writingbytheday

[writingbytheday]

christmas memories

For my bae friend, Oli c:

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“My favorite what?” Noctis asked, nose wrinkling in distaste at the question.

“Your favorite Christmas memory.” Ignis repeated, matter-of-factly. Prompto was bouncing where he sat in black sweats and a black hoodie - everyone was wearing similar clothes. It was cold, since it was apparently Christmas Eve, and snowing outside to boot. Gladiolus had insisted they camp just once in the snow, so there they were. Prompto’s movements along with the hot chocolate he’d been drinking ensured he stayed warm. Gladiolus ever had his hoodie unzipped, claiming that being in the tent with so many people made it plenty warm. Ignis was in the same black pants and hoodie, and Noctis…

Well, Noctis was wearing it as well, under the three blankets wrapped around him so only his face and his small hands, clutching at a cup of warm coffee as though his life depended on it, were visible.

“I’ll go first!” Prompto volunteered from his seat on one of the sleeping bags. Ignis was the only one in a chair, one leg crossed properly over the other. Gladio was sitting directly on the floor portion of their tent, and Noctis was sitting on two sleeping bags. Not to mention on the blankets wrapped around him.

“So as you guys know my childhood wasn’t.. Always exactly the best.” He started, staring down at his empty mug of chocolate before looking back up, a huge grin on his face anyways. Of course they all knew that - Prompto had just shown up one day in Insomnia. He remembered his name, but that was all, so he’d automatically gone into their lower class. Food and housing and clothes were provided for him, but only gifts that were donated from upper class citizens were given as presents. Nothing specifically for him.

Until…

“But after I met Noct he invited me to the Palace for Christmas break.” He was back to bouncing slightly, knees jiggling as he sat. “It was so beautiful, lit up and decorated for Christmas, the food was amazing, and I got my first real presents that year.” He smiled proudly, looking each of them in the eye. “I remember what each of you gave me, too.” He said it like a challenge, and while Ignis was fully prepared to just believe him, Gladiolus scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“All right then, what did we get you?” He challenged, remembering this was about six or seven years ago. No way Prompto could remember all three of the gifts.

But the teen just smirked, eyes dancing as someone rose to the bait. “You got me a book. I thought it was unbelievable that you got me a book instead of Ignis - it was all about defensive techniques, since I’d told you I wanted to get stronger to be able to protect people.” It was no secret he’d wanted to be on the Crownsguard since he met Noctis, but everyone just let the word ‘people’ slide.

“Iggy got me a sweater. A really nice one, black, with the Lucian symbol on the back.” Ignis merely nodded as he sipped his tea. The gifts all had a theme - in the first year they’d known Prompto, and for every year since, it had been his dream to join them. Ignis was the Prince’s adviser from birth, Gladiolus came from a long line of Kings Shields, and he was no exception as the oldest in his family. But Prompto was just a friend who offered nothing, or so he felt.

“Noctis got me a BB gun, so we could practice aiming together,” Since that was what he’d been learning at the time, “and a hand-blown Chocobo. Along with that…” He grinned, Noctis already groaning, pressing his forehead to his knees. “A wooden chocobo figurine he’d whittled and painted himself°” He crooned, grinning. 

It had looked terrible. Noctis had been learning whittling at the time - not that he saw even the slightest use for it. But he’d bought the glass chocobo figure and wanted to use it as a model. “Of all the things I hope are fine in Insomnia, I hope that was destroyed.” He said to his lap, shaking his head but not denying the smirk that fell upon his lips.

By the time he looked up it was gone, but it didn’t matter, Prompto was smiling enough for the both of them. “Maybe.” The gunner suggested with a shrug. It was a lie, the Prince could tell from just the slightest glimmer in the blonde’s eye. Hopefully that wouldn’t come back to bite him later…

What he didn’t tell the Prince was it was in his backpack, right now, mere feet from all of them.

Ignis nodded. “You’ve spent every Christmas at the palace since then, if I recall. Well, until now.” He commented, taking another sip from his tea. He’d be needing coffee soon, if they really were going to stay up late enough to see if some sort of Santa Claus demon appeared. “Gladio, would you like to go next?” He asked. Maybe that would help him stay awake.

“Sure.” Gladio said, leaning back on his hands, palms flat against the ground. “I was twelve, so it was long before we met this pipsqueak.” His tone and visage denied his words as he jerked his head to Prompto, smiling with an affectionate in his eyes.

“My old man said I’d been doing so well with my sword, and practicing with me wooden Greatsword that he got me my first one.” The guardian commented easily, smiling. “Iris got me a new set of gloves for them, too. Since they were new, not broken in at all.” He commented, pulling his hands up and rubbing them as if remembering years of countless blisters as he broke in new handles.

“Oh yeah.” Noctis said, looking up. “I remember that Christmas.” He set his coffee mug next to him, letting his head and arms be exposed from the blankets for just a moment. “I got you a charm for the sword. Clarus wanted everything to be related to it. My pop gave you the matching shield.”

Gladiolus seemed to puff at the fact that Noctis remembered, but nodded nonetheless. “I still have that charm.” He said it almost like a threat, one foot kicking out to nudge at the well padded Prince. It was true though - he kept it on that Greatsword instead of transferring it to his more used ones now, just in case something happened. “It was a key, right?” He asked like he didn’t know, but Noctis knew for a fact the man remembered. He’d given Noctis a shield charm with a keyhole in it for his first Greatsword. 

“Yeah.” He answered anyways, one free arm reaching out to shoo away the prodding foot. He didn’t say it then, but Regis had always told him ‘that man is the most important man in all of Insomnia.’ Initially he would point at Clarus when he said it, but once Gladiolus was old enough to protect Noctis - tiny three-year-old Noctis - he would shift his finger to the Shield. There was a slew of reasons why, the king would go on and on, a new one each time. But it had stuck with Noctis, for the most part.

“I’m cold.” Prompto whined in the growing silence. There was a pause, then Noctis sighed and opened one side of the blankets, shifting so there was plenty for the other small man to join him. Promto did in an instant, wrapping the blankets around, so suddenly only their two faces were visible.

Gladiolus’s foot had retreated, and with everyone once more settled, the prince looked to Ignis. “What about you, Specks?”

Ignis pushed his glasses up subconsciously, before making a noise of thoughtfulness in the back of his throat. “Four years ago.” He commented easily. Noctis would have been twelve, and tilted his head curiously. Before anyone could ask though, the man continued.

“It was the first year we celebrated Christmas not only as advisor and prince, but as friends and comrades.” Was his easy explanation, looking mostly at Noctis, and then at Gladiolus too, before his gaze drifted to Prompto. It had been Prompto’s first Christmas at the Palace that year, and they’d been together for the first time like that, able to just enjoy one another’s company.

“After that Christmas I was suddenly involved in all your trouble making, and getting blamed twice as much as I used to.” He said indignantly, downing the last dregs of his tea and settling the mug on the ground.

Noctis gave a little chuckle, letting his head fall onto Prompto’s shoulder. “You always used to take the fall for me. Even when I was little.” He said it appreciatively, even if he didn’t thank the man, and Ignis merely replied with a ‘hm’ noise.

“What about you, Noctis? You’ve had plenty of nice Christmases.” Ignis moved the topic along, glancing at his watch. There was still fifteen minutes until midnight. 

The Prince shrugged, made difficult only by his closeness to Prompto and the fact that they were thoroughly burritoed into their blankets. “Sure, nice Christmases. I guess. I don’t have a favorite, though.” He seemed a little downtrodden, blue eyes tracking over to the small pile of presents they’d all gotten for each other.

