martin and I were just having a little chat."

"No, we weren't," Martin says, his hand shaking where Gerry has interlaced their fingers.

"No?" Gerry asks, easy danger in his voice.

"No," Martin confirms.

"Mr Lukas, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't believe my partner appreciates seeing you here."

"Do you know how much money I sink into this artist? You can't ask me to leave." Peter's voice is still lilting and calm, but vehemence fills the words gradually.

"I don't give a flying fuck. Take a long walk off a short dock." Gerry advises him, best smile in place, voice verging on cheerful.

"Did your," Peter pauses to add disgust to his tone, " partner ever tell you that he used to be with me? That I used to pay him, to be with me?"

Martin goes absolutely pale.

"It is a shame when you have to pay for company, isn't it?" Gerry counters, not missing a beat, expression sunny and voice falsely sympathetic. "However, I'm afraid Mr Blackwood is rather occupied these days, with two boyfriends and a booming business. I believe his calendar is quite full."

"Whores never change. You think he's yours, but-"

All of a sudden, Jon appears from behind them and punches Peter with his full weight. Gerry, who has gotten into plenty of scraps with drunk idiots who won't keep their hands to themselves, is tempted to join in but thinks better of it. He pulls Jon back as Peter hits the floor heavily, and the room full of fancy art snobs goes very, very silent.

"Oh Christ," Martin mutters, voice as washed out as his complexion.

"What a to-do." Elias Bouchard arrives on the scene, suit impeccable, black shoes polished to a high shine. He stands with hands in pockets, gazing down at Peter with a look of mild interest. "You know Jonathan, I don't normally appreciate my employees striking my husband in public. However, I'll consider forgiving you, this time, on account of your surprisingly excellent right hook."

"Your what?" Jon demands furiously, going pale enough that Gerry is concerned he might pass out.

"My husband, Jonathan, do keep up," Elias responds, airily.

Martin makes a distressed little noise that makes the hairs on Gerry's arms stand on end.

Gertrude finally arrives, heels clicking intimidatingly. "Problem, gentlemen?" She queries, looking down at Peter, groaning on the ground.

"Ah," Gerry stutters, "I think we had better go?"

"I imagine that might be for the best. Do take both of your lovers with you." Gertrude says, with a bit of a bite. "And Gerard?"

"Yeah?" Gerry asks distractedly, trying to herd his errant partners among the gathering crowd.

"You are going to owe me for this one," Gertrude tells him, tone unbelievably prim, and verging into some sort of perverse satisfaction.

"Absolutely." If Gertrude can fix this one, Gerry will happily owe her anything.

*

Martin sits in a total haze on the way home, static filling his ears and blanketing him away from the world.

He's faintly aware of Jon holding his hand and his forehead leaned against the cool taxi window, but mostly he just stares blankly and doesn't even bother trying to draw himself away from his shocked stupor.

He gets out of the cab when it stops and wanders vaguely up the stairs and into the flat. Jon and Gerry follow him, concerned, but quiet for the time being.

He finds himself standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the loft, eyes intent on the bottom step, unsure if he knows how to climb them any longer.

"Martin? Martin!" A panicked voice eventually breaks through the haze, a hand desperately gripping his elbow.

"Jon?" Martin looks down at the hand, nails painted a lovely shade of green, then up at the face it belongs to. It's creased in concern.

"Are you alright?" Gerry's voice asks from close by.

"No. I don't think I am." His voice is foggy and he feels very far away still.

"Martin, I-" Jon starts, sounding shaky.

"He was telling the truth, you know." Martin tells them, rather abruptly, "Nothing he said was a lie."

"Martin, you are not a whore. Whatever you might have done for work, whatever choices you might have made in the past, those things don't mean anything to us." Gerry states firmly.

"We love the person you are now, and whatever baggage comes with you, we're fine with that." Jon continues, running his hands up and down Martin's arm.

"This?" Martin asks, suddenly aggressive. "You two are telling me that you're okay with me getting paid for, for-"

"For sex, Martin? Yes, we are fine with it." Jon responds unequivocally.

"There's nothing shameful about sex work," Gerry adds, voice equally firm. "And besides, you were young and Peter Lucas is a fucking cunt. I imagine desperate times called for opportunistic creeps to try to take advantage."

Martin shakes his head, eyes panicked. "I can't do this."

He turns and runs up the loft stairs.

Jon and Gerry watch him go, then exchange a concerned look.

"Let's give him some space, love," Gerry mutters, taking Jon's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

*

"Maybe you should go in with him."

"Don't even start that bullshit again, Jonathan. I thought we were past this?"

"I am! I just thought-" Jon's cuts off abruptly, chastised.

Martin, sitting on the floor of the shower, can hear every word. He can imagine them standing on the other side of the bathroom door, Jon twisting his hands together and Gerry's arms crossed protectively.

He feels the pit of his depression open up beneath him and he desperately clings to the edge of his sanity, trying not to fall in.

Martin is always afraid that he'll go into a depressive episode- and never come out the other side again. He presses his eyes closed, fighting against the sob desperately trying to choke him.

He honestly can't believe that he let this happen. Why didn't he tell them before? How could he have let himself move in with them, dedicated himself to them and never tell them he was a prostitute?

Martin isn't ashamed of what he had done to survive, but he knows getting paid for sex can be a deal-breaker for a lot of people. He feels sick that Jon or Gerry might feel trapped with him now. All because he couldn't open his stupid mouth and be honest with them.

Despite his best efforts, the tears escape, and his partners stand on the other side of the door, listening to his heart break.

*

Martin comes downstairs to find his lovers in the kitchen. Jon is cooking something fragrant and he has Gerry chopping vegetables. They're both still wearing their suits, and Martin feels absurdly underdressed in his sweatpants and favourite pink cardigan. It clashes with his hair, these days, but he doesn't care.

Gerry sees him first, pausing a moment to assess him. Martin is pleased to see the typical glint of focus and desire in his eyes. It has been such a bedrock in their relationship, and he had been dreading finding gone.

"Gerry, if-" Martin starts right away.

"Careful, love. If the words 'I'll understand if you don't want me to move in any more' come out of your mouth, I'm going to go back to the gallery and finish what Jon started. So if you don't want me to go to jail for murder, you had better reconsider." Gerry sounds downright pleasant as he says the words, leaning forward on the counter to loom threateningly.

Martin closes his mouth, Gerry having predicted his exact words.

"We understand if you're not ready to talk about any of that, Martin," Jon tells him with a reassuring smile. "Later is soon enough. We love you, and that's all that matters."

"Even with this?" Martin whispers, twisting his fingers together anxiously.

"Even with this," Gerry assures him. "Nothing and no one can change the way we feel about you. It's always going to be you for us."

Finally seeing that Martin won't approach them, Jon turns off the stove and comes over to take Martin's frigid hands in his warm calloused ones. He savours the touch, marvelling as always that someone with so many edges can be so soft when he needs it.

"Martin Blackwood, you are the love of our lives. Whatever came before us and whatever might come now that we're together, we love you, always and in all ways." Jon pronounces, the finality of a million acts of affection behind his words. "Please stay with us?"

Martin smiles shakily at the reminder of the resolution of Jon and Gerry's first major fight, at the words that had become akin to 'I can't be without you, and I won't let this take you away'.

He feels known and loved and adored, even as he feels violated and striped raw at the exposure of his past, his secret. He feels at home, in a flat full of boxes that always smells of oil paints and old books, with two lovers who couldn't be more different but had protected him when he didn't know how to protect himself.

Gerry comes over and takes one of his hands from Jon, holding it with both his own, placing a kiss on his palm. "Please stay with us?" He repeats the words softly, teal eyes bright with emotion. "I need you."

"I need you too," Martin tells them earnestly, allowing them to wrap him up in their arms. "Please keep me."

"Always," comes the reply, a certainty even more profound than fear.

[hoardcloneheadcanons]

The Season 1 Villain: Mr. Blackwood

Summary [ A time travelling Martin Blackwood accidentally bullies his past counterpart and a young Jonathan Sims into getting together in order to gang-up on him]

 Yesterday Is Here is a time-travel fix-it fic of the Magnus Archives by CirrusGrey found on AO3 that I highly recommend. It helps emotionally cope with the tragedy of the actual series and it’s very well written.

I have my own ideas on what would happen in the fic if the time travel went slightly different and Martin showed up first, which now lives rent-free in my head as an AU to an AU. I’m hoping by writing it down I can free myself of it’s grip over me. If you don’t want spoilers for the fic, or seasons 1-4 of the Magnus Archives, stop here.

 In the fic Jon and Martin from the Archives have been married and survived the apocalypse together. Both use the Helen’s doors to travel back in time to season 1 of the Magnus Archives and prevent most of the tragedies from happening. Jon uses his spooky Archivist Powers to threaten Elias, extorting him for money and preventing the appocolypse. And both Martin and Jon dispose of the main villains of season 1 and 2.

But some shenanigans happened in Helen’s doors that make it so Jon shows up first and Martin doesn’t show up until two months later. Here’s my idea of what would happen if those positons got reversed.

-The Archival Staff call Future Martin Mr. Blackwood to differentiate him from their present-day Martin. I will also be doing so, from here on out.

-Jon is, of course, skeptical, and keeps insisting that this must be some long lost brother of Martin’s who is trying to scam them (Or even his father, despite Mr. Blackwood not looking much older than Martin). Mr. Blackwood proceeds to list small intimate details about each of them (how they take their tea, things that happened their last birthday. Stuff that would be very essentially Martin to know) but also sounds very impatient the entire time. He does not have time for Jon’s feigned skepticism and denial and does not hide it.

-It becomes clear very quickly to the Archival staff that Mr. Blackwood is a lot meaner than Martin. He doesn’t make tea for people unless he’s trying to corner them to talk to them, He’s willing to kill spiders rather than release them. Murder doesn’t seem that out of the question for him. And while both Martin and Blackwood are big people, Matrin Hunches and keeps his voice soft and tries to seem smaller. Blackwood does none of that and will push his way through people and/or loom sometimes.

-As a result Tim starts jokingly referring to him as the Anti-Martin. When Mr. Blackwood starts mentioning that there should be a Mr. Sims showing up, Tim insists on making a list of traits that he bets  Mr. Sims will have based on him being an “Anti-Jon”. The traits include: Wearing only bright colors, not-giving a fig about archive policy, believing all the statements (even the dumb ones), smiling, being nice to Martin, being social and (on a day where Jon was being particularly annoying) being cool.

-A few of them are totally off the mark, but many of them are actually frighteningly close to the truth.

-He ropes Sasha into it too. They decide together that Sims and Blackwood have a one-sided relationship where Sims is absolutely besotted and Blackwood either barely tollerates him or is seducing him for his Head Archivist pay.

(It’s funny because Jon isn’t making much more than any of the Archival Staff)

-Blackwood is fairly nice to Sasha who is reasonable and listens to relevant threats. Tim appreciates him for confirming and advancing the research he’s done on Robert Smirke and the Circus. But Martin and Jon hate him. He bullies them both in different ways.

-Blackwood keeps trying to convince his younger self to grow a spine, make some boundaries. He keeps trying to tell him that he can’t fix things by being nice to everyone. Martin does not appreciate it.

-Mr. Blackwood will occasionally talk like Martin’s Mum and it makes it hurt more. Not exact sentiments or sentiments but familiar phrasing and tones. Blackwood doesn’t know he’s doing it.

-Meanwhile Blackwood takes away all the “real” statements from Jon (the ones that won’t record on the computer) and spreading them out amongst the archive staff. He insists that reading them will turn Jon into an eldritch creature that feeds on human trauma and gives people nightmares. Jon thinks this is a load of absolute bull. (If you must read them, Jon, at least don’t read them outloud. Type them up or something. Don’t be stupid.)

-Jon’s the type of person who needs to know and asks all the uncomfortable questions, so having someone take away the only real information bothers him. Even if Tim, Sasha and Martin have the information it still bothers him to not know.

-Jon is also really insecure about deserving his job, and desperately trying to prove himself. So having a man burst in and tell him how to do his job stings.

-Mr. Blackwood also isn’t delicate when pointing out Jon’s skepticism is dumb. He says all the things Martin thinks but is too polite to say.

(”I’m sure there’s a very natural reason for Carlos Vittery to be wrapped up in spider webs upon his death”

“Are you serious? Jon, if you keep up this ridiculous denial you’re going to walk yourself right into something’s mouth just to prove a point. Or worse, send someone else into it. And you of all people should know supernatural spiders are dangerous.

“What do you mean, I of all people?”

“I think you know what I mean, Jon.”)

-Jon and Martin actually end up hanging out because they bond over their mutual dislike of Mr. Blackwood.

-Jon defends Martin agains Mr. Blackwood and vice-versa.

-The first time it happens, it’s Jon defending Martin and Mr. Blackwood acts surprised.

-(I don’t know why we should trust you. Even if all this supernatural nonsense is true there’s no reason we should take you’re word on how it works! You barge into the archives telling everyone what to do, fear mongering with tales of secret societies trying to cause the apocalypse, you upset Martin all the time “for his own good, you-”

“-wait, wait wait- Martin?” “When did you start caring about Martin?”

“What do you mean? He’s one of my archival assistants, of course I care about him.”

“Jon, you bully him more often than I do.”

“I-No I don’t.”

“You make it very clear what you think of his work and competence, Jon. And you send him to all the worst assignments. He let’s it happen because he knows he’s not the best at research, and he knows you’re under pressure from Elias, and he really tries not to take it personally, but it hurts him Jon. It builds up and it hurts him, even if he never says it does. So yes, forgive me if I think you’re being a bit hypocritical.”)

-Jon apologizes to Martin after that and really tries to be nicer because he does not like the idea that he’s as bad as Mr. Blackwood. He watches what he says around Martin a lot more closely after that, and keeps an eye on Martin’s reactions.

-Jon will tell Martin that he thinks he’s nothing he’s like Mr. Blackwood. He doesn’t see how they could be the same person. Martin is so caring, and helpful, and kind, and warm, and Blackwood isn’t. Jon is so wrapped up in his frustration that he does not know Martin is blushing as he says this. Martin suddenly has to go make a cup of tea. Right then.

-The next time it’s Martin defending Jon against Blackwood. Blackwood is happy that Martin is starting to assert himself but is exasperated that it’s only occuring because of his own failed attempts to get the archive staff to trust him. He suddenly wants his own Jon to come back so badly so he can tell him how ridiculous this entire situation is. So they can laugh together at how Blackwood advanced their younger counterparts’ relationship progress by at least 3 years by accidentally becoming the villain of their story, so Jon can tease him about it.

-The third time it’s Jon once again defending Martin, saying that Blackwood went too far, that he sounds like Martin’s mother and he made him cry. Mr. Blackwood realizes that, yeah he does absolutely sound like his mum and he has to leave and reasses his actions. He hadn’t realized he was picking up her specific way of critisizing-well-himself. It’s just how he talked to himself in his own head- which- well- which wasn’t great.

-Jon is so surprised that he managed to actually get one-up on Mr. Blackwood that he takes everyone out for drinks and insists on paying. Which is a nice distraction for Martin. 

-It also, Blackwood notices, means Jon is getting closer to his archive staff and hanging out with them. It gives him a bittersweet hapiness. He’s so happy that they’re all closer in this timeline, that he managed to force Jon into socializing and Martin and Jon to get close. But he realizes he did it by being the outsider and interloper that they’re defending against, and he’s not quite part of this new group of the archive staff. He’s happy for them, just lonely. Even Sasha and Tim, who he gets along with more than Jon or Martin, are wary to trust him. He’s not telling them everything. He has to fight against Elias without the aid of spooky Eye powers and he’s unsure of when Elias is listening, so he’s not mentioning everything. He’s not telling them who killed Gertrude Robinson. He’s being evasive on the reasons he does not trust Elias, and about what power succeded at causing the apocalypse.

-As the days go by with no sign of His Jon/ Mr. Sim’s coming back his old connection to The Lonely intensifies and he becomes able to turn invisible and go by unnoticed again. The archive staff notice that he becomes spookier and sadder and- slightly less human and it decreases their trust in him.

[Check My Blog for a Part 2. I am writing this in one sitting, but this particular document has become long enough.]

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (3/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

On her way down to the botanical gardens, Stephanie’s mother rang.

Fumbling trying to hold onto her box of roses, Stephanie answered the phone. Her feet crunched loudly as she crossed the snow-covered grass. She flapped her fingers free from the mitten cover so the fingerless gloves could allow her touchscreen to work. She had worn Tim’s gloves since he had vanished, feeling like punishing herself for how she had failed him.

“Hi mom!”

Ooft, her fake cheeriness hurt even her own ears.

“Steph, are you okay? I hadn’t heard from you all week!”

Stephanie nearly dropped the plants in her fright. “Oh God. Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m safe. Promise. Are you okay?”

“Living out the hospital currently, thank you for asking.”

Shame flooded through Stephanie. “I’m sorry mom.”

Crystal sighed, deflating. “I guess I didn’t call either. It’s just been non-stop here. So many people needing help from the streets.”

“I can imagine. We couldn’t do anything the other night. It was too cold even for us!”

“You’re all good then?”

You meaning Tim, but Crystal would never say Tim’s name until held at gunpoint probably. He was just that boy, or him. It was sort of funny that – not only had Tim and Stephanie’s outlook’s on life undergone a flip – so had their relationships with their partner’s parent. Bruce liked Steph after a few years of tribulations (or so she thought), but the same time had not been kind to Crystal’s estimations of Tim.

Certainly, telling Crystal that Tim had kicked Stephanie the other night and run away would not have added positive points.

Stephanie swallowed dryly, not sure if she should lie for a moment, but ultimately sided on the side of fibbing. Her mother had enough to worry about at the hospital. Stephanie entering despair and seeking help from a misanthropic villain would not help Crystal do her job.

Yes, lying was the better option at the moment.

“We’re both good. We’ve got a lot of time to kill, we’re out at the botanical gardens today.”

Crystal sucked in air between her teeth. “Hmm. Okay, but Stephanie, try to remember to give me a call once a week. Just to stop my hair from completely falling out from stress.”

“Yes mommy.”

“Be good.”

And then the call ended.

Stephanie loomed outside of the greenhouse. It was covered in a thick layer of snow, thick enough to discourage entry. But there was a huge amount of warmth showing up inside, almost like an igloo, which was how she guessed this was where Ivy was. Stephanie looked for a way in, then sighed. Knocking on the door would probably be the best bet.

Ivy was at best indifferent to humans and at worst homicidal. She tended to lie low however when natural events knocked everyone back. Nothing levels the playing field of humanity like nature. Still, Stephanie was taking a gamble. She knew this. She was banking on Ivy having information Steph only had circumstantial reasons to think she held.

But Stephanie was desperate. And when she was desperate, her brain tended to throw things like caution and logic to the wind. Act on your gut, it’ll get you there in the end.

Except that one time when it really didn’t.

As far as Stephanie could tell, she had few other options, and she wanted to give Bruce some kind of information outside of a missing boy and car. If it meant risking her life and giving up her flowers, so be it.

Stephanie knocked, then opened the glass door, and slid inside.

It was swelteringly warm in the greenhouse, filled to the brim with plants and flowers which did not belong in the United States, let alone New Jersey. Stephanie stumbled into the fishpond, disturbing small lily pads.

“Excuse me? Poison Ivy?” She gulped, fear apparent on her features, as she tried to locate the green lady amongst the foliage. “Doctor Isley?”

“The only people who still call me doctor are those mocking me.”

Pamela’s voice came from behind, making Stephanie jump in the frigid water.

“I’m not mocking. I promise. I… I just…”

Ivy looked down at the roses in Stephanie’s arms and frowned. Steph held them out for her to take. “I wanted to give you these. My boyfriend and I were trying to grow them, but he went missing during the storm. I’m trying to look for him, but I need someone to look after these until I get back.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “And I was your first choice to nanny? Hilarious. Get out. One warning.”

“No please. I’m not mocking I swear.” Stephanie brazenly trudged forward deeper into the water. Ivy looked bemused, but Stephanie knew her interest in this strange young woman wouldn’t last too long. “I want you to look after them, but I also wondered if you knew anything about this storm. I would give you these to look after in exchange for information and to let me look for my boyfriend.”

Pamela looked at the flowers, then at Stephanie.

“Your lover isn’t the only one missing in a snowstorm.”

“I don’t think this is just a snowstorm. Batman and Robin have gone chasing a lead, but I think they’re looking in the wrong place. I don’t think it’s an easy fix.”

“No. It’s not.” And finally she took the flowers from Stephanie, gently stroking the petals. “What happened to the red? They haven’t settled.”

Stephanie gulped and told a half lie. “An accident. They fell. They had their own box, but it broke and I tried to… I tried.”

Ivy snorted. “Not good enough. I’ll take them off you. You can leave now.”

Stephanie slowly got out of the water. “But you said this isn’t just any old snowstorm. Do you know who caused it? Or what?”

Pamela turned around, clambering onto a vine which lifted her high above Stephanie.

“Nothing natural,” She said dryly, chuckling to herself. “Why do you care so much?”

“If I can know what caused it, I can fix it.”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “And bring your beau home.”

“Yes.” Stephanie uttered, glaring at Ivy.

“Listen little girl. All I know is, the cause is not of this earth. Not to be found in a machine. Not to be found in men. Something else.”

Stephanie followed Pamela waltzing around two levels up, craning her neck as she moved around on the floor.

“Like magic? Because I know someone who knows something about magic. This can’t be good for your plants, right? Don’t you want the cold to leave?”

Pamela flicked her wrists and the doors flew open, tree branches holding them to allow the frigid air in.

“I want you to leave Miss Brown. Good luck getting the storm to end, and good luck finding that sweet boy of yours. Maybe when Mr Drake-Wayne returns, I will trust you with these roses again.”

Stephanie tried not to appear shocked that Ivy knew her and Tim from sight and inference alone, but she was nakedly frantic.

“But I—”

“It’s magic. Magic not from this world. That’s all I can tell. It will pass. Let it do so on its own you stubborn girl.”

“No. I need to know Tim is safe.”

Ivy dropped down once more and got uncomfortably close. She raised a green hand and cradled Stephanie’s cheek. Stephanie, for her part, stared right back, unafraid.

“I don’t enjoy humans and their little love stories. Who cares if this boy comes back to you? There’s always another.”

“…Not abandoning him. Not giving up. It’s a thing for me.”

“Hmm.” And in an unintentionally mocking manner, she curled her fingers into Stephanie’s hair, loose strands reminding Ivy of vines and Steph of how much more comfortable the motion was when it was Tim holding onto her. “It’s all a bit pathetic honestly.”

Stephanie swallowed bile, resisting the urge to spit on Poison Ivy to get her to back off.

“You know more than you’re telling me.” Stephanie pushed.

It seemed Ivy had had enough of Steph and took a step back.

“Leave.”

Stephanie noticed too late that a vine had curled its way around her ankle. Looking down, her stomach dropped, but before she could say anything, the vine tightened, flinging her back and out with a squeal. She landed on a large mound of snow, unharmed, but stuck with her legs flailing around. She heard the distinct solid thud of the greenhouse doors slamming shut.

“Oh, come on!” Stephanie wiggled, trying to loosen up the snow around her torso.

What a waste of time. Of course, this storm wasn’t natural. They’d known that from the start. And now she was stuck in snow, and she had given up her roses. Her beautiful roses that she had invested far too much emotional value in. Why couldn’t she do one thing right? Every solution she tried made things worse. Like a curse. Hold onto hope, because she certainly had nothing else going for her.

