#I am all over the place right now and I CANNOT wrangle my stupid little brain meat right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraculouscontent · 3 years

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Kagami and Marinette deserve so much better.

Anyway, let’s just start literally where this episode starts, because it makes no sense. Remember back in my “Truth” critique where I basically said that the episode seemed like it’d been shoved through multiple drafts and no one checked the final one?

Same applies here.

Like--okay, ”Truth” and “Lies” take place at roughly the same time, which means that the same filler akuma/sentimonsters appear to interrupt Adrimi’s moments just as they did with Lukanette’s, giving its audience a clear timeline of how the episodes line up. The reason this is important is because the writers can’t even keep consistency within singular episodes and then honestly thought that they could do it within two.

“Lies” begins with Marinette talking to Tikki about the grimoire, because apparently she has the non-translated version and there’s a secret to figuring out the code that Tikki believes Marinette will discover eventually.

...Alright, I’m derailing here but I have to add how absolutely stupid Fu was when dealing with translating the grimoire. He was supposed to teach Marinette how to be guardian, yet he didn’t teach her how to read the grimoire (if there’s supposedly a “secret” to it, is he really going to bank on Marinette figuring it out herself eventually instead of just giving it to her and avoid the risk altogether??), kept the translated pages on his tablet without sending them to Marinette as he deciphered them, and took time to write a letter to her in “Miracle Queen” but left no guardian-centric advice for her to work off of, meaning that Tikki had to explain how the Miracle Box worked to Marinette back in “Truth.”

The show goes out of its way constantly to turn everything against Marinette even if it makes all the characters around her look either incompetent or cruel. It’s not that I’m not used to this by now but it’s just infuriating that it keeps trying to raise the stakes and tension when Marinette made such a tiny mistake to cause the issue in the first place, and now we find out that Fu had no back-up plan or strategy, apparently expecting this 14-year-old girl to act perfectly and cover for him.

And of course, instead of leaving the scene off on Marinette being encouraged by Tikki and Marinette showing confidence in herself (i.e: what would’ve been a nice scene), the kwami accidentally fumble with the keyboard in such a way to have Marinette’s computer bring up a news story about Adrien, which leads to Marinette leaning towards her computer and sighing over Adrien and his “amazing life.”

Can I just point out how annoying it is that all the Adrienette moments so far on Marinette’s end have been forced, not just in general (because we’re used to that), but literally forced by the plot so Marinette would talk about him or other characters would bring Adrien up?

“Truth” had Alya insult Marinette to her face over her Adrien crush because Marinette was freaking over something non-Adrien related that they couldn’t have known about, Luka was sent a no-context picture of Marinette’s Adrien wall which led to him lowkey teasing her about it, and then Truth was forced to listen to Marinette’s friends and Tom babble about Marinette’s supposed crush on Adrien even when Truth points out that it’s not a secret, making the “joke” fall absolutely flat.

And now “Lies” comes along and has the kwami drop things and step on the keyboard in the exact way to pull up Adrien stuff for Marinette to fawn over. It’s at this point I’m realizing that - had the kwami stayed inside the box or just not been around in general - Marinette literally wouldn’t have brought up Adrien at all in either “Truth” or “Lies” and now I’m sad. I really don’t want to have a counter for “episodes where Marinette wouldn’t have so much as breathed Adrien’s name if the kwami/someone else wasn’t there to force it.”

So yeah, the episode had to force Adrienette into its Adrimi episode because the show can’t go five minutes without reminding the audience that Adrien exists even though this episode is primarily from his point of view, made worse by this scene’s lack of ability to exist.

See, from the timeline in “Lies” lining up with “Truth,” there is no possible way for this opening scene with Marinette talking about guardian stuff and then fawning over Adrien to happen. There’s an akuma scene in “Lies” that literally is just copy-pasted from “Truth” (it actually does this again with another scene later but that’s not important right now), so that means anything that takes place before said scene in both “Truth” and “Lies” have to line up.

Except they can’t. The akuma scene in question interrupts Marinette’s movie date with Luka in “Truth,” and before that, she had just opened the Miracle Box, wrangled up the kwami, talked to the girl squad over video call, talked to Luka, and then immediately had to leave. There are no cuts or wiggle room anywhere in there.

Therefore, the scene in “Lies” is impossible. Either the scene is supposed to go elsewhere in the episode (we don’t actually know how many days it takes up so it’s hard to say on that front) which just makes the episode even more convoluted, or this means that one would have to pick between the scene in “Truth” and the scene in “Lies” because they literally cannot co-exist.

“Lies” was supposed to coincide with “Truth” and they messed it up in the first scene of the episode.

Then comes Adrien himself, who really shows the series’ clunkiness in focusing on other characters. It’s not that I’m against the show moving away from Marinette to show other people’s point-of-view (I definitely didn’t complain during the Couffaine sibling scene in “Reflekdoll”), but Adrien cannot carry his own episode.

In Marinette’s opening scene, we immediately got details on the grimoire and lore about how reading it actually worked. I didn’t like it and it wasn’t good, but it was new information.

Adrien, meanwhile, spends a large portion of the episode being sad (a very grand and unique plot, my dudes) and giving us information we already know. “Truth” has to come first because “Lies” is half of a follow-up on it, meaning that the audience is already aware that Ladybug has been forgetful and has had to miss out on patrols. It’s just that now we get to see Chat Noir sulking about it and--okay, I am just going to go off, alright?

Firstly, Chat Noir tells Ladybug later on that he “understands” her guardian duties, but he previously mocked her behind her back by using air quotes when he was talking to her answering machine (since she obviously wouldn’t see that). We saw in “Truth” where he admitted that he doesn’t mind her being guardian “as long as it doesn’t change their relationship,” and that’s on display right here with his comments.

Not only is it extremely disrespectful, but for someone who claims to be so loyal and understanding to Ladybug, he sure doesn’t show it.

Secondly, he leaves her a message about how he’ll take care of patrol, then proceeds to slack off because she’s not there to keep him in check. He sulks around Paris, mumbling about how Ladybug isn’t around and constantly checking his messages to see if she’s replied to him. Chat Noir has shown his “priorities” in terms of heroism before, but patrol isn’t supposed to be about getting time with “““his lady”““ yet that is clearly all he cares about. He even ends the patrol unprompted, either giving up or just generally having not finished, because I don’t believe that the “end” of patrol just happened to be at the place Kagami was.

Patrol is about protecting Paris and scoping things out. Ladybug is trusting him to pick up the slack when she’s not around and he should be picking up slack, yet he has completely failed on that front. This is made worse when considering that the Season 3 finale had Ladybug breaking down to him from guilt and we know that Marinette had a breakdown before that to Luka, yet Chat is doing nothing to lighten Ladybug’s burden, putting up a falsehood on Ladybug’s answering machine to make him look better than he actually is.

Then, thirdly and most importantly/infuriatingly, Chat Noir knows that Ladybug is busy and he knows that she’s taking on a new responsibility, yet he not only jabs at her for “how hurtful it is when she leaves him to patrol alone” (one, cry me a river, and two, I don’t care if it’s a joke, it’s insensitive), but before that scene, he was actively hoping for people to get akumatized so Ladybug would be forced to show up and he could spend time with her. He egged Xavier Ramier on, even asking him if he “missed being Mister Pigeon,” and then looked on with glee as Chloe bullied Sabrina because he thought that an akumatization might happen.

And this is on top of so many other issues with this whole scene. Adrien complains all the time about his schedule and how restrictive his father is, but suddenly - in the episode right after Marinette had to break up with her boyfriend due to her cramped schedule - is lounging around and wasting time. It hurts to see Marinette suffering from all of her responsibilities while Chat’s biggest problem is how little time he gets with Ladybug.

Also, another point on Mister Pigeon is that that’s the akuma that had interrupted Marinette’s movie date and kiss with Luka. I’m not suggesting that Chat egging Xavier on led to him getting akumatized, but I am saying that Chat wanting akuma to happen with no regard for Ladybug’s happiness is yet another point on the list of why I hate the love square. Marinette genuinely forgot about patrol with him - genuinely was forgetting about everything, really - and as a “punishment,” her own partner whined, didn’t patrol properly, and egged on an akumatization that eventually ended up happening which then broke up the little bit of happiness that the universe was allowing her to have.

Oh, and did I mention that he’s also dating Kagami at the time as well because here we freaking go.

Now, I did not get on Marinette’s case for her Adrien wall and stammering because Luka is largely aware of where she stands in the relationship and she only brought Adrien up when someone else did, even when Luka wasn’t around or being mentioned. Adrien, however, I have multiple bones to pick with, starting with how utterly needy he is for Ladybug’s attention.

This guy has tons of friends, all these fans, and could get people to flock to him whether in or out of the mask, but he wants Ladybug, and anyone not Ladybug isn’t good enough. There’s a scene later in the episode where Kagami - his girlfriend, mind you - is pouring her heart out to him, and he gets distracted by Ladybug instead of listening to her. Even when he excuses the distraction, he then gets distracted again even though Ladybug is no longer in the background.

Lying to protect his identity is one thing, but what Adrien does to Kagami goes beyond that. He’s pining after and flirting with another girl and Kagami has no idea. She’s speculated before that Adrien likes Marinette, but she’s mostly left in the dark because Adrien hasn’t told her anything, nor has he confirmed with her whether it’s okay or not for him to flirt with other girls so long as he’s not pursuing them. He could’ve admitted that he was in love with Ladybug but that he wants to try things with Kagami, but he refuses to open up to her or put himself out there.

Except, he technically does, once, when Kagami tells him to pose for her and he strikes his transformation stance, but he caught her completely off-guard and it’s no wonder why she was put off by it or thought it was unnatural. Not only that, but when Kagami tells him that he’s acting like a clown in that scene, we can see by jumping back to “Truth” that Chat Noir fished for Ladybug’s compliments which then led to a line about him talking about how Ladybug enjoyed him acting like a clown; a direct connection.

Kagami didn’t validate him, so he fished for Ladybug to do so because Ladybug was both forced to answer the question and wasn’t able to lie to him. The show has Ladybug state that her most preferred trait of his is his humor but I am certainly not laughing.

Chat Noir even goes further after the fight with Truth (so another copy-pasted scene) by saying that he has the most fun with Ladybug specifically, and this is all while he’s still dating.

Then this guy has the gall to talk during his break-up about how his fun times with Kagami weren’t lies after apologizing to her for his constant lying, as if he’s trying to earn her sympathy when we know that he’s been pining after Ladybug and flirting with her like she were his number one when he already had a girlfriend waiting for him (and who, by the way, had covered for him earlier and was sitting sadly on a staircase outside, feeling abandoned). The episode presents the break-up as if Adrien’s problem was the fact that he had to constantly lie to Kagami due to being busy with hero work (which is already dumb when we also saw him lounging around and complaining about how nothing was happening, meaning he was inadvertently supportive of the idea of having less time with Kagami and more time with Ladybug even if that means Paris is in danger), but the real problem ends up being that Adrien neglected Kagami emotionally and wasn’t able to give her the attention she wanted.

It’s both sad and annoying that Adrien has always sulked about his dad not paying attention to him and then we get Adrien not paying attention to Kagami, looking for Ladybug when Ladybug had already left and Kagami is trying to tell him something very important.

This is what I mean when I say that Adrien can’t carry an episode on his own. He’s incredibly selfish and most of his dialog just involves him complaining about Ladybug or making excuses. Kagami carried the episode more than he did because more details were revealed about her - specifically the fact that she likes drawing - and she’s active in making things happen (being the one to make the excuse to set up their fencing lessons, deciding what they’ll do with their hour of free time, etcetera).

And regardless of what girl he’s interacting with, Adrien can’t respect either of them. I just talked about Kagami and I’ve already talked about how he treats Ladybug when she’s not even around, but now we get to how he treats Ladybug when she is around.

During the climax of the fight with Lies, where Ladybug requires a distraction to safely pull off her lucky charm, Chat Noir decides - without Ladybug’s input - to sacrifice himself yet again.

I have to stress that Ladybug is stressed and Chat has always talked about her plans and listening to her, yet he has a horrible habit of making decisions all on his own and letting Ladybug deal with the fallout. Whenever he has the chance, he’ll throw himself in front of her and take the big hit, presumably with the mindset that Miraculous Ladybug will fix everything so it’s not like it matters.

Ladybug even shouts at him when he hints at what he’s about to do and there was absolutely time for them to talk about it, but Chat Noir just lets himself fall and be bait, even throwing out what is a clear confession (again, while he’s still dating someone else) before he’s knocked unconscious by Lies’ power.

And when Ladybug yells at him for it when everything’s said and done, pounding at his chest and looking absolutely upset over the whole thing? He not only brushes her off, but he boops her nose and talks about how “irresistable” her “angry little pout” is.

He might as well have just said, “you’re cute when you’re angry,” because that’s exactly what he’s implying; that Ladybug’s anger is something “amusing” to him and not something he takes seriously. We’ve already seen it before in “Reflekdoll” and “Oblivio” as well, so this is just a continuation of already-annoying behavior.

Then, instead of Ladybug getting even angrier for it, the episode has her smile at him, which not only isn’t a normal reaction compared to how she’s reacted before, but now gives the impression that she’s being conditioned by the narrative to accept Chat Noir’s behavior in whatever shape or form it takes.

Because think about it: regardless of how upset Ladybug gets over Chat Noir, it never works out for her and she’s forced to either make up with him quickly or just get over it because she can’t be fighting with her partner (meanwhile, like in “Glaciator,” Chat Noir can be as upset as he wants and she’ll apologize first). She presumably would now have the authority to take away his ring by virtue of being guardian, but he’s also been her partner from the beginning and he’s had so much time to get used to the cat. Most likely, she would sooner blame herself for failing to reign him in than blame him for failing as an adequate partner.

There’s nothing she can do. She has to deal with the hand that she’s been dealt and getting angry at him has done nothing; rejecting him has done nothing.

And of course the episode throws everything under the rug in the ending with an insulting LadyNoir scene where Ladybug and Chat Noir talk about the secrets their forced to keep but also how they can trust each other.

Meanwhile, Ladybug has no idea of all the things Chat Noir has done behind her back. She still has no clue about “Copycat,” nor “Syren,” nor any of the stuff he did in this episode that she’ll probably never know about. Factor it in with “Miraculous New York” (whether one considers it canon or not) where she rightfully shouted at him because he betrayed her trust, and here we are one and a half episodes later (since “Truth” and “Lies” take place at similar times) where suddenly they’re all buddy-buddy and Chat Noir doesn’t have to deal with any consequences to his selfishness.

I’m glad that Kagami didn’t forgive Adrien in the end (even if I’m upset that she doesn’t know how bad it really was) because she had every right to walk away and not want to be friends with him. I only wish that Ladybug could do the same thing and never look back, but due to the love square’s status as endgame, we know that can’t happen, and Ladybug will eventually be forced to fall in love with a guy who mocked her responsibilities behind her back, disrespected her authority by opting to tease/flirt with her, continued pursuing her despite her rejections, and hoped for Paris to be in danger just so he could see her.

And... yeah, that hurts. It really does.

#category: salt #episode: Lies #other: ask and answer #other: ml spoilers

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inthisfire-ifindrain · 3 years

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What if?....I set you free

A story between The collector and Fiona, after the events of the what if episode. The link attached to the words is Fiona singing. I hope you enjoy it.

Sitting there a distance away from the commotion the large gathering of freed people and creatures started to dissipate. There was nothing she could do there was far to many. Carina comes walking up to her with a cheery smile the control bracelet still on her arm even if it was incredibly lose fitting on her. " What are you so down about Fiona we are free now!! Look he's in the cage and not going anywhere.." she gently taps on the side of the controls.

Fiona does tilt her head, the crowd now away from him she can see him, beat up and bruised from everyone's revenge. She glances back up at Carina. "Do you think it's fair though? I mean do two wrongs make a right?" She bites on her bottom lip and taps her nails on the edge of the table.

"What?" Carina asks as if Fiona was joking. "No ... maybe your not getting it... we are free!!!" She says louder bringing a cheer from the crowd around them. "So free that now you can sing and dance all over the place.. do it now.. in celebration!!" Carina grabs Fiona shoulders shaking her a bit.

"I... I don't know..its not..." Fiona is cut off by Carina. "No he's told you to shut up and keep it down far to long..." she walks over to the desk and starts up one of Fionas tracks.. the people around cheer as her singing did often cheer them up bringing some sort of happiness to the gloom of being in the cage. She stands up shaking her head at first before looking at Tivan in the distance. He didn't look mad.. he looked sad and the sadness on his face made her not feel right. She broke eye contact with Tivan as she started singing. Standing up on the table she was just sitting at.

" I left my body... down on her knees...over the bedside... watching you breathe." She moves and her body sways as the beat starts to pick up others around starting to dance.

"And I saw the fire I felt the flames

I heard the banshees Calling your name. Cause I have these new fears I carry with me, So you can feel stronger, you can know peace."

Dancing around she looks back at Tivan just as he looks at her. She keeps singing and falls to her knees. Wondering if he is listening to her song just this once. "So just hold on tight I'll be coming, I'm coming for you, oh oh And every night,

I'll be burning, burning for you, oh oh

And I will back you up, I will show you love ,I will give you all I got 'til I cannot...."

Carina looks at her with a big smile feeling free and happy for once. She doesn't seem to notice much on where Fiona is looking as she starts to dance around herself.

Tivan does look at Fiona watching her dancing around and singing at first he wasn't paying attention thinking that the one he thought wouldn't betray him had until her lyrics caught him. He hadn't heard this one before and she was looking at him. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but he could have sworn this was intentional.

She hops off the table and grabs Tivan's large fur coat and puts it on so much of it dragging behind her..... "I'll take two times the misery And half the glory

If it meant you'd be the champion

Of the story And I'll take two times the agony And half the wonder

If it meant you'd get twice

Twice the thunder" her song continued on...Carina grabbing Fiona's hands as the two girls start to dance together.