“Why not? All too good, Prince Charming?” He tried to sound snarky as he said it, but the last two words sounded more truthful than anything.

Noctis glanced at him, almost curiously, before letting it go. “Regis was never around for any of them that I remember. He was always too busy. So… I’d say one with my mom, but they never intersect one with you guys.” He shrugged. “They’ve all been fine, but it’s just that. Fine. None of them really stand out.” Was his excuse.

A moment of silence pressed in around them, Prompto snaking his arms around the Prince’s middle and hugging him.

But then there was a noise. A sudden gust of wind that almost threatened to tear their tent from its stakes. Gladio was on his feet in an instant, looking around despite the darkness. The wind died after a moment, and the Shield relaxed with it. “Don’t worry. It’ll take more than just a little wind to bring this tent down.” He smirked, smug. But outside, the wind accepted the challenge.

It was only seconds later before the tent was ripped right up from the rock, a massive daemon there scooping up whatever he saw first - Noctis and Prompto, trapped in their blankets and unable to draw any weapons.

“Ah-!” “Hey!” Were their cries of indignance, Ignis and Gladiolus both on their feet, weapons drawn and turning towards the daemon. But he was already gone. Large though he may have been, he was also quick, disappearing into the night with the Prince and his Pauper.

Gladiolus stared into the night, making a slow circle to try and figure out which way to go. With no moon, they both turned on their flashlights, praying something would become obvious then.

“Shit.” Gladiolus muttered, Ignis reaching a hand down to grab the Shield’s, squeezing.

“What poor timing.” He grumbled, his free hand readjusting his glasses. “To think, we were planning on telling Noctis about us three tonight…” He muttered.

They hadn’t been together long, the three of them. Maybe three weeks now, keeping it from their Prince for plenty of reasons. The first, they all wanted him as well - but he was betrothed, so they only wanted to tell him when they could all three keep from blurting out their true feelings about the prince.

The second, Noctis was betrothed and not the most pleased about it. He and Luna were friends, and he’d seen the love his parents - another arranged married - had for each other. But he still avoided the topic at all costs, not wanting to rub it in their faces. But they would be setting sail for Altissia soon, and the Prince deserved to know everything before going to what would still hopefully be his wedding to seal.. Well, nothing. To seal the Oracle and the Astrals to the Kings of Lucis, at this point.

“There.” Gladiolus’s voice pulled him from his reverie, giving one last squeeze to their clasped hands before letting go, and running down to what he’d seen - a single broken tree branch. They carried on in that direction until they heard a noise, immediately turning towards it. It only took perhaps five minutes before they found a cave, both pausing outside for a moment.

“You okay?” Gladio asked, greatsword materializing in his hand.

“Does it matter?” Was Ignis’s reply, not waiting for an answer as he charged into the cavern, guns drawn, prepared to fight.

Gladiolus made a slight scoff at not being first in, and so followed soon after, diving deeper into the impending darkness. It didn’t take long to reach the main cavern, both spinning and looking for anything - the demon or their compatriots.

“Uhm, help?” A soft voice called from above. Both men immediately directed their flashlights up, where they could see Noctis and Prompto suspended upside down by what seemed to be spider webbing.

“Are you both all right?” Ignis called up first, one hand on Gladiolus’s arm to still the Shield from hunting down the demon.

“Yeah.” Where it had been Prompto’s voice before, now it was Noctis’s. “Just a little banged around.” They were both wrapped separately, blankets nowhere to be seen. And Ignis was thanking the Astrals that both had been wearing full sweatpants and sweatshirts. Spider webs could be vicious, especially at that size.

“Where is the demon?” Now it was Gladio’s time to ask, even as he moved to stand underneath the closest wrapped body - Prompto, it seemed. Ignis aimed carefully, pulling the trigger one, twice, thrice.

The web snapped and Prompto plummeted to the ground with a yell, despite landing safely in the Shield’s arms. “Thank the Six,” Prompto muttered, pressing a forehead to Gladio’s cheek gratefully even as he was deposited by Ignis’s feet. While Gladio walked to where Noctis was suspended, the other man put his pistol down and drew a dagger, working to cut Prompto from the web.

“I don’t know.” Was Noctis’s reply, watching them as best he could from above and upside-down. “He disappeared in that demon goo. He could be anywhere.” Meaning, of course, he could still be in there with them, waiting for his moment to strike.

“Iggy.” Gladio called once he was ready, arms open. Again it took three shots before the Prince fell, only making a strangled noise of surprise at the sudden fall.

“Princess.” Gladiolus greeted once he caught Noctis, smirking in response to the eye roll as he brought him back over to Ignis, letting the man cut the Prince out as well.

“Are you both okay? You’re sure?” Ignis asked as Gladiolus walked around the cave, trying to coerce the demon to come out. It didn’t answer, even as he yelled derogatory and challenging things to it.

“Yeah, we’re good.” They both said with a nod, pulling the webs off of their clothes.

“Nothing for it but to leave.” The Shield grumbled as he reappeared behind them, great sword propped back on his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll lead.” He said, beginning to trudge back uphill to fresh air. Ignis took up the rear, keeping an eye behind them as best he could as they went along.

It was only as they emerged back into what had almost become a blizzard that the monster - spider like in appearance, as suspected - materialized from the ground.

“Now we’re talking.” Gladiolus said, grinning as he got read, leading the charge at the demon. Prompto had paused, making sure Noctis wasn’t obviously looking, before grabbing Ignis’s face and kissing it, then darting into battle behind the Prince with a whoop of excitement.

Ignis blushed pleasantly, but carried on easily enough into the battle, first searching for weaknesses. “It dislikes fire!” He called to Noctis, who snorted in reply.

“Great, my thunder will come in handy. Iggy!” The first part was sarcastic, but then he ran to Ignis for a bit of fire to enchant his sword with. When their hands passed over each other’s, Noctis instead grabbed the man’s wrist. “I saw that.” Was all he said before continuing on. It wasn’t threatening or accusing, but it did come as enough of a shock that one of eight giant fuzzy legs managed to knock him down. 

By then Noctis was warped onto its back, hacking at it with the fire embedded sword as long as he could before the magic faded, jumping back off. “Noct, gimme your lance!” Prompto called, watching as the sword disappeared and was replaced by a lance. He tossed his gun to the Prince, grabbing the lance and thrusting forward. As soon as he pulled the lance out, three bullets went right into the hole it had left as Prompto came back around to trade back, high fiving Noctis as he did so.

“It’s halfway gone, keep pushing!” Gladiolus called his inspiration to the group, continuing his onward attack of press, press, dodge, press, press, dodge.

Noctis wanted this fight over with. Reaching into the Kings of Lucis, he pulled out his Armiger - his entire ensemble of Royal weapons swirling around him as he pressed a nonstop attack, only dodging when a leg or a pincher came his way. When it was done he fell to the ground, dropping immediately to his knees with a grunt. Taking a deep breath he was up, the whole team pressing in for the final attack until the monster finally dissolved into a pool of black blood.

“Well that was fun.” Gladiolus muttered, letting his greatsword disappear. No one could tell if he was serious or not, and so let the comment alone, Noctis slipping to his knees in the snow for just a second to catch his breath.

“Sure,” Prompto finally managed to respond. “Fun.” That was definite sarcasm, which the Shield only answered with a grin, before his eyes caught on the Prince.

“You all right?” He asked, taking a few steps towards Noctis in the growing blizzard.

Ignis - afraid of what his response might be - glanced momentarily at his watch before looking away once more. Three minutes until Christmas.