Swinging her ankles, she screamed, which soon morphed into a cry. Snow crumpled and went in her mouth, making her wail.

Bad day, bad week, bad life…

Someone seemed to take pity on her, and grabbed her black legging covered ankles, dragging her out from her snowy prison. Snow went up her jacket and top, making her squeal in discomfort.

To her surprise, the person who tugged her out had bright blue skin.

“Klarion!” She exclaimed.

“Oh good! It is you. I followed the smell of Christmas and desperation.”

Stephanie sat up, shaking her coat free of snow, despair momentarily forgotten.

She had helped Klarion the witch boy once or twice, never of her own free will, but still. He was harmless enough, to her at least. He smiled widely at her, but in a way which was not reassuring. Her own smile turned brittle, then cracked and fell into misery. She was still reeling from the useless encounter with Ivy. It had maybe narrowed down where to hunt akin to reducing the search from a needle in a haystack to a grain of sand in a rice bag.

Disoriented and directionless were two words that came to mind. She tried very hard to not let her frustration seep into her acknowledgement of Klarion (who looked entirely too happy to see her), but still, her tone had some bite to it.

“What is it? Does Teekl need a new girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” He said, and sure enough, his ginger cat familiar hopped up around his shoulders, acting like an oversized scarf. “I have come to help you this time. I understand you are a friend of a friend of mine. I have many of these here nowadays.”

The last thing Stephanie wanted was a distraction, however well meaning, from trying to melt the snow and find Tim. She held up an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry Klarion, but you’ve caught me at a really bad time and –”

Klarion, in his silly little pilgrim outfit and pointy black hair, bit his index finger. “Oh, I know! I know how you are feeling. You saw me when Teekl ran away… oh I was crestfallen. And before you so did Timothy!”

Stephanie, still sat on the snow, gaped. “You know Tim?”

Klarion seemed shocked she did not know. “You mean he never mentioned me? Why, we saved the world together, and Teekl, who is my world, a year or two ago. At least I think it was… time is funny here.”

Hope sprung anew in Stephanie’s chest and she rose, holding onto Klarion’s forearms.

“Then you know he’s missing?”

“Exactly! I am here to help you bring him back home and…brr… end this winter.”

“Oh! Klarion! You’re a godsend!” She hugged him tight. “What do we need to do?”

“Come, come! We must go to the river. Perhaps call your family. This trip may take a while.”

 *****

 “Oh my God you’re blue.” Cassandra exclaimed as Stephanie and Klarion arrived. Duke looked equally dumbfounded. The wind was icy, whipping around the pebbly ground underneath Kane bridge. It pierced Stephanie to her core, but Klarion seemed – as always – unaffected by his surroundings. Sighing, Stephanie waved vaguely between a politely smiling Klarion and the two batfamily members.

“Cassandra, Duke, this is Klarion. Klarion, this is Cassandra and Duke. They’re Tim’s siblings and friends of mine. Klarion is a witch who’s a… friend… of mine and Tim’s.”

“Hi…” Duke waved. Klarion bowed, and Cassandra made a woompf noise. She did not have a good history with magicians and took a cautious step back and behind Duke. Teekl appeared on top of Stephanie’s car, then leapt into Duke’s arms. He caught the cat, exclaiming, whilst Cassandra flinched away, not enjoying the vibes the witch and his familiar were giving off. It was off kilter and feral. Unmanageable and unpredictable.

“Right.” Klarion said, peering across the river with a dramatic step forward, looking like a Smurf pilgrim pioneer. “Are you ready to go?”

“You haven’t told me anything. Where are we going?”

“Not we. Just you.”

“Alone?”

Cassandra pushed Duke forward, calling over the wind, “What’s going on?”

Klarion ignored her, speaking only to Stephanie. “Hmm? Oh, you don’t know about the storm and its creator?”

“Only that it’s not of this Earth.”

“Indeed!” Klarion sounded entirely too cheerful. “You have been to my realm Stephanie, but there are many others to explore. The lady who caused this storm usually stays within her own, but sometimes she gets bored, and likes to go exploring.”

Stephanie slowly put the pieces together. “So… a magic… lady did this?”

“Magick. But yes. She likes to pick up people sometimes. I try to keep quiet track of my friends, and I noticed Tim had disappeared a few days ago. That coupled with this nasty weather of hers, well, one does not have to be a detective to put the pieces together!” Klarion nudged Stephanie in the gut, trying to be playful, but she only looked sick at his words.

“How do I bring him home? Will she hurt him?”

“Yes. She doesn’t mean to of course, but she likes humans so much. They freeze thanks to her though. She is sad for a little while, then decides to try again. Something we do not want for Tim.”

“No.” Stephanie breathed.

Klarion’s look became sympathetic. “He was very cruel before he left wasn’t he?”

Stephanie said nothing, and Klarion tutted. “It’s her way. She is not fond of a human’s warmth, not realising it is what makes them such.”

Cassandra meanwhile stomped her foot. “Who is ‘she’?”

“A Snow Queen!” Klarion gestured around him. “In case that was not obvious from the weather. Fey. Magick.”

“Fairy-tale.” Duke finished, blinking in realisation. “It’s just like a fairy-tale.”

“Is it?” Klarion shrugged. “I don’t know what that is. Regardless, Stephanie, you should be the one to melt his heart and bring him home. Since you’re the one who lost him.”

She tried not to let his matter of fact manner of speaking sting. “Why just me? Why can’t I go get my Batgirl suit? Why can’t you come with me? Or Cass and Duke?”

“Wait, he knows your secret ID?” Duke muttered, three steps behind Steph and Klarion’s conversation.

“Oh dear, Stephanie. You are going to be sick of this reason soon I am sure.”

She laughed brokenly. “It’s magic reasons huh?”

“Magick. And yes. Remember, the rules are very different in different realms. And names matter. Timothy Jackson Drake has been taken from Stephanie Brown. Stephanie Brown must be the one to bring Timothy Jackson Drake back. Anyone else entering will be kicked out. Their purpose does not fit with the rules. One human over there is bad enough… two!  Oh dear. Three? Four? It will end terribly!” After his worrisome but somehow cheery doom of a lecture he held out his hand for Steph to take. “Here, I will share with you what I use to keep an eye on you and Tim. It will feel like an instinct to a human, pulling you in the right direction.”

Stephanie took off her (Tim’s) gloves, then held Klarion’s right hand. It was painfully warm. Soon enough her heart jerked, and she stumbled forward, almost careening onto the frozen river. Cassandra caught her and pulled her back.

“Oh!” Stephanie huffed, her heart legitimately aching from the separation.

“You will get used to it. Follow that pull, and you will find Tim. Remember, magick is not just something you do; it is something to hear and feel. Remember that and you will find our friend. I know you will succeed and find him before his heart freezes for good.”

Klarion smiled in that weird manner of his. Supposedly reassuring and bright but to the three humans standing by the river, it was unnerving and dissonant with his message.

Duke shook his head. “All well and good for Tim, but what about the storm? It’s been a week of this, how much longer? Is Stephanie going to fight a witch with her bare fists too?”

“Oh my God.” Stephanie groaned, crumpling in on herself. Cassandra remained curled around her, protecting her from the wind.

Klarion looked up, shielding his eyes against the glare of the white clouds reflecting off the white ground. Stephanie herself felt like she had been squinting for her entire life, like her eyes would never be fully open again.

“The storm will dissipate soon enough. She got what she came for, and this leakage will fade the further into her realm she returns. This is a problem which will fix itself. Tim however, will need a bit of help.”

“But why Tim?” Stephanie asked, desperation for him blending with relief for Gotham. “Of all the people on this planet, why target him?”

“That I do not know.” Klarion clapped his hands. “Come now, the more time we waste the less time you have to catch up.”

“But Bruce and Damian aren’t here.” Cassandra urged. “We should wait. There may be another way… so that Stephanie doesn’t have to go alone?”

At that moment the wind picked up, screaming it was so fierce, pushing the group away from the frozen water’s edge. She didn’t understand why, but it made Stephanie’s hackles rise. It felt like a challenge, or a warning. Don’t follow.

She was a squishy human. Klarion was seemingly willing to send her alone into a realm where that was not the norm. Whatever she would be hunting, it was strong enough to bring a city to a standstill by just leaking across the border. She didn’t know where she was going, or for how long. She didn’t know if she would make it to Tim, or what to do when she found him. How would she bring him home? What if she got there (wherever there was) and it was too late? What if she failed?

But what was the alternative? If she didn’t go, she failed Tim. If she went, there was still a chance she would fail Tim.

Just a chance.

The wind died down, and Stephanie got up, displacing Cassandra. Everyone watched as she went back to her little purple car and pulled out her satchel.

“I’ll go.”

“Stephanie.” Cassandra’s voice was unabashedly worried, and Duke did not look any happier with her decision. Stephanie ignored them.

She tossed nearly everything out of her bag – her purse, her phone, her keys, her umbrella – leaving behind a bottle of water, Bruce’s scarf that she had held onto (just in case she found Tim…just in case he was cold) and a bag of dried apple slices.

It was anything but a suitable bag of provisions for a journey which had no destination or time stamp, but Stephanie’s stubbornness had clicked on, and she had made up her mind.

“You can tell Bruce I have gone to bring Tim home. I may be a while. But he has to trust me to do it. I can do it. I will do it. You believe in me Klarion?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely.”

“That’s good enough for me.” She looked to Duke and Cass, who had both paled. “You can cope a while without me, yeah?”

Klarion had moved down to the river, and held out his hand once more.

“Don’t joke! Stephanie this is insane!” Duke exclaimed. Stephanie leapt down to join Klarion on the ice. Duke and Cassandra went to follow, but with a wave of Klarion’s hand, they were shoved back several feet. The two rushed back to the edge but were somehow unable to make the final step onto the frozen river.

“You should trust your friends!” Klarion called out.

Stephanie looked up at the two on the riverbank and smiled reassuringly. “Cover for me with Bruce, yeah? I’m fixing a mistake. For honest for real.” Stephanie took Klarion’s hand. “How do I get into that world?”

“I cannot go with you, but I have opened the way. Cross the Gotham river, and do not drown.”

Stephanie looked at their feet on the ice. “It’s frozen right now. Really frozen.”

“Not for much longer. The storm is moving north very fast. Spring is coming.”

Stephanie pulled out Bruce’s scarf and wrapped it around her neck. Then she adjusted Tim’s gloves, recovering her fingertips with the mittens. She breathed into the wool, feeling it warm her neck and cheeks. She muttered to herself a small pep talk.

“Okay. Cross the river. Follow my heart. Melt Tim’s heart and bring him home from a human obsessed ice witch. Easy-peasy. It’s like a fairy-tale. Just like a fairy-tale.”

“I wish I knew what that was.” Klarion gently shoved her away from him. “Remember Stephanie. Different realm, different rules. It will turn your human head inside out if you are not alert. It has happened to Tim. Do not make the same mistake.”

The river was covered in several inches of snow, but even so, Stephanie felt unstable, like she was standing directly on black ice. Slowly she turned, took three steps, then whipped her head back around.

“Wait my mom!”

But Cassandra, Duke and Klarion were gone. Instead it was an endless frozen lake, with the only land viewable across the bay as she slowly returned to facing forward. The sky was piercing pale blue, and already she could feel the temperature rising.

“Oh. Oh my God. Steph, what have you gone and signed up for now?”

She then took a breath, and began to cross the frozen river, heading straight for land.

Back on regular Earth, Duke dropped Teekl when Stephanie vanished. Klarion waved goodbye to the open air, then turned around to see Cassandra and Duke glaring at him.

“She will be fine.” He said, for once reading the atmosphere.

“You’ve sent her to die! Both her and Tim!” Cassandra yelled. Klarion looked mortified.

“I absolutely have not! What a lack of faith you have in your friend.”

“It’s not a lack of faith knowing someone going on a magical journey with no destination with nothing but the clothes on their back is suicidal.” Duke bit out. “I hope Batman wrings your neck.”

“Is that something he does?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh dear.” And then Klarion stepped back off the river. “Nevermind. I’ll head off now, nothing more to be done here. Stephanie will succeed. It may take a month or two, but be patient.”

“Two months?”

Everyone turned to see a very angry Batman looming from above under the bridge, Robin perched a couple of beams down. Both looked like they were genuinely considering strangling Klarion. Teekl hissed at the perceived threat. Klarion simply shrugged with his entire body.

“Or a year. Just be patient! Trust in her!” With a little uncomfortable laugh, Klarion portaled himself away, his voice echoing through the open air.

Cassandra and Duke gulped as Bruce landed in front of them.

“Care to explain how Tim and Stephanie went missing?”

“It…It was…” It was Duke’s turn to take a step behind Cassandra, who grew very puffy.

“It was magic! Or something stupid like it. Can’t you call for help?”

Damian looked out at the river. Everyone could hear new cracking noises, and the ice began to crumple under the weight of the thick snow it held up. It was still bitterly cold, but Klarion was right. The worst of the storm had passed. Gotham would recover.

Tim and Stephanie were another matter.

[evil-overlord-scriptology]

But I Don’t Want to be a Sensei! Pt 5 (ARCHIVED)

Chapters 16 & 17

Chapter 16: A Different Kind of Peach

“No.”

 Naruto pouted, “Awwww, c'mon, sensei! Please? I'll be extra careful!” The blonde little brat batted his eyelashes up at me with an innocent smile. I was not amused, mostly because of the fact that a twelve year old boy could flutter his eyelashes and I couldn't.

 “No.”

 Naruto opened in mouth again, but Haku interrupted him, “Naruto-kun, please don't irritate Yanagi-san. She is still healing.” Zabuza and I snorted at the exact same time. There wasn't much Haku could do to silence Naruto other than hitting him upside the head with a skillet like I was going on doing if the little shit didn't shut his trap.

 Surprisingly enough, Naruto listened to the older teen and edged over to where Sasuke was still resting. It had been three days since the fight on the bridge, or so Peaches said. I had been surprised that I had slept that long, but not so surprised about Sasuke. He had been to the point of complete chakra depletion, just barely alive. Not only was it past the point of no return, but this drain was Sasuke's first brush with chakra exhaustion so it would take a while for his coils to fill back up.

 The second Naruto was out of hearing range I glared up at Zabuza who was sitting against a wall next to my futon, “Bastard.” I snapped.

 He only smirked and crossed his arms, trying to maintain an innocent look like he didn't know what the hell I was talking about. I don't know why he even bothered, he was the only one here who even saw me use the Fan of Wonders so he was the only one who could have told Naruto.

 I bet he did it just to mess with me.

 Damn it, don't tell me this man was another Shisui!

 Haku sighed quietly behind me and cool hands gently grasped my shoulders, “Yanagi-san, please don't talk much. Otherwise the poultice won't stick to your jaw.” He chided as he forced me to slowly lay back down on the futon provided for me.

 The ice user had turned out to be a healer too. But unlike Konohagakure, which had a monopoly on medical ninjutsu thanks to Lady Tsunade, Haku didn't know how to heal with chakra. He simply got by with herbs and backwater remedies, which was what most Kiri nins learned in lieu of medical ninjutsu. It was better than Iwa's 'tough it out, it doesn't hurt' ideology at least.

 I was lucky really that Haku turned out to be what some might call a medic; otherwise I would have to suffer with a fractured jawbone and gaping chest wound all the way back to Konoha since I lacked the talent to heal myself– it was kind of pathetic that I was the best healer in the Uchiha clan, really; and it showed just how bad Uchiha members were at medical ninjutsu.

 The bratling had just better be glad that he never really meant to kill Sasuke, only put him in a temporary state of death. Otherwise I would be the worst patient I could possibly be.

 Peach-boy snickered at my quiet compliance to being manhandled by his student, and I threw Haku's pestle at the grey skinned nuke-nin in retaliation. It infuriated me that he caught it. Haku sighed in a way that made me think he was the adult and we were the children. Honestly I didn't blame him; other than Tsunami, Haku was probably the only mature person in Tazuna's house. Tazuna had been kind enough to offer his home to both my team and the Kiri nuke-nins while we recuperated; he also disregarded the fact that Zabuza and Haku had tried their damnedest to kill him not too long ago. Maybe I had misjudged the man.

 He must be more stupid than I thought.

 “Hey Frizzy-sensei! Sasuke-teme is waking up!” Naruto shouted from the other side of the room. I debated briefly between throwing the mortar that went with the pestle at the loud kid or joining him at my cousin's bedside.

 Haku decided for me when he leveled a stern look at me, “Don't get up, you might reopen your wound.”

 “Which?” I asked, deliberately being obtuse. I had only been wounded at the chest, and Haku's reaction was too hilarious to pass up on.

 Like I predicted, Haku blushed and stuttered. It had turned into a rather entertaining game for me to make Haku blush, almost as fun as irritating Sasuke. The ice user was at that awkward age where talking about the other sex's anatomy was very uncomfortable, and I milked it for all it was worth. The boy's visible eye started drifting to my chest before he abruptly jerked his gaze away and stared vehemently at the poor wall. There was a pause before the teen scrambled to his feet and hurried over to check on Sasuke.

 Or to get away from me, it was hard to tell.

 Which Haku out of my hair, I turned my head to eye the Demon of the Mist, who was trying his hardest not to laugh, “Now what?” I asked. I was really hating not being able to speak much, but at least I could speak again.

 Peach-boy shrugged and didn't answer me.

 Not amused, I reached out and flicked the man's big toe, since it was the closest thing to me. Zabuza gave me a funny look to which I returned with a lopsided grin. Now that we weren't enemies I planned to annoy the man to the best of my abilities. With no Kakashi-nii or Nii-san around, I was feeling a little deprived of annoying people. Team 7 didn't count, they were just traumatized whenever I pulled funny shit.

 After failed for several minutes of trying to get a reaction out of the nuke-nin, I reached to my left where Haku had placed my weapons pouch–why did that brat even touch a foreign ninja's weapons pouch was beyond me–and yanked out a my Fan of Wonders. It surprised me that someone, probably Haku, had thought to retrieve the weapon from the bridge; but I wasn't going to complain. The thing was expensive as hell and I would probably never earn enough money to replace the one I had; Kakashi and Obito had to split the cost of it when they had it commissioned for me when I made jounin rank. Besides, I was attached to the fan I had for obvious reasons. Planting my right elbow into the floor, I managed to push myself into a sitting position with the fan in my lap. I really wanted to just lay on my futon and bother Zabuza, but I had a stupid report to fill out.

 Kill me.

 Zabuza had a strange look on his face as he watched me take my field pen and ink block out of their hiding places. He had already seen the senbon launcher and the kunai blade during our fight, so it was no wonder he looked a little amazed at the fan's many hidden compartments. Peaches even choked a little when I twisted the heel sole of my discarded right sandal and pulled out a blank miniature scroll, the perfect size for a messenger hawk to carry.

 “Is there anything you don't hide?” The nuke-nin drawled as I made the ink.

 I gave him a dry look, “My temper.” I deadpanned then ignored Peach-boy as I hurried to write my post battle report. It had already been three days since the battle, if I waited any longer the Hokage was bound to strangle me for mimicking my brothers' habitual laziness.

 'Yellow Update

 Mission status: Complete

 Team: Genin Team 7

 Report: Team encountered A-class nuke-nin, Momochi Zabuza at Destination, with Identified Ally: Yuki Haku. Battle ensued, Team Leader heavily injured: Fractured Jawbone and Wound to Chest. Genin A heavily injured: Temporary Death State and Chakra Depletion. Genin A activated Kekke Genkai, will require Clan Guidance upon Return. Genin B has temporarily Accessed S-Ranked Secret; unknown to all members of Team. Battle concluded with No Deaths in either Party. Deaths of Mercenaries and Gang Leader: Gatou. Temporary Truce with A-class nuke-nin, Momochi Zabuza and Ally. Full Report Due upon Team's Return. Will attempt to solve remaining problem with Diplomacy.'

 I waved the unbound scroll in the air like a little ribbon to dry the ink faster, before rolling it up and painting two bands around the outside, marking it as Moderate Priority. The report was only a post battle report and didn't require the immediate attention of the Hokage; but still, Sasuke's activation of the Sharingan, Naruto's use of the red chakra, and Zabuza's change of heart were all important events that the Hokage should know about before Team 7 made it back home. Especially since he would have to inform the Uchiha clan about Sasuke.

 I was about to tie up the problem with Gatou too when Haku found his courage again and descended on me like a vengeful Ice Princess.

 Peach-boy was no help at all.

 vvv

 Another three weeks went by as we all waited for the bridge to be completed and for Sasuke to regain his strength to move out. The Hokage had sent back a response via my messenger hawk that Zabuza and Haku would accompany us to Konoha, not as prisoners but to work out a deal with the Hokage. I had used my sharingan and a pilfered slip of paper with Gatou's writing on it to forge a will stating that the deceased man's entire fortune went to Zabuza; to give the Kiri nuke-nin an excuse and a place to stay out of trouble. It was for Konoha's benefit; we would lose a customer, but gain an ally and a foothold against Kirigakure if the village ever needed it. After all, a shinobi never wasted an opportunity to plan ahead.

 Unless you were a numskull like Naruto.

 “No, no, no! I can't find it, it's gone!” Naruto cried as he rifled through his mission's pack with desperation to find something. Haku and Hinata were the only ones to watch the brat panic in genuine concern while Sasuke just glared at Haku whenever he thought no one was looking. Zabuza and I straight up did not care.

 “N-Naruto-kun... what are you looking for?” Hinata asked. She had been acting strangely ever since the fight and I fully intended to wring it out of her the second we got home. Or possibly throw her at Obito and let Mr. Feelings deal with the Hyuuga heiress since I already failed at the emotional buddy-buddy thing.

 At least she wasn't stuttering much anymore.

 Naruto groaned and jammed his stubby little finger into his hair in frustration, “Teuchi gave me a coupon for one free order of ramen and I know I had it on me!” I groaned quietly and pinched my nose. I should have known that this was about damn ramen. I was seriously contemplating on sending Naruto to therapy over his addiction to ramen; but I was sure Kushina would roll over in her grave if I did.

 Actually, knowing her, she'd just haunt my ass from the afterlife.

 I shuddered at the possibility and dropped the thought. The last thing I needed was Naruto's mother coming after me as a ghost. She had been scary enough alive and I didn't want to suffer through another concussion courtesy of a dead Uzumaki woman.

 Zabuza shot me a curious look, which I pointedly ignored. I didn't wish to add insanity to the list of things Zabuza thought about me.

 My sensei instincts kicked in by then and I looked up to see Naruto starting to run off, “Hey! Get your ass back here!” I snapped. There wasn't time for this; the Hokage expected us back in a week and I sure as hell wasn't going to let something as stupid as a misplaced coupon delay our return any further.

 “I'll be right back, I swear!” Naruto called over his shoulder. He was gone in a flash, probably thinking that I was going to chase him. I swear that kid was learning to quickly on how to evade my ire, I had a feeling that I was becoming predictable. And a ninja often created very bizarre situations just so they lost their predictability.

 Obito-nii was going to suffer from a butt load of pranks when I got home.

 Haku started after my brat, “I'll get him.” He said calmly before zipping off.

 I pursed my lips and grabbed Sasuke by his Uchiha collar as he began to walk in the opposite direction of Naruto and Haku, “You're going after them.”