Several hours go by, the party is over the place is a full mess of empty cages, plates and cups. Her and Carina carry on now just chatting the two of them everyone else mostly long gone going home if they have one to go home too. "You know...he's got that big gigantic king bed in his room that I think should be ours now..." Carina goes on, with the controls on her arm she has quickly started behaving like she now owned it. "And I'm tired, let's go to bed?" She looked at Fiona and waved her to come along.

"No I need sometime, just a lot of the cages got opened and I need to make sure there is going to be no animal tryin to kill us in our sleep you know." Fiona stood there and crossed her arms. " you Carina you don't know how that thing works, I saw several things escape that could be deadly.. you go ahead lock the door , check the sheets and put a towel under the door to close off the gap.. " she sighed heavily.

Carina looked at her almost shocked. "Oh I didn't..realize..." she shakes her head and looks around. "No of course you didn't, if you would have payed attention to anything he said about any of his collection maybe you would have so quickly pushed buttons.. just go...I'll wrangle whats left up if it's dangerous it will go back in a cage." She turns to walk away starting her long night of creature hunting. She knew someone was going to have to, it was also and excuse to check on Tivan which she waited several minutes before hearing the door to Tivans room close and lock.

She let's out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding and quickly runs to his cage. Tivan looks up at her as he sits on the floor. "Come to finally gloat about being free? I figured you would at some point."

Fiona kneels.. "No..." she looks around making sure they are alone. "I am gonna try to get you out, Carina is wearing the only fucking key to this cage, I'm gonna have to try to get it off her.." she leans against his cage and puts her hand on it.

Tivan is confused, he won't turn away her help but is confused as to why. "So, you are coming for me then?" He quotes her song and gives a little smile, he hurts his eye is near swollen shut and he is covered in dark purple bruises. She looks more at him now that she is closer she frowns and her hand moves on the glass. "Now now.."He says to her, "I do not like it when your said you know, not then and not now..." he puts his hand up where hers is. "Well I would tell you to hurry but I have this nagging feeling I'm not going anywhere....."

This time she laughs, it's a bit unexpected but laughs at his joke. "I guess your right, strong boy stuck behind the glass...shirtless and on display." She smiles something about him not being able to touch her making her a bit braver. " I can see the value in this piece.." she says out loud before standing up quickly. "I..need to go fix things...I'll be back.."She turns and takes off. What was she thinking, she knew she had been starting to like him for such a long time but to actually be brave enough to flirt what was wrong with her. Tivan looked shocked and surprised at her words and wanted to speak but she had hurried away so quickly leaving him to slump back against the cage alone, leaving him to his thoughts, wondering what exactly she was thinking muttering to himself. "Strong boy? I'm like millions of years old...."

Running around she started to assess the cages and their tags noting ones needing to be sought out. A few of the creatures stayed closed and she was easily able to scoop them up and put them away. Her plan was to just lie to Carina make her think they were all dangerous, not like she would really look into it. She comes across another cage where there were just three eggs left. The animals long gone by the bits of blood she assumed another creature got to the parents. "Well damn..." she knew the eggs would die without her intervention, picking up one of them she holds in her hands. The egg starting to get warmer and warmer until it starts to hatch, she does it with each one until all three are hatched and she closes the cage. "I'll bring you some food in a bit babies..." she sighs.

The next few things were more dangerous, she was scratched up pretty bad by a few of them but got them into their cages eventually. The hardest being the slugs she hated them. They also horrified her, Tivan knowing how clumsy she was never let her near their cage in fear of the worst. She had gotten all but one back in the cage, struggling to make sure they didn't touch her skin and keeping tape over her mouth. Hearing Carina scream she feared the worst and she took off towards the room at a fast run. Grabbing a blade from the still open display case and now running up the stairs to the room.. she saw a man pounding at the door, deformed flshes blobs on him she knew instantly one of the slugs got into him. It hadn't yet noticed her as it banged and banged on the door trying to get to Carina.

Fiona sneaks around behind it the blade in her hand ready for an attack. "Cut off the head...kill the slug.." she told herself in her mind over and over... one quick swing of the blade and the head is detached flying across the hall she watches it and runs to it. The slug starts to slither its way out of the neck hole making its way quickly to her. Fiona goes to dodge it but it grabs onto her foot. She panicks and falls backwards kicking her foot hard it let's go and hits a wall. Sticking to the wall and regaining direction it moves again but this time Fiona is quicker the blade cuts it in half. It oozes and starts to shrivel and die.

She drops the blade and rips the tape off her mouth. Trying to get control of her breathing she could feel herself almost go into a panic. And feeling angry at Carina she slowly looks up at the door as the girl peeks her head out. "Fi...Fiona what was that..." her voice sounds hoars from screaming. "You don't even know what that thing would have done to us if it got ahold of either one of us you stupid girl..." she growls through her teeth and slowly stands straight up.

"Is.. is it dead? Why are you looking at me like that.. Fiona we are friends..why are you so angry ..." Carina looks at her confused and she is now outside the door.

"Yes its fucking dead...I took care of it... in fact I've spent the whole fucking night taking care of all of it so you can sleep soundly in his big comfy bed." She snaps and drops the blade to the floor, her cheery and bubbly demeanor has long left as she walks towards Carina. She knows the girl can't find and now everyone who could have helped her is long gone.

" We.... are not friends, you always act nothing but annoyed with me, almost from day one...now that your in charge.. we are?" She tilts her head and smiles and starts to make her way closer to the girl. Fiona lunges at Carina tackling her to the ground and pinning her. Carina let's out a yell trying to push Fiona off and almost manages to get out from under her. The two struggle back and forth the control band goes flying. Fiona has Carina now in a choke hold ontop of her as she strangles her. Not wanting to kill Carina she let's go as soon as she feels the girl pass out. Pushing her body off her she stands up and grabs the controls. Leaving the girl unconscious in the hall way.

Fiona slowly makes her way down the stairs until she is standing in front of Tivans cage looking at him for a few minutes she walks up and leans against his cage again. "Look what I found." She holds up the band. Tivan smiles at her."Well that was quicker then I expected."

She looks at him surprised. "Oh I should have taken longer your right... now that I think about I should go on a shopping spree... its on you right?" She grins and pushes the button only unlocking his cage.

Tivan comes out and stands in front of her looking down at her, he takes the controls and puts it back on pushing a few buttons and getting things back in order.

She stands there with a smile Watching him "There now everything is exactly how it should be."

"Almost..." he takes her hand and kisses it. Remembering her and Carinas earlier conversation."You look tired...would you like to sleep in the big bed tonight?" He gives her a sly grin before picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder and heading up the stairs.

#taneleer tivan #oc fiona #short story #what if spin off

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love-carries-on · 4 years

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Love Carries On: Chapter VIII

A/N: Sorry ya’ll but chapters might become a little spare, my mental health is taking a dive right now, (I’m posting this at about eight a.m. and I haven’t slept yet) I will try to keep writing though!

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Logan, Decan, and Patton went back into the dining room, while Virgil slipped back into their room so that he could grab the present for Logan. He knew that the other three had already wrapped and put their gifts in the dining room, but Virgil’s had arrived later than expected and he hadn’t got to put it in a bag at the time. He packaged it quickly, half jogging to catch up with them in the dining room. They were all sitting at the table, except for Roman. Virgil sat down his gift.

Do you know where Roman went? He signed to Decan, his eyebrows going down to express his question.

When we came out, he went into the kitchen. He gestured with his head, but when Virgil went to walk in that direction he caught his arm quickly. When Virgil turned back towards him he signed, Try to be gentle with him, you know how sensitive he is.

I will, I promise. He patted him on the arm, before turning away and heading into the kitchen.

Roman was sitting on the counter, twisting his fingers with a nervous movement. His hair was ruffled out of his usual perfect swoop, his eyes downcast. After all three of his boyfriends had left, only after looking at me like I killed their brother of course, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d done something wrong, with the reappearance of Patton and the quick look from Decan, he had left the room, trying not to cry.

He heard Virgil come in, his head shooting up. Are they mad at me?

A little bit. You made Patton cry.

I didn’t mean to. If he had just liked dinner it would’ve been fine.

It was a textural thing. He didn’t like the beans.

There was a pause in the conversation, Roman stared at Virgil in open mouth shock, he hadn’t thought that maybe Patton didn’t like the texture, he assumed that he hated his cooking, and to some extent, hated him. “Oh.” He said out loud.

He hoped down off the counter, readjusting the collar of his shirt with a careful hand. What should I do? They’re mad at me, and I hurt Patton. He probably hates me. He signed to Virgil, the expression of sadness and fear very real. I’m so stupid. He thinks to himself as fidgets with his clothing and his hair.

Maybe try apologizing? And making sure he’s okay? That might be a good start. Virgil tried to express calmness with his facial expressions, so that Roman wouldn’t think that he was mad at him.

Okay. He nodded his head, before reaching out to grab Virgil’s wrist and pull him back into the dining room where everyone else was.

“I’m sorry you guys, especially Patton.” he sighed as he exclaimed the words, sitting down in a chair very quickly and letting go of Virgil as he did so. “I just thought that Patton hated my cooking and he was making a big scene because I did something wrong. And you know how I am about my cooking and since Patton didn’t tell me that, I didn’t think about that. And I’m sorry.” He said it all very quickly, pushing his hair back in frustration, though who he was frustrated with was unclear, even to himself.

“It’s okay Roman.” Patton responded immediately, reaching out to pat his hand. He missed his birthday sweater, the soft material and oversized sleeves were good in a situation like this.

“Your apology is accepted.” Logan, couldn’t see the frustration on Roman’s face but he frowned at the response from Roman.

“Yes, thank you for apologizing, love.” Decan reached out to touch Patton’s leg in sympathy.

Patton looked around to confirm that everyone had forgiven Roman. “Okay, let’s get back into it then.” he turned to face Virgil. “Would you like to cut the cake? Then we can get started on the presents at the same time.”

Virgil nodded, and picked up the knife off of the table next to the pan. He cut the cake into fair sized squares, placing them on plates and setting them near everyone’s place. As he did so. Roman, Patton and Decan retrieved their gifts from beside the doorway.

It didn’t take them long to each finish a slice of cake, and as soon as they did, Logan opened his presents. He picked up Roman’s first.

“Who is this from?”

“Me.” Roman was practically bouncing in excitement.

Logan untied the ribbon from around the box, struggling with the paper and the lid, but pulling it open nonetheless. He picked up the thing inside. It felt like a sweater, he ran his hands over it, feeling a soft and plushy material.

“I crocheted it for you, it isn’t much but - -”

“Describe it to me.”

He paused, trying to think of what to say, it was a perplexing request to him. “Okay, it’s, it’s dark blue, like the color of your eyes mixed with black.” Logan hadn’t heard a description like that before, or even really thought about the color of his eyes. He hadn’t seen them in years. “The yarn is pretty thick, there’s a stripe of silver around the neckline and along the hemline. I gave it a v-neck so that you could wear it over your button-ups and tie.”

Logan smiled at him, it was simple, so simple really, just a sweater in a style he liked, but the fact that Roman had made it, had spent more than likely months working on it, it almost brought a tear to his eye. “Thank you, thank you Roman. This is very thoughtful, I cannot imagine how much time it must’ve taken.”

“You’re welcome.” He quipped out, smiling brightly, it felt nice to be appreciated.

Next he picked up Patton’s present, it was a bag and after reaching in to take out some paper, he felt a lot of silky and smooth fabric. He was confused.

“What’s this?” He pulled it out of the bag, before reaching his hand in to grab a few more. After pulling out two of them, he understood. “Ties? Who got these.” There was a smile on his face.

“I did.” Patton was hesitant. “Most of them are solid colors, kind of like the ones you already have but in different colors, but a few of them have fun prints on them.” He swallowed, pushing up his glasses. “One of them has a dog on it, and paw prints.”

“That’s very cute.” He reached out to offer Patton an affectionate shoulder pat.

Next he grabbed Decan’s gift, it was rather heavy, and he struggled for a moment to hold it without dropping it.

“Careful, it’s fragile,” he heard murmured to him, and he quickly put away the ties on his lap and set the bag next to him so that he could lift the box with both hands.

He opened it up, and wrangled out what felt like a framed photo, it was rather large, and the frame felt wooden.

Without being asked, Decan launched into an explanation. “The frame I painted white, obviously there’s glass over the picture. It’s the picture we took the day we all moved in, where we’re standing outside the ranch. The sun was very nice, it was right before Roman’s brother left for Spain, he took our picture for us.”

Logan remembered that day, it was maybe the best day of his life, getting to meet each of his wonderful boyfriends in real life. It was the first time he had been able to really touch each of them, running his hands over their faces to get acquainted with how they look. To know who these men he was devoting his life to really was. The smile showed on his face, he ran his hands over the glass slowly, like he could feel that day in his hands.

“Thank you, Decan. This is a very thoughtful - -” he felt choked up with tears. “I don’t know,” He swallowed. “Thank you, I love it very much.” he put it back in the box carefully, picking up the final gift from the floor.

“I presume this is from Virgil.” He opened the bag, and pulled out what was inside. It felt like a CD. “What’s this?”

“He says it’s an ebook. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. He says that he’s sorry it isn’t quite as nice as the other gifts, but he remembered you expressing interest in this book when you went shopping last time.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, this is a great gift, I’m going to enjoy it immensely, I’ve heard good things about this book.” He spoke slowly so that Virgil could read his lips

“He says he’s glad that you like it.”

“Thank you, to all of you, this has been an amazing birthday,” then, he did something a little uncharacteristic, stumbling slightly, Logan went around the table and kissed each of his boyfriends on the cheek. “Thank you so much for making this birthday so amazing.” He sat back down in his chair, thankful to be able to move around the table without any issue.

“We love you Logan.” they all chimed out, smiling at him, even if they couldn’t see it.

“Perhaps, if you would all like,” he paused, allowing them to chime in and tell him no. “We could watch a movie or something. You can pick of course.”

Patton was the first to agree, despite the fact that he just wanted to go to bed. The others agreed, and after a few minutes of back and forth, they finally agreed on a documentary about Disney. As soon as the movie started, he realized it was too loud, burrowing his head under the blanket and pressing himself as close to Roman as he could, Patton tried to block out the sound, falling asleep minutes into the beginning of the movie.

Tag list (?)

@mayflowers07

@librowyrm

#love Carries On #tsLogan #TsPatton #TsRoman #TsVirgil #TsDeceit #TsSanders Sides #dlamp #poly #multi-chapter #disabilityau #autism #ADHD #DID #HOH #blind #deaf #fluff #angst

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

The Silver Lining, Destiel Christmas/Hospital fic

Castiel expected to have a regular Christmas, the same he's had for all his life. Spent with family, exchanging presents and good cheer. Basking in the warmth of unconditional love. However, a twist of fate and a prank gone wrong leads him to experiencing a few new firsts.

His first trip to a hospital.

His first Christmas celebrated in a different location.

His first meeting with a certain man, suffering from a horrible case of food poisoning.

Of the three, he hopes the third is the first of many, many more. Is their encounter as rare as a Christmas miracle, or is it the gift that keeps on giving?

Cold. Wind races past his collar and sends shivers down his spine. “Stupid Gabriel,” he growls, shuffling the ladder until it aligns securely against his house. Castiel huffs a foggy breath over his trembling hands, rubbing them together for warmth. “How he can see tangled lights in this weather…”

Snow buffets him on his way up, Castiel pausing at times so he won’t fall off. Halfway up the ladder, Castiel’s common sense tugs at his nerves. Warns him from moving any further in fear of endangering himself. But then Gabriel pops in and strangles the thought, gratingly reminding him that decorations need to be perfect so close to Christmas. “It’ll only take me a second anyway,” he says, climbing another rung, “In and out.”

He reaches the roof, gripping the edges for balance. Squinting, Castiel scans the decorations amassed for the error Gabriel saw. Neck straining from the effort. Finding no fault in the perimeter Castiel checks the larger display. Leans further onto the roof and blindly gropes for Santa and his sleigh of reindeer. His hand slides around a hoof and Castiel squeezes it, smiling.

Suddenly a window rushes open, slamming. Castiel flinches, the ladder teetering underneath. “What? No, no -”

“Merry Christmas Cassie!”

“ No !”

Castiel falls, plastic and metal scraping across his roof and drowning out his screams. Before he hits the ground, Castiel sees Rudolph flying into a nosedive. Hurdling closer until the reindeer is all he sees. He blinks, and the world fades.

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

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Tentatively, Castiel opens his eyes. Fights against the ten pound weights stretched across his face to re-enter consciousness. He groans, first from the overly bright lights shining above him and next because of a dull ache biting into his side. Castiel tries to rub his eyes, except he can barely find the strength to do so.

“Well… look who finally decided to join the party,” a voice drawls from the left, “It’s about time, really.” It takes too much effort for Castiel to turn his head so few inches. He scrapes together the energy and, in the process, answers important questions knocking around his head.

Like where was he? A hospital, no doubt, given the sterile white walls and medical equipment lying around. And the hanging television playing holiday reruns of, ironically, Doctor Sexy. Unfortunately his smolder doesn’t evoke any of the warmth and comfort it usually does. Pain takes prominence, especially when he moves. Castiel cannot glimpse the damage, but the amount radiating from his right worries him. What he can view are tubes criss-crossing around him and the sickly man hunched over the bed to his left: the owner of the voice. In need of a distraction, he focuses on him.

He watches Castiel with curiosity and tired amusement etched into his features. Pallored skin glistening with sweat, each freckle prominently on display like stars above a city suffering a blackout. The man wears a similar dressing gown to Castiel’s, accessorized with a bucket clutched tightly in his lap. “Hey,” he says, lips trembling, “you feeling okay?”

“I feel like shit.” Castiel’s gravelly voice sounds more so from disuse, croaking the reply. The other man chuckles from nearby, agreeing with his amateur diagnosis. Laughter becomes hacking, and his face disappears into the bucket for a moment. When the echoing coughs stop, the other man emerges. Castiel continues, “How long…?”

“Not sure,” he shrugs, “I was rolled in earlier because they had nowhere else to place me…”

“Place…?”

“There’s not really a wing for food poisoning victims,” the other man explains, “they had to stick me where they could.”