“Yeah, just…” Noctis started, settling back on his haunches despite the wet snow seeking purchase in his body heat. “What was that?” The Prince directed the question at Prompto, but Ignis knew precisely what he was asking.

“What was what?” Prompto asked in return, properly confused at to what Noctis was asking about.

“You kissed Specks right before the battle.” He said it so matter-of-factly, that for a long minute, no one knew what to say.  Prompto attempted a sentence, but it came out partial noises, so Ignis finally stepped forward with an apology written on his face.

“We were going to tell you tonight. But we’ve become a sort of… thing.” Ignis tried, a little at a loss for words, for perhaps the first time in his life.

“A couple? You and Prom?” He didn’t ask it unkindly, just verifying. Ignis opened his mouth to answer, but this time Gladio stepped forward.

“No. The three of us.”

Silence settled on the group as Noctis looked between them all. First at Gladio, then Prompto, then Ignis. Then back to Prompto, back to Gladiolus, as though waiting for them to deny it or call it a prank or something. When it never came he just shrugged, finally working his way to his feet, cautious of his knee.

“Oh. Cool.” Was all he said, glancing around. “Which way is camp?” He asked, Gladiolus nodding gently in the direction. Noctis turned and started walking, before pausing and turning back to his unmoved comrades. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Ignis spoke up before either of the other two could let their emotions get to them. “We didn’t want you to miss Luna anymore than you surely do. Didn’t want to rub a budding relationship in your face, so to speak.”

Noctis furrowed his brows, confused for a moment. “Iggy the treaty is dead. My father is dead, Insomnia is destroyed, and the world is falling into darkness and demons.” He said it all as though commenting on the poor weather they were having. “That wedding isn’t happening until the demons are gone, the darkness is stopped, and Insomnia is re-established. Maybe not even then.”

Ignis spoke again to tell him that was unwise to suggest, that the marriage might be just what they needed to end the plague of demons and darkness growing across the world, that so long as Luna was okay and still willing, this marriage needed to happen.

But before he could get out any of the words, Prompto gasped. “Really?! Because we really actually wanted you involved in this too!” Both Gladiolus and Ignis made a lunge, but neither got there in time, instead just taking Prompto down after he’d finished talking.

Noctis froze for a moment, hands clenching by his sides and then relaxing. All three were laying on the ground, staring up at their Prince, a mixtures of emotions on their faces.

“...What?” He finally asked, head tilting curiously.

“We, uh…” Gladiolus started, standing up. None of them could ignore a question from their Prince, even if he didn’t know how to act like one quite yet.

“We all sort of bonded. Over having feelings for you. But you’re off-limits, and then this…” He gestured down to the two on the ground, who were working on getting their feet as well.

“Off-limits?” Now Noctis sounded thoroughly frustrated, shaking his head. Ignis glanced once more at his pocketwatch. Two minutes to go.

“Why do you just arbitrarily decide I’m off-limits without talking to me? Last I checked, one of you advises me, one of you protects me, and one of you keeps me sane!” His voice was louder than usual, but still far from yelling as he took a step closer to them, almost dangerously.

“Okay. Then consider this us.. Talking to you. Perhaps a little late.” Ignis said, brushing snow off himself. “We all three have feelings for you that are, for all intents and purposes, inappropriate for an adviser, a protector, and a best friend to have for their betrothed prince.” Ignis started. “In discovering this and talking, we’ve found room in our hearts not only for our unrequited affection for you, but for each other as well.” He concluded eloquently, adjusting his glasses once more.

Noctis stayed silent, eyes boring into each of theirs as if he could see their thoughts, read into their souls.

“Do you have any input, Highness?” Gladiolus asked, addressing him properly for one of the few times he ever did. It made Noctis’ eyes snap back to his shield, but when met, all Gladio saw was a lost boy. “Oh, hell.” He muttered, reaching forward and grabbing Noctis, pulling him into a hug.

“Come here.” He grumbled, nodding to Ignis and Prompto to join in the little group hug as well. “Then she doesn’t get you.” Gladiolus muttered, leaning down and pressing a kiss into Noctis’s hair. “And we’re happy to claim you as ours.” He said, squeezing the Prince a little hard if his slightly choked noise was anything to go by.

Prompto weaseled his way in, under one of Gladiolus’s massive arms, grabbing Noctis by the front of his jacket and kissing him fervently. Only after pulling back did he grin. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Right back at you, Prom.” Noctis said, a gentle edge to his tone that he never had before.

“Well.” Ignis tried to be proper, but it didn’t work when the Prince hugged him around the middle. Pressing a kiss into the shaggy black hair, he pat the teen on the back. “Well then. Should we get back? Our tent might still be nearby. We can have Gladiolus fetch it for us. Plus we still have presents - why aren’t either of you wearing shoes?!” Ignis noticed for the first time, eyes wide.

“We kind of got kidnapped before we had a chance to put them on.” Prompto explained, hand in Noctis’s and clearly not intending to let go. Gladiolus moved in front of Noctis, squatting down and letting him jump on his back, Ignis doing the same for Prompto. The teens still didn’t let go of each other, so it only made sense for Gladio and Ignis to hold hands as well to keep them properly close. It didn’t prevent Ignis from glancing at his watch again.

“Oh. Merry Christmas, everyone.” He called to them, right at the stroke of midnight. As if on cue they heard bells above, both men stopping as all four looked to the sky. They couldn’t tell what it was, but something flew overhead, leaving them all standing there smiling for another few minutes.

“I guess this is my favorite Christmas then.” Noctis decided, letting his head rest against Gladio’s neck as he closed his eyes, fingers laced with Prompto’s as the two men carried their boyfriends back to camp.

[writingbytheday]

Baking

It wasn’t, necessarily, that Tony didn’t know his way around the kitchen. He could actually cook, really.

So long as ‘cooking’ constituted of scrambled eggs, coffee, or cereal. He could also make toast - after ‘fixing’ his toaster. Twice.

But today he felt like giving it a shot. With so many people living in the tower, there was suddenly a plethora of cookbooks, leaving him to wonder just how hard could it be? He hadn’t used the instructions on any of his projects since he was 8 years old. Surely making something as simple as ‘yellow cake’ and ‘chocolate buttercream frosting’ would be simple with instructions.

Oh how very wrong he was.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t know the difference between baking soda and baking powder. No, it went deeper than that - he didn’t know which pan to use, or how to mix it. He’d never even heard of a ‘sifter’ and had no idea what that did, and Friday could only get him so far.

All his measurements were clearly spot on - except for the fact when he didn’t really that a T (Tablespoon) and a t (teaspoon) were different things. 

It also didn’t bode well that he didn’t truly understand the mixer, and so ended up with batter... well... everywhere. Frosting too, although that was less of a complaint.

By the time Steve arrived from what looked to have been a particularly hard mission, given burned and bloodied uniform, there was at least a cake. Of sorts.

Although, it wasn’t in a cake pan, it was in a frying pan. And still a little lumpy. And the frosting was a very strange, very questionable consistency. Yet when he saw the cake, and the concerned look on Tony’s face, he couldn’t help but grab the pan and just start eating from it, hoping he could down enough of it that no one else had to suffer, and hoping he could make Tony smile.

It worked. He finished the entire cake, and was rewarding with not only a smiling and chattering Tony, but a kiss on the cheek. And really, a few cooked in eggshells and frosting where he’d clearly forgotten the sugar were worth even less than that.

[writingbytheday]

Bunny Destruction

“I’m going to take over the world.” Ben - Kylo - muttered decidedly, hands on his hips as he nodded his own agreement.