 My cousin gave me a very teenager look, “Are you serious?” If I didn't know better, I would say he was whining. In the back of my mind, I groaned. Great, now Sasuke was getting to the teenage rebellion stage and Naruto would likely follow soon. There was going to be a lot of head bashing in their future if they didn't pass through the stage quickly.

 “Yes.” I deadpanned and shoved him back towards the Land of Waves. The boy heaved a sigh and started walking slowly back the way we came. My hand twitched and I came this close to finishing what Haku started. The damn brat was being difficult on purpose!

 Once the damn little cocky Uchiha prince of the brats was gone, Peach-boy turned to me, “You still don't trust us.” It wasn't a question.

 I scoffed, “I trust Haku, at least when it comes to Naruto. It's you I don't trust.”

 “When why-”

 “Why did I send Sasuke after the other two boys?” I finished from him. I shrugged, “Have you seen the was Sasuke glares at Haku? I don't want to deal with that drama for the rest of the week. They can all work out their problems away from me. I'm their sensei, not a damn therapist. Now come along, Hinata, if I remember correctly there's a tea shop around here somewhere.” I didn't leave the Hyuuga any choice as I grabbed her wrist and forcibly dragged her along. I could hear Zabuza sighing then fell in step beside me without a word.

 vvv 3rd POV~ Haku vvv

 “Naruto-san, please. Yanagi-san and Zabuza-sama are waiting for us. Yanagi-san is already upset, let us not anger her more.” Haku asked as he caught up to Naruto. Naruto didn't slow down in his tree jumping though.

 Naruto-san landed on a branch and was about to push off again when a barrage of kunai knives perforated the poor innocent tree limp. Naruto yelled in surprise then followed the trajectory to where Sasuke stood upside down on a branch twenty feet higher than Naruto's.

 “Hey, what's the big idea?! Watch were you're throwing those things, teme!” Naruto shouted as he waved his fist around at his teammate. Haku resolutely decided that this was a team conflict and stayed silent. He had already witnessed the odd dynamics of the dysfunctional Team 7 and didn't wish to be sucked further in to their insanity.

 Sasuke-san didn't sound very amused, “That's payback for not being a team player. You've wasted enough of our time already, let's head back. Yanagi-itoko is pissed.”

 Naruto slumped a little and Haku was mildly surprised that he was already giving in. During one of the many dinners that Yanagi-san practically twisted arms, particularly Zabuza-sama's, to make sure everyone was present, Naruto-san had declared his own nindo way: that he would never give up no matter what. The way the preteen had said it made Haku think Naruto would never stop, not even for the most trivial matters.

 “Okay, I get it.” Sasuke scoffed in victory, but it proved to be premature, “I will... right after I take care of my business!” Naruto-san exclaimed and leaped under Sasuke-san. Naruto patted his rear end in a very immature manner, “Like I'd ever take orders from you, bone-head!” He called to Sasuke, who looked a little bewildered.

 Haku sighed when Sasuke-san shot after his teammate. He had planned to return to Zabuza-sama now that Yanagi-san had sent Sasuke-san after Naruto, but it looked to be he was going to have to go after them and act as the mediator between the two stubborn genin.

 It didn't take long for the three of them to reach the little town where Gatou had been killed. Haku followed after the two younger boys from a short distance, just beyond hearing range. He had stopped for a moment earlier to put on his cracked pseudo hunter-nin mask to hid his burn scars and hadn't bothered to regain the distance it had cost him; he wasn't trying to stop Naruto like Sasuke-san was. Haku saw no need to since they were already in the town, it would just be better for all of them if Naruto-san finished his business and went back willingly. Why Sasuke didn't see that was beyond the Kiri nuke-nin.

 There was a poof of smoke that indicated the use of a jutsu and Haku nearly fell off the roof when he saw that Naruto had transformed into a busty naked girl with only scant puffs of chakra smoke to cover her...

 Haku blushed.

 Yanagi-san had already exploited Haku's aversion to the awkward topic of women anatomy ever since she regained her ability to speak. Zabuza-sama had been no help at all since he found the whole thing amusing. Haku had a sneaking suspicion that Zabuza had intentionally told Yanagi about Haku's dislike of the topic to get back at him for ignoring his master those first three days when Yanagi-san had been unconscious. Haku would have probably continued avoiding Zabuza-sama if Yanagi hadn't, almost literally, bashed their heads together and flat out told them what the other was feelings about Haku's near death.

 For such a surly woman, she did think of others... sometimes.

 While Haku had been trying to collect his dazed thoughts, Sasuke-san thankfully broke the transformation jutsu and had tied Naruto-san up with ninja wire. Haku quickly leaped the rest of the way until he was crouching on the roof directly above the Konoha genin.

 “Just give it up would you?” Sasuke-san asked in that emotionless, slightly condescending, voice he often used when around Naruto. Haku watched the Uchiha boy curiously. They were already in town, to drag Naruto-san back now would be just a waste of time. It was better to let the blonde boy get his coupon and head back, that way they killed two birds with one stone. Right?

Another voice spoke, “Hey! What are you two doing here?” The three boys looked at the speaker. Tazuna-san stood in front of Naruto, looking as if he were about to go on another journey, if the pack on his back was anything to go by. Now that the Great Naruto Bridge was finished, Tazuna would likely be raking in more commissions to build bridges, so it was no surprise to Haku. In fact, if Zabuza-sama decided to stay in the Land of Waves they would probably be escorting Tazuna-san around a lot. Kind of ironic, at least to Haku.

 Naruto brightened at the sight of his team's former employer, “Tazuna-oji! Talk about perfect timing!” He tried to move, but Sasuke jerked on his 'leash', “Ya see I left something at your place.”

 Tazuna-san leaned down so he was closer to Naruto's level, “Wait, let me guess. A little slip of paper?” Naruto nodded happily. “Inari-chan wanted to make sure you had so he ran off a little while ago to take it to you.” Haku mentally winced at that. If Inari-san caught up to the rest of their group, he would have to face Yanagi-san. During their time at Tazuna's house, Haku got the instinct impression that Inari was scared of Yanagi. Knowing the jounin, it probably wasn't unfounded.

 Really, Yanagi-san was just like Zabuza-sama.

 Haku leaped from the roof, surprising Tazuna-san, “Come on. Let us head back, Naruto-san. Maybe we'll come across Inari-san.” He suggested quietly. Naruto seemed to cheer up at the thought but Sasuke-san narrowed his dark eyes at Haku. Haku immediately backed away, he knew that Sasuke-san was touchy about the subject of his defeat and Haku had no intention on broaching the topic until Sasuke-san was more calm, if ever. Haku didn't like conflict of any kind, not even verbally.

 After a few tense seconds of silence, Sasuke-san reached down and cut the ninja wire from Naruto. He turned away and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Let's go.” He ordered flatly before walking back to the way they came. Naruto-san shot to his feet, dusting off his orange jumpsuit and ran off after his teammate, pausing just briefly to wave good-bye to Tazuna. Haku watched the two genin go with fatigue before tiredly wondering after them. In the scant three weeks he had known Team 7 he had already seen more drama than the entirety of his time with Zabuza-sama.

 Haku seriously doubted he was going to survive the rest of the week with them.

 “Inari! Hey Inari!” Naruto-san was calling as the three of them walked calmly back up the road that they were taking back to Konoha. Naruto was looking left and right, trying to peer into foliage for the little boy. Sasuke-san and Haku walked flanked him, Haku was trying to help Naruto look while Sasuke-san just walked with his hands folded behind his head, he apparently did not wish to help. Haku did not blame him though. Sasuke-san didn't seem like the person to help unless it benefited him. He acted like a true shinobi, unlike Haku who was too soft.

 Naruto-san stopped and planted his fists on his hips, “Huh, I was sure Inari would be down this way...” He mumbled to himself. Haku startled when Naruto suddenly twisted around and pointed an accusing finger to the casual Sasuke-san leaning against a nearby tree. “Hey Sasuke! Get over here and help me look too, would ya?!”

 Sasuke turned his nose in the air, “Listen, Inari when looking for you. This doesn't involve me.” He said with mild contempt. Haku tilted his head to look at the younger dark haired boy. He had often heard that teenagers were rebellious, but he never had been able to witness it himself since he was always around Zabuza-sama who avoided other kids like the plague. He wondered mildly if this was what those people meant.

 Naruto gritted his teeth, “Ah c'mon! Whatever happened to teamwork, huh?!”

 “That's the only reason I'm here with you now, show some gratitude, loser.”

 Haku could hear Naruto's teeth gritting from a few feet away and he winced at the sound. “I'll. Show. You. Gratitude.” Naruto seethed as he stomped off into the woods, punctuating each word with a footstep.

 Haku wanted to comment but felt that it wasn't his place. Besides, Sasuke-san did not seem to like him and Naruto-san didn't look to be in the mood to hear advice from anyone.

 “Hey, where are you going?” Sasuke questioned as he watched his hot headed teammate stomp away.

 “Shut up! I need to go take a leak!” Haku grimaced at Naruto's uncouth manner. It was at times like this that Naruto reminded Haku of the Demon Brothers Zabuza-sama employed. Haku rarely used the word 'dislike', but he did not like those chūnin nuke-nins that followed Zabuza-sama around like unwanted filth.

 Naruto-san bent down to grab something and wondered aloud, “What's my ramen coupon doing out here?” That seemed to prick Sasuke's interest as the other boy came to look over Naruto's shoulder. Haku joined them a little later, but didn't get to close. He didn't feel like he belonged here, he almost felt like a babysitter really.

 Sasuke jerked, seeing something that Haku could not, “Wait a second, look there.” He pointed to the forest floor in front of the duo. Haku looked over the boys' shoulder and saw many footprints in the area. Some big and some... childlike. It wasn't hard to figure out that Inari, and possibly a few friends, had been kidnapped.

 Haku stepped up so he was Naruto's other side, “A fight. Likely a few thugs got a way and decided to take a cowards form of revenge.” He spoke for the first time since they had gone in search of Inari-san.

 There was only a moment's warning before the clouds that had been looming in the sky all day broke and poured their load down on all three of the boys.

 vvv Normal POV vvv

 “Just in time.” I commented as we ducked under the tea shop awning just as the deluge began. I was glad, I didn't have to worry about my hair frizzing up any more than normal. It was bad enough that Naruto called me 'Frizzy-sensei' I didn't want to give anyone else a reason to call me that. The hostess smiled at the three of us and waved us to sit down on the long bench in front before she bowed to us and asked for our orders.

 I rambled off mine and Hinata's, knowing that the little Hyuuga heiress probably wouldn't have it in her to speak up, and leaned back so Peaches could do the same; I was mildly astonished that he ordered water. When the old lady ducked back into the tiny shop, I turned to give Zabuza a look, “Are Kiri nin so obsessed with water they drink it everywhere?” I asked incredulously.

 Peach-boy gave me a glare that could evaporate the rain water off my clothes, “No.”

 I was not letting him get away with that for an answer. I didn't like talking to people much, but I hated awkward silenced even worse. “We're at a tea shop it's generally accepted that people drink tea here.” I pointed out slowly.

 For a moment, I thought Zabuza might actually try and hit me. If he did, then Zabuza vs. Yanagi Round Three would commence. “I don't like tea.” He snapped. Seriously, this guy was never social unless Haku was around and even then it was still a 50/50 chance.

 Now Hinata was giving Zabuza a look. People from Konoha practically lived on tea, especially those living in more traditional clans like Hinata and I. In Konoha, someone saying they didn't like tea was like Naruto suddenly declaring that he detested ramen and became a nuke-nin because the Hokage refused to outlaw it.

 Peachy didn't miss our shared horrified looks. He glare turned defensive and he looked away with a harrumph, mumbling something about stewed leaf water and pesky women. I smirked.

 Yanagi: 17 Zabuza: 12

 Another costumer ducked under the tea shop awning and flapped their soaked leather coat out, spraying the three of us in a fine cold spray, but he didn't remove his hood. Suspicious. Zabuza released a hissed breath and glared at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye. I pretended to ignore them as the lady came out sporting trays with our orders and came to take the order of the new costumer. Hinata gingerly took her cup of hot tea while I popped a stick of sweet dango in my mouth. Even from only two seats away, I could barely hear the newcomer as they spoke with the hostess and that only raised my suspicions.

 Without thinking about it, I nudged Zabuza and handed him his wimpy glass of water to excuse the action. In return he nodded in acknowledgment as he pulled down a few of his bandages to reveal his mouth and took a casual sip of water. The whole exchange was smooth and nothing was suspicious about it. Strange that only a month ago we were enemies and now we were working together as if we had been for years. But I guess being under the same roof for nearly three weeks did that to a group of enemies-turned-allies.

 “So when do you think those brats will get back?” I asked, to keep in character. It would seem suspicious to the tea lady, and possibly the newcomer if he had been watching us before, if we all just fell silent.

 Zabuza grunted and said nothing.

 I rolled my eyes, and not for show either. This man was just as annoying as Obito-nii, only in the opposite way. “Might as well be talking to myself.” I grumbled and popped another dumpling in my mouth, taking all my anger out on it by chewing the poor thing. My anger only elevated when I saw Zabuza's smirk before he brought his water to his lips.

 Soon the dango was all gone, eaten by myself really. Zabuza didn't like sweets apparently and Hinata said she wasn't hungry, though I suspected she only said that to please me. I would have forced her to eat one so she wouldn't be hungry, but decided against it to teach her another hidden lesson. Hinata needed to stop being a people pleaser, in the world of shinobi people would take advantage of her faster than she could blink. The Hyuuga needed to grow a little backbone and courage, otherwise everyone would walk over her more times than a welcome mat. I was sure her father already took advantage of her soft nature and it wouldn't be long before she broke if nothing was done.

 The newcomer had yet to take his hood off. Zabuza and I had already written him off as an enemy, but now Hinata was starting to get the drift. Though she was a green genin and not all the confident, I knew that Hinata was the most observant on out of my trio of brats. Having grown up in the Hyuuga clan and having a functioning Byakugan, Hinata had an eye for detail. A Hyuuga could look at a scene for three seconds, without their Kekke Genkai activated, and rattle back immediately everything in perfect detail. There was a reason why they were the ones assigned the missions that entailed guarding someone or finding lost items. So it was no surprise to me when Hinata began stiffening. Hurriedly I nudged her in the side so not to alert the mystery man.

 “Oi, wanna split a plate of dango? I'm still hungry, but I don't think I can eat all of it this time.” I said easily as I shot a warning look at my student. Hinata luckily caught on to it and nodded before looking down at her lap. Leaning back a little, I waved to the tea shop owner from the large window put behind the bench for that purpose. She nodded at me to show she acknowledged me and continued make the stranger's order.

 vvv 3rd POV~Haku vvv

 “Eh?! Inari did what?!” Naruto-san practically shrieked when Inari's friends told him what happened. Sasuke now looked concerned instead of indifferent about the whole thing. Though, Haku believed that Sasuke-san had been concerned ever since they found the signs of a fight, he was just showing that emotion now instead of suppressing it like he normally did.

 Haku stepped in before Naruto-san could question the obviously traumatized kids further, “Naruto-san, we must go. I know these men, if they find Inari-san...” He trailed off, not wishing to go into detail. Not only were there young kids present, but Sasuke and Naruto were still younger than him and obviously fresh genin. He doubted they had witnessed the true horrors of reality yet. To them everything was still good versus bad; with the bad losing horribly and the good getting away with no permanent injuries.

 Sasuke-san, however, seemed to have a notion of just how bad the situation was for he grabbed Naruto by the arm. “Go back and warn the town.” He ordered the kids before tugging his teammate along into a run. Haku zipped ahead of them. He had been trained as a hunter-nin before Zabuza-sama and he defected from Kirigakure, he was an expert tracker and following after thugs stupid enough to have marked a clear path with cuts in trees was probably the easiest thing he ever did.

 It was quick work finding Inari-san in the river, struggling to make it to shore, and with Naruto-san's numerous shadow clones, it was even easier work to pull him out. Haku felt almost useless standing there next to a line of Narutos and watching as the main Naruto struggled to grab Inari-san's hand. As soon as he had him, Naruto leaped out of the water and set Inari down.

 Immediately Haku scanned Inari-san for any obvious injures, but found none. The Kiri nuke-nin was confused, if Inari wasn't injured then why had he been in the river? He had thought that the thugs of Gatou had thrown him over a cliff to watch him drown, but by all appearances Inari looked as if he had jumped willingly.

 Inari-san was staring at Naruto in a daze. He looked at Sasuke, then at Haku and finally back at Naruto, “Why are you here? How come?” He asked.

 Naruto-san gave Inari his trademark, earsplitting grin, “How come? Cuz of you! You did an awesome job, your friends were able to escape and warn us what happened!”

 “The guys are okay?” Inari asked, but before any of the boys could answer, the sound of many footsteps came from their right. All of them turned to see the remainder of Gatou's thugs, a very small remainder, trotting up with the two filthy right hand men of Gatou leading them. Haku narrowed his eyes behind his mask. He did not like those two for trying to kill Zabuza-sama when he was healing from his first fight with Yanagi-san. The only person he hated more than those two had been Gatou himself. And with Gatou out of the way...

 If Haku liked killing, he might say he was eager to kill those two.

 The crowd came to a stop and one of them, the taller tattooed leader with a cutting fetish accused, accused “You're the brats from the Hidden Leaf!”

 The second leader, the one with the strange jacket and purple stripes under his eyes, yanked out his sword as if it were just a piece of metal and not an extension of his arm, “You've gotta lot of nerve coming back here.” Naruto and Sasuke-san both glared and tensed, ready for battle, but so far no one made a move. The two leaders hadn't seen how the battle of the bridge had turned out with Naruto-san creating thousands of shadow clones and the village showing up to take back their home; but the rest of the thugs had and they knew that Naruto wasn't just any ordinary kid.

 “It's just two kids you guys, go get them!” The second leader shouted when none of his minions immediately ran forward. As if they had been the magic words, the crowd of thugs charged forwards with pathetic battle cries. Sasuke immediately grabbed Inari and jumped back. Haku was glad that Sasuke wouldn't let something like pride put someone else in danger. Until now, the ice user had been worried if that would be a major problem for someone as competitive as Sasuke-san.

 Naruto scoffed, “So, you think you can out number me, do ya?” He asked rhetorically and made his strange hand sign. Multiple Narutos popped back into existence and Haku took a moment to admire the younger kid's stamina. Zabuza-sama had once told him that the shadow clone technique was very high in chakra requirement; that Naruto was able to use the Kagebushin Jutsu twice in so little time and still create more than thirty was something extraordinary.

 Haku waited until Sasuke-san had Inari safely out of the way before joining the fight. Luckily by that time some of the Naruto clones had already been popped and so a nice smoke, much like the Hidden Mist Jutsu, permeated the area. Perfect. Pulling out senbon in each hand, Haku began dancing among the thugs, striking out like a snake and putting anyone he hit in a temporary death state. Even if these men had been willingly with Gatou and not just in it for the money like Zabuza-sama and Haku had been, Haku would not kill them unless they forced his hand.

 Now that Zabuza-sama had given up on his dream and started a more peaceful one, Haku hoped he would never have to kill again.

 vvv Normal POV vvv

 I growled and gnashed my teeth, damn this rain! It was making everything cold and I hated the cold! “It's been hours since they went back, how long does it take for them to find one damn coupon?!” I hissed.

 Peaches shrugged, “Haku will find it even if your pests can't.” Really? He was still doing the whole fangirling thing?

 Ignoring his student posturing for now, I tugged at my ponytail and glared at the stranger still sitting at the end of the tea shop bench. I didn't care if it would alert him or not, I was pissed because he was here and I couldn't pop a shadow clone off to go see what the hell those trio of brats were doing.

 Peach-boy landed an elbow in my ribs, making me grunt. He leaned over and hissed in my ear, “Don't do anything stupid.” Damn it, how did this guy get to be so good at reading my mind in the few weeks we hadn't been trying to kill each other? My own brother, who raised me, wasn't as good a mind reader as Peachy was.

 “Elbow me again, Peach-boy, and I'll break your arm off and shove it up your ass.” I threatened. I heard Hinata whimper slightly behind me and shift away. I really didn't blame her. Hinata was a genin with two high classed jounin who weren't in a very good mood at all; one of which was an infamous nuke-nin who had only recently turned 'good' and the other was from an infamous clan known for their anger induced fights and rather horrifying genjutsu.

 My comment finally seemed to get the stranger's attention, who had, until recently, seemed quite content to act as if we didn't exist. “Interesting...” He said lowly. Zabuza and I both whipped around to glare at him in sync. This was it, most likely the hooded stranger would attack and I could take my pent up anger out on him and bash his brains in. I almost shivered in excitement.

 The hood turned a little, giving me the impression that the man might be looking at us out of the corner of his eye, “I thought you were a family, guess your not.”

 Hinata eeped behind me while Peaches and I exchanged dry looks. How this idiot stranger came to such a conclusion, or how he proved himself wrong, I did not wish to know. At all. Ever. Seriously, all three of us were wearing our haiti-ate, of two different villages no less, and Zabuza was lugging around Kubikiribōchō on his back. All we lacked was a sign that said WE ARE SHINOBI AND WILL KICK YOUR ASS. How this idiot thought we might possibly be a family was beyond me. Of course, he could be trying to get a raise out of us. But even then it wouldn't work. Shinobi had control over their emotions, most of the time, and trying to make a ninja blush was about the hardest thing to do and the most clichéd.

 “And I think you're an idiot, turns out I'm right.” I retorted. I was already irritated with my little brats and this never ending rain. Being associated to Peach-bastard in a positive manner was just the icing on the shit cake of my day. We could be out of the damn Wave Country already if Naruto hadn't gone after his damn ramen coupon!

 I swear I was going to kill the brat with training when we got back to Konoha. He'd never ask for another mission like this ever again.

 Unfortunately the hooded man seemed to find amusement in my statement and just laughed. My right eye started twitching then and I was contemplating bodily harm when the source of my ire finally decided to show their nasty little faces. I turned my glare on all three boys when they came up to the tea shop, completely soaked. Naruto and Sasuke paled while Haku stiffened. He might have paled too, but he was strangely wearing his mask. After we had first left the town, Haku had taken the mask off and hadn't put it back on since.

 No matter, he was dead in a few minutes anyway.

 I inspected the other two brats and found small scrapes and specks of blood on their clothing. I hung my head with a long suffering groan. Of course, they would get into some dramatic fight with random enemies. Team 7 was unlucky enough to land a falsely labeled A-rank mission on their first 'C-rank' mission, so why not add more drama to it already?!

 Damn karma demons. Why was I the one stuck with the unluckiest team on earth?

 Sasuke seemed to sense my exasperation for he opened his mouth, no doubt to report, but I just held up a hand, “I do not want to know. You little bastards are filling out your own paperwork this time.” I was not going to be doing paperwork over an extra mission that I didn't even participate in! Filling out paperwork on additional missions that didn't follow the primary objective were a pain in the ass to fill out, more so than normal.

 Naruto and Sasuke shrunk back behind Haku, who seemed to be eying the hooded stranger still sitting quietly off to the side. Zabuza laid money down for our food, which was surprising because I was sure he'd make me pay for what Hinata and I ordered. Peach-boy had struck me to be a big penny-pincher; but I wasn't going to complain if he proved me wrong. More money for me.

 Haku removed his mask to speak, but before a single syllable could leave his mouth, the stranger attacked. Immediately all of us reacted and reached for our nearest weapons, but didn't get the chance to attack. Mostly because we were all staring at the stranger hugging Haku. Not strangling. Not holding him hostage. Not even acting aggressive.