Castiel skews his head to the side, stuffing it further into the pillow. “Food poisoning? You’re in the hospital… for that?”

He glares at him, wrapping his arms tighter around the bucket. IV scooting closer from being tugged. “Listen, pal, I didn’t think I had to be here either. But apparently I’ve got the white blood cell count of a newborn so… here I am.” His head falls back into the bucket. “Be lucky you missed the massive crap volcano that erupted out of my colon.”

“I doubt it was because of luck…”

“True,” his roommate sighs, rising from the bucket once more, “being under for most of it was more drugs than luck. Kind of grateful, though, because then you didn’t hear me yell, grunt, and curse throughout it all… Until…” He blanches, fingers dipping past the rim, “until I just told you.”

Castiel arches a brow, smirking. “Why did you?”

“Because I had no one to talk to this whole time and I hate silence,” he tells him, “Been narrating the past few lonely hours.”

“You’re… not tired?”

“Too nauseous to sleep, really.”

“Even after all that shitting?”

The man rolls his eyes, feet kicking freely underneath him. “It was some pretty rotten eggnog,” he says, “and Sammy promised that vegan crap was all kosher… didn’t see him or Eileen drinking any.”

A little bit of energy jumps into Castiel as he digests the tidbit of information. “Vegan eggnog put you in here?”

“Vegan eggnog and a bad case of the flu,” he defends, “I’m usually made of stronger stuff.”

“So am I,” Castiel says, “Hardly ever sick… once my entire family got bogged down by a nasty virus and I was the only one who managed to remain healthy. Was their nurse for an entire month… schlepping from one house to the next making sure they were feeling better.”

“Then I guess they can return the favor,” his roommate offers, “especially since what happened to you trumps any cold.”

Castiel’s good mood dips low, and his body sags with the reminder of their situation. “Right,” he says, “Uh… exactly what happened to me?”

The man pauses, grin slipping into a tiny frown. “You mean you don’t know? Or… remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Hell I doubt I’d ever be able to forget if that happened to me…”

“What are you talking -” Castiel chokes, dam bursting and the memories flooding over him. He shivers immediately, hospital gone and replaced with the blustery winds from outside his house. Snow falling in clumps from above, doing their best to bury him. Already he thought a blanket of white crushed his chest.

Then Hannah’s face pops into view. Scared, speaking in a way that Castiel cannot fully understand. She’s on the phone, gibberish grating to his ears. So he lolls his head to the side and watches his other sister, Anna, shove at Gabriel with a monstrous expression on her face. The one she wore when it meant their brother dug a hole so deep he couldn’t climb out of it. He remembers smiling, a few of the words cutting through the ringing in his ears to reach his brain. ‘Idiot’, ‘thinking’, ‘killed’, and ‘prank’ are all he heard.

Nearby the burgeoning fight, his friend Kelly tries her best to talk to Jack. Castiel’s nephew won’t tear his eyes away from him. Lazily he shooed him off, trying his best to help. That only brought more focus onto him.

“No, Castiel,” Hannah said, clear for the first time. She wrangled his arms to the ground with haggard breaths. “Keep them lowered to stem the blood flow.”

“Blood flow?” he asked, “What do you mean, blood -”

Blood. So much of it, trickling from where an antler punctured his side.What he thought was snow revealed itself as the broken figure of the reindeer that fell from Santa’s sleigh alongside him.

Face intact, torn from the body at the neck, its black, plastic eyes trapped him. Made it impossible to look away. Even when the paramedics finally arrived and began asking him questions, he answered in a daze. When they removed the decoration, Castiel followed the head with his own until it disappeared from sight.

The next sequence of events plays in pieces. Being patched and carried into the ambulance, Hannah choosing to go with him. Her answering questions for him. Any allergies? Only to shellfish. Medical history? Until now, spotless. The calm, automatic doors at the hospital that betray the urgency of any situation. Doctors and nurses in festive gear descending and doing their best. A prick in his arm and the fuzzying of his senses.

Waking up in a strange room, with a stranger affected by serious food poisoning who has gotten up and leans way too close.

“...come on man, I’m so sorry,” he says, “I thought you knew. I didn’t know - when I asked she said you should be fine. They fixed you up really good, able to save the kidney -”

“My kidney?” Castiel gasps, “It… it hit my kidney?”

“Punctured it in three different parts,” the man tells him, “all clean entries, plastic intact, so no serious problems.”

His mind recovers from the panic, gripping onto the facts presented like a crutch. Thankful for the assurance, but also curious. “How do you know this?”

His roommate’s face shifts from pale to deliriously red, and he shuffles a few steps back. “I… I kinda asked the nurse when she came to check on me?” he winces, “you were still out cold and… there’s nothing really on TV except Christmas specials. If you ask me the last thing I want to be reminded of is Christmas while I’m stuck here…”

Dosed again with a bruising reminder, Castiel finds his injuries doubling and heart plummeting. “Stuck in the hospital on Christmas… it is Christmas, right?”

“Well…” the other man shrugs, “almost. It’s Christmas Eve, but in a few hours…”

“So I’ve been out for an entire day?”

“Seems like it. At least you’re up, from how the nurse put it you were going to be under for awhile - at least until after the holidays.”

Castiel scoffs, “A Christmas miracle…”

“Hey, could be worse.”

“How?”

“Imagine waking up alone,” the man says, squeezing his shoulder, “without this handsome face to greet you.” He winks, charm sparking like a flickering lighter. One that fails easily since a disturbing gurgle cuts through and makes his flirty expression shift into disease. Flies away from Castiel towards the bucket on his bed and bends over it, exposing the festive boxers hidden under his gown. While aware of what his roommate does, it can’t dull the warmth caused from his wink nor the sight of his shapely snowflake-covered ass.

Castiel squeezes the blanket, averting his gaze when the measured pace of the heart monitor picks up slightly. Careful not to disturb the tube he’s sure is lodged to help him pee. Measures his breaths and thinks of horrid things to stem the blood and direct it elsewhere.

Finished, the other man flips and wipes at his mouth. “Here I thought there was nothing left in me,” he gasps, “Sorry you had to see me like that.”

He shrugs, cheeks burning. “You needn’t apologize, you couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah… but I mean, I at least know the names of the guys who I ralph in front of.”

“You mean you didn’t ask for my name when you did my medical history?” His roommate stumbles slightly, tripping over his words in a rush to defend himself. Castiel savors the brief awkwardness before paving over it. “Castiel. My name’s Castiel.”

“Castiel?” The man’s eyes gloss over while processing the name, a look Castiel was oft familiar with.

“It’s… not the most common of names,” he grins wryly, “My father named me - and all my siblings - after characters from his favorite book.”

“What books was that?”

“The Bible.”

Nodding, his roommate drums his fingers against the bucket. A different sound since it’s slightly full. “I mean, it is a good book. The good book.”

"Exactly."

Silence drifts over while they awkwardly bait the other to continue the conversation. Castiel wins, patience one of his virtues. Not the first he waited someone out, and it won't be the last. “So was he one of those religious guys?” he asks, tapping the form of a cross, “Or a… religious guy ?” The balled fists stacked on top of each other, like holding a sign, is easy to interpret.

“Neither,” Castiel tells him, “he got wrapped up in this cult when he was younger, the one Rose McGowan was a part of. When he finally left, he didn’t really give up on the faith. And… well, he already named half my siblings after angels. It’d be stranger if he stopped after Anael -”

“Anael?”

“She found a workaround,” he says, “Anna. Better than my brother Lucifer who chooses to go by his full name. The only one who lucked out was Hannah who got the most normal name of my siblings. Why he couldn’t do the same for me I’ll never know.”

“Hey, Castiel’s a cool name… bet the angel you were named after was a badass,” his roommate smirks, “ I was named after my grandmother, Deanna.”

“So your name’s Deanna?”

“ Dean ,” he purrs, the name curling perfectly under his lips. Teeth flashing in a suggestive manner like its done probably hundreds of times in the past. “Dean Winchester.”

“Well,” Castiel mirrors his expression, “it’s nice to officially meet you, Dean Winchester .”

Dean wiggles his bucket, bowing slightly. “Likewise, Castiel…”

“...Shurley -”

“Shurley. Castiel Shurley, right right right.”

He giggles, enjoying the full body production Dean performs. Attempting a casual facade, crossing one leg over the other while he leans on one hand. The other firing an imaginary bullet from his finger gun. Except he forgets the hand leaning was perched on the bucket, and Dean starts tipping. Vomit sloshes inside the bucket and, after precarious teetering from both parties, both Dean and his bucket remain standing. No mess, but tons of stress.

“Any chance you can pretend that didn’t happen?” Dean asks.

Castiel shakes his head. “Trust me, Dean, on the list of embarrassing things you’ve done tonight this hardly ranks in the top ten.”

“Well shit,” Dean sighs, hopping up onto his bed, “At least it means I can’t make anything worse.”

“The night’s still young…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas.”

They laugh, only stopping when the pain in Castiel’s side nastily barges in on their merriment. Reminds him why he and Dean met in the first place. He hisses, vision blackening for a moment. When it returns, Dean is perched on the edge of his bed with worry. “Dean -”

“Are you okay?”

Castiel tries to reassure Dean he’s fine, but another current of pain shocks him. His knees buck up and the heart monitor beeps too loudly and the injured side feels like a meteor burning up in the atmosphere on its path towards crashing into the Earth. Sweat pours down his forehead and his limbs twitch in aborted movements. Dancing like a marionette, controlled by the intolerable cramping.

Minutes flash by like pages from a comic book. A cool touch brushes against his head, drawing one eye open. Its Dean. He appears calm while speaking to Castiel, but the fear is evident in his shiny eyes and trembling lips. In the throes of his pain it plants a seed of comfort, and he focuses on tending to that while dealing with it all.

Then someone rushes in, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum flooring. She removes Dean from view, taking up space and asking questions Castiel cannot answer. When it’s apparent, she switches tactics and scans his station. Finding what she needs, his savior calls to another person who was waiting by the door.

They dip into the hallway, returning moments later with a full bag of clear liquid. The woman who first ran in takes it from the one who brought it, fiddling above Castiel and out of sight. When she crosses his gaze again the full bag is empty. She shoves it into the hands of the nurse. Barks a terse sentence and orders her out.

Time returns to its normal pacing while Castiel’s body melts into the bed and the pain recedes into nothingness. His mind sharpens into awareness briefly and then dulls considerably with each second.

“Is this okay Mr. Shurley?” she asks, pressing around his wound, “Are you feeling anything at all?”

Castiel giggles, her actions tickling the focal point of his trauma. “Not a thing.”

“Perfect,” she sighs, flicking the full bag hanging from the stand in front of her. “So sorry that you had to experience that. A nurse should’ve been by to swap your morphine drip hours ago.”

“My morphine…?”

“Yes, your drugs,” she tells him, smirking, “what’s making it possible for you and I to have a conversation where you can contribute freely instead of in panted moans and grunts.”

Another round of laughter forces its way from his chest and makes his cheeks stretch awfully far. “I like morphine,” he says, “Can I take it home with me?”

“If only it wasn’t highly addicting,” she sighs, swiping at his nose with her finger, “Unfortunately no, but at least you won’t be leaving us so soon you’ll have to give it up right away.”

“Awesome...”

“If that’s all.” She nods, turning to Dean. “Thank you for paging me, it could’ve been much worse had he been alone.”

Dean sags against his bed, grin as large as Castiel’s. “Makes this food poisoning worth it, Doc Masters.”

“Silver lining to everything,” Masters winks. The doctor waves farewell, paying extra attention to Castiel. “Sweet dreams, Mr. Shurley.”

“Bye bye…” Castiel says, head lolling towards Dean, “What did she mean by that?”

“By what?”

“Sweet dreams?” he slurs, “Does she think I’m going to fall asleep?”

Dean’s expression softens, and he drifts closer to Castiel once more. “Yeah, you will. Morphine’s already pumping strong… shouldn’t be long until you’re back under and I’m… I am alone again .”

“ No ,” Castiel whines, throwing a tantrum. Not a good one since his limbs fly without his input, wiggling like jelly. “I don’t want to go to sleep.” Dean calms him, guiding his wrists to the bed.

“You don’t have a choice in it, Cas,” he says, “but… it’s nice to hear you want to stay with me.”

He agrees with Dean, heating up again in a delightful way. “You’re very nice… even if you throw up a lot and can’t handle vegan eggnog.”

Dean scoffs, “I can handle it, when it’s made well. But it’s not my first choice. Give me meat any day.”

“I love meat.”

“We have that in common, then.”

“Do we?” Castiel asks, skewing his head to the side, “You enjoy intercourse with two penises or more, too?”

He chokes, grip on Castiel’s wrists wilting. Dean gapes at him, color draining from his face for an entirely different reason.

In the seconds between his outburst and Dean’s answer, Castiel mulls over what he said. Clarity shines through his foggy mind and he realizes how personal a question he asked his roommate, a practical stranger. His high fades under the sweltering self-consciousness, Dean’s proximity less intoxicating and more anxiety-inducing.

His heart monitor either beeps too fast or not at all since he can’t tell if the ringing in his ears is from it or borne from the screams he refuses to release.

Thankfully Dean starts talking, and the voice inside silences. “I… I’ve never had the opportunity for more… my experience cuts off after two.”

The fuzziness resurfaces with a vengeance, strengthened by Dean’s answer. Caught off guard, Castiel hums. “Oh, well… it’s fun. But, also difficult.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Are you interested in leveling up your experience?”

“Actually,” Dean’s gaze dips towards Castiel’s lips, trailing up to his eyes slowly. “I’m… I’m more of a two-dick guy. Mine and… I don’t know?”

“You don’t know?” Castiel frowns, “that’s depressing.”

Dean laughs like a sad, twinkling bell. “Yeah, it sucks not knowing which other dick you want your dick to spend the rest of your life rubbing up against.”

Castiel nods, “Even more when you’re the only one without a second dick or a vagina to love you unconditionally. And no matter how successful your life is your family looks at you like an awkward throw pillow. They don’t know what to do with it or where to put it.”

“Exactly how it feels,” Dean says, “I… it’s not easy being lonely. Especially around this time of year.”

“But we’re not lonely,” he tells him, “we have each other.”

“That we do Cas… that we do.”

Potential sparks to life in Dean’s eyes, fascinating Castiel. He stares intently into them, watching the verdant fields in the other man’s gaze burn. No intention in calling the fire department to douse the inferno. Castiel wants to watch it forever.

Every blink becomes heavier, harder to remain open with the weights sliding across his eyes. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

“You need to,” Dean says, “so you can get better.”

“But won’t you be alone again?”

“Nah,” Dean smirks, “it’s like you said. We have each other.”

“Good.” Castiel yawns, stretching far enough his toes peek past the blanket. “I… I really think I should go to sleep now.”

Dean agrees, peeling himself off of Castiel. He shivers with his absence. Castiel stops fighting against the morphine and allows it to drag him into unconsciousness. Dean’s face the last thing he sees when his eyes shut for good.

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

When Castiel wakes up again, he’s surrounded. His family sit on an assembled pile of chairs, chatting in festive gear while he stumbles into awareness.

Jack notices first, clapping on his mother’s lap and smiling with missing teeth. “Uncle Cas! Uncle Cas!”

Conversation stalls, and every face in the room turns to him. He smiles weakly, waving his hand off the bed as far as he can. “Hi,” he croaks, “how’s everyone doing?”

Gabriel laughs tiredly, scrubbing at his face. “Shived by Rudolph and he’s still thinking about others. Doesn’t that just jolly your holly -”

“Zip it Gabriel,” Anna whacks his chest, “you more than anyone else don’t get to make jokes about this.”

“Oh come on!” he cries, “The doctor said it was a non-threatening injury!”

“Because we called the paramedics,” she says, “and, by luck , your dumb prank only managed to cost him a kidney.”

“Not even! They said it would heal -”

“Guys!” Hannah interrupts their bickering, “Can you save it for later? Maybe after Castiel tells us how he feels?”

Reminded of his presence, his brother and sister sheepishly offer apologies. Castiel forgives them easily, especially his brother. “While it was stupid, I’m not dead.”

“Glad to hear it -”

“But,” Castiel continues, smirking, “I do expect a lot of attention and care… just because I’m willing to forgive doesn’t mean it’s easy to forget. Or move… or pee, I’m guessing.”

Gabriel huffs, crossing his arms. “Should’ve seen this coming.”

“Oh be glad,” Kelly says, “out of everything that could’ve happened, this is the best you could ask for.”

He relents, accepting his fate for the present. Satisfied, Castiel relaxes in bed while conversation resurges. This time filling him in on what happened while he was stuck in the hospital. From muted celebration on the Eve to a rapid exchange of presents in his house so they could arrive when visiting hours started.

“We might have left a few to open when you came home,” Anna admits, “So you didn’t miss all the fun.”

“Thank you…” Castiel holds his tongue, preferring the others to continue without his input. Finds comfort in how bright and cheerful the room feels with their presence. Reminded of a similar feeling, adjacent to the one overtaking his heart, Castiel looks to the other side of the room.

Only Dean’s bed is neat and empty. Not even the bucket was there.

“Wait,” he says, “where’s Dean?”

“What?” Gabriel asks, following his gaze, “Oh? Is that who that was? Didn’t know you got so chummy with your roommate, Cassie.”

“Where is he?”

“He left,” Anna shrugs, “Doctors came in an hour after we arrived to give him the news he was free to go.”

“And he left with this giant of a man!” his brother says, “it was terrifying, truly, seeing someone that massive.”

“He was really cool, Uncle Cassie!” Jack says, bouncing, “He bought me a candy bar!”

Kelly sighs, trying to contain Jack’s energy. “So nice of him…”

“So that’s it?” Castiel asks, frowning, “he just… left?”

Hannah reaches across and squeezes his hand, mirroring him. “There wasn’t any reason for him to stay longer, Castiel.”

He deflates at his sister’s care, her good intentions like a needle to his ballooning happiness. Castiel sighs, tugging his hand free of her hold and folding it over his stomach. “Yes, I… I guess he didn’t.”