Hux flipped the page in his magazine, barely even looking up as he replied. “World domination? Isn’t that a little...overdone?” He questioned, voice filled with condescension at the idea of world domination, as though he had been there, done that.

Kylo scoffed, using his arms to move the wheelchair about, clearly bored in the waiting room. “I’m going to take over the world and wipe bunnies off the face of it.” He responded with a scowl.

Huh snorted at that, shaking his head, one eyebrow raising the slightest bit - although he still didn’t look up. “Saving a rabbit is exactly what got you here in the first place.”

Kylo’s scowl turned towards his friend this time, before melting into a pout. “It surprised me! I didn’t know what it was.”

“Ben Solo.” Called the nurse, raising an eyebrow at the two young adults before turning and beginning to walk down the hall. Kylo smirked as Hux finally put the magazine down, standing up and pushing the wheelchair.

“Fell of your damn bike swerving to avoid a rabbit.. broke your leg, I can’t believe you.” He grumbled beneath his breath, along with a few other expletives about how he didn’t want to be here and there were so many more productive things he could be doing.

Both of them know he didn’t want to be anywhere was here though, and that he’d be mad if anyone else were in his place. In fact, he seemed to take great pleasure in detailing Kylo’s idiotic swerve that landed him here in the first place, and even more pleasure when they were told it was broken.

“I suck at crutches.” Ben complained, trying to find anything to whine about and being quite successful at it.

“Well then we’ll keep you in the wheelchair.” Hux replied, matter-of-fact, almost managing to hide the smirk on his features. Almost.

“Shut up.” Was Kylo’s only response, moving the wheels of the chair to keep bumping his knee into Hux’s, no matter how the other tried to make him stop.

Riding a bike? Plenty of fun. Breaking his leg because he fell while swerving to save a bunny? Less fun. Six hours in the waiting room annoying an unwilling Hux? Completely worth the months he would be spending in the cast.

“Thanks, by the way.” Kylo said, finally settling with his knee just touching against Hux’s. Finally he looked up from the magazine again, muscles in his face working to stamp down the smile, but nothing he did could stop the pleasant twinkle in his eyes.

“Well. You’re not welcome. I hope your mother gives you hell for this.” He finally settled on, but put the magazine away for good, reaching out to tug a bit of Kylo’s hair affectionately.

Armitage didn’t bring the magazine back out, even when the cast was being put on. Ben stopped complaining about ridding the world of bunnies - though didn’t quite drop the world domination theory. All in all, it had been a successful day together. 

[writingbytheday]

Dessert

“Commander Dameron.”

Poe jumped up at the voice, having been just lounging, feet on the table and watching a mindless holo program. Or at least, a holo program was one - he was actually focused on the man sitting across from him. Finn was focused intently on an old puzzle, carefully matching pieces together as though it were a great game of strategy.

“General.” He greeted as he stood, understanding the beckon in her voice. Finn glanced up from his strategic battle against cardboard, glancing between the two long enough to realize this conversation didn’t involve him before looking back down to the indiscernible  image before him.

“How can I help ma’am?” Poe asked, running one hand self consciously through his hair as they went to corner of the room, out of earshot from anyone in there napping or relaxing.

“I just finished reading your last mission debrief.” She said with a disbelieving eyebrow risen, daring him to defend what he’d written.

Poe grinned a strange, loopy smile as he thought back to it, glancing at Finn before looking back to Leia. “Yeah. He’s pretty awesome, isn’t he.” It wasn’t phrased nearly as much as a question as he was hoping for.

Leia shocked her head, crossing her arms. “I need you to tell me what actually happened.” She commanded, frowning rather intently even as Poe came out of his moment, meeting her gaze with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t expect me to believe that...” Her voice had begun to raise but she caught herself, eyes darting around. No one had looked up, so she continued - in a whisper. “You can’t expect me to believe that Finn went up against six guys from the first order, hand to hand against their blasters, and took them all down.”

Poe chuckled a little, brown eyes drifting back to the figure, still hunched in thought over his puzzle. “He is pretty impressive.” The pilot commented, only jerking back to the task at hand when Leia reached out and pinched him.

“For the love of - you have got to tell him how you feel, or get over it.” She insisted, clearly beginning to lose her patience.

“I - what? But I don’t-” Poe tried to argue, but Leia put up a hand, her face contorting from General-command to more mother-command.

“Don’t think I don’t see it. The looks, the pining, Poe he gives your his dessert every day. It’s like.. it’s like children. Only you’re both fully grown and one of you needs to man up and tell the other.” She insisted.

“We both p-” Poe tried to ask, another grin slowly forming on his face, but Leia rose her hand again.

“But first tell me what really happened.”

Poe’s grinned settled into more of a proud look, hands gong to his hips as he shrugged one shoulder. “That was it General. You’ve seen him in hand-to-hand practice. Just...imagine that he’s holding back there, working hard to let them have a chance against him.” She stared at him in disbelief, as though it would make him crack and he would tell her what actually happened. There was no way that man, former trooper or not, sitting in a chair working on a puzzle took down that many people unarmed. Not the man who volunteered to help by making and giving stuffed animals to children of soldiers and orphans.

But Poe was pat her consolingly on the shoulder. “Maybe one day he’ll let you see that side.” He winked, turning back towards Finn. “For now, it’s my turn.” When he sauntered back he looked far more confident, standing across from Finn and putting his hands on either side of the table, easily flicking off the holo program.

Leia didn’t stick around to see what happened next, but just like every night, Finn still gave Poe his dessert.

[writingbytheday]

I’m Not There

( @hptasks | august 2016 | fred weasley + hogwarts )

There was a while there, after the Battle of Hogwarts, that people waited in Hogwarts for the ghosts to appear. Modern ghosts, recently made, with stories of fighting Voldemort and defending Hogwarts. Some of them stayed behind, ones who had reasons to.

But he wasn’t there, no matter how many many times people looked for him.

George felt betrayed, he knew, and yet on another level, relieved. It meant Fred was okay, that he didn’t have any unfinished business. What business would he have had?

Fred had lived a good life. He had a twin to experience everything, be everything for him and with him. He got the become a prank master, to live in infamy - if not in Hogwarts itself, then at least in Filch’s files, right up there with the Prewetts (his inspiring uncles) and the Marauders.

They got to leave Hogwarts in a spectacular fashion that was literally going down in history - in the rewrite of ‘Hogwarts: A History,’ they were including the patch of swamp that the teachers ‘couldn’t get out.’

He had made a company - one that survived, he knew. He had friends, played Quidditch, and lived every day making sure he laughed and smiled at least once, and giving that favor to at least one other person.

Most importantly, he’d lived - and died - fighting for what he believed in. Fred fought for the equality of wizards and witches, for muggles to be treated as they had been previously. Not as slaves, but as fellows in this world. He died next to his brother - reunited in the family.

Why would he come back as a ghost? 

What Sirius had said, that it was ‘quicker and easier than falling asleep’ wasn’t exactly true. Maybe for Harry, since it was only the horcrux in him dying, but there had been a flash of pain for him. It had hurt, not even as much as when he broke his arm on a bludger, but had still hurt. Then there had just been an excess of... nothing.

Lily was there first. Maybe he’d just known it was Lily, or maybe he knew there was no one else it could’ve been. Mum had been the one to take care of Harry, in the wizard world. Why wouldn’t it be Lily?

“Fred.” She’d breathed out, half in relief and half in apology, wrapping her arms around him. He could feel her. He could feel the hug, the comfort, the warmth of it - it was like hugging his own mum, and he knew she would take care of him.