 Hugging.

 Zabuza and I exchanged confused looks. We had probably seen a lot of strange things in our careers, but a total stranger hugging a shinobi scarred by angry red burn marks had to be at least in the top five of most bizarre.

 And yes, this incident beat the time I had to accompany a nobleman's daughter to a local bathhouse, as the 'friend of the day', only to have her almost abducted by her ex-sumo-wrestler ex-boyfriend. Somehow there was also a chicken involved.

 “Oh you poor baby! Poor child! Who did this to you?” The man asked in an odd squeaky voice. His voice was still deep but it rose several octaves at the end of every sentence, almost as if he were talking in questions. Poor Haku looked bewildered and shot us pleading looks from his prison. I seriously doubted Obito, who was internationally known for his infiltration and evasion skills, could get out of that hug.

 “Eh?! Just who are you?” Naruto shouted, pointing a finger at the stranger.

 The man seemed to realize he had an audience, even the damn tea lady had come out of her shop to stare at him. He laughed sheepishly and put Haku back down on the ground, but didn't release the poor kid, “Oh... my name is Kurosawa Momoko.” The person pushed back their hood to reveal a pair of upturned eyes, much like Naruto's, and a mess of short chocolate brown hair. A scar, a nick really, slanted over Momoko's cheekbone and curved downwards towards his jaw like a sideways hook; that alone was enough to identify him as who he said he was.

 I blinked, Zabuza facepalmed and Haku blanched under his burn marks. Team 7 looked between the three of us confused, not understanding anything going on but I couldn't blame their ignorance for that. They were fresh from the Academy and barely knew what a nuke-nin was. Kurosawa Momoko was an infamous mercenary who was responsible for the fall of some country no one remembered anymore more than a decade ago. He... She got her name 'Nariagari Naginata' for the legend of starting several civil wars by using only her naginata and pepper spray.

 All for the fun of it.

 “Last the rumors had it you were in Grass Country causing trouble.” I said dryly.

 Momoko laughed and waved a hand, “I've retired from that business, dearie,” I twitched at the endearment, “there's no fun in it anymore. I got my fill of fighting, now I just wonder the world. I'm glad I did too! Cuz I wouldn't have met this cutie otherwise!” The older woman squeezed an extra ten years out of Haku.

 Peach-boy wasn't looking amused, “Release him.” He snarled. I pursed my lips and wondered if I should stop Zabuza before he did anything rash. It wasn't like he couldn't handle himself against Momoko; for all her skill, she wasn't a ninja and was thus as a great disadvantage, but killing someone just because she was touching his student was a little... well, stupid. Not that I could really blame Peaches for being overprotective, I'll admit that I was slightly overprotective of Sasuke since he had almost died.

 Momoko gave Zabuza a shit-eating grin that dared him to try something and my respect for her went up a little. Not many people could grin cheekily at a pissed off shinobi with a big ass sword and sharp, predatory teeth bared. “Sorry, hon, no can do.” From the look on Zabuza's face, I'd say he wasn't used to people telling him no.

 Though I found the encounter amusing now that I knew that Momoko wouldn't be a threat to us, I was still frustrated. I wanted to go home not stand around in front of some random tea shop in Wave Country and watching an infamous mercenary butt heads with an equally infamous nuke-nin.

 I snagged Naruto's collar and began dragging him away, “Duckass and Hinata, we're going. Those three can work their own problems out.” I ordered. I was so done with solving other people's problems, if I wasn't getting paid for it I wasn't going to lift a damn finger to help. My two slightly smarter students immediately fell in step behind me while Naruto struggled to break my grip on his jumpsuit, squawking with indignity.

 An hour later when Zabuza and Haku finally caught up to us, neither looking remotely pleased with me, I noticed that Momoko was still firmly attached to Haku. That's when I started laughing and didn't stop until set up camp. Even then I would occasionally start snickering again whenever I glanced over at Ice Princess and his involuntarily new mercenary friend.

 vvv

 Our little motley group made it back to Konoha two days behind schedule, and thus earning me a rather stern lecture from the Hokage about picking up my brother's worst habits. Team 7 made our mission's report, as well as Sasuke and Naruto's side mission, then stepped aside and let Peach-boy and Ice Princess lay out a rough plan on what they intended to do now that they weren't 'bad guys' anymore. Apparently they were planning on using Gatou's money to start something like the Academy, to teach the younger generations how to protect themselves properly. The Land of Waves was no where near powerful or wealthy enough to be a shinobi nation, but they wouldn't be at the mercy of people like Gatou anymore.

 Though half of his face was covered up again with bandages, I swore I could see Zabuza's eyes light up in surprise and respect for the Hokage when the old man suggested he meet with one of the Nara to discuss further development on the plans. Apparently that thing just wasn't done.

 Welcome to Konoha, Peach-boy. And get used to our bizarre flavor of insanity.

 As soon as both the verbal and written reports were done, which took two extra hours since I had to teach my brats the proper way to write a report, the six of us were released back into the dying sunlight and into Momoko's waiting arms–at least for Haku.

 I, on the other hand, was apprehended by someone else entirely.

 “Imoto!”

 “Damn it, let go of me Nii-san, before I crack your skull open with a blunt spoon!”

 Obito dropped me, knowing I would at least try to attempt my threat if I thought he didn't believe me. I landed in a pile at his feet and glared up at Nii-san from my spot on the ground. Obito grinned back, “I heard ya had fun. Oh, and Rin-chan as a few choice words for you when she sees you next.” I paled at that. Rin was probably the only medic I really trusted, but she took after Kushina and her hero, Senju Tsunade, too much. If she had somehow found out about the injuries I sustained during the mission...

 I gulped. The only thing I feared the most was Rin when she was pissed off about my medical state.

 Even Kakashi was scared of her then, and he feared nothing. Or so he said.

 “Come on, Haku, we should get your burns looked at.” I started and reached out to grab Haku's arm. I was totally using the kid as a meat shield from Obito's kunoichi teammate.

 Unfortunately Zabuza seemed to catch onto my plan and moved Haku, and by association Momoko, out of my reach. The glint in his eyes told me he meant to do it on purpose, and he fully intended to see me suffer. I was sorely tempted to sic my brother on him in retaliation.

 “Oi! Who the hell are you?!” Obito barked when his attention was drawn to the two Kiri nuke-nins and one clingy retired mercenary.

 Screw it, I was setting Nii-san on Zabuza anyway, just for the hell of it.

 Flashing Zabuza a sneer, I turned to Obito, “Nii-san, this is Momochi Zabuza... and friends.” My brother's goofy aura that he seemed to always emanate faded and his dark gaze turned steely. I always loved watching people around my brother when he went from an idiot to the hardened war veteran he rarely showed. It was a sadistic joy, but I reveled in their looks of horror and fright. I snickered when my team and even Haku inched a little away from the older Uchiha. Zabuza and Momoko didn't look all that bothered though.

 Now for the icing on the cake.

 “And he's the one who injured me.” I added cheerfully, like the helpful little sister I was. Quickly, to be just as helpful, I turned to Zabuza and introduced my brother, just in case he didn't already know him, “Peaches, this is my Nii-san, Uchiha Obito. Internationally known as the Uchiha Phantom or the Ghost of Konoha.”

 Wow, I never thought anyone could go white so fast.

 Momoko was giving me a reassessing look, apparently she approved of my throwing Zabuza to the wolves. I only smirked at the older woman and winked. I fully intended to take responsibility for this. If there was one thing I wanted to see in my life it was Obito butting heads with Zabuza, even if I had to throw them at each other myself!

 Unfortunately Kakashi had to ruin it all.

 “Obito, Rin said that you're to drag Yanagi to her no matter what. Stop glaring at grouchy minnows and do what you're told before she turns her ire on you.” Kakashi commented drily as he popped into existence with the help of a white puff of cloud beside Obito, his standard perverted orange book in hand, “I'll take care of the pest.” He added belatedly and with much venom.

 “Grouchy what?!”

 Nii-san forgot his anger with Zabuza, or at least he ignored it, and snagged me by the arm. “Let's go imoto, before Rin-chan really gets pissed off.” I struggled in his grip, but there was no escaping an escape artist like him. It looked like I was resigned to the fate of being dragged away to meet my doom.

 Just before Obito could walk away, Kakashi said nonchalantly, “By the way, she wanted to see Team 7 and Momochi's brat too.”

 Yes! There was justice in the world!

  Chapter 17: Welcome… Home?

Rin had generously decided to forgo trying to force me into a hospital and just told Obito to bring me, and by result everyone I had returned with, to Obito's and my house. Like my brother, I had a major phobia about hospitals more so than the normal shinobi, so Rin knew that the only way she could get me there was if Obito knocked me unconscious first. And I would not be happy if I woke up there. Our small entourage marched straight through the Uchiha entrance gates with suspicious looks from the guards. The three of us Uchiha weren't paid any mind, nor was Kakashi who was practically an Uchiha in all but name and looks; but Hinata, Naruto and Zabuza received the brunt of every Uchiha member's narrow gaze. Whenever I returned their glares tenfold each person quickly found something far more interesting than the Hyuuga heiress, the Kyuubi brat, and a famous nuke-nin walking around.

 I was the only one who got to glare at them and get away with it!

 I nearly cried in despair when I saw the crowd waiting around the house. Not only had Rin converged on the house, but Sasuke's entire family and Shisui as well. Itachi and Mikoto-oba I didn't mind, Fugaku could go to hell, and Shisui would most likely gang up on me with Zabuza if they were introduced.

 Just end my misery now.

 Rin descended on me before I could punch Nii-san for not warning me about my imminent doom, “Yanagi-chan! I've told you a million times, a million times, that your body can't withstand so much chakra exhaustion! You're going to kill yourself if you keep doing this!” For such a small woman, she had a large voice. No doubt earned from being the kunoichi teammate of two hardheaded stubborn mules commonly known as Kakashi and Obito. “And don't you dare tell me it's part of a shinobi's job like you did last time, this is the eighth mission where you suffered from it! I know you have above average chakra reserves, so how the hell do you manage eight missions in three months?! The expected amount for your chakra levels is only three missions in a year, a year do you hear me?! Not only that, but Obito-kun tells me you passed out from chakra exhaustion twice during your last mission! Well, what have you to say for yourself?!”

 “Sorry mom.”

 In a joint effort, I received three smacks upside the head from all members of Team Minato for my snide remark. I sighed under my breath and idly rubbed my abused head as Kakashi and Obito joined in Rin's lecturing. Sometimes I felt like I had three mothers instead of two brothers and their teammate, it was ridiculous when Team Minato teamed up on me. Most likely this would end with me having a head trauma, a result of the trio smacking me every time I said something snarky, and the three of them arguing with each other. It happened every time and it gave me the perfect chance to slip away though.

 Luckily Fugaku wasn't in the mood to hear three idiots ganging up on a poor defenseless girl and snapped, “Enough.” Team Minato fell silent immediately, but all shot me looks that promised a continuation of the conversation when Fugaku wasn't there to ruin their fun.

 Couldn't wait.

 “Report, Yanagi.” Fugaku ordered me. I glared at my clan leader, not in the mood for niceties. Why the hell did I have to report?! Fugaku-sama already had my post-battle report and the Hokage would be sending him a copy of Team 7's debriefing since it concerned the Uchiha clan.

 He wanted a report? Fine, I'd give him a report.

 “Uchiha Sasuke went above the line of duty and protected his teammate, earning himself the hallowed kekke genkai of our glorious clan. Then he passed out from chakra exhaustion.” Oh, you could taste the sarcasm rolling off me in waves.

 Zabuza shot me a subtle knowing look, of which Obito caught and reflected it back with a 'Big Brother Glare' probably thinking it meant something else. Okay so I was lying when I said that Sasuke passed out, but I was not telling the leader of the Uchiha clan, Sasuke's own damn father, that the person who had made an attempt on his youngest son's life was standing right beside the duckass boy. Especially not when the three strongest Uchiha in the clan were standing right there, one of which being Sasuke's overprotective brother. Haku wouldn't make it a step before he was put through the most horrifying genjutsu he could imagine, sliced into tiny pieces, and incinerated to the point that his ashes were microscopic.

 And he thought I was terrifying.

 Grabbing my brother by his flak jacket, I reached for the inside pocket and snagged myself a piece of candy before he could do anything. Obito squawked and tried to take the sweet back, but I evaded his hand and popped it into my mouth with a grin.

 “Yanagi! That was mine, damn it! You have you're own.” Nii-san snapped at me.

 I shrugged and said around the hard candy, “I'm pretty sure that brat Inari stole my candy stash I had on me. I need sugar before I go on a rampage.” I grimaced when I realized that the confectionery I had stolen was strawberry flavored, but I didn't dare spit it out no matter how much I disliked it. Obito would destroy me if I wasted candy, especially when it was his favorite flavor.

 My brother scoffed at me, “You let your candy get stolen? By a kid?” Funny, coming from the guy who couldn't even stop me from stealing his candy in plain sight.

 “Well you can't blame me, I can't really protect my stash when I'm unconscious.” Wrong thing to say, because that opened Lecture Yanagi About Chakra Exhaustion version 2; and this time Mikoto jumped in on the mothering too. I threw up my hands in defense and immediately started apologizing. I could get away with being surly when Team Minato lectured me, but I could never pull that shit with my aunt. Not without earning an earful from both her and Fugaku about respecting one's elders. I was really tempted to make the sign to ward off evil, but decided against it for the sake of keeping my head where it was.

 vvv 3rd POV~ Sasuke vvv

 Everyone else watched with varying levels of amusement as Yanagi-itoko began apologizing profusely once Kaa-chan joined Obito and his team in yelling at her. Sasuke felt very satisfied to see his sensei and cousin taken down from that high pedestal she put herself on, even if it was only for a moment.

 Yanagi-sensei had been more bearable after Sasuke's brush with death, but only a little. She had gone from treating him like scum under her sandal to being slightly overprotective. Sasuke couldn't really blame her for that, she must have been feeling very guilty if it showed even the slightest. So he endured it as best he could, even if it annoyed him to no end. Kaa-chan and Itachi-nii already smothered him, and having Sasuke's normally grouchy sensei doing the same was irritating. He expected Yanagi to treat him like he was any other genin, it was a refreshing experience from his mother and brother's babying or his father's negligence. Still, Yanagi was very arrogant, and Sasuke didn't like that. So he thought she was getting what she deserved.

 Shisui snorted from Itachi's side, “How long do you think it'll take before she's forgiven this time?” This time? Did this happen a lot? Sasuke hardly saw his two elusive cousins before Yanagi became his sensei. Honestly, he hadn't been able to recall their names at times. When Sasuke first asked his family why he never saw more of his cousins, they carefully changed the subject and he never thought of it again. He knew next to nothing about his cousins, Sasuke didn't even know if they were related to him on his mother or father's side! And he hated not knowing things.

 “Hn. Two episodes of chakra exhaustion is enough to worry anyone. Even if they forgive Yanagi-san, I doubt Obito-san and his friends will ever let her live it down.” Itachi-nii said quietly while casting an expressionless look at Zabuza standing a little further away. Sasuke could see the gears turning in his brother's head. The navy-haired Uchiha had no doubt that his Nii-san was coming to very accurate conclusions about Zabuza and his hand in everything. He wasn't called the genius of his generation for nothing.

 Shisui followed Itachi's gaze and grinned cheerfully at the grumpy nuke-nin, “Yo! Kiri nin, huh? Odd seeing one of you in Konoha. Did you have mission complications with Yagi-chan?” When Zabuza gave him a glare, Shisui's grin took on a devious twist, “Oh I see~! Let me warn you though, Obito-senpai is very overprotective about his little sister. He might actually try to kill you if you make a move on Yagi-chan.”

 The revulsion in Zabuza's eyes amused Sasuke greatly. Sasuke had wondered if Zabuza was interested in Yanagi-sensei romantically. In fact both Team 7 and Haku had often discussed the possibility of their teachers being together, even Momoko seemed to agree that Yanagi and Zabuza liked each other. Not that they'd ever admit it.

 “What was that?!” Obito's voice carried over from where he was cornering his sister.

 Shisui actually cackled, loudly. “Once again, Obito-senpai's sonic hearing strikes! Better run, Kiri nin-san, Obito-senpai has a habit of attacking first and asking questions later... if you can still talk that is.”

 Zabuza shot Shisui a nasty look and Naruto was staring at the goofy Uchiha in confusion, “Eh? Who are you?” The blonde idiot asked, rudely pointing a finger at the older Uchiha.

 Itachi's best friend didn't take offense though, Sasuke would be genuinely surprised when Shisui did take offense over something. He was the most easy-going person he knew of, and Sasuke still couldn't believe that Shisui was the strongest in the clan! “Why, I'm the great Uchiha Shisui! Nice to meet ya, Naruto-kun!”

 Naruto looked surprised that Shisui knew his name, but the young Uchiha boy wasn't paying attention to his teammate. He was more interested in how Zabuza stiffened up and stared at Shisui with an almost fearful look. Even the mercenary Momoko looked more alert now, her eyes sharpening over poor Haku's head as she continued to cling to him. It made Sasuke wonder just what Shisui did to earn his reputation as being the strongest Uchiha. Now that he had the sharingan, he could know the secret. That's what Yanagi-sensei had told him during their first team meeting.

 “Damn it, Obito! I swear I'll kill you!” Yanagi suddenly snapped and everyone not part of that particular conversation turned to see Yanagi glaring harshly at her brother, who's expression was an odd one of smugness and annoyance.

 “Oh really? And just how are you going to do that?” Obito asked sardonically. Beside him, Obito's teammates, whom Sasuke still didn't know the names of, rolled their eyes.

 There was a long moment of silence as the two hot headed Uchiha glared at each other before Yanagi threw her head back and announced loudly, “I declare another Prank War on you, Uchiha Obito!” Every Uchiha in hearing range, even Itachi, choked. It had been almost four years since the last prank war, but Sasuke remembered it very clearly. It had been one of the few times he remembered that his cousins existed, mostly because their pranks had been leaking out and fooling other clan members. It had gotten bad enough that Tou-sama finally ordered both of them to stop under the threat of being kicked out of the Uchiha Compound for good.

 Behind him, Sasuke heard Zabuza muttering under his breath, “That's our cue to leave” followed by Shisui's loud cheerfulness of, “Allow me to escort you out! The Uchiha guards can be a bit nasty if you leave alone.” Somehow Sasuke didn't think that Shisui was escorting the Kiri nuke-nins, and Momoko, out of the Compound by the kindness of his heart.

 Sasuke debated if his parents would let him leave with Zabuza. He knew he was going to be in the crossfire between Yanagi and Obito when all hell broke loose and he wanted to get out while he still could.

 vvv Normal POV vvv

 While Nii-san was still stunned at my deceleration, I turned to his teammates, “Are you two staying for dinner?” I asked, a complete 180 from how I had been acting only a moment ago.

 Rin and Kakashi, however, were used to my mood swings. Kakashi shrugged his assent while Rin shook her head, “Sorry, I have to go check that Kiri boy before they leave. I'm worried that that eye of his might be infected, has it been bloodshot ever since the fight?” I would always be amazed that even when Rin was in the middle of lecture me she would notice an injury on someone twenty feet away. Must be a medic intuition or something.

 I nodded, not at all offended that she didn't trust my skill at medical ninjutsu. I didn't trust my skill at medical ninjutsu, I only learned it because Rin was determined that I had the basics down just in case. “Yes. I hit Haku with a fireball and that caused his capillaries in his eye to burst. You might want to check his chest too!” I told Rin as she took off. She waved her hand to show that she heard, already calling out Shisui's name.

 Mikoto rolled her eyes at all of us and shook her head, “Well if we're done then I guess I should start dinner for my own family.” She turned that hard eyed 'mother' look on me and I had to suppress the shudder going up my spine, “Remember what I told you, Yanagi-chan.” She practically growled and I was once again reminded that my aunt used to be a very powerful jounin before she retired to raise her boys.

 “Yes, ma'am.” I squeaked. The Uchiha matriarch smiled fondly at me and dipped her head in a good-bye before going to join her husband and sons. All four of the Main Branch family left quietly after that, and only Itachi-san bothered to say good-bye to his cousins. My eye twitched as I glared at Sasuke's retreating back.

 Rude little brat.

 Immediately after Fugaku was gone, Obito trapped me in a choke hold, “What the hell, ya little brat? Ya trying to get us killed by our uncle?! Don't you remember what happened last time?” My brother snapped at me.

 I glared up at him, “It's your fault, you shouldn't have said what you did, bastard.” I snapped.

 “Yeah, well I noticed you didn't deny it!”

 “NO! I did not like Peach-boy in that way, you sick pervert! Keep you mind out of the gutter! Just because I act friendly with someone of the opposite sex does not mean I like them!” I snapped and dug my fingers in Obito's left side where an old injury slashed across his ribcage. My brother hissed in pain and released me.

 I whirled on my two remaining genin, “Naruto! Hinata! Get cleaned up and stop gawking like idiots!” I barked. Both of them jolted and blinked at me dumbly. I rolled my eyes in exasperation and explained further, “Clean up for dinner, nitwits. Unless you have somewhere else to be, you're staying here for dinner.”

 Naruto immediately started whining, “Eh?! But I was gonna go to Ichiraku Ramen for dinner! I went through all that trouble for the coupon and-”

 Grabbing his earlobe, I yanked on it to shut the brat up, “Having ramen after a mission is not healthy. I'm not going to have the Hokage jumping down my throat later on in life because you die on a mission due to lack of nutrition. You're staying for dinner and that's final.” I snarled without any real anger in it. When I let go of Naruto's ear, he clasped his hands to the abused cartilage and danced around, howling in pain.

 Hinata was pushing her forefingers together again and I reflexively swatted her hands down, “F-forgive me, Yanagi-sensei, but I… my Tou-sama… I mean…”

 I rolled my eyes and waved her away, “I forget. Go on if your clan needs you.” Hinata gulped and made a quick bobbing bow before fleeing like the devil was on her heels. I watched her go and hoped that the entrance gate guards wouldn't give the Hyuuga girl any trouble. They were a real stickler about visitors, even to the point that visitors had to leave the Compound with an Uchiha escort so they weren't heckled.

 Grabbing Naruto by the collar of his jumpsuit before he could sneak away, I marched into the house, past the squabble that had started between Kakashi and Obito-nii. Honestly, those two were just a grown up version of Sasuke and Naruto.

 ...Or was Sasuke and Naruto a younger version of my brothers?

 I deposited Naruto on the common room couch, where I could keep and eye on him as I made dinner, with a warning not to break anything. The brat didn't move, other than to cross his arms and sulk. I said nothing as I went into the kitchen, the brat would eat whatever I cooked without complaining or I'd kick his ass tomorrow in training.

 After the mess of the Wave mission, I came to the conclusion that it was best if I started taking Team 7's training seriously. I hadn't expected to run into the problem of an upgraded mission rank so soon, and if this bad luck continued I had no doubt it would happen again. It was better to over-train the brats and let them be bored out of their skulls with D-rank than to have them die on a mission they were ill prepared for.