No one dare speak, the adults in the room trying to process how Castiel’s mood shifted. His usual defense, to cover disappointment with a carefully constructed mask, doesn’t rise up inside. Whether from the remaining morphine swimming in his system or overall tiredness, Castiel prefers allowing his feelings to play freely across his face.

Memories from last night are fuzzy, but he remembers the important things. How friendly Dean was, and caring. Comforting him when it wasn’t necessary, when he had his own troubles to deal with. The possibility he represented, created thanks to the unguarded confessions brought about by drugs.

He’s drawn from his memories of Dean’s smile by a knock on the door.

Doctor Masters stands there, a smile on her face and a stuffed bear in her hands. Castiel squints at the gift, a heart in its paws and a Santa cap on its head.

“Why hello there Mr. Shurley,” she says, stepping into the room, “glad to see you’re awake again. And not in pain.”

“Thank you,” he says, “I… Am I going to be in pain again?”

She shrugs, “Not likely. I checked up on you an hour after we switched your drip to make sure it was all okay. Got to talking with your roommate and he said you were doing fine until the pain became too much to bear. So I’ve decided to start weaning you off the good stuff, and giving you enough to not feel much but still be present.”

His face softens. “Exactly what I want.”

“Speaking of presents…” she smirks, fiddling with the bear, “someone asked me to give this to you once you woke up.”

Gabriel immediately teases him, shaking his shoulder. “Cassie, you sly dog. Did someone ‘While You Were Sleeping’ you?”

“I, I don’t -”

“Why don’t I leave this here, and you can process it without me,” Doctor Masters says. She places the bear on his lap, walking towards the exit. “I’m only the messenger. Besides, there’s a lot more people in this hospital besides you.”

He misses her goodbyes, examining the bear. Studies details like the red and white scarf wrapped around its neck and the poof ball at the end of its hat is shaped like a plus sign. The red heart has a message on its surface, ‘Get Better Soon’, and one between it and the bear.

A white envelope, easily lost in the white fur of the bear. Castiel frees it, giving the bear to a waiting Jack. He reads the name on the front and his stomach flutters with butterflies emerging from their cocoon.

CAS

“Well,” Anna urges him, “you gonna read it or what?”

Flipping it around, he sees the envelope is barely held together by a piece of scotch tape. It opens with no trouble, the card slipping out and into his hand.

The cover has a replica of the bear drawn on, holding its heart forward. Words tattooed to the heart in the stuffed animal balloon to the top of the cover, taking up a lot of the tundra scenery.

Castiel passes it, more interested in what’s written inside.

Dear Cas ,

Merry Christmas! I wish I could be there to see you wake up, but I know today is supposed to be spent with family.

Thank God it’s only one day a year.

If you want to meet during any of the other three-hundred, sixty four, here’s my number. I hope you call, because I think I’ve found the second penis I want to spend the rest of my life with .

He closes the card, dragging it to his face to hide the blush and skin-splitting face threatening to add more definition to his chin. His behavior only fans the flames of his family’s intrigue, both Anna and Gabriel leaning too far forward in their seats.

“Well,” Anna starts, “who’s it from?”

Castiel waits for his face to cool, and then says, “It’s from a friend.”

“A friend ,” Gabriel chuckles, rolling his eyes, “Like we’ll believe that.”

“He is a friend!”

“He’s also a Christmas miracle!”

His family laughs, and Castiel finds himself joining. Too filled with joy to find their antics annoying. Instead he jokes alongside them and, when they’ve calmed down, explain the night’s events and his secret Santa. Counting down to when visiting hours end and he can make use of the number inside the card.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

#Supernatural #Spn #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #Spn Christmas fanfic #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #tw: vomiting

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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CSUAPR prt 55 start

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dizzyeyess-stories · 4 years

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The Worst First Date Ever! (Remake) - Chapter Four: Arcade Robbery

Disclaimer: The main protagonist Skylar's gender and appearance was purposely left anonymous so you as the reader can use your imagination to fill in those blanks.

After shaking off another humiliating look on my face, Ashlyn and I continued our date to the next stop on the to-do list; the arcade. It was crowded at the main hall but we both intended to head to where it wasn’t so populated; the backside of the arcade where they have a lot of old-school arcade cabinets since we were old-school gamers after all.

We versed each other in a game of Street Fighter II. This is where Ashlyn shines. She was constantly beating me without giving me a single opening to land an attack on her character.

These wins made her a bit too excited. So much so that after one of the matches ended, she accidentally applied one of those in-game punches to my face *POW*. My goofy grin was back alongside some swivelling stars and birdies around my head. My eyes were crossed so I was seeing two Ashlyns apologizing to me yet again. “W-weelll that packed a punnnch duhh” I slurred while waving my fist.

During this time, at the front end of the arcade, a bunch of people bandits wearing ski masks and holding firearms barged in. Everyone including the staff were all terrified with constant screams. The bandits went around and tied up their hostages. This was a heist.

Ashlyn noticed the screaming and quickly dragged my flimsy body behind one of the arcade cabinets. We were both completely hidden and by one of the bandits who was scouting in the backend of the arcade.

My dizziness wore off and I was confused why we were behind a dusty arcade cabinet and why was Ashlyn being so quiet. So, I asked her, *POW* she interrupted me in panic by punching me yet again. But this time, on the side of my head. More stars exploded in my vision as my eyes were rolling around my sockets. The halos of stars and birdies came back with the addition of little figures of arcade cabinets and Ashlyns all circling my head. I gave off another goofy grin with my tongue lolled out. “Mommy…. let’s play……Tweet fighter again...duhh” I slurred out loud.

The bandit heard that and slowly approached the cabinet we were both hiding behind. Suddenly, out of panic, Ashlyn jumped out of the cabinet knocking away the bandit’s weapon and gave a left kick to the chin *WHACK*. The bandit was knocked cold. Eyes were spinning, stars were haloing and giving off a goofy smile. “b-boss…is…gonna…k-kill me…. for…this” the bandit babbled before dropping headfirst between Ashlyn’s feet.

Ashlyn feeling proud she was able to take down an armed goon and decided to play “hero” and went off to the front end of the arcade to take on more bandits.

I eventually woke again from my cuckoo slumber not knowing where Ashlyn was. For a moment, I thought she left me because of how tired she was to see me knocked silly all the time. That seemed to be the obvious reason. However, I later realized I was wrong.

To my surprise, I heard gunshots firing from the front end of the arcade. I rushed over there to see what was going on. I was even more shocked but what I was seeing in front of me.

First, I just came to notice that there were bandits hijacking this arcade out of all places. Cannot say if this heist was a clever idea or a stupid one. Second, these bandits’ bodies were all stacked on top of each other unconscious like a tower of Jenga. They all had stars and planets hovering over their heads. And third, I saw Ashlyn holding one of the arcade’s prizes: a starry patterned metal baseball bat. She appeared to be stacking up another body on top of her tower of bandits.

I could not believe it. Not only did she not leave me behind but instead protected me and everyone else in the arcade by fighting those armed goons. I knew she said that she was a pro at martial arts, but this is beyond amazing.

Everyone who was tied up all cheering in their muffling voices for Ashlyn. I approached behind her to congratulate her victory before *WHAM* she panicky swung her baseball bat undercutting towards my chin. The swing was so powerful that I was sent flying. For a moment, I thought I was a bird-like the ones I was seeing all day and began to flap my arms. *CRASH* my flight came to a halt as I crashed right into the wall. I slid down falling headfirst into a trash can *CONG*. My body was sunk into the can except for my legs which were dangling in the air.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry for hitting you again. For a sec there, I thought you were one of those goons” Ashlyn exclaimed as she dropped the bat, rushed over to my side and pulled my legs as hard as she can to release me.

Eventually, *POP* she released me at full force causing my body to fling once again against another wall *BASH*. I slid down once again to the floor completely knocked out. My already goofy grin widened while my flopped-out tongue lengthened. My eyes were swirling with multiple stars while also swirling my bumpy head alongside some chirping blue birdies, planets, bells, unicorns, little figures of Ashlyns pounding my head. I could not tell if Ashlyn was purposely knocking me out all the time or that she is just extremely clumsy. That will remain a mystery.

Ashlyn rushed over to my side again when the tied-up hostages began to muffle intensely warning her about something. But it was too late *BONK* there was one last bandit who took the bat Ashlyn left on the floor, snuck up behind her and whacked her on the head.

It seemed it was Ashlyn’s turn to experience the same cuckoo fate as me because of how she looked. Her eyes went cross as a lump sprouted out of her head with stars circling it. “Sooo… this…is…what…. Sky…. was…talking…. about…. pretty stars” she babbled to herself.

This bandit was not finished with her yet. *CONK* *WHACK* BONK* Ashlyn was like a nail being hammered to the ground. However, it eventually was halted by her large bust. The “hero” that the hostages rooted for has now reduced to a mindless bimbo. Her cross-eyes shot out into star shape and were spinning at a rapid pace. More lumps stacked on top of each other with halos on each one consisting of stars, birdies, chimes, planets and little rocket ships circling her concussed head. “weeee…...I'm…an……astwonaut….duhhh” she slurred with a silly grin on her face.

Some time has passed, I woke again from my starry dreams. I saw Ashlyn and the upper half of her body protruding the floor in front of me. I wanted to reach out to her but realized I was tied up and sitting against the wall with the other hostages from before. However, this rope seemed loose enough to wrangle me out of.

Just then, that last bandit showed up from the backend of the arcade with their mask off. The face reveals surprised me because it was no other than that horrible taxicab from before. “Ah, I see you’re finally awake. I remember you two lovebirds. You might be wondering why I am doing this. You see with the up rise of companies like Uber, nobody wants to pay for taxicabs anymore. So, we had to find alternatives to make some extra dough, hence why we decided to rob a dead place like this one. Anyways, I can’t forgive Ms. Hero over here for not only taking down my men but also knocking me out at my cab earlier. She will have to pay the price” the driver said before pointing a gun towards Ashlyn concussed head.

I was horrified by the sight of Ashlyn's life potentially being ended right before my eyes. Even though she has been knocking me out non-stop today, I still had strong feelings towards her.

In a desperate attempt, I quickly wrangled my way out of the rope, grabbed the starry baseball bat that was conveniently left in front of me and rampaged my way towards the driver. Before the driver turned the gun towards me, *WHACK* I slammed the bat onto the driver’s head causing stars to explode and circle around. “Uh...ohh… this … can't… good...duh” the driver slurred while staggering about.

I was so angry that I thought this driver deserves the same medicine Ashlyn was treated to. So, I used the bat and hammered down the driver into the floor *WHAM* *SLAM* *BASH*. The driver was no longer a threat. But rather a joke to everyone watching. Pupils were replaced by spinning stars, lumps stacking on top of each other with halos of stars, birdies, winged angels, cuckoo clocks and little taxicabs cabs. Not to mention the toothy grin the driver was making. “Cuckoo Cuckoo” was the only thing the driver was able to say.

All the hostages cheered once again for taking down all of the goons and saving the day. I untied everyone and wedged Ashlyn out of the floor she was stuck in. However, she was still cuckoo for cocoa puffs. “Yayyyy…. my…. herooo” she slurred.

Police cars were approaching the arcade. I know I should stay for questioning, but I do not want our date to end here even if it may seem selfish of me. I lifted Ashlyn's flimsy body onto my back and set out to our next destination on our to-do list.

To be Continued...

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captainkurosolaire · 5 years

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Demise... I am...

<“This voyage... It spells of an End. I am a foolish, flawed and overall sinful man, do not mistaken this as my apologies or sincerity, for I cannot wipe away anything I’ve done or take it back nor would those simple words be justifiably allowed to let me off. These should stick to me, ingrain, devour me wholesomely. I brought wrought to those in my waters of haven, I’ve involved to many to give themselves to my cause and affairs... And I’ve failed, every single time. Not once did I win. Or fight solely to capture that by any means. I leave now, to the unknown. To slay a demon who possessed my dearest matey even if I have to give that release personally, I will. My sweat runs rivers, not of fear, but anticipation. I made a vow a promise, t’ not die. Though in honesty, I cannot assure this. If I never hunted those Damned Relics, this would haven’t happened, I wouldn’t have those lives buried and sunken to the depths, tattooed into my inner design. This Lair of a sprawling Devil, will ensure I don’t leave unscathed, though it’ll learn --- The souls inside me, they wish to torment have already done the job of self-destruction.”> A passage was written while extending vocally a monologue in the same simulations, printed to a worn-down stained Captain’s log over-top his desk. Unpacked and several wrapped layers of loose variant astonishing silk was drawn on a scarred up canvas, often this individual didn’t wear anything but himself and a familiarized hat. Though he was shaken to a core, undeserving of holding the mantle of the Captain until he properly slew the demons and plagues that he tried drowning out through feverish one night stands to get by or the thicket of a brew, giving replacement to dealings. A recently engraved Sigil was inked to a chiseled frame right above his left-pectoral which was carefully wrapped to layers subtly behind his chosen appendages. Its properties enhanced the wielder and gave them a more even playing field against the atrocities that awaited in the stain of darkness. He sat on the edge of a reflected bedside and drew a set of wrapped field dressing around his fists in combination. Every delicately wearing apparel was in preparation, a trip to the Unknown..

Removing his family heirloom compass coated and imbued with the last extracted increments of Kahzoo’s own essence to pin-point and confuse the transportation he was seeking to hit certain homing coordinates.Delving through a portal through the making of his fellow Voidal Peers for a usage. He dropped from nasty lilac textured stormy clouds and fell in a hard dropping thud. “Ow.” He silently left before standing up and draping off his dust. A long pause followed as he observed. “Wow... whole lot of nothing. No wonder they invade us. This place is more depressing then last time..” Breathless how a place could exist with nearly nothing of extensive value. He brazenly shrugged off before shouting loudly throughout the whole realm, “HEY, Dumbass! KAHZOO, Get yer sorry-excuse for an ass out here! I..., just want to talk...” He shouted attentively with little braved concerns on who or what may be waiting to call in answer... Fumblingly lower off breath with mumbles, <Firstly though..., I need to wrangle a noose around the throat before I banish ye once and for all.> More silence broke....

Before, ~ “You came here searching to slay someone certain... But you only found your deathly demise, inferior.“ Feet of a charred black landed with three separations in sharp nailed toes like talons. Immensity of gloom settled in with a rising shift in aetherial pressure, it whirled chaotically and stung like a chain of administered whips. A thick blanketed of dark fog... or a cloud. Hung around its upper body swirling like a shroud of finery. The pitch of the screaming eeriness that cultivated fear that boiled goosebumps and chills, bred formation. As it’s tongue rolled from a putrid poisonous mouth holding more unsavory words that tone enough shattered the carriers of hearts in control. “You called a brother of mine...You must be the one so highly mentioned in spiteful complaints... A failure Captain who led his crew astray that allowed not only his dearest and only other remaining tatted brethren to his painful demise, you abandoned him and allowed him to be consumed by us. Giving my own brother a new suit of flesh, oh how, I like humanity.” It drew manically laughter to the crag-spires in underline vibrations. “Humanity. A storied flaw of what is between us. I hold little, you hide yours but overall hiding doesn’t abandon them. It’s why you’re weak, helpless. Emotions eat and fester attached to your hearts take you to travels out of stupid blind passion. But commonly, its their end they walk on. A grave they dig for chasing vengeance, ambitions, things too lofty for humane hand’s to wrap around, they’re too feeble.” A flex of this unidentifiable demon crackled its bones wickedly through its inner palms as it licked to attempt provoking uneasiness, before its targeted prey in the pirate opposing him. Jaded eyes seething of devouring, that only could be described otherworldly peered through the vapor.

The smug Seeker who typically should be blown away but was warded to the sinister tricks of the Voidkin currently. “My, my. You don’t shut up do ye lad? Humanity, this, humanity that.. News flash, I don’t hide mine. Why else do you think I’ve survived this long pencil dick? I’m flawed written on a blighted canvas! -- This place... Leviathan, it’s cozy to me even though aesthetically you’ve no talent for decor. Can say I feel at home. Cause like you, and you’ll learn if you listened to those whimpering moans of yer brother Kahzoo, I am a monster too. One who eats sins up like another pass-time. I don’t really give a shaded chub for the majority of the reasons, I am brought here. A hunt of those Relics, I obtained all those Summers ago, has brought me here to provide release of yer own unpleasant brother to one way or another for the benefit of mine... I’ll set him free, It’s my obligation and coded in my own set guidelines!” Pointing outwardly and show a symptom of no regard of what stood before him or where exactly they were in. “Fool, fool, FOOL... I feel like that is something you’ve been told. ~ Yes...” The overwhelming foul beast drew an arm up and closed its silted eyes.. Scanning for the heaviest memories and recent sorrowfulness affairs to stir pots. “You were told under crying beloved tears not to venture here. To not be so... densely stupid. Yet, here I find you. Avoiding their words? Ha, I would curse you of misery but it already awaits even without a guide of my touch. Ahhh, but there is more... You left a crew alone, You left behind without taking care of someone who holds yer heart closely and ever devotedly unwavering you have given them the keys of your inner-world but you cast ruination on all they hold precious attached to those sleeves out of this stubborn notion, you’ll prevail here. That what you sought would be claimed and answered... I even think you, -think you’ll honestly win. -- That won’t be a scenario. Here you’re in my Lair. I am infinite, I am eternal, unwavering, no ripple you make can shake me.” An unholy blasphemer quips further to regulate dread throughout a poorly designed creation in accused mortal. Nearly falling asleep while standing up from the sheer boredom and passing out a yawn as he was attempted to be riled, finally snapping back and eye-rolling, he’d shake his head playfully as the pirate launched to a springing jump and kicked in velocity his loosely worn studded leather-boots that pulled pins hung to his toes that detonated at a few second delay. A huge random holy explosion caught against the opposing demon developing him in a bright flash and hearing a screeching in frustration.