James and Sirius had welcomed him as a brother, and even Cedric had been there, along with so many others they’d lost. When Remus and Tonks came, Fred got to be the first one to welcome her, Sirius and James swarming Remus. They felt the same - saddened, that they were no longer among the living, and yet a certain feeling of relief.

People came to Hogwarts and waited for them, and looked for them. George came every week for a year, and when little Teddy first got to Hogwarts, he asked about his parents immediately.

But just because no one could see them, just because they didn’t come back as ghosts, didn’t mean they weren’t there.

They were. They were there for the weddings, the celebrations, the heartaches, for the births of family members and what would have been grandkids or even great grandkids. Most importantly, they were there for the deaths - welcoming their family into comfort, into home.

Death could never stop family, could never stop love.

[writingbytheday]

Interview?

“Have you ever thought about being a tree?”

Steve froze in his drawing, eyebrows furrowing together as he replayed the question in his head. And one more time, just to be sure. Finally he looked over to the figure, hunched over a work desk, arms working tirelessly with who knew what.

“What?” Steve finally asked, because while he’d heard the question, he hadn’t understood it.

“A tree, Steve.” Tony let his stool turn to face Steve, pulling a welding mask up onto his head, waving around a (thankfully off) blow torch in one hand and a tiny screwdriver in the other. “You know, those big things outside, lots of green leaves.” He waved his arms as though emulating a tree, perhaps in the wind or maybe even sentient because branches certainly didn’t move like that.

“I know-” Steve started with a scoff, sitting up and crossing his arms deliberately. “I know what a tree is Tony. Are you high? Where did this question come from?”

They’d been sitting in silence for hours, the only noise Tony periodically playing music, or the television from the group watching something upstairs. Steve had started down here planning out their next few months of training, since it was the only place he could get work done. The living room was overrun with television shows, the kitchen with laughter and good conversation. None of those things were bad, unless someone needed to focus.

So Steve had come down to Tony’s workshop, sitting on a couch, planning the next few months. But when he’d finished, he hadn’t left, staying and just drawing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with the rest of the team. It was just that, 9 times out of 10, he would rather be with Tony.

“Well, you know.” Tony seemed to almost sag a little at the question, letting his arms fall into his lap. “It’s a question they ask in interviews sometimes. For jobs. Apparently it’s very telling.” He decided on as his reason, though didn’t push the question further as he turned back to his workbench, giving up on an answer about what kind of tree Steve would be. For now.

That meant he didn’t see Steve pause, considering what he knew about trees and what he knew about himself, trying to decide what kind of tree he would be. Did it matter?

An oak? Defender, strong, deep roots? Or maybe a pine? That didn’t feel right either. He turned to the page in his sketchbook, beginning to draw trees. He didn’t know the names of them all - they were just trees he’d seen, trees he’d remembered. Some of them he got the opportunity to see planted, and now could see how they grew up.

It was another twenty minutes before he stood up, walking over to stand behind Tony, reaching around him to plant one hand on the edge of the workspace. 

With the torch going, Tony hadn’t heard him approach, quickly turning off the tool and setting it down safely, popping his visor up and turning his stool back to Steve. He tried to not look so surprised when Steve was so close, instead smirking pleasantly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Cap.” He greeted with a risen eyebrow and curious incline of his head.

“What kind of tree would you be, Tony?” Just because Steve didn’t know what kind of tree he’d be didn’t mean he couldn’t figure out where Tony’s line of through had been going.

Tony grinned in reply, settling his elbows back and leaning back against the edge of the table, tilting his head curiously, brown eyes drifting towards a spot over Steve’s head in thought.

“I’m not sure, actually. Though I think, just given what I know about trees,” and he was careful not to admit how much or how little that was, “I’d be some sort of maple.”

Steve snorted, letting his chin drop to his chest as he shook his head a little. “A maple?” He asked for verification, looking up curiously, posture shifting so he was just a few inches away from Tony as the scientist nodded his final decision.

“All right. Then I guess, I’d be a maple too.” Steve settled on, before closing the distance between them, letting his lips fit to Tony’s as he free hand came up to cup lightly over the other man’s jaw.

Tony arched up in reply, a little ‘mph’ noise being all he made as his hand shifted to pull the slightly larger man closer. 

They broke apart far too soon for either of their likings, but Tony already had a comment ready, a rather pleased grin accompanying the pink tinge on his cheeks. “Is that what I get for asking ridiculous question?”

Steve chuckled a little at that, finally standing up, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him to be standing as well, though he just used the new position to press them flush together, still leaning back against the workbench. “Maybe. Might be a new hypothesis for you to test.” He teased in reply with a wink, before bringing their lips together once more.

[writingbytheday]

Soulmate Stormpilot

(OOC: In which you make your soulmate appear, but only for a few seconds)

At first glance, he thought the child was dead, curled up on the floor of the tiny room, eyes closed and fists clenched. Then he saw a tear track down his cheek and rushed forward, crouching down but afraid to touch him.

“Hey, kid…are you okay?” Poe asked, all of his meager 14 years of wisdom trying to show through the question, flight suit still on from where he’d been in a simulation. 

Brown eyes snapped open with a moment of fear, the boy sitting up and quickly scurrying away. His eyes darted around the room, as though verifying no one else was in there, but he seemed to relax into the idea of a stranger appearing in his room.

Poe had no idea that it was because the kid thought he wasn’t real, just a side effect of the torture he’d just received.

“They keep…” The child spoke softly, sniffling a little before continuing. “They keep hurting me. Because I keep helping Slip.” Was his answer. Poe’s face scrunched with concern, but he didn’t need to even ask where they were hurting him - the child pointed to his head. He seemed to realize he didn’t have any visible marks on him.

“Well hey kid, I don’t think helping someone who needs it is ever a bad thing.” Poe commented with a soft smile, finally reaching a hand out to touch the boy’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

The child seemed to brighten at the question, leaning into the touch - something he hadn’t felt in too long. “My squad calls me ei-”

But Poe was gone, sitting back in the seat of the ship, eyes wide as he realized what had happened.

“Dameron, are you okay?” The instructor poked his head in, worry written over his face, especially when he saw Poe’s face.

“I… I think I just met my soulmate.” He guessed.

Of course FN-2187 couldn’t tell anyone. Storm Troopers weren’t supposed to have soulmates, or even distractions. They were fed manufactured hormones, detailing exactly how they should grow, how they should feel.

FN-2187 didn’t have anyone to tell. 

Poe, on the other hand, told anyone who would (or wouldn’t) listen.

“He had these gorgeous brown eyes…” “He looked really, young, but I’m not sure…” “His skin was the same color as mom’s favorite dress…” “He smiled at me, and it just felt right…” until the day someone asked him what the boy’s name was, or where he was.

Poe know nothing about this boy, except he’d been younger than Poe, with dark skin and darker eyes. Not where he was, not his name, not his age - not even what system he lived in. He kept his mouth shut after that, but never forgot about the crying boy, never forgot why he was crying.

Instead, he was determined that when he inevitably summoned the boy back, he would find out his name and how to find him.

FN-2187 never forgot the advice of the stranger in his room, the nice guy who had touched him and said helping people was always worth it. His hair had been brown and curly, and his eyes just seemed so.. kind. Something 87 wasn’t used to.

But he kept saving Slip, time after time after time. Which was good, in the end - because then when FN-2187 couldn’t kill an innocent, Slip stepped in and did it for him. No one ever found out.

FN-2187 had just left a mission debrief, and was walking back to his quarters - shared with three others - when it happened. Suddenly his senses were overloaded with flashing lights and sirens, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe.