 “Damn it… where is that-!” I cut off with a yelp when a hand appeared over my shoulder, holding the chili powder I was looking for. I twisted around to find Kakashi-nii giving me his trademark eye smile. Cautiously I took the powder from my adoptive brother while giving him a wary look. Kakashi was a neutral party when it came to spats between Nii-san and I; while Rin normally took the side of whoever she thought was right, Kakashi took the side of whoever the hell he wanted to win. And that depended on who pissed him off the most. His loyalty often changed several times before the warring between Obito and I ended.

 Needless to say I didn't really trust the Copy ninja much when it came to pranks.

 Kakashi-nii went to the other side of the kitchen to stir the Miso soup. I watched him like a hawk, knowing this wasn't just about pranking my brother anymore. Kakashi tried to avoided my kitchen whenever possible because he claimed I was a slave driver to anyone who dared enter; but it was his last sanctuary from Obito and Gai since they never stepped foot in the room. The kitchen was my domain and I didn't like trespassers.

 I knew exactly why Kakashi was in here, and it had nothing to do with Obito being an idiot.

 I peeked out of the doorway to where Naruto was sitting. Obito had joined my blonde student on the couch and was listening to Minato's son as he talked animatedly, waving his hands in the air and imitating explosions–probably talking about the Wave mission. Unlike Kakashi, Obito seemed to be enjoying Naruto's company if his wide grin was anything to go by.

 Looking back at Kakashi, I debated on saying anything. Minato-san's death was a touchy subject for any member of Team Minato, but it was a personal issue to Kakashi-nii. Kakashi had known Minato-san longer than Obito and Rin; and even though all three of them saw the blonde Yondaime as a father figure, it was Kakashi that Minato practically raised.

 “So did you ever decide what to do with Netsui?” I asked casually as I returned to chopping vegetables. Even the most oblivious person could see the way Kakashi's shoulders relaxed at my question. I was sorely tempted to throw something at the silver haired jounin. I was rude and nosy with a penchant to collect blackmail whenever I could, true, but I wasn't dense like my brother was. I knew when some topics were touchy and best avoided at all costs; having quite a few subjects I liked to avoid myself.

 Especially when the other person had a very nasty mean streak that rivaled mine and my brother's combined.

 Kakashi hummed from his side of the small kitchen, “Yes. I gave him a trial run, which he passed. He starts training full time next week. Also,” Kakashi's voice turned a little colder, “why didn't you tell me that his twin sister was a fangirl? She wouldn't stop yapping about Sasuke-kun when I took her to Rin.” He hissed at me.

 I laughed, “Oh did I forget to mention that part?” I asked in false surprise then laughed even louder when Kakashi glared at me.

 “What did Rin-chan do to you to piss you off?”

 “Nothing. Really, it's more like what Nerai did to me. We know how Rin is when she's annoyed.”

 Kakashi-nii grimaced, probably remembering a few such instances. While both men on Team Minato had more leeway than most people when it came to Rin, she could only take so much of their incessant bickering before she started smashing heads together. Hard.

 I waved Kakashi away before he could say anything else, “If you're going to be in here, then set the table. And make sure you wipe it down before you do anything! I know how you and my brother are!” Obito and Kakashi were notorious for setting the table without cleaning it first. I always cringed at the thought of eating at a dirty table, but everyone always told me it was just my clean freak showing. I always responded by telling them to go to hell. It was my kitchen and my table. If they wanted to eat my food then they better listen to what I told them to do, damn it!

 “Ugh! No, I'm not eating it!” Naruto whined half an hour later after I finally managed to wrangle my student and Obito into the kitchen to sit down and eat. Already I was regretting letting those two idiots be friends instead of hating each other. All they did was just bounce their idiocy off each other until it was unbearable. I had to actually threaten Kakashi with blackmail so he wouldn't leave me alone with Idiot One and Two.

 Needless to say he wasn't very happy with me.

 I laid my hands flat on the table and towered over the blonde brat, “Listen here, Dumbass, you're going to eat what I cooked or you can starve.”

 “Ha! You can't stop me from eating when I leave! I can easily go home and eat ramen!”

 “Don't think I won't burn your ramen stash; and I am perfectly willing to blackmail Teuchi-san into banning you from his ramen stand. You can ask Kakashi and Obito how far I'm willing to go to get my way. Eat your vegetables, idiot, or starve.”

 “You're not my mom!”

 My eye twitched. This brat was really trying my patience, “No, but I am your sensei and legal guardian. If I say jump, you say-”

 Naruto cut me off, “Wait, really?”

 I blinked momentarily in confusion, thinking he was answering me. When I saw that odd look of eagerness and hope in the brat's bright blue eyes I understood what he was asking. This was Naruto I was talking to, someone who had only been treated with disdain and neglect throughout of his childhood. Underneath that loudmouth idiocy facade he had, Naruto was really just a lost little kid who wanted a family.

 Rolling my eyes, I sat back down with a scoff, “Duh. Did you even read the Shinobi Handbook? Law is that orphaned genin are automatically wards of their jounin sensei until they turn sixteen or become chūnin. Even if they have relatives, it's overlooked to prevent confusion and unnecessary conflict. The only exception is if the genin is part of a clan, and then they just become wards to the clan leader.” Like Nii-san and I had been when our parents died. But both Rin and Kakashi had been legally considered Minato and Kushina's wards. Technically, Kakashi, Rin and I all had joint custody over Naruto; as well as his godfather Jiraiya wherever the hell that pervert was at the moment.

 If a fight about guardianship ever broke out over Naruto, I had a feeling that all of Konoha would eventually be dragged into it.

 There was a silence over the table as Naruto stared at me in astonishment and slight awe, which made me very uncomfortable. I wasn't a very affectionate person, and while I enjoyed glances of wonder because the person thought I was amazing, I did not like being stared at. I glared at him, “Shut up and eat your stir fry.”

 Naruto pouted.

 “Get used to it, gaki. This is the way my imoto shows affection,” Obito snorted. I glared at my brother but said nothing as he took a large bite of his oyakodon Donburi, his favorite food. Immediately Nii-san spat it back out and lunged for his water glass, draining the whole thing in one fell swoop.

 Obito was a wimp when it came to spicy foods.

 “YANAGI!!!” My brother roared and I took that as my cue to flee the scene until further notice. It might be best if I begged someone for a place to sleep for the night.

 The Prank War had started.

 vvv

 “Alright, bratlings, time to get serious.” I said the moment the last member of my students, Hinata surprisingly, appeared the next day. I felt an odd mixture of pride and annoyance when all three of them went white as a sheet.

 ...Maybe I was being too harsh on them...

 Naw.

 I held up one bell, “If you get this bell by lunch I won't use you as training dummies for the rest of the day and I won't request the Retrieve Tora mission for a month.” I was going to pull a classic Team 7 Sensei maneuver, minus the hidden teamwork message since I didn't have time for that bullshit. After all, what was this generation's Team 7 if I didn't force them to do the bell test at least once in their lives? I had never personally experienced it, but I knew enough from when Nii-san complained about it.

 Needless to say I had their undivided attention now. My grin turned a smidgen more evil as I added, “and you better came at me with the intent to kill, because I'm not going to hold back.” Cue the 'oh shit' looks on my cute little genin's faces. “Ready… Go!”

 They lasted ten minutes.

 I casually eyed the slightly ruffled training ground with mild distaste. When Nii-san and I spared, on the rare occasion that we weren't at each other's throats long enough to have a friendly spare, there would be at least a tree or two uprooted and several burn marks. When Kakashi-nii joined us, Fugaku was forced to reconstruct the demolished training grounds. And he was never happy about it.

 But we were never as destructive as Itachi-san and Shisui. Fugaku actually banned the two from sparing in the Uchiha Compound.

 There wasn't even a broken tree limp from Team 7's rather pathetic attempt at fighting. It was a wonder how they had survived the Wave mission. I pinned each genin with a glare. “Up. Again.” I barked and fell back into stance. Naruto wasn't the only one to groan as they climbed to their feet.

 By noon I still hadn't broken a sweat and the brats still didn't get close to the bell. And that was only because Sasuke and Naruto somehow got it into their heads that this exercise was no longer about teamwork but a pissing contest between two idiots. Even Hinata was starting to get frustrated with the two of them when I called time.

 I was irritated enough by then that I bashed the boys' heads together hard to get them to shut up, “If I have to beat this stubbornness out of you I will,” I snarled, “even if I have to tie you together!” Both boys winced in horror at the thought. Maybe it would scare them into working together finally.

 Turning to Hinata, I opened my mouth to tell her how she failed the exercise and noticed her wide lavender eyes filling with horror. I grinned, sometimes it was just fun to traumatize kids. Not because they needed to face reality or because it was an accident, but it was just so damn fun-

 It was hard to describe what happened next. One moment I was smirking evilly down at the shy little kunoichi and the next I was wet, as in soaked to the bone. And not only that, I was cold. If I wasn't mistaken there was an ice cube sliding down the back of my shirt, along my spine.

 I fucking hated the cold.

 Turning around slowly I pinned my grinning brother with a deadly look. On either side of Obito, Naruto and Sasuke looked both horrified and amused at the same time. So they were in on it then. “...Obito...” I hissed through my chattering teeth. Steam rolled off my as the water evaporated quickly under my spiking fire aligned chakra.

 Nii-san cackled something about revenge best served cold and chucked the bucket he had used at my head before poofing away. Only a shadow clone then.

 But I was certain Sasuke and Naruto weren't clones. They might not be the instigator, but they would do in a pinch until I got my hands on that bastard.

 VVV^^^OMAKE^^^VVV

 Deadly Reputation

 vvv 3rd Person vvv

 “We don't need your help.” Zabuza snapped as the woman who had been yelling at Yanagi checked Haku's eye. The poor boy stood there awkwardly, trying not to blink as the stranger stared intently at his bloodshot eye.

 Rin ignored the grouchy man's comment as she produced a scroll from her weapons pouch. She handed it to the boy with a smile, “Apply this salve to your burns twice a day. The ingredients are listed on the scroll so you can make your own once you run out. And don't worry about your eye, it'll heal on it's own!” Haku blinked at the kind woman, he wasn't used to people giving him something with no strings attached.

 An arm snaked around Haku's shoulders and the ice user stiffened when he saw the owner of the arm was none other than the famous Shunshin no Shisui. Zabuza-sama had told Haku many stories of the Uchiha who made Ao, one of the best hunter-nins in Kirigakure, turn tail and run with little effort. Shisui was herald as being the Master of Genjutsu, praised even by his own clansmen. Haku didn't feel very safe with one of the strongest shinobi in Konoha standing right next to him.

 “Don't worry, Rin-san! My buddy Haku-kun will be fine, you can go back to yelling at Yagi-chan if you want.” Shisui said with a cheerful wink. Rin rolled her eyes at the goofy Uchiha as she left the foreign shinobi with Shisui. He reminded her so much of Obito before the war changed him. While her teammate hadn't changed too much there were times, Rin noticed, when he would grow quiet and stare off into the distance, probably remembering whatever had happened to him during the time he was thought to be dead.

 Zabuza growled at Shisui for his familiarity, but didn't dare say a word. As infamous as he was to Kiri nins, there was little to nothing known about Shunshin no Shisui; other than his ruthless genjutsu and his frightful speed. Kiri shinobi were naturally fast, probably the fastest of the five nations after Kumo, and masters of stealth; but Uchiha Shisui had no problem catching any Mist shinobi that crossed his path. Zabuza didn't know how the Uchiha would react if he snapped at him. After dealing with Yanagi, who would react with harsh violence and an explosion of insults that made Zabuza want to blush, he was leery.

 Shisui chose to ignore the former member of the famed Seven Swordsmen and kept his arm wrapped firmly around the awkward teenager's shoulders. Haku reminded Shisui so much of when Itachi was his age, so awkward and formal that it almost hurt. The Uchiha eyed the nuke-nin inconspicuously. Shisui knew from the moment he spotted the bandaged nin that he was none other than Momochi Zabuza, wielder of the Kubikiribōchō and known for having attempted a coup in Kirigakure. But Shisui didn't let on he knew; in his experience nuke-nin, especially those from Kiri, were a little touchy when it came to their missing status.

 Shisui had enough scars to prove their oversensitivity on the matter.

 “So Haku-chan, got a girl waiting for ya? Or did the lovely Yagi-chan scare her away?” Shisui inquired. Haku blinked in confusion, he didn't know anyone named 'Yagi'; the only name that came close was Yanagi and she- Oh.

 “No, Uchiha-sama.”

 Shisui made a peculiar noise in the back of his throat, something that sounded like a gag and a croak. “What's with all the formality? Oi! Do I look like Fugaku-sama to you? It's Shisui, just Shisui. I'm too young to be a '-sama', even a '-san'. Why, I'm younger than Zabuza-san!”

 Zabuza pinned the Uchiha with a look. He didn't know how Shisui knew who they were, he even knew Haku's name and Zabuza had made sure not to let Haku's name slip out in the bingo books, but Zabuza wasn't all that surprised. Uchiha Shisui was a prodigy, not one of the average Uchiha prodigies like Yanagi was, but a genius that was on par with Uchiha Itachi, the famed Genius of his generation.

 By then, the little group had reached the Uchiha Compound entrance. Shisui waved happily to the Uchiha guards, who dipped their heads in acknowledgment. Shisui pulled a face and leaned in close to Haku, whispering, “I even bribe them with sugar and they still do that.” Haku's mouth twitched a little in amusement. In the month he and Zabuza-sama knew Yanagi they learned one very important fact: no matter how powerful, violent, grouchy, or arrogant any Uchiha was, they all had one thing in common and that was a sweet tooth.

 With the exception of the oddball Sasuke.

 Zabuza twitched in irritation when Shisui made no move to let go of Haku, or to leave them. Even Momoko was starting to get annoyed as the Uchiha continued to bother them. They both tried to keep it to themselves, due to their protective instincts over Haku. It was no accident that Shisui had chosen Haku to bother. Shisui had seen the adults' parental instinct over the fifteen year old the moment he saw Yanagi leading her little parade to her house, no matter how miniscule it was. Every little twitch they made was in preparation to protect Haku from any potential threats. That was why Shisui flung his arm over the boy's shoulders. If the nuke-nin or mercenary made a move against Konoha, Haku would be dead before the first civilian casualty.

 Uchiha Shisui was a cheerful soul, but even he was not above murdering someone to protect his home, even if that someone was a teenaged boy with no heart to fight.

 “Hey hey hey! You know, Momoko-san, you should take Haku-kun with you! Haku's gonna need some help fending off the ladies when he gets back. I don't think even Zabuza-san can help!” Shisui chirped cheerfully as he finally let go of Haku when they reached Konoha's main entrance. He pretended not to notice how the nuke-nin or mercenary's shoulders drooped every so slightly now that Haku was out of danger.

 Momoko pretended to consider the Uchiha's offer, even though she had planned on it anyway. “You're right, I think I will!” She, at least, could pretend that the goofy Uchiha in front of her wasn't someone that could murder her in a blink of an eye.

 Zabuza sputtered, “What?! No! Haku is staying with me!”

 “Then you can both stay with me.”

 Haku blanched white, causing his burn marks to stand out even more than they already did, “Ano… why?”

 Momoko flashed him a smile that could rival Naruto's, “Because you're the cutest little thing! I've always wanted a kid like you, Ku-chan!”

 Shisui choked on his laughter at the nickname, but composed himself so he could speak, “Great! The three of you can be one big happy family!” He ended with a cheesy thousand-watt smile.

 Zabuza glared at the man, he had given up any notion that Shisui wasn't anything other than a goofy man who had a frightening reputation. Zabuza would even go so far as to question if Ao was hallucinating when he said it was Uchiha Shisui that made him run and not some other Uchiha that no one knew about. Even the Ghost of Konoha, Uchiha Obito, while as goofy as Shisui, was also known for being vindictive and slightly arrogant. Shisui was just… ridiculous. “Tch. Idiot.” Zabuza muttered under his breath.

 He spoke too soon.

 Shisui grinned even wider until his cheeks hurt, having heard the nuke-nin, “Unless your invited by the Hokage, please don't come back. Not everyone is as forgiving as Yagi-chan,” Shisui's smile slowly died and he stared at the three of them for the first time with a serious expression, “especially when their precious people are injured by you.” Shisui finished and pinned his sharp gaze on Zabuza. Obito-senpai had told Shisui what exactly the nuke-nin had done to Yanagi, and he would never forgive him for that.

 Quickly as his glare appeared, Shisui replaced it with another smile before cheerfully wishing the three of them a safe journey and shunshined back into Konoha, leaving the three of them staring at the small puff of dust disturbed by his quick use of Shunshin no Jutsu.

 Shisui returned to the Compound quickly, a smile on his face and happily greeting his clansmen with ease. He was Shunshin no Shisui and he protected Konoha from the shadows, even behind the shadow of a smile and veiled threats. He would never let anyone befall harm if he could allow it, especially those he considered closest to him.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Summary:

Tired of Tony and Steve's constant fighting and bickering, the other Avengers sentence them to couple's therapy.

***

“DAMN YOU, STARK!”

Ugh, it was way to early for this, Tony was only two coffees in and dealing with Steve required at least two more cups. His holy coffein intake didn't seem to matter to Steve though, as he came storing into the living room, interrupting Tony and Rhodey's highly intelligent discussion about Jeopardy.

“What?”, Tony shot over; he was however pretty sure that he didn't want to know and most certainly didn't care.

“When the milk is empty, just throw the damn carton out! Is that so hard?”, Steve moaned and gestured around with the empty carton.

“And who says it was me?” Steve was completely right, it had been Tony. But before he'd admit to that, hell'd freeze over.

“Please, can we not argue about it like five-year olds? Just throw out the milk so I know to get a new one.” With a sigh and an exasperated and frankly quite condescending eye roll that Tony did not miss, Steve turned and walked out again.

“For fuck's sake”, Rhodey groaned, once the door had closed behind the super soldier. “Correct me if I'm wrong, JARVIS, but that puts the milk-fights somewhere in the mid-twenties, right?”

“It was indeed the 26th time Stark and Rogers have fought over the milk”, JARVIS reported. “Add that to the 19 discussions about profanity, 23 about appropriate levels of music during night time, 11 about Star Wars, 17 about Star Wars before Captain Rogers had seen them, 28 about how to make proper coffee, 24 about cars vs motorbikes, 16 about Monopoly and 8 about how to pronounce GIF. Together that makes 172 in the last 16 days.”

“You kept fucking count?”, Tony groaned. “you Rainman...”

“No, not Rainman. I currently feel like something between Ms Doubtfire and Mary Poppins. So either you two get your shit together or I'll turn all Nurse Ratchett/ Ms Trunchbull on your asses, capiche?”

“Yes, Mum...”

“Just get your damn coffee”, Rhodey grumbled and turned his attention back to the rerun of Jeopardy.

“Ok, but hear me out.” Tony pulled up the holographic model to show Bruce what he was talking about. “If we manage a miniscule version of the arc reactor, the Hulkbuster wouldn't be just some giant armour, but could fulfil some minor automated functions.”

“What kind of automation are we talking about here?” Having that powerful a reactor comprised into something that was supposed to take down Hulk, without blowing up an entire city block... Bruce wasn't too sure about that.

“Mostly for movement. We're talking about copious amounts of weight here, and without some form of automation, Thor'll be the only one who can actually move in it.”

“Yeah, I get that. It's just... Does it have to be arc-technology? Last time it was Hulk against Ironman, I almost blew up half of New York and was this close to giving you a heart attack.”

“But that's why we need to make it smaller so...”

“TONY!”

Ugh, not again. Steve stormed into the workshop and stared Tony down.

“Steve, please. Me and Tony are very busy and...”

The super soldier barely graced Bruce with as much as a fleeting glance and pointed right at Stark. “Next time you're hungry, stay the hell away from my leftovers!”

“Right, because I would voluntarily eat your sprouts with cabbage and shit”, Tony scoffed and turned back to the Hulkbuster model.

“Every time I put my name on it. And of all the Avengers you're the only one disrespectful enough to ignore that.”

“Oh, so now I'm disrespectful?”

That was it for Bruce. Those two could continue for hours like that and Bruce was not gonna do that to himself. And, as much as hulking out might help to get those two idiots in line, Bruce really was not keen on doing that either.

Neither seemed to notice him leaving the lab and after the door had closed behind him, Bruce leaned with a heavy sigh against the wall. “JARVIS? What's the count?”

“193.”

.

“Boss, your presence is required in the briefing room.”

“Oh, come on.” Tony hated being interrupted mid-project with a passion. “Scale 1-10 how important is it?”

“According to Agent Romanoff it is at a 17.”

“Fine”, he groaned, put the wrench down and trudged upstairs. It couldn't be an imminent mission, JARVIS hadn't sounded any alarms, so there was probably no need to worry.

Or maybe there was, at least judging how all the Avengers stood around the table, eyeing him sternly.

“Where's the fire?”

“For weeks, you and Rogers have been at each other's throats”, Clint began, and Tony was already done.

“Right then.” Tony turned on his heel and walked back towards the door. The locked door. “What the fuck, J? Unlock the door!”

“I am not authorized to do that.”

“Excuse me?” Tony stared at the camera. “You are my AI. My command trumps every other command you're given.”

“Not if I deem it crucial.”

“Traitor!”, he hissed before turning back to the Avengers. “Taking over my AI comes with dire consequen...”

“Shut it, Stark”, Nat interrupted and motioned for him to sit back down next to Cap.

His hands raised in mock-defense, he complied.

“And now listen, both of you. Your bickering is making everybody miserable.”

“Amen to that”, Wanda threw in.

“We're not that bad”, Steve stated, and Tony nodded along.

“JARVIS?”

“In the last 4 weeks alone have been 256 incidents. This number accounts only for altercations within proximity to the tower and all tech linked to my server.”

Granted, Tony got how that might be annoying. However... “That is so not on me.”

“Excuse me?” Steve turned to Tony, pure offence written all over his features. “Clearly the team cannot excuse your behaviour or they...”

“It's on you both”, Natasha made clear. “And everybody suffers for it. So you left us with no choice: you're being sentenced to couples therapy.”

“No.” Both Tony and Steve stared at her with wide eyes, their jaws on the ground.

“You can't be serious”, Tony protested once he caught himself again. “We do not need therapy!”

“Tony's right”, Steve nodded.

“See?” Tony gestured between himself and Rogers. “We're agreeing on something! There's absolutely no need for any type of counselling.”

“Your opinion doesn't matter”, Banner made clear.

“Yes, it does! I run this damn team.”

“And I finance this damn team”, Tony finished Steve's reasoning.

“As your doctors, me and Helen already signed off on it. And so has Fury. You're going and that's it.”

Fuck. Tony slumped back in his chair. Therapy. With Rogers.

“Everything is handled with utmost discretion”, Vision explained. “The SHIELD-approved psychologist has already signed a NDA and should arrive at the tower as we speak.”

“THE FUCK?”, Tony yelled out, “our appointment is NOW?”

“So neither of you can weasel out of it”, Rhodey shrugged.

That was the worst part about all this: his honey-bear being part of all this. It felt even worse than JARVIS being part of this conspiracy.

“Fine”, Steve just groaned, “Let's get this over with.” With that he got up, looking at Tony all expectantly until he too, followed suit.

“Conference Room C”, Nat fake-smiled and waved them away.

Tony was in no hurry to get there any time soon and inspected the spectacularly unspectacular white walls of the hallway.

“Come on!”, Steve complained.

“Why?”

“Because we shouldn't let the doctor wait!”

“I couldn't give less of a fuck about that doc or your annoying need to be perfectly on time.”