Landing back with light-steps. “You didn’t want to keep the mouth-flaps locked, I chose to do you the favor, I typically save the whole gags for another encounter of pleasure, but this was on the house.” As the crags debris and rubble all scattered and picked up a dust cloud. In the silhouette a bridle of crowned tentacles squirmed over head half of the opposing demon’s face was entirely obliterated off. As he was gargling against his own saliva the cloud that wore around started to draw into the exposed injury and rejuvenate at an accelerating rate. Tension drew in and instinctively a meteor formed above the Seeker to dodge from the heat in combination with a secondary hand of the purest of darkness etched into its violently purple complexion. A set of beams followed in tracking suite as the pirate started nimbly putting every bit of his athletically heritage running tantrum to the finesse placed on alert test to juke and dodge as many as possible. Anger was now tipped over and the time of talk finally concluded for now. No matter how swift one ran, It could not attend with so many concentrated beams. As pains of agony flinched against him from welted hits smoldering hence of fog his flesh burnt in several spots already one mean puncture against his arm that made carrying the weight of his scimitar difficult as it was unsheathed to coiled clutches. Stammering with his teeth bitten across his bottom lip drawing own blood it left a scent as he hung behind a spire to steadily, formulate a counter. Silence broke through out the dimension by standby and as the pirate took a peeking look over to see if it could determine the location of its monster. He was senseless and felt ready to run towards another spot to secure himself, in mid-step in a cosmic set of speed a thunderous connected kick echoed through out the jaw of Kuro and sent him spiraling through a layer of terrain and momentum. Raw overwhelmingly monstrous strength cracked against his spine threaten to shatter every bone in a throttle. His grip lost hold of his blades nearly by handles.

Barely his exposable fingertips hung on in desperation, only seconds already into the Void and already his own headspace was reeling back nearly wanting to go unconscious there... A blurriness to his one amber-eye watched these taunting and tormenting steps being heard against the brush of his feline ear... Slowly, methodically drawing out. Every echoing thud against the cryptic soils and nearly no sign of life in the dimensional realm. The fiend pausing purposefully before halting away a few ilms off distance. As the pair locked up once again in eyes. Kuro hardly saw the look of the ferociousness pumping in virile unadulterated and matched strength. A singular gulp was prepped as the Miqo’te braved himself for a thrashing watching that contorted face start to merge back its skin its lips still chunked off. In a split shifting speed once again the demon clutched the throat of the intruder and before the scimitars could be mustered to cut they were swatted ferociously with a tail as helplessness settled in defensively. He was being manhandled and being raised swatted with excruciating whelps by the stinging tail, his tendrils hung over head grabbed and bounded his ‘preys’ four limbs before swinging him around back and forth, over and over in crashing thwacks. His eye was blanking out and becoming more hazy as he was donning the horizon of no return. Even with a Sigil to nullify a lot of the Void’s age progression and overall corruption or to break the illusions it didn’t overall grant anything extraordinary in feats. Pain cried throughout the emptiness of the dimension. After enough invented fall-away slams, the demon got bored with his toy and threw it off to watch it try to slump up and stand. It hung back and crossed a leg just simply levitating a balance on one. Though slowly and surely that reckless and stupid, stupid, man spit out blood over himself drooling slops of streaming saliva before wiping his chin and ripping his rags off that were just decimated this point. He weakly and surely slumped over back to his two feet, his face left blank and darkened across. Before lightly wrapping a set of hands around his coveted eye-patch and rippling it off breaking his own hold. Glistening and glowing two set of the more brilliantly golden hues peered from his eyelids. Yes... Now he could see, truly. He glamoured up a smile in curvature, It didn’t need following words only the expression in his look the blood oozing and battle-worn frame that took a tremendous pounding from a far superior and overall overwhelming enemy. Round two had just began!

B L A C K

D E V I L

S A G A

~ Master-List of Previous Chapters

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heartslogos · 5 years

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seas who could sing so deep and strong [147]

“He’s like you,” Kore says softly. It sounds almost menacing.

Judge shudders.

“He will literally run off in the opposite direction of me when I’m not looking,” Kore continues, reaching out and grabbing the MOA by its head and physically dragging it back to her side. It lets out a series of confused and disappointed chirps and whirs. “And then. And then. Once the fool is…three hundred or so meters from me. He dies. He just goes and dies and it’s a mad race to get to him while not losing my mission objective.”

“Let him die,” Chic calls out.

“Please do not let me die,” Punk says in a fake robot voice. “I am new and a baby. Let me live.”

“He’s not like me, I don’t die on you,” Judge says. And then grimaces. “Any more…”

Kore picks the Moa up, folds its long legs and tucks it back against her side. The machine lets out another disappointed chirp and proceeds to sulk.

“He’s learning,” Judge says in defense of the mechanical ally that’s apparently taken his place in Kore’s mind. “He needs to explore and learn new things. He’s curious. That’s how he’s going to get strong, through experience.”

“He was just born,” Kore repeats skeptically, “And his first instinct is to chase his own death? Did you build me a suicidal machine?”

“Perish,” Chic says

“He’s investigating a mystery!” Punk says. “He’s a curious little ‘bot.”

“Yeah, investigating his own murder,” Kore sneers. “Hades, I cannot let this robot out of my sight. It is a constant, twenty four hour cycle intensive defense mission in which my defense objective is prone to running as fast as it can towards trouble that I can’t see or perceive before dying. Alternatively, standing completely still before sitting down and entering rest mode so that some enemy can trip on him and proceed to beat the shit out of him.”

“He’s tired, let him rest.”

“Punk, shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

“But do you like him?” Judge asks.

Kore’s Nidus makes a very low, warped hissing sound that sounds like if white noise and static were tangible objects that had nails and were dragging said nails down glass.

“She loves him,” Chic says. “Because he’s exactly like you. Down to the way he pokes at security panels.”

Kore doesn’t answer, just continues to attempt to wrangle the MOA under her arm until it stops struggling to be free and investigate something new and dangerous.

“I’m not going to scrap it,” Kore says once she’s reasonably sure the MOA isn’t about to lunge away from her and run off towards gunfire.

“You love it,” Judge says.

“Of course I love it,” Kore snaps, “Look at its stupid beaky face. The dumbass was built to be loved and coddled. It’s a cosmetic.”

Judge gasps, “I would never build you a cosmetic item.”

“And yet,” Kore says as the MOA breaks from her hold and starts running towards the sound of Grineer gunfire, “Look at it go.”

The MOA abruptly crumples, screeching as its legs flail in the air.

“I’ll…go revive it,” Judge says.

Kore clicks her tongue. Her Nidus lets out a low groaning, like a ship that’s hull has been breeched with a swarm of Infested.

“I don’t think it even knows I gave it a gun,” Kore says. “I’ve never seen it shoot anything. Just stare at things and sometimes peck at them before whatever it pecks punches back and it dies.”

“It’ll get stronger eventually, Hades did.”

“I did, Persephone. You have to admit I did get stronger.”

“When?” Kore bemoans. “When will it get stronger? When will it stop getting destroyed by a single bullet to the gyro? Does it ever?”

“Ask the Empress,” Chic says.

“She has a MOA?” Judge asks.

“I mean…I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Chic replies uncertain. “If Tenno use it to fight the Empress has tried it at least once.”

That makes sense.

“I’ll patch in a line to her,” Punk says, “While I bleed out over here.”

“I’m not going to help you,” Chic says. “You made your grave so lie in it. Dumbass. Bringing an unranked warframe to a relic run.”

“It’s just a lith fissure!” Punk says. “I didn’t know Percy was going to be letting her MOA run loose and wouldn’t have time for me!”

“I never have time for you.”

“Is this important?” The Empress says. “All I hear is chatter. Lith fissures? Are you honestly struggling with lith fissures? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t disconnect right now. No, Alpha. You stay there. You simply cannot just assist them every time they face a challenge. Don’t give me that look.”

Judge has no idea what look the Empress means because he’s never seen the Alpha’s face have any look.

“Persephone’s working on her MOA, the one Hades built her,” Chic says. “And it’s…getting downed a lot. We were wondering if you had any tips. Since you’re…you.”

“Leave it on your ship,” the Empress replies instantly. “It’s a cosmetic item and anything it can do you can do faster, better, and more reliably.”

“Ouch.”

“You’ve used MOA’s right?”

“Of course I’ve used them. But they simply cannot keep up with me at the speed and quality I require,” the Empress says. “My kavat is the superior option. Why meddle with inferior results when I can ascertain a consistent pay out? Besides. I don’t trust them.”

Judge blinks. “You don’t trust them? You build them yourself.”

The Empress’ words become very testy, “Sometimes certain machines…are unruly.”

The Alpha’s voice patches in, “Cephalon. She means her Cephalon.”

There’s a brief pause where Judge can only assume that the Empress and Alpha are talking privately.

“I am not going to rely on a machine which either your or my Cephalon is prone to taking control of,” the Empress says. “Especially not when the things are so easily influenced by them. Your Cephalon told my MOA to jump through a magnetic field. The thing was scrambled. Instantly scrambled. Just because your Cephalon thought it would be interesting. I am not throwing away my resources on this. Absolutely preposterous. If nothing else is needed I am cutting this connection, best of luck with the lith fissure and the MOA. Good day.”

#heartsfic #warframe #punk and chic #otp: space kids #otp: our ribs are cages

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audreycritter · 7 years

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The Babysitter’s Club: Tim and the Toddler

A fic for @komadoriwonder . Set in Cor Et Cerebrum Continuity and a follow up to “Jason’s Gots Kids?”

Rated: G Gen/Family Bonding Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Isaac Wayne, Damian Wayne, Kiran Devabhaktuni 6463 words AO3 Link Here

The Babysitter’s Club: Tim and the Toddler

The ceiling fan whirs slowly above the bed while Tim stares at it and holds his cellphone to his ear.

“But why me?” he asks, in a voice that sounds too close to whining for his own comfort. “I don't know what to do with a baby.”

“He's not a baby. He's three,” Jason answers. “And he likes you.”

This point seems feeble to Tim.

“Isaac likes everyone. What am I supposed to do with him? Why can't Alfred watch him?”

“Fu--” There's a squeal of laughter in the background. “--dge, Tim. Tomorrow’s Alfred’s day off. There's no way in heck I’m asking him to give that up. He only takes like six a year and you know it.”

Tim flops over onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillow, then turns his head so he can talk again.

“Bruce?”

“Out of town.”

“Dick?”

“Working.”

“Steph?” Tim suggests, rolling again and sitting up a little.

“Volunteer hours for school. Trust me, I asked,” Jason answers. “I hate to break it to you, but you weren't my first choice. I didn't call you for a list of suggestions, either.”

And now his older brother is starting to sound pissed instead of pleading, his patience apparently wearing thin.

“He’s three,” Jason repeats. “I'll give you a list of stuff to do. You can even pick where you watch him.”

“Ugh,” Tim says, dropping back to the bed. “Not to be overly critical, but shouldn't you have found someone like, before now? Instead of a twelve hour notice?”

Jason makes a noise Tim cannot decipher. It might be a bitten-off swear. A high, plaintive voice is now wailing something incoherent in the background.

“Damnit, Tim. I already went over this,” Jason spits out. He speaks slowly, as if to someone stupid, and it irritates Tim. “I have a workshop tomorrow. I need the continuing education credit for my job and my foster parent file. Someone told me they would have childcare and I found out this afternoon they were wrong. I've been on the phone all day, and yes I tried everyone before you and before you suggest her, Cass has a ballet rehearsal and the last time she watched him all they ate was Twizzlers.”

“Don't you have friends?” Tim says, his resolve wavering. As much as the prospect of watching a toddler for eight hours terrifies him, the idea of leaving Jason actually stranded bothers him more.

“Yeah,” Jason says sarcastically. “I work full-time and I take care of Isaac. I have a ton of friends I can pay to watch him all day. I'll just scrape together $200.”

“I'll give you two hundred if you need it,” Tim says.

“Tim,” Jason says, back now to pleading. Tim knows from experience in other things this means that Jason is ready to snap, swear at him, and slam the phone down and hold it against him for weeks. “If it's gonna be eight hours after daycare all week, I’d rather him be with family. Please.”

It is the please, from Jason, that almost undoes him on the spot.

“What about Damian?” Tim says, wincing even as he says it. “Eighteen is old enough, right?”

Jason pulls the phone away from his face, Tim guesses, because he can hear a distant, “No, Zac, we’re not painting right now.”

There’s an angry, stomping cry.

Tim sighs and feels like the asshole he knows he's being.

“Ten minutes. I promise, ten minutes, look, when the frog beeps that's ten, and we can do bath crayons. Just let me tell Uncle Tim what you like to eat for lunch.”

“Uncle Tim!” the voice yells.

“He wants to say hi,” Jason says. “Say hi. No, he can't see that, it's not Skype. Yes, we can show Grandpa Bee. Later. Say hi.”

“Hiiiiiii,” Isaac says, his voice muffled. “Isawawobutithadlasershesmyfriend.”

“I didn't get any of that,” Tim says after the sound of a brief scuffle when it's clear Jason has wrangled the phone away. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What time again? Can we do it at the Manor? My apartment is crap for kids and if I come to your place I won't know where anything is.”

“The Manor is perfect,” Jason breathes in relief. “He's got a bunch of stuff there and that room Alfred gave him. Thank you, thank you, Tim.”

“It's nothing,” Tim says, covering his eyes with one hand. “I'm sorry I was being a jerk.”

“If it makes you feel any better-- ow, Zac, did the frog beep? Isaac Alfred Wayne! No! Tim, I gotta-- okay, he took it out of his mouth. I asked Damian first but he said something about katana practice swords and I can't do that to Isaac, you know how D is.”

“Wait, you seriously asked Damian before you got to me?” Tim demands, sitting up straight. “Jay.”

“At least Damian said yes right away,” Jason shoots back. “I had to drag it kicking and screaming out of you.”

“I know, I know,” Tim says, crawling off the bed and dropping to the floor. He leans against the sideboards of the frame and drops his head against the twisted, trailing comforter. “I'm sorry. I just don't want to mess him up.”

“Tim, it’s like, eight or nine hours tops. I'm sitting on the kitchen floor and he’s watching me while he licks a bath crayon. He's pretty resilient. I think you'll manage. Seven in the morning. I'll try to feed him first but who knows how that’ll go.”

“Fine,” Tim says. “I can be an adult. Just...treat me like I'm dumb. Write it all down or text stuff or I won't know what to do.”

“I will,” Jason says. “This is my fault. I should have made you watch him sooner. Thank you. I’ll bring you coffee.”

“No,” Tim says, sliding sideways until he's slumped over on the floor. “Don't worry about it. If you get coffee that means you have to leave sooner and if you're in a hurry you’ll forget to tell me something important like that he's deathly allergic to mangoes or something I should already know and just...make it up to me later. I'll get coffee.”

“You're a lifesaver, Tim, honestly,” Jason says, sounding suddenly exhausted.

“It's fine. It's kind of my family job,” Tim says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason says and it sounds like he's yawning. “A fricking lot better now. I'll see you tomorrow.”

The line clicks off and Tim doesn't move for a few minutes. He's twenty-three and suddenly feels younger and more foolish than he has in maybe a decade and considers texting Jason to apologize, again, for being such a stubborn, whiny shit.

He scrolls through stuff on his phone while lying on his bedroom floor and finds a gif he'd forgotten to send earlier, and sends it and the apology.

Almost as soon as it sends, the phone buzzes and he looks at the screen surprised by the quick reply.

Where are we gaming tmw? Do I need to come make your sorry arse clean first?

“Crap,” Tim says, moaning. He types half a message and then deletes it all and calls.

“Dev,” he says as soon as the call connects. “I'm so sorry, I forgot. We have to cancel.”

“You forgot our years-long tradition?” Dev questions. “The same one we've canceled two weeks now over bloody poor scheduling?”

“Don't be pissed,” Tim pleads, even though Dev doesn't sound too upset. “I told Jason I'd watch Isaac.”

“Oh, brilliant then, he found someone,” Dev says. There's a pause. “Hold up, mate, he asked you?”

“He asked you before me?” Tim exclaims. “What the hell. You didn't tell him no because of gaming day, did you? Because I'm gonna feel super awful if you did and I didn't.”

“Bloody hell, of course not,” Dev says, now sounding offended. “I've a shift until seven in the morning. I'm to be on-call for the emergency department and didn't want to leave him sodding stranded if I was called into surgery at the last minute.”

“Oh,” Tim says, relaxing against the floor again. “Well, I guess it doesn't matter. I'm watching him and I'll see you Sunday if it doesn't end up in catastrophe. I mean, I know he's a good kid, I just don't know how to keep him alive all day.”

“I'll swing by, yeah?” Dev offers. “If I’m busy all night and don't get to sleep in my office, I'll stop by my flat and catch a few hours and come ‘round at lunch. Are you at Jason’s, then?”

“The Manor,” Tim says a little less miserable at the prospect now.

“Lovely,” Dev says. “I'll bring the relief effort.”

“And coffee,” Tim says, glancing around his room that he should probably clean now if he's going to be gone all day tomorrow and won't want to deal with Sunday. “Bring coffee.”

Isaac Wayne is a wonderful nephew and Tim knows it. He is sweet and affectionate and liberally gives out hugs and smiles.

He is also losing his tiny mind.

Tim, despite his better judgment, patrolled for four hours after cleaning most of his apartment. And now, having left a whirlwind of barely-touched breakfast and snack foods in their wake, he is exhausted and following Isaac around as the kid runs from room to room yelling for people and at things.

After Jason dropped him off, Tim managed to more or less follow the list and it is during Isaac’s first frustrated meltdown at not being understood that Damian emerges from whatever lair he's been lurking in and watches, faintly amused. It does not help that he is almost as tall as Bruce now, head and shoulders over Tim.

“Don't just stand there,” Tim snaps, a bucking, shrieking toddler just barely captured under one arm. “Help or get lost.”

Damian shrugs and leaves, which is not exactly what Tim was hoping would happen. Still, even if Damian has mellowed a lot in the past few years, it's not like little kids are his strong suit any more than they're Tim’s. Especially crying, screaming, angry ones. Maybe if Isaac had fur and soft, floppy ears, Damian’s tolerance would extend beyond good moods.