Where was he? How did he get here?

They were in a battle, in a ship, blaster shots firing everywhere, and the pilot - the pilot was unconscious, or worse. 

“Shit!” FN-2187 cursed, looking around frantically, pulling off his Storm Trooper helmet in hopes it would make things clearer. “Hello, are you okay?!” No answer, and 87 was beginning to notice blood leaking out from inside the helmet.

“Shit shit shit,” he muttered, maneuvering himself so he could see the controls, fingers itching over them carefully, ignoring the droid panicking outside. Wait, couldn’t droids do this?

“Eject him!” FN-2187 called, looking out at the strange orange and white droid - then again, he didn’t get to see droids very often at all. They were all strange to him.

It beeped something that 87 had no chance of understanding, screaming in rage as he realized he had maybe seconds left to save this man’s life - if he wasn’t already dead, something FN-2187 was just going to be optimistic about and assume he was alive.

Finally he saw a tiny tab that said ‘eject,’ reaching out and pulling with all his strength -

and falling backwards onto the hallway he’d been walking in a few seconds ago. 

Had it worked? Had he ejected the pilot’s survival pod to the nearest planet? Was he alive? Or had he already been dead?

There wasn’t much else to do for it except stand up, keep walking to his room, and figure out how to tell Phasma he lost his helmet.

“What do you mean you found a storm trooper helmet in the wreckage?” Poe questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked between Pava to General Organa.

“We were assuming you could tell us.” Leia tried, with an easy shrug.

“Or even tell us how BB-8 activated the eject. He was locked out, systems destroyed..you were unconscious.” Pava said, hands opened in what she hoped was a calming manner, since Poe - still on bedrest - wasn’t exactly supposed to let himself get worked up.

Poe looked angry for a moment, but then it faded into confusion, settling finally in frustration as he reached a hand up to his bandaged head. “I don’t..” He seemed as a loss for words, until a familiar whirring and beeping came in.

“What?” He asked BB-8, who repeated the series of beeps. “I - what?!” He seemed more flustered to anything then, finally flopping back down onto the bed. “Well that’s… something.”

“What?” Pava asked, Leia turning to the now wide-eyed Poe for answers.

“Apparently..” He waved a and vaguely through the air. “Apparently I summoned my soulmate. And he’s..” Another gesture in the air over his head, though this time with both hands. “A storm trooper. My soulmate is a storm trooper.”

The child crying made more sense now, as did being punished for helping. But how could he find him? He had no contact with Storm Troopers.

“Did you get a good look at him BB?” Poe asked, rolling slightly to look down at the droid, who made a sad noise and looked down in disappointment at itself.

“That’s okay buddy.” Assured Poe, though he was already planning on taking every mission that got him anywhere close to the First Order. It didn’t take long for him to become known as the Resistance’s most daring pilot.

“Can you fly a TIE Fighter?”

So, not with the Resistance, dark skin and darker eyes… though of course he’d grown a lot since then. “I can fly anything. Why? Why are you helping me?” Poe answered, half-distracted with his general wondering of could this be him.

There was something in the Storm Trooper’s eyes before he answered, wondering the same thing as Poe was. After all, his soulmate was a pilot - though he didn’t know for who.

Their chemistry was strong and their connection instant, and it didn’t take long for Poe to really start thinking this might be him. Until his name.

“FN-what?” No. The child’s name had started with an ‘a’ noise. Unless FN-whatever’s squad called him differently.

“That’s the only name they ever gave me.”

Finn had even less doubts than that as they flew together, celebrating each other’s victories. After all, the man had curly brown hair, warm brown eyes that screamed of kindness, and a similar nose to the young teenager who’d shown up in his room so many years ago.

It wasn’t until they thought each other dead that they really started thinking it. Poe realized his full name - FN-2187. Why wouldn’t his squad call him something shortened, like eight-seven? After all, apparently there had been someone called Slip.

Finn was just sure of it because of some many other things, especially when he saw the droid. BB-8 didn’t recognize him, but Finn asked if there were any other droids that looked like him. Ray translated that his answer was no, he was one-of-a-kind. 

It could have been a different droid. Could have been a different ship, a different man. But Finn’s heart was telling him it had been Poe, and now Poe was gone.

Until D’Qar.

Not even 3 rathtars could have stopped him in that moment as he ran across the landing deck. “Poe.” He said it, said it like he suddenly knew, like he’d found something he’d been missing all his life. “Poe Dameron!”

They collided, arms tight and faces in necks, as though just that would be enough to make it true, but they both started talking at once.

“You were the one in my room-”

“You helped Slip-”

“I can’t believe you survived-”

“You’re the one who saved me-”

“I had no idea it worked,”

“I was so scared you were dead.” Were both of their final statements, faces having pulled back enough to lock brown eyes onto brown. It wasn’t clear which time they were talking about - when Finn ejected Poe a few years ago, or just a few days ago when they’d lost each other. 

All that mattered was that they had each other now, lips crashing together in what was a very relieved and possibly overexcited first kiss of many.

[writingbytheday]

Road Trip?

“Well.” Sirius grumbled, irritably as he crossed his arms over his chest, one foot on the dashboard, knee practically to his chin with the terrible posture he was in. “We’re out of gas. Now what’s your plan?”

The grey eyes and ruthless question were directed at none other than James Potter, who’s eyes were wide in fear, knuckles white in a panic that had lasted them all of 7 hours. Sirius had been surly from the get go, and his mood darkened the further they got from London.

“The fuck are we, anyways?” He questioned, after silence from James gave no answer. Sirius finally shifted to sit up, dropping his foot back onto the floorboard as he pressed one cheek against the window, trying to see if there was anything particularly familiar. He remembered passing the Scotland sign, but much passed that was a blur of ‘Why are we in fucking Scotland, James?’

Eight hours ago everything was fine. They were on winter hols in their seventh year, spending Christmas with the Potters. James had gone out and had his gift exchange with Lils, and when he came back was a nauseated color, eyes wide and pupils dilated in a panic.

Sirius had been writing a letter when he’d arrived, and probably cracked some terrible joke but now he couldn’t remember what it was for the life of him, but James stormed out, after a rather unexpected scream. He’d jumped in the car, and Sirius had jumped in right after him - a panicked and scared James in a car was always cause for concern.

That was eight hours ago. Sirius could only pray that now that they were literally out of ‘running away,’ he would calm down and talk.

Sirius kept alternating between being furious - he hadn’t even opened his presents, and had left a rather important half-finished letter to Moony behind - and being extremely concerned. But he knew James, better than anyone - knew he would talk.

It took another five minutes of silence, grey eyes moving from his nails to James to their surrounding, to a scuff on his boots and then back to his nails. But finally, James talked.

“I uh…” Was his poetic beginning, but it didn’t matter, as Sirius’s features softened, eyes fully focused on his best mate in front of him. He didn’t even suggest what he’d initially been worried about - that she’d dumped him. But if that were the case, eh really would’ve known. Not to mention they’d have just made it to the closest bar and gotten pissed if she had.

But he didn’t talk, waiting for James to continue.

“I proposed to Lily.” His voice cracked on her name, and he managed to avoid Sirius’s jaw dropping.

There were two beats of silence before Sirius grinned, smacking James’s arm and cheering. “That’s great, mate! What’d she say?”

Brown eyes darted to Sirius, and then to his hands in his lap, fiddling with the car key, unable to watch as realization dawned on Sirius’s face.