With an eye roll, Steve just turned and strutted off towards the conference room. Fine with Tony; he could very well do without the nagging.

He was gonna get them back; Nat, Rhodey, Clint, all of them. And if it was the last thing he'd ever do; Tony was gonna get his revenge.

.

Mark was nervous, immensely so. He was about to start counselling Captain America and Ironman! How in the name of everything that was good and holy in the world was this real life?

It was incredibly bizarre; as a kid he had collected the Captain America baseball cards and just two weeks ago he gifted his son the newest Ironman action figure; his daughter never went to sleep is she didn't have the Avengers-blankie.

But there wasn't time for more than two deep breaths, the door opened and in walked Captain America. Keep it together!

“Hello, Mr Rogers, the name is Mark Simmons; it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he smiled and shook the outstretched hand. “Please excuse my partner's tardiness; it's his form of protest.”

“Don't pretend like you want to be here”, Stark scoffed as he walked through the door, before he turned to Mark. “Good day, doctor. Just so you know, up until ten minutes ago, neither of us knew about this...” - he waved his hands around, gesturing between the three men - “arrangement. And to be perfectly honest, neither of us really fancies the idea of therapy.”

“Your honesty is appreciated”, Mark smiled. “Since I'm already here though...” He motioned for the two to sit down and, less willingly than anything else, they complied.

“Well, since neither of you know what to expect from me or our meetings, let me explain what it is I do. My name is Mark Simmons and I specialize in business psychology; you could say couple's therapy for a co-workers. What I'm here to do, is to get the communication going.”

“Oh there is no issue there”, Tony rolled his eyes. “This one's more than vocal about what I apparently keep on doing wrong.”

“Not apparently”, Steve hissed.

“It doesn't seem to bother the others.”

Oh dear. Not even five minutes in and Mark already feared the worst; this would be a tough one.

“I understand that your situation is a difficult one”, he commented, when he finally got a word in, “since you not only work but also live together. But that's why it is important for us to get to the bottom of it all, of where all this tension stems from.”

“We don't like each other”, Stark shrugged”, what more is there to it?”

“More than you'd think. I do need to say right away that this will only work if you are honest with me and each other. In return I assure you that I will be transparent about any and all methods and intentions.”

“That does sound reasonable”, Rogers nodded. Still, even though he seemed to be more open to the whole idea than Stark, the Captain was just as apprehensive; he just tried to hide it.

“No promises”, Stark made clear and Mark could only smile.

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr Stark.”

“Tony.”

“Right then. If you'd be willing I would like to hear some of the typical arguments you have, so I can get a better picture of the situation.”

“Ask JARVIS, he keeps a log”, Tony snorted.

“It is not my job to counsel JARVIS” - whoever that was - “you two are my clients, so it's from you I'd like to hear it.”

“He's just got one to many sticks up his ass”, Tony shrugged and toyed around with a screwdriver he got out his jeans pocket.

“No, he's just a sloppy and spoiled prat, who never learned how to share and live with others.”

“I am not sloppy! I mean sure, I can get sloppy in bed...” He left the rest unsaid, and a smug grin played over his lips.

“You see”, Steve groaned, “everything is a joke to him! I – honest to God – can't remember if I've ever had a serious conversation with you.”

“Well, maybe I don't want to have a serious conversation with you”, Stark shot back.

“Well, doctor”, Steve forced a smile, “I guess there you have it.”

Wow. This was gonna be just great.

.

“Hey Tones.” Rhodey, that traitor, walked into the lab and shot Tony the smuggest grin. “How was your first session with Dr Simmons?”

“You're an asshole”, Tony grumbled and turned his attention back to the motor he was repairing.

“Thanks dear, I love you, too.”

“Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?” Tony must have looked sufficiently pissed off, since the smugness in Rhodey's look changed to something sombre.

“Me and the rest of the team were thinking that whatever is going on between you and Rogers can't continue like this. It's breaking the team and it's breaking the two of you as well. So you're gonna deal with it.”

“And what if I don't?”

“Then we're gonna lock you two in a room with Hulk.”

“Proactive choice. Just gotta warn you: this is gonna end in disaster.”

“Can't be worse than it is now.”

.

“So why don't you just throw the empty milk carton out?”

It's been thirty minutes and the two Avengers were still fighting over the damn milk. But, instead of giving Mark the chance to dig a little deeper and guide the conversation towards what really upset them, they kept on talking over him. If their last four sessions were anything to go by, they probably forgot Mark was there.

“I have more important things going on in my head to check if I finished the milk or whatever.”

“Right because it's too much to ask for you to take these three seconds to check that.”

“Yeah, but guess what, Rogers: I don't owe you shit.”

Ah, finally, they got to a bigger issue. For a few moments they just stared at each other, Tony's defiance head-on meeting Steve's confusion.

It was the super soldier that broke the silence. “That has nothing to do with me wanting you to do this for me. It's just the proper basis for a bunch of people living together.”

“And why am I the only one that gets your speeches? Clint drinks the juice right out of the container, Vision has zero instinct about privacy and walks right through walls, Thor eats everybody's pop tarts and I don't think I can recall a single time that Wanda cleaned the microwave. So please, Captain, what is it about me that is so unbearable or well, more so than the others?”

“Because you do it on purpose!”, Steve cried out. “All that bullshit didn't start until about two or three months ago. So what the hell changed that you felt the need to be such a pain?”

“Because I can't allow myself to like you.” Tony all but spat the words in Steve's face, got up and turned to Mark. “Thanks, doc. For everything.” Not sure whether it was meant sarcastically or not, Mark just stared after Ironman as he walked out.

“Well”, he eventually cleared his throat. “I guess we can stop talking about milk, leftovers and swearing.”

“Yeah...” Until now, Steve had stared at the closed door, only now he turned to Mark. “Let's just hope he shows up next time...”

.

He didn't.

But Steve hadn't really expected anything else. All week, Tony had kept away from Steve, not once did they run into each other.

After Tony missed another appointment, Steve got worried. Fine, he had been worried ever since Tony had told him that he couldn't like him, but now he allowed the worry to come through.

“Bruce?” The scientist was – as he had been for the last few days – by himself in the lab.

“Steve, hey”, Bruce smiled and waved for Steve to come inside. “What's going on?”

“Have you seen Tony these last few days?”

“Of course not”, Bruce chuckled, “he's in his house in Malibu.”

“Wait, what?” Steve couldn't help his face from dropping.

“Yeah, he said something about some issues with the LA branch of SI.”

“Oh. Right then. Thanks.” With an awkward wave, Steve turned and walked out, as Bruce's concerned looked burned into the back of his head.

Right, SI LA needed its boss every now and again; it made plenty of sense for Tony having to go there somewhat spontaneously.

Something in Steve's gut felt so very off about it though. Disappearing from one moment to the next, not even cancelling their sessions with Dr Simmons... Something was not right and Steve felt somewhat responsible.

Unfortunately, very impulsively so; as much as he hated flying, Steve found himself in the next machine to California.

All through the flight, he had thought about what he wanted to say, but now that a cleaning lady, Miriam, led him through the villa, his head was pretty empty.

In a wide light-filled room, Tony sat on the floor, screwing around with something that looked like it had once been part of an Ironmansuit.

“Tony.”

“Rogers, what the fuck do you want?” Stark didn't even look up.

“I want to check on you.”

“Could've just called.”

“Would you have picked up?”

“Probably not”, he admitted, still not gracing Steve with as much as a fleeting glance. “Thanks for flying out though and have a safe journey back to New York.”

“Tony, I'm not leaving until you talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”, Stark groaned, threw the wrench on the ground and glared at Steve. “Seriously, what do you need to hear to fuck off?”

“The truth.”

“How original.” With a roll of his eyes, Tony got up and wiped the oil off his hands. Steve doubted it was of use, the rag that had probably once been white was almost black by now.

“Tony, please.”

“Why?” He strutted right up to Steve but he wasn't about to let himself be intimidated. “Why do you care?”

“I care about you and our team. And I thought we have gotten close, I do consider you a friend. And that's why I care about you.”

After staring at Steve for a few moments, Tony dropped his head. “Fuck”, he mumbled. “Right here goes. I'm sorry for screwing with you these last weeks. It was all my fault and I'll be good from now on and we no longer need to deal with the shrink. Deal?”

“No”, Steve made clear. “I flew to LA so we can work on what has the entire team upset and isn't good for the two of us either. So tell me, what I can do to make you more comfortable around me, and I'll gladly do it.” He took two careful steps towards Tony. “Please.”

“I appreciate that, but there's nothing you can do.”

“You said you can't allow yourself to like me.”

When Tony stayed silent, Steve continued: “Is it because of Howard?” It had to be, Tony's Dad was the only thing that connected them profoundly enough for Tony to hate Steve.

“What do you think?”, Tony scoffed. “The great and amazing Captain America, Howard's greatest ever creation, I just never could measure up to.”

“Tony, I'm so sorry...”

“Can it”, Tony interrupted him, “because it's not your fault. You were dead then, it had nothing to do with you and everything with Howard being the worst.”

Wow.

“But you don't want to end up like your Dad, so you forbade yourself to like me”, Steve finished the explanation and interpreted Tony's shrug as affirmation of his assumption. “So why be a pain in my ass then?” This part, Steve didn't really get: Tony could just stay away from Steve, the Tower gave more than enough opportunities for that.

“Just because”, Tony mumbled, as he actually blushed. What the hell? As hard as he tried, Steve couldn't remember Tony Stark ever being flushed.

“That's not an answer.” Steve was aware that he was entering dangerous territory; a cornered Tony was even more dangerous than he normally was. But what was the alternative? Him and Tony just avoiding each other, pushing it all way down until it all blew up in their faces?

“Rogers, please...” Tony's voice went softer, almost a whisper, the exact opposite of how Steve had expected Tony to react.

“Tony, you're seriously worrying me.” Steve took another step towards Tony, who looked like he just wanted to bolt. “Please, what's bothering you?”

“You are, damnit!”, Tony yelled out. “The fact that you're nothing like the damn asshole I pictured you to be throughout my childhood. The fact that you're actually a pretty great guy. The fact that I like you, no, that I like you too damn much.”

Steve couldn't follow. The part about Tony's childhood and Howard, he got. But the almost desperate look in Tony's eyes... “I get that all that, with me, Howard was, or still is...” At Tony's exasperated face drop Steve halted mid-sentence. Was he missing something? Judging by the way Tony looked at him, he probably did.

“You really don't get it, Rogers, do you?”

His meek shrug was only met with a Stark-typical eye-roll.

And then everything seemed to happen at once. With two big steps, Tony closed the last bit of distance between them, grabbed Steve by the shirt collar, pulled him down and pressed their lips together.

And Steve's mind just went blank. Of all the things he'd expect Tony to do... This was not one of them. Frozen in shock, Steve could do nothing but let Stark kiss him.

“Here you go”, Tony shrugged, once he broke away and took two steps back. “Now if you'd please fuck off, I'd be very grateful.” With that he turned and motioned to walk off.

“Tony, wait.” Steve heard himself speak, before he realized he had done it. But it was all so very much in a haze, and Steve wouldn't bet a lot on this being real life and not just a dream, so before he knew it really happened, he grabbed Tony's arm, pulled him back and immediately their lips met again.

After a few shocked moments, Tony's arms wrapped themselves around Steve's shoulders.

Steve had no idea what was really happening, but he didn't care, because it felt amazing. It was electrified, passionate and all the little things that irked them about each other seemed to vanish, making room for desire to run wild.

“Rogers”, Tony mumbled after a while, “what is...”

“Shut up”, Steve shot back, not in the mood for talking.

“Works for me”, Stark chuckled, and, with his hand on Steve's neck, he pulled him down and deepened the kiss even more.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Did Steve care? Fuck, no.

.

When Steve woke up the next morning, he wasn't quite sure where he was. He definitely didn't know this enormous bed, and these silky bed sheets were not to his taste.

Oh. Right. He was in LA. In Tony's bed. And very naked.

Shit.

What was more, he was alone in Tony's oversized bed. There was no genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but a note.

Steve,

sorry, had to dash. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen, if you want.

I'll see you in New York.

TS

Shit. With a loud groan, Steve fell back into the cushions. What did he think? He didn't, that was just it. Or he thought with the wrong body part. Sure, it felt good, very much so. Kissing someone hadn't felt that good ever since he kissed Peggy. And then... Passion just took over.

That was admittedly the weird part, Steve wasn't someone who just let himself run over with desire and just jumped right into bed with whoever kissed him. Well, he and Tony had a lot of pent up tension between them and now they just had the need to get it all out.

I'll see you in New York.

Well, maybe things would be a little more relaxed between them from now on. But Steve doubted that.

.

“Omigod”, Nat sighed, “I can't believe I'm saying this but I liked it so much better when they were fighting.”

“Tell me about it.” Clint fell down next to her on the couch. “The way Cap just silently stares at Stark is seriously creepy and so awkward.”

“And Stark barely ever talks any more when Steve is in the room and flees as soon as he's got the chance”, Wanda observed.

“If it weren't those two, I'd say they're boning”, Clint giggled, until he stopped dead. “Omigod. Do you think that Steve and Tony...”

The assembled Avengers just looked at each other with wide eyes.

“It would explain so much”, Nat eventually broke the silence.

“All that bickering and fighting is just unresolved sexual tension”, Bruce commented.

“We gotta fix them!”

“Right”, Nat scoffed, “because they both would react so positively to us walking up to them and telling them to bone.”

“Maybe we should stick them back in therapy.”

“Because that went over so well the last time.”

“What then?” Rhodey looked around the group. “There's gotta be something we can do!”

“We'll leave that to you”, Nat suggested, “you're the only one who can get through to Tony.”

.

With a ping the elevator doors opened and Rhodey walked into the penthouse, already dreading in what state he was about to find his friend. “Tones? You in here?”

“Platypus!”, Tony beamed and staggered towards him with wide open arms. Shit. He was really hammered.

“Here”, he handed Rhodey a bottle, clearly not realizing that it was already empty. “Drink with me!”

“How about we switch to water?”, he suggested and took the still half-full bottle of whiskey out of Tony's hand.

“You're so boring”, Tony moped and walked over to the kitchen cabinet, where he got another bottle. “So boring”, he repeated after a generous sip. “Just like Steve. He's so stupid and boring.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gently, Rhodey guided Tony to a couch and all but pushed him down. “I'm not worried about Rogers, though.”

“You should...”

“Nah, I'm only responsible to look after you.”

“I'm fine”, Tony claimed, however swaying and slurring a lot more than fine would suggest.

“I know you are. That's why you ran off to LA, avoid Steve since you're back, lock yourself in up here and drink that much again.”

“I'm really fine”, Tony repeated. “Look!” He T-posed and shot him a kissy-face. “I'm so good.”

“Right, then you won't mind talking to Steve, would you?”

“But I don't want to.” Not unlike a child throwing a hissy fit, Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest; all that was missing was Tony sticking his tongue out at Rhodey.

Well, if Tony was gonna act like a four-year-old, then Rhodey'd pack out his parental voice. “And why don't you want to talk to him?”

Thankfully, he was too drunk to pick up on James' condescending tone. “Because he's stupid.”

“And why is he stupid?”

“Because he is.”

“Tony.” This was gonna be a tough one.

“Rhodey”, he mocked him.

“Well, if you're fine, then I can go.” He got up off the couch and, as he had expected, he couldn't get two steps until Tony stopped him.

“Don't go”, he mumbled, grabbed his arm and pulled him back on the couch.

“Alright, I'll stay”, James smiled. “You gonna tell me what has you upset though?”

Tony clutched a pillow and looked down on the floor. “We... we had sex.”

“You did what?” Oh damn. They were right, the Avengers were damn right about them.

“He... He just didn't get it, so I showed him. And then he kissed me back. And then...” Instead of finishing his sentence, Tony took another sip from his bottle.

Well, damn.

“Sounds to me like you and Steve have quite a bit to talk about...”

“Talking fucking sucks”, Tony groaned and slumped against Rhodey's side.

“It helps though”, he shrugged and put his arm around Tony's shoulder.

“Still sucks”, he mumbled and snuggled into the embrace.

Rhodey had lived through enough of Tony's drinking sessions to know that a) Tony was about to fall asleep, that b) Rhodey would not be able to move until he woke up again, that c) the chances of getting thrown up on were at least in the high seventies and that d) this disaster human being was his absolute favourite person in the entire world.

“I love you, Tones.”

“I love you too, Honey-bear.”

.

5 days. 5 days since Steve had flown to LA to confront Tony about their 'situation'. 5 days, since Tony had grabbed his shirt and kissed him. 5 days, since Steve kissed him back. 5 days, since Steve had just about the best night ever. 5 days, in which Steve couldn't think about anything else than the surprisingly soft lips, the taste of coffee, the strong hands on his body and most of all, how good being with Tony had felt.

And with all that came a realization: that flutter in his stomach that came every time Steve was around Tony was not dread, awkwardness or anything like that, it were the butterflies in his stomach going into overdrive.

When Steve finally gathered enough courage to talk to Tony, he ended up standing in front of a locked door.

“I'm sorry, boss has restricted access to anyone.”

“JARVIS, please.” In the worry about his friend, Steve didn't give too much thought to him currently trying to reason with a bodiless robot. “You can't tell me that he's doing alright. Let me please talk to him.”

“Since he is not in imminent physical danger, I am not authorized to ignore boss' orders.”

“Is he drinking?”

“Yes.”

“With his history, it's more than dangerous for him to be locked up all by himself with these amounts of alcohol, don't you agree?”

“I do”, he admitted and the door opened for him.

“Thanks, JARVIS, you're the best.”

.

“Tony?”

Damnit. JARVIS was really keen on disobeying all of Tony's orders, was he? “One of these days”, he groaned towards the general direction of the camera, “I'll donate you to a high school.”

“I believe my fosterlings there would be less determined to kill themselves and be more grateful for my unwavering support.”

“You sure as fuck aren't supporting me”, Tony hissed, as Steve walked all through the penthouse in search of him. If Tony was lucky, Rogers would respect the sanctity of the bedroom, where Tony had created a make-shift workstation on and around the bed.

“I have your best interests at heart, even if you might not realize it.”

For fuck's sake.

“Tony?”, Steve called again, closing in on Tony's location.

“He is in the bedroom”, JARVIS announced and boy, if looks could kill, Tony would have to install new security cameras.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever”, Tony grumbled and the door opened to the sight of a nervous Steve.

“Hi.”

“Rogers, I don't know what went wrong with you that you can't seem to get I don't want to see you.” Tony didn't even bother with looking up at Steve and hoped to whoever was in charge of hurried prayers that the super soldier would see it as nonchalant and not recognize the pained insecurity. Which, by the way, fucking sucked.

All of this, of what happened these last few weeks, months, fucking sucked.

It started to suck, when Tony got to know Steve for who he really was: not the absolute pinnacle of American perfection who Tony would never be able to measure up to, but instead.... Sure, Steve was all that, but so much more.

As much as Tony pretended to be exasperated and annoyed by his in all honesty at times pathetic tries to catch up to modern technology, his determination was really commendable and quite adorable. Same with his annoying righteousness; knowing about Steve what Tony knew now, he could recognize and appreciate how passionate Rogers was about the things most important to him. And that undying loyalty... But not – as Tony had thought – to the US army, the government and blindly following orders, but to the people closest to him. Even to Tony. Who had been quite the dick. But even though he didn't understand a word of it, Rogers often listened to Tony's engineering rants. And listening to Steve going on and on about injustice or whatever, Tony just got roped in by that seemingly boundless passion.

And with all that wrapped up in *that* package... Yeah, Tony really had fallen for Steve. And he hated himself for it.

Why of all people did it have to be Captain America that made Tony's heart skip a fucking beat? And why in the name of Edwin Jarvis did Tony 'confess'? Why couldn't he have just stuck to the fucking plan, ride these damn feelings out and be enough of a pain so Steve would hate him?

But no, Mr Impulsivity just couldn't leave well enough alone and keep it in his damn pants, could he?

“I'm sorry, Tony”, Steve eventually apologized.

“For what?” For being a giant idiot, who didn't get what was going on? For pushing what should have been left alone and thusly making everything a million times worse?

“Yes, to all of those.”

Tony didn't even realize he had said all this out loud, but whatever. Not like all this could be even more fucked up...

“But there's a bit more I need to apologize for.” Almost cautious was Steve's movement as he walked up to Tony, who sat on the bed. “I'm sorry that I'm so slow and dumb when it comes to feelings. I'm sorry I brushed all of your actions off as you being nothing more than a childish pain in my ass and some other choice words I feel like leaving out of this right now”, he chuckled and yes, that was indeed a blush creeping up Steve's face. “Because I know you're not like that.”

“Oh?”, Tony shot over, rife with sarcasm. “Then what am I like?”

Steve locked eyes with Tony, sincere and earnest. “You're so generous, intelligent, caring, admittedly quite funny and supportive of everybody important to you. I know you like to play all that down, hide behind the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist tag, but that's all it is. A tag. But that passion, that fire... You light up every room you enter and that's not because of your genius-billionaire-bullshit, it's because of your big heart.”

Huh.

As much as he hated to admit it, Tony was speechless and could only stare at Steve with wide open eyes.

“And I'm especially sorry that it took me so damn long to realize that all that has roped me in long ago.” Steve scooted closer, bringing them mere centimetres apart. “It took LA to make me understand that this weird feeling in my stomach whenever you're around, had nothing to do with dislike or annoyance. More like the exact opposite.” As he spoke, Steve's voice went quieter as he leaned in closer, and before Tony could compute any of this, Steve's lips were on his.

.

“What the fuck?”

When Nat opened the door to the kitchen, she couldn't quite believe what she saw: Tony, making coffee and Steve's arms wrapped around his waist, with his head rested on Tony's shoulder.

“Hi Natasha, want a cup?”, Tony asked, barely looking over.

“I'm good”, she waved him off and pulled Clint, whose jaw was still on the ground, to the table. “Let me guess, therapy did you two a world of good.”

“We might not be that pissed about it any more.” Tony turned around, and leaned against the somewhat blushing Steve.

“Thanks for forcing us to go”, he grinned.

“We told you.”

“Yeah... Guess that wouldn't make you the smartest person in this building after all...” Steve grinned over at Tony, who smacked Steve's side.

“It's definitely not you, I could have told you that long ago”, he shot back with a smirk.

“Oh really?” Steve raised his eyebrow and Nat felt like she was about to get sick.

“Oh god, what have we done”, Clint hissed over, staring wide-eyed at Tony and Steve. Flirting. Actually flirting.

“We've created a monster, that's what we did.”

[notquiteaghost]

capable of coming out alive

the magnus archives, gen / jon&daisy, 1.4k, on today’s episode of Jonathan Sims’ Failing Mental Health: dissociation!

AO3 link in notes

“Jon?”

“Jon?”

“Jon. Jon.”

The Archivist’s office is a quiet, dark space. Bookshelf, chair, desk, boxes. No natural light. No external noise.

“Jon, Jesus Christ–”

Blonde woman, short hair, dark clothes, scowling, scar across eyebrow from a ring on a fist, speaking. Speaking? Shaking, hand, cold palm, still always cold palms, steady, Daisy. Alice? Daisy.

Coffin, crawling, too close can’t breathe trapped trapped my eyes shut and the sound filled my ears–

“Jon I swear to God.”

Shoulder, shaking. Hands shaking shoulder. Daisy’s hand, Archivist’s shoulder, Archivist’s body. Jon’s body.