There's the soft snick of a door locking that Tim manages to hear over a brief gap when Isaac stops to suck in air. That, from the direction of the front parlor, means Damian’s elected to retreat as far as the cave and Tim guesses he won't even see him again until he's out tonight, if then.

“Wanna go find a cat, Isaac? Where's the cat?”

“No!” Isaac shouts, twisting hard.

“What about a car? Do you like cars?” Tim pleads, cussing inwardly at himself for all the times Stephanie prompted just go play with him, nerdbrain, you won't always be able to just watch cartoons and he'd ignored her.

Swimming, he can do, but it’s too cold. Reading, he can handle but they've done all of Isaac’s favorites twice already. Jason had written in all-caps at the end of his page of instructions DO NOT LET HIM WATCH TV ALL DAY, TIM. ONE HOUR MAX.

Tim is saving that hour, clinging to it like a life raft.

“Cars?” Isaac sniffles.

“Cars,” Tim says again, relieved. “Wanna see cars? Real ones?”

Belatedly, he realizes Isaac might actually have toy cars somewhere in the playroom now across from the study, but the little boy twists in Tim’s grip so he's somehow shifted himself from under Tim’s arm to perched on his hip. Remnants of tears glisten in his eyes and he nods.

“Yeah,” Isaac says, “yeah.”

So, second-guessing himself the whole time, Tim treks down to the garage with the kid and sets him down after flicking the lights on. He's pretty sure Isaac’s been in the room before, by the way he heads straight for the pegboard of keys and bounces expectantly.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Tim warns, alarms now going off in his head. He's not completely certain but he's mostly confident in his belief that people Isaac’s size still require car seats. If there's one at the Manor, he has no idea where it is.

Isaac’s face twists into a disappointed pout, his lower lip trembling.

“Wanna pretend to drive?” Tim offers hurriedly. “You can sit in the big seat and everything.”

The pout instantly transforms into such a look of unreserved rapture that Tim wonders if he's letting Isaac do something that's usually off-limits in any and every form.

“Pick one,” Tim gestures to the room. “Any of ‘em.”

Isaac makes a beeline for a bright red Lamborghini that was one of Bruce’s preferred social night cars when Tim was thirteen. It looks dated and not quite vintage yet, but still sleek and shining. It's flashy and screams for attention and is the embodiment of everything Bruce tried to project his public image as at the time. That was before he'd somehow shifted to hapless dad with Tim, Cass, and Damian at his elbows instead of low-necklined 20-somethings in gala photos.

The last public photo Tim had been made aware of, by the office and by family, was Bruce in a suit with Isaac in one arm and a sippy cup in the other hand, cheerfully taking the toddler’s escape onto the stage in-stride at a building dedication ceremony.

Soft, to Bruce’s supreme frustration, was a word often paired with him in press descriptions now. Still, nobody could argue it wasn't, at the least, an effective distraction.

Tim unlocks the Lamborghini and makes sure the start features are disabled and the brake locked, and then lets Isaac have at it. The toddler sits on his knees on the leather seat and makes loud engine noises while he turns the wheel, and then gets distracted by jabbing radio buttons.

As Tim leans back in the passenger seat, letting Isaac explore and pretend to drive, he watches to make sure he doesn't press anything that could be dangerous and he relaxes a little. Isaac flashes him a crooked, toothy grin that, despite the lack of blood relationship, reminds him a lot of Jason.

For the first time in hours, Tim doesn't feel on the verge of being massively overwhelmed. He wishes he'd bothered to talk himself down a bit from reactive panic earlier, because it's actually kind of nice, just hanging out with a kid who thinks he's one of the most important people in the world.

He's always liked Isaac but there have always been other people around to deal with diapers and food and sleeping and tears and Tim has instinctively shied away from every close encounter to such things. Right now, sitting and watching the curly-headed kid grip his little brown hands around the leather-bound steering wheel, he faces the fact that he's already survived an entire morning of being It and it isn't as bad as he thought.

Isaac looks over and says, “You be a robot. I'm Robin Hood.”

“Okay,” Tim says, feeling dumb about pretending but also aware it is something he can do to keep Isaac happy. “Do I have a jet pack?”

He definitely has this under control.

An hour later and he has nothing under control.

Tim is in the kitchen with a bowl of macaroni and cheese he made from a box, a box Jason specifically packed because he claimed Isaac would eat it.

Isaac is on the floor sobbing that he will not eat that macaroni.

Or, that's about as much as Tim has deciphered.

The little boy drags himself off the floor and stumbles toward the fridge, still wailing. He tugs ineffectually at the door, too weepy to get a good grip.

“Isaac, you like macaroni!” Tim says, half-encouraging and half-begging, the plastic bowl still in his hand. He'd managed to keep him busy at the table with crayons and paper while he cooked the promised macaroni but it had taken one glance for Isaac to fling himself down and cry.

“Wantowlcheese,” Isaac sobs back.

“It is mac-n-cheese!” Tim insists, wiggling the bowl. “Just look!”

He can't remember if he ever gave nannies a hard time like this.

“WANTOWLCHEESE!” Isaac roars, slumping against the fridge and sniffling bitterly.

“I've either arrived too early or too late,” Dev says from the kitchen doorway.

“Thank God,” Tim exhales over the noise, when he turns and sees Dev with a drink tray. “Help me.”

“What'd you do to him, Timothy?” Dev asks impassively, holding the drink carrier out a little when Tim reaches desperately for the coffee. There's another tiny cup nestled next to his and he didn't even know they came in that size.

“Nothing!” Tim protests. “I made him lunch. He freaked out.”

“OWL. CHEESE. OWL. CHEESE.” Isaac punctuates the words with kicks to the fridge door.

“Mate,” Dev says, crouching down by Isaac. “I've brought you coffee.”

“Dev!” Tim exclaims. “Jason will kill me. Kill me.”

“Bloody hell, Timothy, calm down,” Dev says, turning with the cup in his hand. “Have a bit of trust, yeah?”

Tim nervously sips his coffee and taps his foot while watching, the abandoned macaroni bowl on the counter.

“Coffee?” Isaac asks hopefully, calming down to hiccups.

“Your own,” Dev says. “Come ‘round to the table, then, and sit with us. I've a tea and Uncle Tim’s got his own coffee.”

There is a brief moment when Isaac looks peaceful, like he might stand up and wipe his face off and listen. But then his tiny brows scrunch with betrayal and his mouth twists and he wails, even more loudly.

“NO. OWL CHEESE.”

Dev stands and sets the cup on the counter and takes his own tea. Tim is annoyed at how calm he looks.

“That's it? You're just giving up?”

“Where’s Alfie?” Dev asks, looking around.

“It's his day off,” Tim says sharply. “And if I bother him in any way, Jason won't just kill me, he’ll make it slow and painful.”

“He wants Alfie’s cooking,” Dev says, pointing vaguely in Isaac’s direction with his elbow while he sips his tea.

“Owl cheese,” Tim echoes, putting a hand over his eyes. “I'm an idiot.”

“Jay feeds him well enough,” Dev says, glancing at the box still sitting sideways on the counter. “But the tyke’s had everything from scratch here. Did you bother explaining anything?”

“He's three,” Tim says, looking at the weeping boy.

“Oh,” Dev says, turning and hunting the cabinets for something. “So he’s not grown his brain yet. That comes a bit later, right.”

“I don't know what I'm doing!” Tim says, exasperated. “It didn't say I had to explain everything!”

Dev’s found a pepper shaker in the cabinet and he takes the macaroni and cheese and sits on the floor with it.

“Look, mate,” Dev says to Isaac, who flops over and glares at him. “Owl’s out for the day. He's on a trip. We've got to manage by ourselves but I've found the specks he puts on the other kind.”

“How do you know all this,” Tim says flatly. “Am I just, like, super detached?”

Isaac sits up to watch Dev twist the grinder. Flakes of pepper drift down onto the boxed macaroni, black against neon orange.

“I'm about,” Dev says. “And with Alfie when I'm not with you, when I'm not suturing someone or setting bones.” He hands Isaac the bowl and Isaac sits with his little legs splayed out to the sides and begins eating.

“Yeah,” Tim says with a note of irritation, “but when do you spend time with kids? Like how do you just know?”

Dev reaches up to the counter for his tea while Isaac hums happily and spoons noodles into his mouth.

“I've pediatric patients,” Dev says. “Not a lot, but now and then. And Rani’s kids. And I was ten when Kam was born; I watched her when my mum was busy. Leena wouldn't.”

Only halfway through the bowl, Isaac’s head dips forward and then jerks upward. The second time it happens, Dev’s hand flies out and catches Isaac’s face right before it lands in the macaroni.

“Did he nap?” Dev asks, sounding worried. “He's not fevered.”

“Jay’s notes said ten in the morning, but when I asked, Isaac said he wasn't tired,” Tim says, fully unprepared for the incredulous look Dev swings around to give him.

“You bloody asked him,” Dev says.

“I hate it when people are always telling me to sleep!” Tim protests. “He said he wasn't tired!”

“Is there a bed made up?” Dev asks, shifting around and sliding the bowl out of the way with his foot. He lifts the slumped tiny body off the floor and hands him over to Tim. “I'm telling Jason to start dropping him off at your flat once a week.”

Tim lets Isaac’s heavy head drop against his shoulder and the boy snuggles drowsily into him.

“I'm the worst uncle,” Tim sighs, leaving the kitchen.

There's a small bed in the room across from the study, surrounded by a mix of vintage and newer toys. Tim lowers Isaac carefully and the toddler startles and blinks.

“Shh,” Tim attempts.

“Uncle Robot,” Isaac mumbles, turning over. He's asleep again.

Tim returns to the kitchen to find Dev rummaging through the fridge. The tiny coffee cup is sitting on a shelf next to a stack of yogurts.

“Coffee?” Tim asks.

“Steamed milk with caramel flavoring,” Dev says. “Rani’s kids order it. There's lasagna. Have you eaten?”

“No,” Tim says, leaning against the counter. “I'm honestly so bad at this, Dev. It's messed up. Give me a kid that’s hurt or been kidnapped and I know exactly what to do. But give me a few hours with my own nephew and I'm shit.”

The microwave buzzes faintly as it heats up the container Dev threw onto the rotating plate.

“You've not done as poorly as you think,” Dev says. “Stop expecting yourself to be bloody perfect the moment you give it a go. You're not his da.”

Tim shrugs. “That's true. I guess it hasn't been that bad.”

“He would've shouted about Alfie’s macaroni even if Jason had been here,” Dev says confidently. “You'll just have to stop panicking and treating him like a machine with an sequence of buttons to push. Talk to him.”

Tim feels the sting of this, an analogy similar to the same one he mentally leveled at Damian early, and he swallows.

“Wanna get some gaming in?” he asks, when Dev pulls the lasagna out and pokes it experimentally with a fork.

“Of course I sodding do,” Dev says. “I've been in withdrawal.”

And for an hour, Tim trades off eating and managing the controller of a long-neglected RPG in an alien landscape. They play until a small, sleepy voice from behind them asks, “Where's my coffee?”

“I've saved it for you, mate,” Dev says, pausing the game.

“Can you get it?” Tim asks, glancing at the screen. “I just had an idea but I have to break into Cass’ room.”

If the idea of him picking the lock to his sister’s rarely used bedroom might have once surprised Dev, it doesn't now, and the older man takes it easily in stride. He stands and holds a hand out to Isaac.

“Come on, then, you plonker. Let’s get your coffee.”

Tim sprints up the stairs and tries the knob before hunting around for a key. There's one under the decorative vase on a pillar a few feet down the hall. Cass, in the past few years, has treated the room as a sort of holding place for stuff she's fond of or considers useful but doesn't want to try to cram into the apartment she shares with Steph. The one time Bruce suggested cleaning out the room, Alfred had given him a sharp scowl and reminded him when only Tim was in earshot, that at least she was now caring to save things instead of treating everything as disposable or free of emotional meaning.

The room, for all her saving, is still fairly neat and not anywhere close to hoarding. Under the thin TV on one wall, there is an old, dusty Wii U system and Tim texts her before unplugging it and blowing it off.

Downstairs, he hooks it up to the TV. He can hear Isaac giggling and Dev talking in that over-serious way he uses when he's being ridiculous.

Tim turns on the Wii U just to make sure it will work and then heads to the kitchen. He finds Isaac sitting with both of his hands around the paper cup, concentrating on balancing it when he takes a drink. Dev has made another cup of tea and is building a tower out of sugar cubes. When it gets five or six blocks high, Isaac puts his cup down and knocks it over, then roars with laughter.

“I got it set up,” Tim says, sitting down with them. Isaac promptly abandons his destructive efforts to climb onto Tim’s lap. “Want to play a game?”

“Yeah!” Isaac says. “Chess?”

“You are not a normal three year old,” Dev says evenly, sipping his tea. “I'll blame this one on Wayne.”

“I bet he makes him follow the rules, too,” Tim says, ruffling Isaac’s curls. They bounce back into place.

“Pawn hops forward,” Isaac says. “One hop.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna go play video games, Isaac,” Tim says, shaking the cup a little to confirm that it's empty. “I like chess but you need to develop some controller skills.”

“I don’t like chess,” Dev says, “despite your da’s repeated attempts to prove to me otherwise.”

“That's because you only ever play with Bruce,” Tim retorts, standing and lifting Isaac with him. “It's like playing a brick wall. A really smart brick wall, but his no-talking rule makes it pretty dry. We should play sometime.”

“Bishop goes sideways!” Isaac comments cheerfully.

“No,” Dev says firmly. “You and Steph already bloody tried this with word game apps and I know my weaknesses. I'll stick to games with proper button-mashing.”

They walk into the den together and Tim sets Isaac down on the couch, where the kid does a headstand on the cushions.

“Uncle Tim!” he cries. “Watch!”

He does something that might be an attempt at a flip, but looks more like falling sideways. Tim waits a moment to see if Isaac will express disappointment with the result, but he tumbles upright looking pretty pleased with himself.

“Wow,” Tim says.

“Brilliant,” Dev says. “You ought to teach me sometime. And convincing enthusiasm, Tim.”

“Shut up,” Tim mutters, getting the Gamepad. “You think Captain Toad is okay?”

Isaac bounces on the couch and reaches out with both arms. His face is split in a massive, excited grin and Tim kicks himself for not thinking of this months ago.

“That one’s lovely,” Dev agrees, leaning back on the couch and stretching out his legs.

Tim sits on the other side of Isaac and leans over, rushing through the start menu prompts before Isaac’s fingers can hit the screen.

“Okay, now you can do it,” Tim says once the level is started. “Move with this.”

Isaac sticks his tongue out one corner of his mouth while he concentrates, moving the avatar on screen in tiny, jerky motions as he manipulates the joystick.

“Oh, you got a coin, well done,” Dev says, when Isaac’s managed to move his figure around a little.

“Yeah,” Isaac agrees, his voice full of a smile.

“Walk this way,” Tim says, pointing. He waits while Isaac figures out how to turn around. “Yep. Go right for that bridge.”

They sit for close to half an hour while Isaac plays, his face tipping closer and closer to the screen until Tim has to remind him to sit back. He gets through two levels before Tim notices the time.

“You hungry?” he asks.

“No,” Isaac says.

“It's snack time,” Tim says, glancing over Isaac’s head for Dev’s support. Dev shrugs.

“No,” Isaac says.

“I think we need to stop,” Tim says reluctantly, braced for explosion. “You need to eat something. You didn't even finish lunch.”

“No,” Isaac whines, clutching the Gamepad.

“Two minutes?” Dev suggests.

“I’ll set a timer on my phone,” Tim says. “It beeps and we’re done.” He readies himself for this to backfire, already envisioning himself and Dev having to literally pry Isaac away from the game amid screaming.

“Okay,” Isaac sighs, dramatically.

The phone beeps in a sing-song tone two minutes later and Isaac slowly and, with much moaning, surrenders the Gamepad.

Dev shuts off the system while Tim takes Isaac to the bathroom, despite Isaac complaining he doesn't need to go, and he waits just outside when Isaac pushes against his legs and says, “By myself.”

He has to go in and roll toilet paper back up and straighten out Isaac’s crooked pants, but they eventually end up in the kitchen again with peanut butter crackers and apple slices. By Jason’s estimation, there's only an hour and a half left before he comes to pick Isaac up and Tim is faintly surprised that the time is already gone. It feels like it's been both the longest and shortest day he's had in a while.

Tim brews another cup of coffee and ducks out to find Dev sleeping on the couch. He goes back to the kitchen to hear Isaac talking to his crackers, just as Damian comes back in through the front door with an animal carrier.

“If it's rabid, Isaac’s still here,” Tim warns, leaning his head out into the hallway.

“It is not rabid,” Damian says, sounding only mildly annoyed. He brushes past Tim and sets the cage on the kitchen floor. He opens the door and a kitten crawls out into his outstretched hand.

Isaac forgets completely about his half-eaten snack and tries to crane his neck and stand on tiptoes to see the mewling creature while Tim wipes his hands off.

“Whose cat?” Tim asks, feeling dumb for asking.

“A foster kitten,” Damian says. “I will only have him for a few weeks. The mother wouldn't feed him.”

“Oh,” Tim says, lifting Isaac to see.

“I thought Isaac would appreciate him,” Damian says, holding the kitten out a little without giving it up completely. Isaac reaches out tentatively, his eyes wide, and pulls his fingers back with a tiny yelp of surprise when the kitten licks him.

“Rough,” he says, startled, and looking to Damian’s face for a reaction.

“The tongue is slightly abrasive,” Damian says, letting the kitten gnaw and suck on his own fingers. Isaac reaches out to try again and this time, giggles. Tim feels the little boy press more tightly against his side in giddiness, and his free hand clenches and unclenches as if trying to dispel his desire to squeeze the cat.

The kitten mewls at Isaac’s knuckles and Tim, by way of angling himself so Isaac can be closer to the cat, finds himself standing closer to Damian than he usually does. They've long since moved past their days of outright antagonism but they've never exactly been close, and even Damian’s closer relationships tend to have moments where physical contact or nearness flits in and out by his mood. Most of the time, his youngest brother carefully keeps a diameter of personal space Steph teasingly refers to as “Damian’s Sacred Bubble.”