“You didn’t - …you didn’t stick around?!” Hands went into his hair as he fought down some strange maniacal laughter, because really this was hilarious. In hindsight. Which is wasn’t in hindsight yet, so he needs to continue seeming sane for the moment.

“Wha…why…” Sirius couldn’t even form the questions he needed, lips curling up at the ends, glad Prongs wasn’t looking this way because this was fucking mental.

“I don’t…I didn’t mean to!” James insisted, eyes getting the deer in headlights look again as he took in a shuddering breath. “It just.. it just came out!”

Sirius’s smiles died as he shook his head. He waited another moment, for James to catch another breath, before shifting over the console and quite honestly sitting on James’s lap. “Prongsie, proposals don’t just ‘come out.’ You’ve been in love with Lils since she dumped treacle tart in your lap first year.” Sirius assured him, arms going around his best friend’s neck. All the better to make sure he couldn’t run.

“Maybe he didn’t plan to ask her right then, but you can’t honestly tell me you weren’t planning on proposing eventually, right?” Sirius finished, relieved when brown eyes - much less deer-like and more James-like - finally met his own.

“Well I…. well, yeah.” He finally admitted, softly.

Sirius nodded, grinning broadly as he smacked James on the back. “Good man! So go back there and man up, find out her answer, and maybe plan a nicer dinner and speech for when you give her the ring.” There. That was settled.

“Now. We’re somewhere in Scotland, and we need to get home, and we’re out of gas. Can’t use magic, we’re not under supervision of your parents. What do we do?” Problems. James could focus on problems like this, think he way through them, and it gave his subconscious an opportunity to work through his real ‘problem’ - panic at proposing to Lily and running out.

Eventually they realized they were on such an out-of-the-way road that Sirius had to turn into Padfoot, running to the nearest home and - politely and with a grin that had the two daughters and mother fawning over him - borrowed their phone. First he called a cab - James needed to get back to Lily and hear her answer. It would, in theory, be expensive - but surely someone would use a charm or just shove a wad of cash that was probably much too much at him. None of them really understood muggle money too well.

The second call was to the Lupin residence.

“Hi Mrs. Lupin, can I talk to Re? …Yeah this is a number in Scotland. Thank you.” He said politely, and then wisely held the phone away from his ear for at least a solid two minutes.

Mostly he got ‘where the bloody fucks have you idiots been,’ ‘eight bleeding hours you’ve been gone, up without a trace and taking the Potters car,’ ‘furious he is, but not as much as me!’ ‘I’m going to kill you Pads,’ and ‘Lils is going to throttle James.’

Finally he stopped seething, and Sirius replaced the phone back at his ear. “Long story Re, but can you do me a…” He trailed off as Remus began yelling about how he’d better tell it really quickly then.

Remus could be many things - most of them tolerable and not exactly frightening. Even in werewolf form, so long as Sirius was in dog form, he wasn’t afraid of him. But when Remus got concerned and overprotective, especially for prolonged periods of time, he worked himself up into fits.

“Re, it’s…” Sirius tried to start, and then just sighed and kicked the toe of one boot on the ground. “Look, can you.. I don’t know. Bring gas? Or my motorbike? Or a broom?” Of course they could apparate - but not without permission and a chaperone.

“Fuck you, Sirius. And you know I hate flying.” Remus responded, but there was no longer nearly as much heat in his voice.

Sirius didn’t answer, knowing that well and truly his best bet right now was to keep his mouth shut.

A sigh of surrender was his reward, and Sirius could see in his mind’s eye his rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, fine. I’ll floo up there and bring a broom.” He grumbled, hanging up the phone without another word.

So Sirius made it back to the car and waited there, napping in the backseat while James got in the taxi and left. After all, they couldn’t just leave Mr. Potter’s car behind.

There was a sudden rapping of knuckles on the window and Sirius was up, jerking awake and managing to only smash one elbow into something, opening the door and all but falling out of the car in a heap. Remus was trying to look stern, but it crumbled the moment Sirius was on his feet.

Instead he threw his arms around the slightly shorted boy, face pressing down into Sirius’s neck and just breathing him in. The full moon had been less than a week ago - he was still a little more wolf than normal. “I was so worried, you git.” He mumbled out against the skin of Sirius’s neck.

Sirius chuckled, but returned the hug with just as much fervor, relishing in the feel of being back where he should have been about six hours ago. “It was just eight hours, you sap.”

Remus didn’t even care, just grinning as he nipped at the soft spot of Sirius’s neck, until he was swatted away.

“Hey, hey, come on. We’ve gotta get back, gotta go celebrate James and Lils getting engaged!” Sirius chirruped, moving to pick up the canister of gas Remus had brought. Remus’s face dropped and eyes widened.

“They - they what?”

“Oh - bollocks - I mean - surprise?” Sirius tried, cringing a little. “That’s kind of, I mean,” he gestured with one hand to the car, and to the ‘Scotland’ around them, before just shaking his head and beginning to pour the gas into the car. “I’ll tell you on the drive back.”

“Well we - we can’t announce our relationship today.” Remus said forlornly, leaning heavily against the car as a thoughtful look passed over his face.

Sirius snorted in return, kicking one foot up to gently tap on Remus’s calf.

“On the contrary, Moons. We’ve been secret as long as they’ve been actually dating. I think this is the perfect day.” Was Sirius’s answer, beginning to pack the broom and now empty gas canister in the car with a grin, and the comfort that this would definitely be the best Christmas of his life - so far.

[writingbytheday]

When Stealing Placards

To be entirely fair, he wasn’t supposed to steal the crown jewels of the British Empire, which the placard said were the most precious and symbolic things on the planet.

He only knew that because he was supposed to steal the placard.

No jewels. Only the placard.

Clearly it hadn’t worked out quite according to plan, because here he was, suddenly the most wanted man on this side of the galaxy, with a meaningless clue and some rather large gems.

“Well shit Pooks. What do we do now?” He muttered, one and idly rubbing over dull brown hair as a cat seemed to materialize from the hood of his jacket. With a soft mewl of nonchalance, he tucked back down into the hood again, ignoring the perils of his human.

He’d gotten away - of course he’d gotten away. But he was trying to become a member of an elite guild of thieves, one with a very tricky initiation process that included stealing a multitude of precious and boring things. Not like the most precious and symbolic things on the planet, but their placard.

But not the placard of the Constitution of what was once called the United States of America - no, they wanted the real Constitution. There was always a clue about the next mark on what they stole, too - hence how he was led to the placard. But all it said on the back was one word - ‘UP.’

“The fuck does it even mean?” He grumbled, brown eyes shifting up, making sure no one was breaking the pattern of movement around him. No one was searching for him. No one knew what he looked like - none of the cameras had caught anything other than the fact that he seemed to be a very generic human male.

“What does what mean?” Asked a voice behind him. He spun, taking a quick step away from the intruder in his private (publicly voiced) thoughts, muttering a quick ‘nothing’ before he’d even had a chance to look over the new person.

While he looked like he worked on engines all day (who was to say he didn’t?), from his dirty orange pants and white t-shirt to the perfect smudge of grease on his cheek, this other man looked impeccable.

“I’m quite good at puzzles.” The man said, taking a careful step forward. He wore crisp black pants, a blue shirt and a grey sports coat. His clothe screamed money, but it was more than that. He had bits of coal on his fingertips, his watch was nothing but gears turning - not even hands. He had a chain leading to what was either a pocket watch - two timepieces? - or a wallet - and this man didn’t look like he needed to carry a wallet.