Jon blinks.

“Daisy?”

She looks– frantic. Worried? Her hand is still on his shoulder and she’s staring at him and her forehead is all lines.

“Did you. What?”

“You weren’t responding,” Daisy says. Her voice isn’t soft, but it isn’t harsh. “I just wondered if you wanted anything from the chippy but you didn’t react at all, you weren’t even blinking. What was that?”

Dissociation is any of a wide array of experiences from mild detachment from immediate surroundings to more severe detachment from physical and emotional experiences.

Depersonalisation refers to the experience of feeling detached from, and as if one is an outside observer of, one’s mental processes, body, or actions. Derealisation refers to the experience of feeling detached from, and as if one is an outside observer of, one’s surroundings.

“I, um. I.” Jon’s hand flaps once, twice. “I– Martin– it’s. When.” Flap, flap, flap.

Martin is two floors up and an indeterminable number of meters to the west and distant, removed, absent and Daisy doesn’t know BSL and Daisy wasn’t nearly killed by Prentiss and Tim is dead Sasha is dead Martin is unreachable there aren’t any words just static

Jon’s hands still flapping one shaping gone gone gone Daisy frowning Jon’s eyes drawn again to pile of statements tape recorder clicks hums static gone gone gone

“–Jon, I need you to focus. Listen to me, Jon, listen to my voice, focus on me. Just on me, nothing else, did I ever tell you Basira took me on a date to an ice rink once? Worst idea, neither of us have the balance for it. I fell over every time I let go of the side. Took weeks for the bruises to heal.”

“The first time she kissed you,” Jon’s mouth says.

Daisy’s mouth corners turn up, momentarily. “Yeah. Then we fell over again.”

Another tape recorder click. Jon’s lungs expand, contract, expand. Daisy is wearing her coat. Someone in Research is listening to Perfect Neglect In A Field Of Statues.

“You done spacing out on me?” Daisy asks. Jon nods.

“You want anything from the chippy?” Daisy asks. Jon nods.

“You okay to leave?” Daisy asks. Jon nods.

Daisy nods back, places her hand on Jon’s arm, walks outside. The chippy is a ten-minute walk. The sun is shining. Daisy hums Radiohead and keeps her grip on Jon’s arm loose but firm. The chippy isn’t busy. The man behind the counter has worked there for six years. Daisy pays in cash, gets the food wrapped in a bag. The bag is warm.

By the time they walk back into the Archives, Jon feels almost like a person again.

Daisy guides him to sit, puts his portion of chips and can of Coke in front of him, sits down next to him with her own cod and chips. Melanie takes her burger and chips back to her desk and does ungodly things with vinegar and mustard. Frankie in Research is still listening to Eluvium.

When Jon is over halfway through his food, Daisy breaks the silence.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“It’s not…” Jon goes to run a hand through his hair, but his hands are covered in chip grease. “It’s not a Beholding thing. Or, not just a Beholding thing. Do you know what dissociation is?”

“Spacing out, yeah?”

“Yes and no. It’s– being disconnected? Feeling unreal, like you’re dreaming, or watching yourself from far away. It’s a trauma response, and,” Jon quirks his lips wryly, “my trauma significantly predates my employment in the Archives.”

Daisy nods. Melanie’s turned to face them, but doesn’t speak.

“It used to come on, though, like a panic attack. Now it’s just, constant.”

“What helps?”

Jon huffs a rough approximation of a laugh. “Good question.”

Daisy frowns at him – just like Martin would frown at him, concern laced with frustration, and it stings. Martin is two floors away. Martin is so far away.

“There must be something,” Daisy says.

“Adrenaline?” That’s one of the worst things, how real danger is. The only times he wants to check out are the only times he’s truly grounded. “Nicotine, sometimes. Tea used to, but I think my caffeine tolerance is too high now.”

It’s strange, being reminded this isn’t how everyone lives. That most people see this as a problem to be solved, not just how the world works. He knows it was better, once – the sound of his voice would turn jarring mid-sentence, he’d lose hours to fog, his reflection would be off for days, but it would pass.

It doesn’t pass now.

“Grounding exercises?” Melanie asks. She’s got her phone out.

Jon, abruptly, wants to scream. It’s good, of course, that they care – except it isn’t, it’s his fault they’re here, he’s a monster, he doesn’t deserve their concern or their care-taking – but he’s already had this conversation.

Martin’s hand on his back. Georgie’s hand in his hair. You don’t have to live like this, you idiot, let me help. So adamant he wasn’t a burden, would never be a burden, and, ha.

“I can’t– I–” He wants to scream. He stands, turns to the door, turns back, pulls at his hair. “I can’t, I can’t.”

This wants to be a meltdown. Would be, if he had the energy. If he wasn’t running on fumes, ricocheting between floating three feet to the left of himself and hypervigilant over-awareness.

Daisy is stood in front of him, a hand on his arm. A necklace hanging over her shirt, thin silver chain, small silver pendant shaped like a fox, gift from Basira. Her other hand on his other arm, holding him in place. Holding him together. He wants to hit something – she recognises the feeling.

“Hey,” she says, soft, “it’s fine, calm down. It’s just us.”

He nods, jerkily, and she moves one hand to his chest. Lifts it ever so slightly, until he inhales to close the gap, then back down, up, down, until his breathing evens out.

“Tomorrow,” Melanie says, from where she’s still leant against her own desk, “we’re talking about grounding exercises. I can bring alcohol, if you want.”

“Alcohol makes it worse.”

“Fair enough. Chocolate, then.”

“The cheap kind. Own-brand.”

Melanie raises an eyebrow. “You telling me you prefer 35p chocolate?”

“Name brand is too rich.”

“You, Jon Sims, are a right weirdo,” Melanie says, but there’s a grin in her voice.

“I rather thought we knew that already.”

“Don’t think you’ve much of a leg to stand on,” Daisy adds. “I’ve seen what you do to beans.”

“We’re not talking about our food crimes, we’re talking about Jon’s failing mental health–”

“No, I think I’d like to hear what you do to beans.”

“Avoiding your problems isn’t healthy, Jon, you need to confront these things head on.”

“I just agreed to let you make a five-step plan of What To Do When Your Archivist Has Gone To Space.”

“I don’t remember hearing you agree. You just said some terrible things about chocolate.”

Daisy has moved back to her own desk, and is flicking her gaze between them like she’s at a tennis match.

“Dairy Milk is two pounds and it’s the chocolate equivalent of the cinnamon challenge–”

“Your taste buds are defective. Were you force-fed an entire chocolate cake by Mrs. Trunchbull as a child? Is that your pre-existing trauma?”

“Yes, Melanie, that’s exactly it. I can also move objects with my mind.”

“…Okay, I am not done with your sinful opinions, but. Matilda – avatar of the Beholding?”

Daisy laughs, while Jon groans. “We are not getting into this again.”

“Look, I was making a perfectly reasonable point–”

“You were waving a knife at me!”

“I was pointing at you, for emphasis, and I just happened to be holding a knife!”

“Why! Why did you even have a knife!”

“I don’t talk shit about your pet tape recorders, you leave my knives alone.”

Jon throws his hands in the air. Daisy is still laughing at them. Melanie smirks, triumphantly. Jon throws a chip fork at her.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 6

i’m a little unsteady

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 5 | read on ao3

1909

hold on to me

'cause i'm a little unsteady

“Are you sure you’ll both be all right?” Roy asked as he finished fixing his tie in the mirror, casting a glance over to Riza and Mia. The latter was being bounced gently in her mother’s arms, looking around the room at everything she could. Every time one of them spoke, Mia’s eyes would flick to them. She was trying so hard to move her head, but her neck wasn’t quite strong enough yet. Still, their daughter persevered and tried her best to watch them both.

“Of course. Go and enjoy your night out with Maes,” Riza smiled.

“I don’t know if I would class it as enjoyable. He’s just going to shove pictures of his wife in my face.”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine then,” she grinned. Mia let out a quiet squeal. “See, even Mia agrees,” Riza grinned.

“Good point,” Roy smiled, matching the intensity of her own. “Maybe I will. Are there even any pictures of you?” he frowned. “I’ve got one, but I don’t remember seeing anymore.”

Riza felt her stomach flip. “You have a photo of me?” she asked.

Roy nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He dipped into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He flicked through, pulling out a photo of them on their wedding day. “I asked my mother to take a photo of us when we got married.” Riza handled it carefully. Even little Mia’s head dipped down to look at it. Riza remembered this moment. They’d just broke apart after their first kiss as a married couple. There was a smile beginning to form on both their faces, and the look they shared… Riza felt herself melting at the sight of it. She remembered that moment. It was the exact moment she realised just how much she loved the man in front of her. At the time she couldn’t remember when she’d last felt that happy. After her mother died, her happiness was all because of Roy. He’d given that gift to her.

“I had no idea you carried this,” she stated in wonder.

Roy nodded. “That’s been all the way to Ishval and back.” Her eyes flicked up to his, away from the photo. “It helped a lot.”

She smiled softly, handing him the photo back. “Then I can’t ask you to part with it. Do you have anymore?”

“No, just that one. But you’re welcome to look at it anytime you like,” he grinned.

Riza chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you have any photos of you?”

Riza shook her head. “I’ve never seen any.” When they’d cleared her father’s house out there wasn’t much worth keeping. Roy kept all Berthold’s alchemy books to use as research and reference, but also because they couldn’t be given away or donated anywhere. Not with the secrets they held. Apart from that, there were no photo albums or anything of the like. She’d quietly hated her father for that. Riza had been young when her mother died. Now, she had no idea what she looked like. There was nothing to hold on to her with. However, the past was in the past, and years on, her bitterness had left her. There was nothing she could do about it now.

“That’s something we’ll need to rectify then,” he replied, kissing Riza’s forehead and returning her to the present. “Isn’t that right, Mia? We’ll need to get some more photos of Mummy because she’s so pretty.” Mia squealed and tried to lift her arms towards him but couldn’t quite manage it. “Ah, come here baby girl,” he cooed, reaching out for Mia.

Watching them interact warmed her heart. It renewed her love for Roy in every way and she was so happy with her decision to marry him. Although it had been terrifying, it had been the most rewarding and loving experience of her life.

“Here.” She fished a photo of Mia out of her purse. “Chris took these a few days after she was born.” She showed Roy the photo and he smiled softly at it.

“That’s you, Mia. You were just a small pink blob of mush, and now look at you. You’re a proper human being with your own adorable little face. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.” Riza rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

Roy had returned to work this week, two months after he’d returned from Ishval. He seemed to be doing better. He was eating better and was more open with her. She was slowly getting snippets of his life out here every now and again. She didn’t need to know everything. She wasn’t interested in all the gory details – and Roy had assured her there was plenty – she just wanted to know enough to help. So, he and his friend from the academy were going out for drinks tonight. It was Friday, and the end of their first week back at Headquarters.

“What will you do while I’m gone?” Roy was now bouncing Mia gently in his arms as their daughter tried to reach and catch his hair in between her fingers.

“Just some spring cleaning. It’s about time I did, and we’ve been so busy with Mia recently I haven’t had the time.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds necessary,” she retorted. “I know for a fact there’s a pair of your smelly socks down the back of the couch,” she quipped.

“Back there?” he asked in horror. “I would never.”

“I can show you the evidence right now if you’d like, Mr. Mustang.”

“I’m not an animal.”

“I never said you were,” Riza reasoned. “However, those socks have been there for a week and are in good need of a clean,” she grinned. 

“Is Mummy a liar, Mia?” he asked his daughter. She smiled widely then squealed again. “Yes, she is. Yes, she is a liar, isn’t she? Daddy would never do that.”

Riza stuck her tongue out at him. “Come on darling,” she beckoned. “Let’s let Daddy go on his night out. Let him have all the fun while we clean up after him,” Riza winked, placing Mia in her bassinet. Once standing, Roy placed his hands on her hips, spinning her in place to face him. She bumped into his chest as he bent his head to claim her lips with his own.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked, gaze searching hers with uncertainty.

“Of course not,” Riza smiled. She straightened his tie, smoothing out his shirt by running her hands over his chest. Her smile broadened when she noticed him shiver. “Go and have fun. You deserve it.”

“I’d much rather stay here and have fun with you.”

“You know we can’t,” she giggled. It was too soon after giving birth.

“I know, but I want to,” he almost whined. Riza playfully hit his shoulder.

“You’ll survive. Now, go. Maes will be waiting, and you know how irritating he can get if you make him wait.”

“God, you’re right,” Roy groaned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Fine. I’ll go. Don’t wait up for me,” he stated, giving her a quick kiss. “I have a key.”

“Will it be a late one, then?” she called after him.

Roy shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you waiting up too late if it is.”

“Stay safe and be careful.”

“I will,” he grinned, giving her a wave as he stepped out the door, locking it after him.

Riza returned to their bedroom and picked up Mia. “Right, sweetheart. Where shall we start, hm?” Riza asked, looking around their apartment. “Shall we start with Daddy’s socks behind the couch?” Mia’s head jerked so quickly Riza had to readjust her grip on it to stop herself from hurting it. “You’re such a wriggler, Mia Bear,” Riza scolded lightly, tone amused. She kissed her daughter’s head and placed her on her baby mat in the centre of the room.

“Now. Time to present the evidence.”

There was now a pair of Roy’s worn socks sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter. There was a note on top which Riza had scrawled quickly.

Exhibit A

Offensive material found behind the couch.

*          *          *

Riza was dozing when the phone in their apartment rang. Groggily, she took a second to realise what it was. Thinking it may wake up Mia, she dove for it, grabbing it from the cradle to keep it quiet. Pausing for a second, Riza listened. There was no sound from their bedroom.

“Hello?” she asked apprehensively. No one ever called her apartment. Roy had only installed the phone in case he needed it for work. Even Rebecca just came around to her home if she needed to speak to her. It was a luxury, having a telephone, but was rarely used.

Her heart in her throat, she listened to the ruckus on the other end, thinking the worst. It sounded like loud shouting, but it was impossible to make out what was being said.

“Riza?” a man shouted through the earpiece to her. She didn’t recognise the voice, and he sounded drunk, his words slurring. She clutched it tighter in her hands.

“Yes?”

“Riza, its Maes Hughes. You don’t know me, but I know you,” he claimed. “Look, I’ve got Roy here and he needs to go home but he’s not in good condition.”

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We got drunk and started talking. He’s… He’s not in a good place right now. Has he told you about what happened over there?”

“No.” He hadn’t yet.

“Oh boy. I really hate to do this to you, but he keeps asking for you and to go home to his house. I would take him home to mine to spare you the trouble, but he’s getting quite aggressive when I suggest it. Do you want me to bring him home? I know you’ve got the little one there.”

“Yes, it’s all right.” Riza swallowed hard, fearing the worst.

“Are you sure? I can drag his pathetic ass back to mine, whether he likes it or not?”

“No, it’s all right. Thank you though, Maes. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll help him.”

“Just… One thing?” he asked as an afterthought. “Just remember he loves you and the thought of you and the kid got him through Ishval. I witnessed it. You were a big help.”

Riza wasn’t sure what that meant. She swallowed and nodded. “Okay, Maes. I will.”

“Thanks.”

There was a quiet click, then the line went silent. All Riza could do was sit on her couch nervously, waiting for them to arrive. It was already two o’clock in the morning, and she should be asleep for Mia waking up in the morning, but she couldn’t now. She was too worried about Roy.

Would this finally be the thing that pushes him over the edge, and gets him to open up to her about Ishval? Would she want to hear it? Would he break down, or rant and rave? Riza knew he would never hurt her, but in the back of her mind, she knew this was a different man than who had left her. The war had changed him. It hadn’t changed his love for her, but he was struggling. He awoke in the night, drenched in sweat thanks to what he’d seen. He had vivid nightmares. Riza knew, because she’d been the one to talk him down from them. Half of the time, he was still asleep, so he didn’t know. But Riza was awake every time. She watched him suffering and didn’t know how to help him because he wouldn’t tell her.

The knock on the door was loud. Too loud. Riza dove for it, tearing it open. She took in the scene before her. A man she’d never met before, but vaguely recognised from the station they day Roy had returned, was standing up straight, but certainly looked like he’d been drinking. He swayed, but that may have been because Roy was a mess and hanging onto Maes’ shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Maes started. It stirred Roy and he lifted his head. He squinted, but when he noticed it was Riza looking at him, he stiffened, his spine straightening. His body jerked upright.

“Riza,” he breathed. He looked like he wanted to vomit. Riza wasn’t sure if it was because of the sight of her, or the alcohol. Judging by the look on his face, probably a mix of both.

“Riza?” another voice called from behind the two men. To her surprise, Gracia was standing behind them. She showed Riza a kind smile but had been frowning up at Maes. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

Roy let go of Maes and lurched forward, staggering. Riza reached out to steady him, but he jerked away from her. “Don’t touch me,” he mumbled, staggering into their living room. Riza’s hands hung suspended in the air, watching him pass by her. Gracia had tried to placate her, but Riza wasn’t listening. The sound of her world beginning to crack at the edges was too loud.

“What?” she questioned. Her voice was emotionless. She was taken aback by his demand. Dread coiled in Riza’s stomach. Roy had never spoken to her like that before.

“Hey,” Maes interjected, his tone firm and unforgiving. Riza glanced at him, noticing a frown on his face. He looked a lot more sober than Roy was right now. He sounded like it too, compared to the slurred speech she’d heard over the phone not too long ago. “Roy, knock it off.”

“Shut up,” Roy muttered darkly, stumbling slightly to his left, before righting himself with a hand against the wall of their hallway. He’d almost walked into it.

“Roy -” Riza tried to get through to him, but that wasn’t enough for Maes. He stepped in, replying to her husband without hesitation.

“No,” Maes interrupted, as if it was obvious. “I won’t let you talk to Riza like that.” Maes shot her a pointed look, as if to say she shouldn’t accept it either. She was glad for the support. Riza didn’t really know Maes. She’d only met him once before - Roy had introduced them briefly - but he was willing to stick up for her against her drunk husband. Riza appreciated that.

“Whatever,” Roy muttered, pushing off the wall to enter their bedroom. 

“Don’t do this now, Roy,” Maes called after him, his tone a warning. Her husband ignored him.

Do what? Terror gripped her heart.

Seeing Roy enter the dark room, Riza shelved that thought for the moment. Maes was right. He was drunk and was obviously in a bad place right now, but that was no excuse for him to speak to her that way. In moments of tension like this before in her childhood, she’d brushed her emotions - fear, anger, irritation, or pain - aside because if she didn’t, her father would berate her. Her realization the other night spurred her feet forward, following her husband. Her father wasn’t here anymore, and she was an adult. She was Roy’s wife. She had a duty to help him, and she would try her hardest to do that for him, especially when he was suffering like he was now.

Roy was already stripping out of his suit by the time Riza entered. She didn’t hear Maes or Gracia following behind her, but in truth, she wasn’t really listening out for it. She was solely focussed on her husband and the task at hand. She had to calm him down. Riza needed to talk him out of the state he was in as best she could, and bring him back to her, because this was not the Roy she knew.

Her breath caught in her throat suddenly. Maybe this was the real Roy. He’d been playing a character before with her, pretending everything was fine, when in reality, it really wasn’t. Maes would probably know that better than anyone. He’d been in the war with Roy. He’d been there and had seen first-hand the horrors of it, and how it affected Roy. Maes had seen what Roy had done in Ishval. Perhaps that was what his warning was about?

“Don’t do this now, Roy.”

Riza swallowed the bile in her throat. 

Focus on Roy. Help him.

“What did you say to me?” Riza asked, her voice calm and controlled. She didn’t want to yell at him. She felt no anger towards him, just shock and disbelief. There was indignation too, because Riza didn’t want to be spoken to that way - “don’t touch me” - but Riza held no desire to argue over something as trivial as that right now. There were much bigger things going on.

“I said don’t touch me,” he stated, louder, whirling in place. His tie swung from one side of his torso to the other with the force of his movements. It hung loose over his half-unbuttoned shirt. “You don’t deserve to.”

Mia let out a quiet whine from her crib. She stirred as Riza approached her, swiping at her face with her tiny fists. She was starting to wake up. Lifting her from her cot, Riza held her close to her chest to try and calm her. She shouldn’t be waking right now. Turning to call for Maes or Gracia, her mouth hung open, frozen in place, when she saw Gracia was already approaching her with her arms outstretched. A tight, but kind smile graced her face.

“Talk to him, okay? We’ll be right outside,” she whispered. She gently eased Mia out of Riza’s grip and left the room.

“Excuse me?” Riza asked once the bedroom door had closed behind her. “I don’t deserve to?” she echoed.

“No!” he shouted, making her jump. He’d never raised his voice to her before. “I’ve murdered people with these hands. I don’t deserve to touch you with them,” he mumbled. He wasn’t making any sense, probably thanks to the alcohol.

“I understand that, Roy,” Riza swallowed, fighting to keep her voice even. “But I need you to calm down and talk to me.”

“I killed them!” he yelled again. Mia’s cries increased in volume from outside. “I killed so many people with that alchemy,” he spat like the word left a bad taste in his mouth. To Riza, it felt like he was insinuating it was her fault all of this had happened. “I still hear their screams.” He shuddered, then brought a hand up to his mouth. Roy bolted for the bathroom. Ignoring the concerned and worried looks from Maes and Gracia, Riza ran after him, but Roy slammed the door closed, locking it before he emptied his stomach contents into the toilet bowl. 

“Roy?” The sound of his vomit was her answer. It was violent and she was sure she heard him crying. “Roy, please open the door,” she begged.

Nothing.

“Please,” she pleaded with him, her voice cracking.

She didn’t know what to do. He’d shut her out, like she’d always feared. Like her father had done. Roy was nothing like Berthold Hawkeye, but this felt incredibly similar to what had happened back then. The perfect illusion Riza had been living in since Roy returned from the war was beginning to dim, to crack around the edges.

“Riza?” Gracia called to her gently, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Riza had forgotten they were even here. “Would you like to come back to my house with Mia?” she offered kindly. “Maes can stay here with Roy to make sure he’s okay.”

“I… I can’t leave him,” she whispered, turning back to the door. She placed a hand on top of it, like she’d done against his back a few weeks ago. “I won’t.”

“Do you want us to stay?”

Riza bit her lip. It might help if they did… Just in case anything happened. Not that Riza thought they would, but Roy would need people around him when he sobered up. He would need friends. Having Maes here – someone who’d gone through the same thing as him – might help.

“Would you mind?” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Gracia smiled widely. “Of course not,” she reassured Riza.

“Go and get some sleep,” Maes commanded. “I’ll put his sorry ass to bed.”

“Thank you, but –”

“Believe me,” Maes interrupted, his gaze suddenly very sober. “You’ll want me to.”

Riza barely knew these people. She only really knew Gracia through Rebecca, and they’d met up a few times for breakfast and lunch while their partners had been deployed, but to be so kind… To offer to do something like that for her… She was grateful. Eternally grateful.

[galoots]

Team Uncle Week 2019 Day 1: Domestic Life/Parenting It’s Bring Your Child to Work day at McDuck Enterprises, and Scrooge has brought his nephew Donald in like every year before. Scrooge is certain that his nephew, on the cusp of adulthood, will pursue the same career path as him, but when Donald gets fed up with his lofty expectations, Scrooge learns a hard lesson. Sometimes what’s best for our children is letting them find their own path.