Isaac is leaning his head over the kitten, almost touching Damian’s cheek with his own forehead, and Damian does not step back or move away. He pets the kitten’s back with a thumb.

“I do not think I joke well over the phone,” Damian says quietly, to Tim and not to Isaac. Isaac is meowing back at the kitten in a little voice that might be his attempt at a whisper.

“What?” Tim asks.

“Or perhaps I underestimated Jason’s level of stress and it was not good timing,” Damian continues, as if Tim hadn't spoken.

Above Isaac’s head, for a brief second, their eyes meet and Tim has a flash of understanding.

“The wooden katanas,” he says.

“I am not inept. I have learned what is appropriate for small children,” Damian says, almost defensively.

“Jay was really stressed,” Tim says. “And I was a jerk. At least you were just trying to be funny.”

“Tt,” Damian says, his gaze on the cat.

“You could have stuck around and hung out with us,” Tim says, wondering now if he’d also somehow driven Damian away on top of it. He really needs to take some time off work and push himself. It's been awhile since he's really been very far from his, albeit often physically dangerous, comfort zone.

“I was angry,” Damian says simply, holding out an arm. Tim shifts Isaac up and slides him over, so Damian is left with a nephew crooked in one elbow and a kitten on his other wrist.

“Angry is okay,” Isaac says seriously, still enthralled by the kitten. “Biting is not.”

That gets a sudden flash of a smile out of Damian and Tim laughs and pats Isaac’s shoulder.

“I was slightly angry,” Damian amends. “I was also hurt.”

“Bandaid?” Isaac asks suddenly, his attention torn from the kitten as he leans back in Damian’s arm to look his uncle over.

“No,” Damian says quietly, without humor. Tim, however, is amused but only slightly. “A different type of hurt. I think I am doing better now. Is Alfred still sleeping?”

“He's here?” Tim asks, surprised.

“Owl?” Isaac echoes hopefully.

“He often sleeps on his day off, but rarely past dinner,” Damian says. “If you have not seen him, he is likely still asleep or reading.”

“Owl is busy,” Tim tells Isaac. “Tomorrow you can see him.” Despite Jason’s threats, Tim seriously doubts Alfred would be much bothered by seeing Isaac if he was awake-- but Tim doesn't want to risk waking him if he isn't up on his own.

“D,” Tim says, finally petting the kitten for himself. Isaac returns to patting the kitten very gently on the head. “Do you want to P-A-T-R-O-L tonight?”

“Ice cream,” Isaac says, as if he understood a message. “Yes.”

“No,” Tim says with a grin. “But maybe I can find you a cookie.”

“Yes,” Damian says simply. “Do you want me to entertain Isaac?”

“As long as it's not with katanas,” Tim says, yawning. “Yeah. I have no idea how Jason does this all day.”

“That was a joke,” Damian says flatly, his mouth slanted downward in that way Tim now recognizes as mild humor. “We will build with blocks. It is conducive to motor skill development.”

“Uncle Dev built blocks. I ate some,” Isaac says, struggling to get down. Damian lowers him to the tiled floor.

“Sugar cubes,” Tim clarifies. “I didn't know he fed them to you.”

“Kiran employs methods of forming bonds that are not entirely satisfactory,” Damian says. “But they are effective.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, wondering if sugar cubes are the sort of thing that rate a mention to Jason.

“Cookie?” Isaac reminds him.

Cookies and sugar cubes seem, upon consideration, the sort of thing that can be overlooked.

Isaac leads the way to the playroom with a cookie in one hand, Damian trailing behind him slow and tall with the kitten still curled against one shoulder.

And in the sudden absence of responsibility, even briefly, Tim finds himself unable to decide what to do. He checks his phone and, almost as if by magic or summoning, it rings.

It's Jason.

“Please tell me my kid is alive,” Jason says. “We got out early and I am fricking done with this entire day.”

“Alive and pretty happy,” Tim says, relieved that he can say it honestly. “He's playing.”

“I'm bringing food. Don't argue. Is Damian there?”

“Yep,” Tim says. “He was joking about the swords, by the way.”

“Shit,” Jason says, and Tim can hear a palm pound against steering wheel. “He's probably pissed.”

“No, I think it's okay,” Tim says, less sure but enough to attempt to reassure Jason. “Dev’s here, too. And Al, but he might be asleep. I can pitch in.”

“Don't worry about it,” Jason says. “Is Isaac tired?”

“Um,” Tim says, slowly, hedging. “He kind of, uh, took a late nap.”

“That's fine,” Jason says, though the overall tone of his handwritten instructions had seemed to indicate otherwise. “I'm grabbing Chinese. Text me if you want anything besides the usual. Tell Isaac I'm on my way.”

The line goes dead without a goodbye and Tim wanders down the hall. He joins Damian on the floor among a massive supply of blocks. Isaac is alternating between stacking them for a bridge and checking on the kitten still in Damian’s lap.

“Your dad’s on his way,” Tim says.

“I miss him,” Isaac says forlornly. “I don't want to leave. I like this cat.”

“I think you're staying for dinner,” Tim says, by way of solace. He adds two green blocks to the bridge scaffolding.

“Yes!” Isaac cheers, startling the sleepy kitten.

Tim stretches out on the floor by the bridge.

“Wake me up before Jason comes into the room,” he warns Damian. “Or before you leave. None of that technicality sh--crap.”

“Alright,” Damian says, his voice startlingly like Bruce’s when he's humoring someone. “Hold still. I am going to build over your legs to demonstrate support systems. Isaac, watch me.”

“I love today,” Isaac says. “I drove Grandpa Bee’s car.”

“Please let me retreat before you tell Jason this,” Damian says to Tim, who is already half-dozing.

“It was--” Tim begins to say hurriedly, but he opens his eyes to see Isaac bouncing slightly on his knees as he adds a blue triangle block to the tower by Tim’s ankle. His little face is full of serious focus. “Okay. Yeah. Sure thing, Damian. It was the best, wasn't it, Isaac?”

Isaac sets a block down and nods.

“We went so fast.”

Tim is far more asleep than he intended to be when Damian nudges his hip, hard, and his eyes fly open and the towers around his feet scatter when he starts.

The toddler doesn't even react because he's already scrambling toward the door and the announcing yell, “Where the frick is everyone? I'm here!”

“Daddy!” Isaac shrieks, tearing out the door.

Tim and Damian follow, Tim still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Isaac is already in Jason’s arms, clinging tightly.

“Have a good day, kid?” Jason asks.

“Yes,” Isaac says fiercely. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Jason says, bumping his forehead against Isaac’s. “Tell your slowpoke uncles to come eat before it gets cold.”

“Come eat!” Isaac orders over his little shoulder.

Tim isn't especially good at following orders, but this one he has no trouble with at all.

#cor et cerebrum series #tim drake #isaac wayne #jason todd #damian wayne #kiran devabhaktuni #ficblogging #batman #batfam #batfic

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thisgirlhastales · 7 years

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A quick check-in on space cowboys Lance and Keith, the Two McClains

Lance ducks beneath a barrage of gunfire, and Keith jumps the fence into the corral, ready to defend him from the swiftly approaching goons that Hesfer employs. The animals in the corral are not best pleased by the fighting, making low, threatening hums that Keith would probably call “moos” if they were Earth cows.

Lance definitely calls them the cows with far too much delight, and Keith, dreading the horrific jokes, has consistently cut him off by stating, “They’re called munssen, Lance. No one here knows what a cow is other than me.”

Keith stabs towards a thug who’s trying to get at Lance, and he parries a blow from another as Lance attempts to take the boss down with his pistols. Hesfer fires at the giant munssen that Lance is using for cover, and said peaceful grazing herbivore decides that it has had enough of this crap and proceeds to lower its head and charge at the mercenary boss, skewering her on three of its five horns.

The battle ends abruptly.

Lance and Keith and Hesfer’s thugs all look at each other. The alien woman who had been Hesfer’s righthand takes a moment to evaluate the bloody, unmoving body of her employer and says, “Well, McClains, I think we’ve had enough for today.”

“Right,” Lance says, sounding strangled, tipping his cowboy hat at her. “But considering the hole in my favourite jacket, maybe it’s a moot point.”

Keith groans and buries his face in hands that are still clutching his twin blades.

Lance just grins wildly, high on adrenaline. And stupidity. But the latter was his default state. “C’mon, we just about wrangled ourselves a win here.” He twirls his pistols back into their holsters and shoots Keith with finger guns.

“No. Stop,” Keith says, pointing at him with one of his swords. “Lance, I’m dead serious.”

“Oh Keith, that’s just bull,” Lance crows.

Keith can feel himself dying inside. “You can’t even pun properly half the time, let alone make good ones when you do,” he insists, trying to end his suffering while sheathing his blades.

“Right, we’ll be taking our boss’s body now,” the woman says, looking like she sincerely doubts their sanity and wishes to be far away. Keith does not blame her. He ignores the retreating mercenaries as Lance holds a hand to his heart.

“Yeah, she was such a prize that heifer, I mean Hesfer.”

“Lance, if you don’t stop, you are sleeping on the damn floor, see if I won’t kick your ass straight out of bed tonight.”

“Sorry, buddy, I don’t think I herd you right?” And then he runs away, weaving between the munssen (all right, damn it, they definitely looked like cows, albeit green with five horns), as Keith gives chase.

Keith tackles him into the dust, to the background chorus of more space cows mooing and going about their business.

Lance grins up at him, shameless. “Howdy are you today, McClain?”

Keith drops his head to Lance’s chest, breathing heavily, and says, “Even though I’ve been stuck with you for months, half the time I still don’t know what in starnation you’re on about.”

The silence that follows is charged. When Keith lifts his head up, he sees that Lance’s blue eyes are wider — and darker.

“Keith, did you just break out your Texas for me? Did you just make a space cowboy pun for me?”

“No. You’re hearing things, maybe being a cowboy has limited your range.” Apparently, Keith could not pun properly either, nor did he have any dignity left, thanks to Lance.

“Keith. Keith,” Lance says, breathless and writhing beneath him, and Keith would be answering that call to nudity if they weren’t currently in a corral full of space cows, and if Lance wasn’t about to say the exact thing he said next.

“We should probably catch a ride home, right?” Lance asks, teasing Keith with a swift roll of his hips. “Or ...” And then he leans up and whispers in his ear. “Say it, Keith, c’mon. Please? Pretty please?”

“No. Also, the fact that bad jokes turn you on explains so much.”

“Keith, we should save the horse, and —”

Keith covers Lance’s mouth with his hand. “You’ve said it once, and that was more times than it should ever have been said. Now, let’s get the hell out of here before we get stampeded over.”

Lance sighs heavily, allowing Keith to pull him up to a standing position. Just as they’ve left the corral, walking over to the ikuril they rode in on, Lance pounces onto Keith’s back. Keith is forced to tightly grip the lanky legs that have wrapped around his waist, stumbling to keep his balance and prevent them both from crashing to the ground.

With all joy and ridiculousness, Lance announces, “Okay, Keith, I won’t say it since you’re the hoss.”

See, @thidwicktails see what you made me do? ;D (For everyone else’s reference, that “starnation” pun was brought to my attention in this post. I am not nearly that clever. I might have googled a bit to get ideas for the other ones. I cannot pun naturally!)

This is a little too cheerful to fit in my mercenary space cowboy world. But even so, let’s pretend it takes place a few months after they’ve established themselves as The Two McClains. *nods*

Edit: Edited and posted this one-shot over on AO3 under the title Save a Horse (But Also Spare the Cowboy), just ‘cause I wanted to keep most of my writings in one spot :)

#voltron #klance #the two mcclains #keith (voltron)#lance (voltron)#voltron fanfic #fanfic

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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CSUAPR prt 55 update - feels clunky as fuck