“I, uh..” The thief stuttered eloquently, trying to not get distracted by green eyes and sandy hair, cut close except for the part on top which was slicked back. “It’s.. nothing.” He finished lamely, shoving the placard into his back pocket, one gloved hand idly checking a pocket on his belt to feeling nothing but relief when he felt the weight of the jewels.

What kind of a thief would he be if he could get pick pocketed so easily?

“Well, if you’d like, I can help you try and decipher it over a coffee.” The man spoke eloquently, words in a crisp accent that drew the thief in.

“I don’t…” He tried, but again, words failed him in the presence of this man. But he shook his head, straightening himself and pulling his shoulders back, trying to recover any ounce of dominance in the conversation. “I don’t need help, thanks.”

“Hm.” The man seemed almost thoughtful for a moment, but something more playful glinted in his eyes. “Tea, then? Or perhaps a hot chocolate is more your style. Come along then, my newfound pauper.”

The thief made to interject that he certainly wasn’t poor, but decided against it - as a thief, your molded yourself to what people assumed. Even just one of the gems was more than enough to buy a planet. If asked why he followed the man, he certainly wouldn’t have an answer - but being seen with someone else made him less suspicious. Thieves only had shady friends, or so authorities thought.

“My name is Caleb, by the way.” The gentleman continued, unbothered by the silence from his newfound companion. “Do you have one as well, or should I just keep calling you Pauper?” The smirk pulling at his lips tugged at the thief’s heart in the same ways, even as he sneered in response.

“Romulus.” He answered, the lie a well-practiced one as he forced his stomach back into it’s rightful place once it finish its few hops in response to Caleb’s smile.

“Well then Romulus, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He couldn’t have known it then, not really, but it was all tied together. The gems, the placard, Caleb, and most of all, the rest of his life.

[writingbytheday]

Seven sets of eyes were staring at him, silence broken only as Rey started laughing uncontrollably, finding she had to turn away from the group. Poe leveled them all with a look, brows furrowing curiously as he looked around at the now six sets of eyes.

“What...?” He started, turning immediately to Jess for help, but she wasn’t far behind Rey in having to turn away to try and stifle her noises. Snap was looking at him like he’d grown two heads, but even Luke - jedi master that he was - was trying to cover a smile.

What had he said? Sometimes he spoke without even thinking, without even realizing what he might have been saying. Leia was half-glaring at him, though something like amusement even twinkled in her eyes. Only Finn looked entirely baffled, brows furrowed to match Poe’s own confusion.

The pilot tried to remember what had come out of his mouth only seconds ago. Leia had been telling Finn and Rey was they would be doing, Pava and Wexley to cover from the sky for their drop zone, and Poe to cover Finn’s rear as he went in. 

Oh.

And then Poe had said, “I’ll do more than just cover his rear.”

As he realized it, a look of horror passed over his features, mouth opening in surprise and brown eyes wide as he looked form Leia back to Finn, to Leia once more.

“Excuse me, Commander Dameron? Is there something you’d like to share?” She questioned, and Poe didn’t think it was his imagination that when she crossed her arms, Luke and Rey both just started laughing harder. Jedis.

He tried to find a convenient excuse, as Jess managed to compose herself enough to turn back, though her face was red and her eyes brimmed with tears.

Traitors, the lot of them.

“No, ma’am.” Poe could feel his cheeks burning as he cleared his throat, passing a hand over his face and wishing he could just wipe the shame away as easily. Maybe Finn wouldn’t know what it meant. Well, that wouldn’t be a stretch - what was a stretch was the thought that no one would tell him.

Leia seemed to consider him thoughtfully for a moment, before her arms became uncrossed. “Good.” Then she turned back to the plan, detailing how it would just be Rey, Finn, and Poe on mission once Pava and Wexley saw them there safely. Poe tuned it back down, too busy watching Finn for any sign of discomfort or even realizing at what he’d said.

But Finn just turned back to the General, either not understanding or not caring, and Poe let out a temporary sigh of relief.

It didn’t get brought up again, and Poe thanked his lucky stars that no one seemed to have explained it to Finn. Or so he thought.

It was the middle of a battle, which was a combination of the worst or possibly the best time to do it, Rey wielding her lightsaber like it was nothing, Poe calling that he’d go in if Finn would cover him.

It had been a solid plan, until Finn had grinned that astoundingly attractive grin at him, and even winked as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll do more than just cover your rear.” Luckily it seemed he anticipated Poe suddenly losing feeling in all his extremities and slumping against the rock they were hiding behind, because Finn went in instead, knowing Poe would cover him.

No other discussion had been needed. No one back at the base needed clarification. When they came back, they just were, and no one even looked twice. 

[writingbytheday]

Touch

It wasn’t so much that he particularly disliked being touched. It was just that he felt it all, and all too much.

When he was younger, it was sticks and dulled blades. Training every day was difficult, but it was worth it. There would be a periodic slap on the back of a job well done, though more often it was a hand reaching down to right him. After the feeling of the wood, he didn’t know how to take it.

When she was younger, there wasn’t much touch. Her mother passed, and with her all the hugs she was promised before even entering the world. It wasn’t that her father didn’t want to hug her - he just didn’t always have time. Running a land was tiring, who had time for a daughter? 

As he grew up, the touches became more painful, harder, and never with a congratulatory pat or a hand to help him up. He couldn’t fall anymore - so all he got were balled fists, wood, the sand as he smashed down into it. The touch of the sun was the closest thing he had to relief, even as it reddened and darkened his skin.

As she grew up, the touches became less and less frequent. Even when he came, she was careful not to touch him, just as careful as he was not to speak to her. Maybe he couldn’t speak - but in her mind, she couldn’t be touched. No one ever did. The next time was her guardian, snatching her onto a horse and racing into the night. Even those touches were tinged with pain from the panic and fear, the need to get the princess to safety. 

When the revolution happened, he had no idea what it would mean for him - until they brought her. “We need a vessel.” They said, and her blue eyes met his own grey. He didn’t know what that meant, what he would have to do to be a vessel, but it was simple. A few muttered words and a hand passing over their faces. When he woke up, he felt too big for his skin - there was another person in there with him. 

It was uncomfortable, being two people inside of one. She cherished every touch - from the burning skin to the dulled blades, from kids pushing them down because suddenly he looked different. Somehow his eyes turned red, his hair blonde, his shape more feminine. She cherished every violent touch like it was as sweet as a lover’s kiss, but he shied away from every one.

He got too good. Nothing ever touched him - the sun he kept away with layers of clothes, he was faster than the kids and the adults, and even faster than their sticks and knives. His training was complete - now he had a mission. The only thing he left touch him now were the shadows he wrapped around him, comfortable in their spaces devoid of anything.

Then there was him. The first two times, he didn’t come close. But the third time he tried, reaching a hand - he saw it, one finger touching the tiniest bit of cloth before he was gone, breathing deeply to try and calm himself, wrapping himself in the familiar darkness.

She was straining, holding him a little more each time, letting him get a little closer every time. But he was afraid of what would happened when the silent boy touched him. Afraid of wanting it too much, of this combination of pain association with touch and only longing for touch leading to a disastrous consequence that would destroy him. He couldn’t be weak, especially not now.

But finally he was caught. One half of him frozen, the other unable to find a shadow close enough to wrap himself in. The boy was silent as ever, and almost hesitant in his approach, as though he could read every emotion in those red eyes. A warning and a plea all in once, a painful past and one without touch.

But the hand was gentle. First it just picked up a stray bit of blonde hair, rubbing it between his fingers. His hand just softly moved it back, tucking it back up to where it went - a thumb brushing against the top of his cheek, and that was all it took to unravel both of their worlds.