 “Listen up, everyone!” The rap of Scrooge’s cane against the tile floor echoed throughout the buzzing lobby of McDuck Enterprise’s central headquarters. Heads swiveled from every direction to face the source of the noise, and once all eyes were firmly on the company’s CEO, Scrooge could begin his announcement. Brandishing the tip of his cane towards Donald, who looked equal parts uncomfortable and mortified, Scrooge loudly announced the following to his faithful employees.

           “This,” he declared, with a waggle of his cane, “is my darling ward, Donald. Many of you—those who have worked here a long time—know him already. For the few employees for which this is their first year here, and may not recognize him, I caution you to listen up. Take a good look at his face and commit it to memory. Study his features. Remember them well. Because some day in the future, this will be the face of your new boss.”

Longtime employees of McDuck Enterprise looked on with weary, bored expressions. They had heard this spiel many times and were no stranger to McDuck’s bravado when it came to his nephew. A few company greenhorns let out spasmodic bouts of weak, uncertain applause that quickly faded away when they realized no one had joined them. Scrooge beamed out at his little worker bees, his face a mélange of pride and confidence.

           Today was the day of the 17th annual “Bring Your Child to Work Day” at McDuck Enterprise. An event Scrooge had initiated as a company-wide event the same year his nephew was born. Naturally, Scrooge schlepped Donald to the yearly occasion in order to educate his ward and as an excuse to tout around his little CEO-in-the-making. A fact Donald would find touching, if not for his uncle’s adamant insistence that he repeat the same declaration year after year, after year, after year. At first, he’d found it inspiring: a motivating promise he hoped to fulfill to make his uncle proud. Later on, he found it lost its oomph after repeat viewings until it had become plain funny to hear Scrooge’s artless, yet sincere affirmation. However, now, well into his teen years, he found it deeply troubling. Every year, he’d find himself smiling apologetically at the other parents and their children as his uncle dragged him from event to event. Usually, he was met with conciliatory expressions from the other parents, weary but understanding, or at least pretending to be. Occasionally, from the more sycophantic employees, he’d receive cajoling, self-servicing attention meant to ingratiate themselves into his good graces. He found neither of these congenial per se, but they were certainly preferable to the looks of out-right disdain from some of the other teenagers that were present. Even though these looks pained him, Donald couldn’t find it in himself to blame these teens, many of them his classmates, for their malice. Instead, he sympathized with them. From their perspective, he must appear the spoiled son of a business magnate, whose privileged future was secured with blatant nepotism. So, while he could find no reason to complain about a day off from school, nor one spent with his adoring uncle, he dreaded the annual event all the same. Scrooge, benign to the loaded atmosphere, merely placed a supportive, guiding arm around his shoulders.

           “Come now, Donald. I’ve got plenty to show you this year. I’m terribly excited for you to see what I’ve got in store for you.” Scrooge gently lead him down the hall, unaware of the worry brewing in his nephew’s troubled head.

           Touring the facility reminded Donald of the undeniable fact that his uncle truly was a titan of the industry, regardless of the market or its reach. It seemed like there was no piece of the pie that Scrooge didn’t own, and it was enough to make Donald’s head spin. As they toured his facility, Scrooge lectured Donald about their various entrepreneurial pursuits—their challenges, their compromises, and—most importantly—their victories. While he didn’t find it uninteresting, Donald found it incredibly overwhelming to the point of exhaustion. He couldn’t understand how his uncle could juggle it all, and still manage to have a life on top of work. So rather than listen to the particulars of the tales of commerce and finance his uncle spun, he chose to attend to the man’s warm and ardent tone.

           It was endearing to hear a loved one go on at length about a fervent interest, Donald thought. Many people perceived his Uncle Scrooge as a cold, indifferent man, but Donald knew this wasn’t true. His uncle’s single-minded pursuit to his work was admirable, and Scrooge spoke of it in the same tenor he used to discuss Donald’s own accomplishments. Comparatively, he knew his odd A+ paper or sports trophy couldn’t hold a candle to his uncle’s vast empire, yet he never felt lesser than Scrooge or his devotion to his company. Scrooge held him in tantamount, if not greater, esteem to his vast fortune, his legacy, and immortal empire he’d built. His uncle would often jokingly exclaim that he’d been a poor old man until Donald became a part of his life despite having well-established his estate long before his birth.

           Nonetheless, Scrooge’s ensured confidence in Donald’s ability to serve as his heir unsettled the boy. What should he do, if he proved himself unworthy of that esteem?

           “Donald?” Scrooge shook him gently, sending his trouble thoughts running to the corners of his mind. “Are you alright there, lad?”

           “Peachy keen, Uncle Scrooge.” Donald flashed his uncle a smile, hoping it was a convincing one.

           Scrooge smiled at him, patting his shoulder approvingly. “Good. Shall we make our way to the conference room then?”

           “What for?” Donald couldn’t remember a prior year where he’d been allowed to sit on one of Scrooge’s influential, industry-changing business meetings.        

           “I’ve a meeting to attend of course. I’d like you to observe.”

           The meeting was suitably dull as Donald had expected. Droning executives, confusing jargon, and pressed black and navy suits as far as the eye could see. Twenty minutes in, and Donald already found himself lost. He simply adopted a strategy he often employed in similarly less than stimulating classes. He kept his eyes bright and intent, focused on whoever was speaking, head nodding like a bobblehead, while his mind was a million miles away. As the bigwigs around him discussed at length whatever issue at hand, Donald began to draft a villanelle he was writing in his head. Lost in the lyrical pleasures of poetic composition, he barely heard an unfamiliar voice call his name.

           Snapping to attention, he found the room’s eyes trained on him. A woman smiled wryly at him and repeated her phrase. “Donald, I asked if you had any insights into our predicament. A new, foreign perspective often proves beneficial in such matters, and you are Mr. McDuck’s heir, after all.”

           Donald couldn’t decipher the woman’s obfuscating smile. Was she asking earnestly? Did she mean to test him? Or did she simply intend to embarrass him, proving to the other higher-ups that he was unfit for his privileged role?

           The audible click of the nearby clock’s second hand marked the passing of his elapsed silence. A moment, seconds long, stretched thin to an eternity on the blade of his anxiety, until Scrooge cleared his throat with authoritative control.

           “Mrs. Montgomery, while I applaud your initiative, Donald is here only to learn, not to provide input. I’d ask that you stay on track and treat his presence here as you would any observing third-party. While I have no doubt of Donald’s illuminating judgement, it’s neither the time nor place to put him on the spot to share it.”

           Sinking down low into his chair, Donald wished for the ability to disappear. He calmly waited until the meeting had ended before briskly leaving the room to bolt for the nearest unenclosed space. Panic squeezed his throat and his ears were filled with the pounding of his heart, in frantic rhythm with his footsteps as he climbed the stairwell. Bursting out onto the roof terrace, Donald gasped for breath. He choked on the air, a sharp pain in his chest, while the feeling he was coming untethered from reality settled upon him. The world turned bizarre and alien around him, as if suddenly viewed through kaleidoscopic vision. His perception pulled away from him like a dolly zoom as he fell away from himself. Gradually, he recognized a warm, unimposing hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles there, and a voice instructing him to breathe. He imagined a feather floating in front of him, ascending with each inhaled and descending with each subsequent exhale.

           Slowly, he clicked back into place, and became aware of Scrooge kneeling next to him, on his bad knee no less, on top of the windy roof terrace. When he fully came to, he was sitting next to his uncle on the rooftop bench, sipping a bottle of herbal tea purchased from a nearby vending machine.

           “I’m sorry.” He choked out, looking firmly at the cement underneath his unsteady feet.

           Scrooge kept a steady hand on the expanse between his shoulder blades. “Don’t apologize, Donald. I had no clue Mrs. Montgomery would put you on the spot like that. I’m so sorry.” That hand kept Donald anchored as he squeezed out angry tears. They splattered onto the cement, marking it a dark gray. Scrooge continued to comfort him as he cried. “The worst of it is over now. We can go home right away or stay here if you prefer. Whatever you need to make you feel better.”

           He felt calmer now but still raw, like the wind could rip right through him at any moment. One more stiff breeze and he might topple off the precarious position he occupied on top of this roof. The feelings he’d been trying to push away all day only continued their assault and Donald could feel himself finally buckle.

           “Uncle Scrooge, what if I don’t want to run your company?” A small voice, that must have been his own, queried.

           “What?” From the sound of his uncle’s voice, he must have caught Scrooge off-guard. “I thought… do you not want to?”

           Donald swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “Business is your thing. I know you just want what’s best for me, and I want to make you proud, but—What if I’m no good at it?! What if I don’t like it? I feel like there’s all this pressure to be like you and—” His voice hitched as it reached a frantic pitch.

           “Slow down. Don’t forget to breathe.” His uncle held him reassuringly, letting Donald rest on his shoulder and catch his breath. “Oh Donald… I had no idea you felt like this. Tell me everything that’s bothering you.”

           With his uncle’s go-ahead, the truth welled up inside him, fit to burst. Donald unburdened himself of the mounting pressure that had dogged him all day and all these years. His fears of disappointing Scrooge, his growing anxiety he couldn’t meet his expectations, his doubts he even wanted to follow Scrooge’s career path. He felt lighter and lighter with each admission that slipped from his beak. Scrooge listened quietly and attentively to all he had to say. When he came to a close, Scrooge waited for him to continue before he collected his own thoughts to speak.

           “I owe you an apology, Donald.” His uncle braced him with a protective grasp. “I feel utterly wretched putting you through all this. It sounds like you were incredibly stressed because I was pushing you into something you felt ill-suited for. You must have felt so trapped. This was eating away at you for a while, wasn’t it?”

           Donald nodded meekly, his head nestled in crook of Scrooges neck.

           “Of course, you were. You had every right to be. I know nothing I can say can undo the pain I’ve already put you through, but I am truly sorry.” The tell-tale sound of emotion choked Scrooge’s throat as he spoke. “I love you so much, darling. I’ll be proud of you no matter what you chose to do. I hope you know that.”

           Scrooge sighed deeply before he resumed speaking. “I should have asked you what you wanted, instead of bullheadedly forcing my own expectations for your future on you. I’m so sorry, Donnie. I’ll do better from here on out, I swear.”

           He hugged him tightly, rocking him slightly in his arms. Donald hugged him back, his arms wrapped around his uncle’s waist, feeling younger than his years, smaller than his frame, and calmer than he’d felt all day.

           Speaking in a subdued tone, Donald murmured into his uncle’s feathery neck: “I forgive you, Uncle Scrooge.”

           The sun was starting to set as Scrooge and Donald walked the length of the park. They walked in silence for the most part, until Scrooge cleared his throat with a nervous tremor. “Donald… When I made all those speeches about you, I never intended to pressure you. I wanted you to know that I believe in you, because I really do believe you could run my company in the future. You’d be great at it! I never doubted that for a moment. And I guess… I wanted everyone else to know how amazing you are.” Scrooge took off his hat. “I was foolish. I thought if I let everyone know how proud I am of you and how much I believe in you, then you’d feel motivated and empowered to step up to the plate! But all I did was make you miserable.” Scrooge fumbled awkwardly with the brim, keeping his eyes downcast and off of Donald’s face.

           His uncle looked vulnerable and uncertain as he stumbled through his explanation. “Donald, I don’t want you to get the impression I’m pressuring you to be like me. I don’t want you to be like me.” His shoulders slumped and his hands dropped to his sides.

           Donald’s breath caught in his throat, completely blindsided by his uncle’s admission. Reeling with confusion, he tried to parse the meaning of that declaration but found himself more lost than before. “Why not? You’re so,” he searched for the right word to encapsulate his image of Scrooge with the floundering desperation of a drowning man, “…amazing.” He shook his head at the descriptor he’d chosen. That wasn’t even close to what he wanted to express. Maybe, he thought, words couldn’t describe it. “No, I mean, it’s just that, well, I guess I’m trying to say is—you’re Scrooge McDuck!” He spoke the name with such adoration and wonder in his voice his uncle started to chuckle self-consciously.

          “Ach, Donnie.” Scrooge wore a far-off, sad expression that Donald was to young to truly understand. He ran a hand over his head, looking exhausted all of a sudden. “I haven’t been the best person in the past, Donald. Far from it. My path here has been paved with innumerable misdeeds, and there are many things I regret. If I could go back and right them, I would.” Here Scrooge raised his eyes, full of solemnity, to meet his nephew’s concerned gaze. “But there’s one thing I’d never change, and it’s you. I am the man I am today because you came into my life. You forced me to care again.”

          Scrooge was silent for a long moment, looking off into the horizon then placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I used to think a parent guided their child’s life and shaped them into the person they ought to be. Like you were a lump of clay I had to mold into a finished piece.” Shaking his head, Scrooge laughed at himself. “I know better now. Children shape themselves. All I did was make sure you didn’t stray too far from your proper path.”

          The warmth of his uncle’s fond countenance made something settle in Donald’s chest, something he hadn’t known was stirring or even there to begin with. Now that it had calmed and settled into place, Donald felt like he had untensed a muscle that had been locked for a long time or released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

          “Donald, I love watching you grow, and I love growing with you. You are your own person. You aren’t like me, nor should you be. Maybe there’s an impression of myself in you, probably the stubborn part of you, but you do things in a way all your own and by your own agency. My company is yours to run in the future, but it’s up to you decide how to run it. In your own Donald-like way.”

           The hand on his shoulder lifted to pat him before Scrooge returned it to his side. “T-that is, if you want to, of course.”

           Donald let out a little chuckle, and the two of them continued their lazy promenade through the park for a silent stretch of time. The sun was sinking lower in the sky as the evening twilight spread over the city of Duckburg, painting it in cool blues and honey-toned pinks and oranges.

           “Now that I know how you feel, what do you want to do, nephew?”

           Donald gave a lame shrug. “I’m not sure. There’s so much I’m interested in. Picking one thing is so hard.”

           Scrooge gave a curt little nod, but remained silent, looking at him sincerely.

           “I like poetry.” He stated with equally faltering sentiment as before.

           “You are quite good at it.” Scrooge admitted with that resonant tone of voice Donald had admired earlier.

           “You read my poetry?” Donald often handed his recently drafted compositions to Scrooge, but he’d always assumed his uncle was too busy to actually read through them.

           “Of course!” Scrooge said with a haughty tone.

           Donald chuckled at his uncle’s mock offense, shaking his head. He’d never thought of his uncle as the literary type, but he trusted that he always spoke his mind.  

           “Maybe… maybe I do want to follow your footsteps in the future, Uncle Scrooge. Maybe not by running your business, but I do want to find something that makes me as happy as you are when you’re talking about your business.” Donald shuffled his feet. “I think its cool. How much you care. And how hard you work. I think that’s really admirable.”

           They walked on in meditative silence. From the corner of his eye, Donald caught Scrooge grinning heartily.

           Donald felt his beak reflexively curve into a grin. He took his hands from his pockets and looped his arm around Scrooge’s own. “I don’t know what you were like in the past, Uncle Scrooge, but I do know that I’m really lucky to have a parent like you. Maybe you don’t always do stuff right or smart or whatever, but you always listen to me when you mess up. You listened to me today, and you were ready and willing to change afterwards. No matter what, you treat me with empathy and respect. Whatever I do in the future… I know I want to be just like you.”

           Arm in arm, walking amongst shaded poplars and creeping ivy, Donald politely declined to tease his uncle for the tears welling from his eyes.

[kmseokjins]

Waste It On Me (Chapter Four, Pt. 1)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: BTS x Reader / Future OT7 x Reader Warnings: n/a in this chapter Genre: a lil angst Summary: [Name] has a rough week at work and reaches her breaking point. Have some feelings, y’all.

Songs listened to: Sing For You by EXO, Butterfly by BTS, Baby Don’t Cry by EXO

Notes: Up goes the first part of chapter four since I’ve officially posted the second part of chapter four on AO3. See AO3 for special note regarding this chapter. 

Archive Of Our Own || Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

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You haven’t seen the boys for over a week, the whirlwind that was work sweeping you up and keeping you busier than you’d been in months. It was exhausting, and quite frankly, you were close to pulling your hair out. Today had especially been difficult; nothing had been going right, clients had been rude and uncooperative, and your boss was ready to blow a gasket. You were visibly shaking as you carefully put away cameras, camera lenses, and other equipment that you’d been directed to do. You had hoped it would give you time to collect yourself, to even your breathing and calm your mind.

It wasn’t, and you could feel the sharp sting of your throat constricting and tears burning in your eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t fall apart yet. Not here. You hastily wipe at the tears that have fallen at the sound of your boss shouting for you across the room. Clearing your throat, you stand quickly at the sound of footsteps and turn on your heel to face your boss. He stops immediately when you face him, the anger that contorts his face falls at the sight of you so upset. Your brain immediately expects the worst, fearing his anger is directed at you for whatever reason. Any reason.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out deeply before he steps closer, “[Name], go home. Get some sleep. Take care of yourself.” He tells you softly, reaching out to clasp a hand on your shoulder, which makes you tense at the contact, “You’re not in trouble, you did nothing wrong.” He adds, squeezing your shoulder before he smiles, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

You gape at him as he shoos at you, picking up where you left off with the equipment. “B-but sir,” You start, but the words die in your throat at the look he gives you. You’ve worked with him long enough to know that there isn’t any room for arguing once he’s decided something. Finally, you nod and give him your usual bow, “Thank you, Mr. Han. Have a good night,” He hums in response, nodding his head absently, already focused back on his task.

You awkwardly shuffle away to put your own camera and equipment away in your bag, settling the strap on your shoulder before you’re slipping out of the studio with hunched shoulders. You opt to take the stairs rather than the elevator, taking your time descending down the four flights of stairs. Halfway down, your phone pings in one of the pockets of your bag, and you stop to fish it out.

9 missed calls. 15 text messages.

You hadn’t even managed to look at your phone since early this morning when you first got to work before it had been shoved in your bag pocket and long forgotten. A quick scroll shows that the calls and texts are mostly from Jimin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Tae. It makes you smile before your vision blurs with tears and you hastily wipe them away as you quickly descend rest of the stairs and emerge into the front lobby near the elevators. You practically run through the lobby, waving your hand in acknowledgement of those you pass at their greetings and goodbyes.

As soon as you step foot outside, you stop and breathe in the fresh air, glad the sun hasn’t set and you won’t have to walk home in the dark. You stand there for several minutes, eyes closed as you simply enjoy the fresh air and the soft rays of sunlight on your face. You’re startled from your peace by your phone again.

Ping! One new text message.

JK: [Name]-ah pleaseeeeeee? Movie niiiiiight!!!

You: Not tonight.

Sunshine: Please? We miss you

Tae: You can pick the movie!

You: Guys…

JK: That’s a yes, right?

There goes your dreams of curling up on your couch with a pint of ice cream and a sappy movie to drown yourself in. Deciding you don’t have the energy to argue with them, you quickly pull up the Uber app to get yourself a ride to their dorms, plopping yourself on a nearby bench to wait for your ride.

30 minutes later, you’re finally reaching up to knock on the dorm door before you’re twisting the door knob to step inside the familiar entryway. The drive had been quiet, mostly consisting of your forehead resting against the window as you aimlessly stared out the window, barely registering just how congested the traffic was and why it took so long. The driver tried to make conversation with you, but soon fell quiet himself when you barely responded. Several texts had come through from the boys during the ride, and you only responded once to let them know you were on the way.

Laughter reached your ears as you close the door and shuffle your shoes off, letting your bag slip from your shoulder and onto the floor just out of the way. You were careful in setting it down, not wanting to damage the expensive camera that you had spent years saving up for.

“There you are!” Hoseok’s laugh comes from the doorway moments later, drawing your attention away from your bag and to the doorway. You attempt to mirror his bright smile, but your lips quiver and his image becomes blurry from tears before you can stop yourself.

Hoseok’s eyes widen at your tears, and he immediately closes the distance, pulling you against his chest and into a tight hug, “[Name], what’s wrong? What happened?” You hear him murmur against your hair, one hand soothingly rubbing up and down your back.

You keep your sobs quiet as you shake your head, “Rough day,” Comes out muffled against his chest, your fingers gripping his shirt like a lifeline, although he doesn’t seem to mind. Hoseok sighs softly, moving you both gently in a sideways motion back and forth.

“Hobi, where’d you go!?” Jimin’s voice filtered into the entryway at some point, stirring you from the soothing motions against Hoseok. “There you are. Yah! [Name], you snuck in on us!” You could hear the grin in Jimin’s voice and then the questioning silence once he apparently realized something was off.

Jimin pressed close to you both as you turned your head to face him, offering him a weak smile at the concern written all over his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders as he leans down slightly to press his head against yours. His affection and gentleness makes you choke back a sob, and you swear Jimin’s eyes look a little watery when he pulls away a few moments later. Both boys gently urge you further into the house, finding yourself tucked against Hoseok’s shoulder as he leads you down the hallway and into the living room.

Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting on the floor, apparently playing a video game by the looks of the controllers clutched in their hands. By the smell of food and voices coming from the kitchen, Namjoon and Jin are apparently fussing about in there. Yoongi is slouched on the couch, eyes glued to the phone in his hand.

Tae and Jungkook noticed the three of you first, both of them breaking into grins before they actually see to see how upset you are. The two youngest are instantly scrambling to their feet, shooting off questions at Jimin and Hoseok, their video game abandoned. Their raised voices draw the attention of the three remaining members; Namjoon and Jin emerge from the kitchen in confusion, while Yoongi has abruptly stood from his seat, phone forgotten.

“What happened?” You hear Yoongi’s voice among the commotion, and seven heads turn to look at him, although yours is the only one filled with surprise. Even with the distance between you and him, you can see his jaw tense and his knuckles are white where he’s gripping his phone. Your brain flashes back to the last time you’d seen him, and you find yourself unable to reassure him that you’re fine, but Hobi answers for you as he pulls you from the others and towards the couch, closer towards Yoongi.

“Rough day,” He repeats your words from earlier, pulling you down to sit on the couch with him, Tae immediately crowding on your other side near Yoongi, who slowly returns to his seat. You miss the looks they all exchange with each other, too busy trying to focus on something besides all of them. They can easily suck the air from a room when you’re the sole subject of their attention.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jungkook. His voice is soft and meek enough that you’re drawn to him, taking in the uncertain look in his eyes as he watches you, almost like he’s afraid to ask. You try to smile as you shake your head, reaching up to wipe the tears from your face. They all watch silently, as if they’re not quite sure what to do with you.

“I-I should go home, you don’t need me ruining a fun night,” You tell them as you stand from the couch. “I shouldn’t have come over in the first place.” There’s an ache in your chest after the words spill from your lips, too afraid to admit that you don’t really want to be alone now that you’re in the company of the boys. They’re a family, a comfort to each other when things get hard, but you’re an outsider, despite the friendship you share with each of them.

You’re used to being alone. To carrying the world on your shoulders for what has seemed like decades by yourself. You had lost your father years ago, and your mother long before that. Friends were in and out of your life, and you fully expected to be passed over by these boys. They were famous, they were idols. They were going onto bigger and better things, and despite your clumsy attempts to make something of yourself, you always felt like you could never really catch up.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your thoughts, and you tilt her head back slightly to peer up at Namjoon, who’s looking at you like he understands, “You’re not going to ruin anything. We invited you over and we couldn't be happier that you’re here, tears or not.” Murmurs of agreement from the other members follow his words, and you feel a hand lace their fingers with yours, “Maybe this is where you need to be, [Name]. With us.”