Help came in the form of Pidge. The storm had barely let up as the eye passed over the forest, yet without permission from the garrison she’d stolen a pod from under their noses, then “kidnapped” one of the doctors off the base. Miriam had called Coran, Coran calling Pidge, upset that help hadn’t been sent to assist them sooner, Pidge flipping the Garrison the bird and taking things into her own hands. Landing the small pod in front of the cabin, both Pidge and the “procured” doctor soaked to the bone in the short run from the pod to the cabin door. Awoken by a barking Kosmo, Shiro armed himself with the lamp from the beside table, nearly taking Pidge’s head off swinging his improvised as she came crashing into the room. The lamp shattering against the doorframe, waking both twins with the sound of it. Lance still out cold to the world, Keith and Curtis had let Shiro sleep. Curtis faking sleep until his boyfriend had settled, then admitted he was too worried to sleep. He wouldn’t be able to rest until Lance woke, until he was safely settled in the care of medical professionals. Trapped between Lance and Shiro, Curtis had helped him wash his hands finally free of the traces of birth. He monitors Lance’s temperature and heart rate, as well as checking the bleeding between his legs. As far as both of them were concerned, Pidge had arrived at the best possible time. A flurry of activity had followed. Pidge was accepted by Kosmo, the doctor she’d brought with her was not. Kosmo didn’t appreciate her gentle hands on Lance’s naked form, nor the way she was questioning Keith over the birth and Lance’s subsequent condition. Shiro’s job went from sheepishly picking up shards of broken lamp to wrangling an angry Kosmo away from the bed. The twins were crying, Keith was yelling, Curtis was worrying, Pidge was hovering and the poor doctor was trying to keep Lance alive. It was a flurry of excitement Keith’s poor heart didn’t need. * Seated in the waiting area of the Garrison’s infirmary wing, Shiro’s eyes remained on his little brother. Keith wasn’t handling this well. His brother had gone from pacing to yelling, back to pacing and brushing off any form of comfort offered. As they twins were taken one way and Lance rushed off the other. Lance hadn’t woken, yet had thrown a seizure when being moved. His brother was melting down as his happiness crumbled, blaming himself entirely for the situation when Shiro was to blame. He shouldn’t have allowed them to stay at the cabin. He knew the storm was forecast. He knew they’d issues alert warning of the high winds and wild weather. He’d made the wrong decision, possibly costing Lance his life. Kissing his hair, Curtis was his strength. Keith’s rejection of his attempts to calm him had hurt. His brother wasn’t the only one scared by the situation. Lance may be Keith’s husband, but that didn’t give him the exclusive right to worry... or to take a swing at him as he yelled that “he could never understand”. No. He couldn’t understand how it felt to lose a husband, instead he simply knew how it felt to lose an ex-fiancé without ever reconciling. Coran had barely stepped foot on the base before he was taken by Pidge to collect Miriam. Shiro’s suspicion was that she’d been deeply shaken over the events of the night, and as point of distraction she was doing absolutely everything she could to avoid sitting still. Lance had built up so many walls, placed so much distance between him and all of them, never wanted to seem less than perfect before them, was in a critical condition. In surgery, tucked away in some back operating news while they all sat and waited. There hadn’t been news of the twins either. Shiro wanted to ask. He wanted to stand up, storm out and demand answers. The very thing he’s banned Keith from doing. Since Pidge has returned with Miriam and Jorge, Keith had finally allowed himself to be comforted. Getting up left him afraid he’d disturb his brother, or fill his head with thoughts over what could be happening with the twins. No. Keith had stumbled into Miriam’s arms, clutched her right and broken down against her. They were now sitting on the opposite side of the space. Jorge was wringing his hands. Coran was pacing. Pidge was on her comms, Krolia scheduled to arrive within the half hour. Aside from calling Coran, Miriam had reached out to Lance’s team. They’d be coming the following day, once the storm had lessened, though the main reason was that they didn’t want to overwhelm Lance. “Taka, he’s going to be ok” Squeezing his hand softly, Curtis’s soft words meant the world to him. His boyfriend was giving him the space and permission to let himself be honest with his fears “We don’t know that for sure. We’ve been waiting for hours” “Would you like me to go ask?” “I don’t want Keith to worry” “We’re all worried. Lance is strong. He’s in good hands” That was true. Though Shiro couldn’t currently recall the name of the female doctor who Pidge had brought with her to the cabin off the top of his head, he knew she had to have served under him. All medical staff did on a three month rotation to train them in off-world emergency procedures “There was so much blood” “And you did absolutely everything you could. I was proud of you today. I am proud of you everyday, but I think I might just have fallen in love with you all over again” “I wasn’t the one doing the hard work... I was... I was jealous when I first learned of his pregnancy. Seeing that... seeing the pain he went through...” “To birth two beautiful and healthy boys. Don’t forget the good because of the bad. I know you’re in love with them” “Only as much as you are” To hold the soft warm life that went from simply being a baby boy to Laith... To deliver him into his hold. The elation he’d felt to see the little boy in person. Curtis was as proud as he was. Their God sons were a miracle made flesh. “I’ve never seen something that incredible” Curtis and Lance’s relationship had crossed into something akin to what he had Keith. Curtis would do absolutely everything for Lance. They were able to communicate in a way that’d taken Shiro months to achieve “It was pretty amazing. They turned from two lives inside of Lance into two people. I wonder what their features will settle into” “They look more like Keith. Lance will be happy about that” A mini-Keith was Lance’s hope. Lance had made it clear that he’d hoped his sons looked like his father, disregarding his own fair looks “I thought Laith looked a lot like Lance. They’ve got the same lips” Curtis hummed softly “We’ll have to wait until we see them again” It was another hour long wait before nurse entered the waiting room. Shiro dosing lightly despite the anxiety and worry balled up in the base of his stomach. Checking the holopad in his hands, the man cleared his throat “Keith. You may come through now” Rousing them from their thoughts, Miriam talked on behalf of the group “How is he? How is my son?” “He came through surgery. We’ll be monitoring him closely over the next 48 hours. He’s awake, but very groggy. Visitation is currently limited to family. Keith was first request when informed” Keith’s expression was one of guilt as he shifted to gave up at Miriam’s face “Maybe you should...” “Mijo, he asked for you” “Isn’t there some way...?” The question was posed to Miriam, though the nurse was the one to answer “I’m sorry, family only” “They are his family. Everyone in this room is his family” Shiro’s heart swelled with love as Miriam cooly rejected the man’s words, the man stammering “I... uh...” Beside him, Curtis spoke up “We’ll accompany Keith to Lance, then wait outside until you’ve filled him in on Lance’s condition” Everyone in the room wanted to enquire over the health of Hunter and Laith, yet if something was wrong Keith deserved to be the first to know. Patting Keith’s hand, Miriam smiled at him “We are all with you, Mijo. Anything you and Lance need. Isn’t that right, Jorge?” Jorge who still looked incredibly out of place and uncomfortable nodded. Not giving a verbal reply. Shiro sympathised with what the man must be going through. Lance was his son, his baby boy. He’d not only given birth, but was now in a critical condition. Being a farmer, Shiro assumed he was no stranger to a farm yard birth. The man must be horrified overlaying that experience with the images of his son “It is quite early in the morning. I cannot allow you all access, and I must insist you refrain from unnecessarily loud conversation. Lance needs his rest” Miriam nodded, gather Keith up against her as she stood “We understand. Keith, we’re going to see Lance now, Mijo. Once we see Lance, we can visit those beautiful boys of yours” With Keith being in a visible state of anxiety, they all felt the need to be there with him. Especially seeing Krolia hadn’t made an appearance yet. * Keith’s heart was in his throat. He was scared to death of what was waiting inside the hospital room that his husband was laying in. He’d noticed the way the nurse hadn’t mentioned the twins. He hadn’t mentioned how the surgery went, or how Lance was doing mentally. He’d told him he could see him, because Lance had asked for him... but what if it was bad news? Clinging to Miriam as if he was child, her presence offered a maternal comfort as she held him tightly. He was ashamed for needing comfort, and for not being strong enough to wait silently. Reaching Lance’s room in a daze, he found he couldn’t lift his hand to open the door. His precious husband was right in there, yet his anxieties felt as if they’d suddenly multiplied exponentially “Keith, would you like me to come with you?” The nurse seemed ready to object. Keith wanted to assure his mother-in-law that he would fine on his own, but that... that stupid voice in his head telling him they twins were gone and Lance was going to die, refused fo shut it’s stupid mouth “Please?” “Of course, my dear. Are you ready?” No. No, he wasn’t ready in the slightest “Yes” Keith wanted to cry at the sight before him. Miriam still held him, as they both stared at Lance. To the left side of his bed were two portable plastic cribs, their sons reswaddled in soft blue blankets. Lance was half propped up in bed, his hand resting on the lip of the closest crib, drugged up and unfocused eyes full of love as he stared at their boys “Mijo...” Looking from their boys to them, Lance’s smile remained on his lips. His husband must be on some amazing pain medication to be smiling like that after all he’d been through. On the right side of the bed two drip bags hung from the rack, one of blood and one of saline. Lance’s stats displayed on the small machine down and to the left of the rack. Completing the look was the Nasal cannula connecting to the wall behind the bed “He lost a lot of blood post surgery, the tearing severe and will require a follow up operation, possibly a second or a third depending on the results. We’ve administer blockers, so he should feel no pain beneath the waist. Honestly, he shouldn’t be awake, yet he’d barely been moved to recovery before regaining consciousness. We must ask that you refrain from sitting on the side of the bed or moving him. You may hold his hand, but no bending or stretching at the moment. Your twins are both remarkably healthy, hitting the statistics we are more likely to see from full term birth information. Hunter has a small triangular birthmark beneath his right armpit. Laith shows no evident birthmarks. We’ve taken blood samples for genetic coding. We’ve administered an anti-convulsive, and he is on pain relief” To Keith that didn’t sound terrible. What he took from the nurses explanation was that his husband was going to be okay with them, and their precious boys suffered no ill effects from the birth. His secondary instincts were struggling with Lance being in hospital again, yet the way they were nudging at his mind wasn’t completely unpleasant. His anger hadn’t flared, nor had his petty jealousy, maybe because their boys and Lance were all right there in front of them “You may sit with him for now. Please try not to over excite him” Miriam drew a deep breath, her expression stating she’d be rolling her eyes if she wasn’t grateful to the man and knew that he was only going his job “Thank you for all you’ve done for my son and my grandchildren. We’ll remain watching over him. I am his mother after all, and no stranger to how he must feel. Now, Keith, go hold Lance’s hand. He’s very tired and waiting for you” Miriam left no room for rebuttal. Keith had fully intended to hold Lance’s hand at the first chance he got. Lance. Twins. Finding a way to hold all three at once, in that order. The poor nurse was out of his depth when it came to handling Miriam. He opened his mouth to object, only to close it under her firm gaze. Keith very nearly felt sorry for the man, then Lance made a sort of small waving motion with his hand and everything else was gone. Striding to Lance’s side, Keith took Lance’s right hand as he buried his face against his husband’s oily hair. Closing his eyes, he breathed in his husband’s scent, tearing up at the thought that he could have lost Lance on the operating table “Hey... babe” Forcing himself back, Keith stared down into Lance’s near black eyes with a smile on his face “Hey, you” “Hey you, yourself. You’re so goddamn pretty” Keith snorted. Right now, Lance was drugged to the gills “I can’t take my eyes off you even for a moment. How do you feel?” Lance made a crackling kind of noise “Good morning, Passengers! This is your Captain. We’re flying high as fucking fruit loop” Keith sucked his bottom lip in, biting down to keep from laughing “Ah! I see you laughing there, Mullet man! My mullet man! Mulleato mateo mullet manno! Did you know I had a baby? I had two of them! Did you see them? The nurse wouldn’t let me lick them. I don’t know why. If I pushed them out, then I should, by law, get to lick them” Keith’s laughter bubbled up, bursting from him in the form of a loud laughing snort out his nose. Normally a high Lance wasn’t a rambling Lance. A rambling high Lance was hilarious. The way Lance seemed incredibly proud of himself, as if he’d presented the most eloquent speech known to mankind only made it that much funnier. This dopey idiot was his dopey idiot “Oh, babe. What am I going to do with you?” “Marry me? Fuck me... boo no. Noooo. Sex makes babies and babies hurt my arse” Talking with his face as much as his words, Keith started blushing on his husband’s behalf. Moving to his side, Miriam pulled the visitors chair closer to the bed before settling down making herself comfortable. Lance’s eyes widened with excitement. There was no keeping his husband from being excitable. He was pain free and deliriously happy overy last thing “Mami! Mami! I had a baby! I had Keith’s Abby! Baby... Not Abby! Are you cheating on me with Abby? Who the fuck is Abby? I’ll shoot her!” Miriam cast a glance in Keith’s direction, also trying to stifle her laughter. After the tense hours waiting Keith was almost boneless with relief that Lance was not only awake but wouldn’t shut up “I’m not cheating on you. You’re high off you’re head on painkillers” Lance huffed “If I’m so high, why are so goddamn beautiful? You’ve got something on your lips” Keith scrunched his brow, fingertips going to his lips. He didn’t feel anything there. With everything that happened he hadn’t eaten, his stomach a tense knot most probably because it was unhappy at the lack of food over the last day “Did I get it?” “It’s still here! Come closer...” Leaning in, Lance shook his head “Come clooooooooooseer!” Leaning down further so they were face to face, his husband stole a kiss. So much for being groggy, then again, with Lance’s addiction history it was so strange that he might react differently to the drugs in his system than others “Ha! Can’t believe you fell for that!” Keith’s face was fiercely red. He knew he hadn’t had anything on his face, yet let his husband trick him. Miriam was having the time of her lift, softly scolding Lance “Mijo, stop picking on your husband” “Not picking on him. He’s the one picking on me. Do you not see how handsome he is? It’s like totally unfair!” “Yes, dear. Keith is very handsome. How do you feel? Are you in pain?” “I’m feeling awesome. Can’t feel my legs but apparently they’re still there. They gave me like super awesome drugs... oh... Oh! Mami! The twins! You have to meet the twins!” “I can see them, Mijo” “Noooo. Not just see them! You have to meeeeeet them! They’re like amazing. Mami, have I ever told you you’re like super duper amazing. I mean like I love you. I really love you. I really, really, really love you!” “That’s nice dear. I can see little Laith and Hunter from here...” “Do you not wanna hold them? I’ll fight you. They’re fucking perfect!” Keith covered his face with his free hand. High Lance was a handful to handle and he was literally so drugged up that he couldn’t leave the bed “Of course I want to hold them. Keith, do you want to hold one of your sons?” Naturally he wanted to, but Lance had hold of his hand and he wasn’t about to break that connection “You can have first hold. We should let the others know he’s okay” Big Ears didn’t miss Keith’s answer to Miriam “Others? Is Coran here? Man, I miss Coran. His moustache is so manly” Laughing softly, Miriam patted Lance’s shoulder “Coran is here. He’s waiting outside with the others, shall I tell him to come in” “Others!? Why didn’t you tell me there were others!” “Because you’re not supposed to this excitable right now. Mijo, you just came out of surgery. You may not feel the pain, but your body is hurting. You need to take things slowly” Lance snorted, taking it slowly was the last thing on his mind “I had a baby! I had two baby! Look at them! They came out my butt!” Lance thought he was yelling, yet thankfully his “yelling” was merely his normal voice slightly higher. Keith had the feeling Pidge was going to enjoy Lance being high off his head far too much as it was “I know, my sweet boy. I know. Keith is going to stay with you while I say hello to your precious boys” “They look like Keith! Mami, they’re like Keith! Like really like Keith. They’re so pretty. Keith’s really pretty, don’t you think so, Mami?” “Yes, Mijo. Your husband is a very pretty man. He’s going to hold you hand while I look at our boys” Wisely not mentioning the others again, Keith found Lance staring up at him with love all over his face... apart from the small drool trail from the right side of his mouth. Wiping the trail away, Lance tried to lick his thumb. His husband was making it hard to keep his distance when all Keith wanted was to climb up into the narrow bed beside him, and cuddle the ever living quiznak out of Lance. With the hands of a seasoned professional, Miriam had both twins up on her shoulders before Keith had the chance to watch how she’d accomplished it. Rocking in her steps, his mother-in-law kissed both tiny boys beanies that’d been placed on them by the hospital staff. Feeling Lance tugging on his hand, Keith was teary with emotion as he looked to his tired lover “Babe?” “I did good right?” The loopiness wasn’t gone from his husband, but fear had ebbed at his outlandish crazy “You did amazing” “Why aren’t you holding them then?” “Mami hasn’t met them yet” Squeezing Lance’s hand, his husband sighed softly “You really are the most pretty man I’ve ever met” “You’re the pretty one, babe. You have birth to twins and you’re more gorgeous than ever” Dishevelled, sunken bags beneath his eyes, and all drooly, his husband was perfect “No... I mean... like inside too. You’re pretty inside too” Awkward under praise, Keith tried to turn it back on Lance “You know you’re still high as hell” “I’m not sure if I’m gonna rememberers this but you’re pretty. Your eyes are like little tiny purple bugs” “Bugs?” “They’re all shiny and cool. Wanna poke them” Closing his eyes, taking a breath then reopening them, Keith gave a shake of his head “You can’t poke my eyes. But, babe. I’m really fucking proud of you” “I’m proud of you... and them... wanna have cuddles” “I know you do. I’m sorry you have to wait a little longer” “Wanna cuddle your eyes” Keith’s shoulder shook as he stifled something giggle like. He was starting to feel giddy, almost as if he too was high, his exhaustion and relief was leaving him defenceless “You have to cuddle all of me, not just my eyes” “Okay. I see your argument and I raise you cuddling” “I’ll take you up on that one when you’re allowed” “I’m allowed noooooow” “Sorry, babe. Doctor’s orders” “Wankers” “Babe, you can’t call them wankers. They saved your life” “I can when my drool worthy husband won’t gimme cuddles. I pushed babies out my bum!” Pouting, Lance wasn’t going to be a happy camper when it came to that. Keith wasn’t sure how long they’d prohibit him sharing a bed with his husband... he also wasn’t sure he had the will power to wait. From near the door Miriam called to him softly “Keith! I’m going to let the others in now, will he be alright? Should I let everyone in? Or just Jorge and Coran?” Keith couldn’t predict how Lance would react to a large group... His secondary instincts were disgruntled at the idea, while simultaneously demanding he show off how perfect his baby boys were “Yeah... maybe warn them that he’s got no filter right now?” “Alright, Mijo” Chaos erupted as their weird family crowded into the room. Taking the only chair for himself, Keith wedged himself as close to Lance’s bed as possible while staying out the way. Lance’s first announcement to everyone that he’d given birth out his arse. Pidge whipped out her comms to record the moment. Lance would be completely embarrassed, but the love in the room was worth it. Everyone was gushing over their boys. Jorge was in tears, very much a proud grandpa, as he held Laith. Both boys indicated by hospital bands around their tiny wrists. He wasn’t sure how they knew who was who. Not that it mattered. Knowing them they’d probably spend their whole lives calling each one by their brother’s name... ok, so maybe it did bother him but if asked Curtis maybe he’d know because he’d cleaned them both? His main priority remained Lance, though as cuddles and cooing went round, he kind of felt left out. Lance was high off his head, not knowing what he was missing, but Keith... each time his son was passed from Mami or Curtis, he wanted to be the one taking him in his arms. He was so incredibly proud of them, but now he was feeling like an outsider in his own family. Whining softly, Lance “let go” of his hand, their fingers still interlaced but his husband was no longer making an effort to hold his hand back. Confused, Keith looked from where Coran was holding one of their boys, to his tired husband’s face “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?” “You smell upset... I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t talk... I’m being stupid” Keith’s heart broke a little further. Lance hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he thought he was in trouble “Babe, no. It’s not you” “But it has to be me, I’m the only reason you’d be mad... is it because I’m a bad father? I can’t even hold them” Standing back up, Keith pulled Lance into a tight hug, forgetting to be careful as he leaned his husband towards him. Nuzzling and kissing Lance’s hair, tears rolled down his face as his already frayed emotions bubbled over. As Lance said, sometimes you just need to cry “You’re not a bad father. I’m not mad at you at all. You’re the best father our boys could have and the best husband I could ever hope to wish for” “B-but you’re sad” “I’m fine, babe. I’m just overwhelmed” Overwhelmed sounded better than being jealous as fuck “I love you, Keith. I love you... I want to hold them so much...” “I know, baby. I know. I want to hold them too” “You do? Why aren’t you holding them then?” “Because I’m holding you” “I don’t want you to be sad... or mad... I want to hold them... I want to see you with them... I...” Lance started crying. The noise of their friends quietening in an instant. Exhaustion oozed in Lance’s scent. Too much excitement had worn him out, though he had made a valiant effort to stay awake as long as he had “Shhhh, you’re ok. You’re ok, babe. You’re ok” Mami came to his side, one of their sons in her hold “Is he alright?” “He’s tired and wants to hold the boys... we both want to” “Oh! Dear me, why didn’t you say? I’m afraid we all got caught up in the moment. Oh, dear. Lance isn’t supposed to do any heavy lifting...” “That’s ok, Mami. I’ll hold him so Lance can see. Is that ok, baby?” Lance sniffled as he nodded, Keith knowing that it wasn’t the same as holding his own son. Miriam slowly lifted their swaddled baby towards him, Keith having to let go of Lance to accept their son “Here you go my sweetness, off to daddy with you” Taking his son, Keith carefully lowered him to Lance’s side. Their baby boy looked so much like Lance. His skin a soft brown like Lance’s, illuminated better by the hospital's fluorescent lights. His thin brows holding touches of brown, barely there but with his better than human eye sight Keith could see it. His lips were like his, as were the shape of his son’s eyes “He’s got your nose...” Keith nodded, he wasn’t as sure as Miriam seemed to be. Yawning widely, their little boy opened his eyes, purple eyes staring up at him and stealing his heart all over again “Hello, baby... I’m your daddy...” Cooing over his son, Lance’s smile was wide and genuine. Adjusting his tiny beanie, their sons dark hair peaked out, not quite brown and not quite black. Making sure his head was properly covered, Keith let a little more his weight rest on Lance “I think it’s time we let you rest, would you mind if Jorge and I stayed?” Though Keith couldn’t foresee something going wrong, he wasn’t about to say no to an extra set of hands. Shiro and Curtis must be exhausted, while Pidge and Coran must have other things to do and no doubt would be back at a more human hour, plus Mami would be a barrier between Lance and Krolia should his mother accidentally put his foot in it “Thanks, that’d be great. Lance mentioned he’d been wanting to see you for weeks not long after he gave birth” “Oh, my dear boy. You did so well. I would have made the trip had I know” Keith nodded, his attention on his son. Waiting a few ticks, the cry he thought his baby boy would give didn’t eventuate “He was pretty forgetful since my birthday, maybe he thought he’d mentioned it but hadn’t? I don’t know... but I’m really grateful you’re here, and you too Jorge” “You’re a fine man, Keith. I’m still not sure I completely understand what happened, but Lance couldn’t have asked for a better partner in life” Jorge’s words turned the half-Galra into a blubbering mess. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, only that he wanted to throw his arms around Jorge. He couldn’t instantly relate to him now he was father, but he did understand that Lance’s family had been through so much pain and heartbreak thinking first he was gone, then that their son was now a stranger in his own home. That Jorge would leave the farm and travel for Lance no longer felt as if he’d been pulled along, though he probably had, instead it felt like he... like they’d both come home. It was a weird way to word it, yet he didn’t know how to say how grateful he was that they’d come to see their new grandsons, as well as both of them... not just Lance. A warm family full of love was what Lance had given him... A family he could share with Shiro and Curtis too. Speaking over his older brother, Shiro echoed what Miriam had said “Okay guys, I think it’s time we all left. We’ll be back to see you bo- all four of you once you’ve gotten some rest” Focusing on his family, Keith had no way of knowing that Pidge had spent the better part of the last minute simply filming him with his baby boy. His smile, his holding of his breath as he waited for him to cry, him cooing over him, and him reassuring Lance before their boy was placed in his hold. Her lips slightly parted, seemingly surprised he was holding his baby calmly. Hooking her arm, Shiro pulled her from the room, none of them offended when Keith and Lance were proudly absorbed in their little boy.

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