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patsdrabbles · 4 years

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Down in the Underground

Title: Down in the Underground Fandom: Good Omens & Labyrinth (1986) Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 4675 Summary: Ten minutes after he had been given the basket with his charge and short but clear instructions on what to do with it, Crowley pulled his car over and panicked. There had to be another way. There had to. In which Crowley wishes the Antichrist away to a not very thrilled Goblin King. A/N: @szappan wrote an amazing fic about Crowley being a Bowie fan (please do check it out, it’s great! ❤) and it made me wonder what would happen if Crowley and Aziraphale met the Goblin King. Which I then just had to write because Good Omens and Labyrinth are two of my absolute favourite books/series/movies. Thank you so much @blue-ravens for the help with editing this fic! Please enjoy ❤

AO3 & a drawing I made for this fic

Ten minutes after he had been given the basket with his charge and short but clear instructions on what to do with it, Crowley pulled his car over and panicked.

There had to be another way.

There had to.

Sometimes, the ideas we have when under distress, later on prove themselves to not be among the brightest we have.

“This child is not from the Aboveground.”

Jareth held the baby a bit farther away from himself and looked at him with curious eyes.

“Wha– Of course he is!”

The Goblin King gave Crowley a wary look.

“He reeks of a strange kind of magic.” He pondered Crowley with narrowed eyes for a moment and Crowley felt himself shift, wanting to slither backwards under his scrutinizing gaze. “As do you, for a fact.”

“Well, ha.” Crowley shrugged. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to conceal what he was from another powerful being, shouldn’t he? “Comes hand in hand with fallin’ from the skies above, I guess.”

Jareth stared at him with an unreadable expression for a moment. Then, Crowley could practically hear the cogwheels turn in his mind and his gaze darkened.

“So this is–” Jareth paused and held up the baby a bit, so that he could look into his eyes. “This is him then, isn’t it? Remarkable... If he didn’t smell just like his people, I wouldn’t even have noticed that he was different.”

He turned back to Crowley.

“I cannot give him back as the Labyrinth’s rules forbid me from doing so, but I do not wish to take him in permanently. I’m sure you understand that I don’t want my kingdom to be destroyed by his powers or... for it to eventually be overrun by folks from Heaven and Hell, when it comes to it.” He sighed. “Do traverse the Labyrinth and take him back, demon. Otherwise, we might be faced with a far greater measure of destruction than is already likely to follow him Aboveground.”

Crowley, who had found the grass at the tips of his shoes especially fascinating the last minute or so looked up sharply when the Goblin King sighed loudly.

“Think about it, demon. You still have thirteen hours from now to come and claim him back. Trust me that I will make your life living hell in new, creative ways if you don’t.”

Crowley hadn’t been listening to everything Jareth had said, too busy still panicking about the impending end of the world while wondering several times why the Goblin King looked so familiar, but he had heard the last part.

He gulped and forced himself to smile.

“Sure. I guess I’ll think about it. Uh... See ya!”

He gave a wave of his hand as he turned and sauntered with dangerously shaky steps back to his car.

He’d have to call Aziraphale. Aziraphale would know what to do.

In hindsight, maybe he should have called Aziraphale before wishing the boy away.

Oh well, it was too late for that line of thought now.

As Crowley drove away (in search for the nearest phone booth), Jareth kept holding onto the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness and scowled.

He had planned to relax today, maybe enact only two boggings (the goblins in question had taken the chicken tossing too far and had hit him square in the face the other day. They had escaped but Jareth had found out their names, which would be enough). He had planned to have a Good Day.

This however? This didn’t look like it was going to be one.

The world wasn’t, as most people would have you believe, influenced by two great powers.

The lack of knowledge about the third wasn’t all that surprising, given that it had itself wished to not be involved in Heaven’s and Hell’s meddling with humanity or get tangled in their “weird kind of codependency”.

The third of the powers that be was neither good nor evil – much rather, it was a wild sort of chaos that was able to be precisely just what you imagined it to be.

And when you knew the right words, you might just be lucky enough to call on it.

“You did what?”

To say that Aziraphale sounded flabbergasted was an understatement like calling the melting polar caps a minor problem of Earth.

Crowley ran a slightly trembling hand through his hair, not noticing that he ruffled it up.

“I wished away the Antichrist. Sent him to the Goblin Kingdom.”

The voice on the other end of the phone call remained silent for a long moment.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice now was much more quiet and had an almost desperate edge to it. “You can’t just– wish away the Antichrist!”

“But I could, couldn’t I? I did, in fact, and now he’s being babysat by the Goblin King himself until the time’s up.”

“Crowley! You don’t even know what might happen after– even during those thirteen hours! We have no idea how his powers might react to wild fae magic! It might just bring about the end of the world faster than originally planned for all we know!"

Aziraphale was starting to sound frantic and Crowley’s hand was, by now, shaking noticeably as well.

“Alright, so what do we do now?”

“Go get back the Antichrist, I suppose.”

“You realize I can’t change the rules even for... people like you, do you?”

“I guess I can see why, yes.”

Aziraphale nodded and nudged Crowley’s arm when the demon didn’t respond to the Goblin King’s question.

Crowley, however, had been deep in thought, resulting in him asking the one question that had been on the tip of his tongue since he had first seen the Goblin King about an hour ago.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like David Bowie?”

The Goblin King didn’t reply, just gave him a terrifyingly wide smile in response as he held the Antichrist in his arms.

“Alright, the child. The Antichrist.” Aziraphale tried to get their attention back to the urgent matter at hand. “I’m aware that the rules give us thirteen hours to–”

“Twelve hours and ten minutes by now.”

“—solve the Labyrinth and get back the child you have taken. Right.” Aziraphale cleared his throat as the Goblin King continued staring him down.

“Uhm.”

“Usually, only the one making the wish gets to run the Labyrinth, but as the rules aren’t very clear on this, I can twist them somewhat. You may run together. Let’s hope for all of us that it’ll help.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who had remained silent after asking his strange and out of nowhere question.

“I don’t want Hell’s Antichrist here any more than you do,” Jareth continued, sounding vaguely annoyed despite continuing to calmingly rock the baby in his arms.

“So you better make an effort – a successful one – and take him back.” He looked at them both, individually, before adding: “I’ll be waiting in my castle in the center of the Labyrinth.”

With that, he disappeared.

“Well, that didn’t sound too difficult.” Aziraphale smiled nervously at Crowley. “We can do this, we’re an angel and a demon, after all! What is a magical labyrinth to us, right?”

“...”

Crowley didn’t meet his gaze, instead looking out over the vast expanse of the Labyrinth in front of them. Inwardly, he cursed himself for his own stupidity.

Wishing the Antichrist away like a nervous teenager unwilling to babysit their baby brother.

In the oddest sense of the word, he supposed, that was exactly what it was.

He was only pulled out of his thoughts when a warm hand grabbed his and Aziraphale smiled at him reassuringly.

“Come on, Crowley, let’s get the boy back.”

Crowley managed a weak nod and followed Aziraphale, who clearly was doing better at trying to convince himself of the upsides of their current situation.

“Come on, feet!”

Crowley sighed but couldn’t resist a tiny smile at the comment.

Together, they made their way downhill.

Glitter.

The damn glitter was everywhere. On his jacket, his shoes, his glasses...

Aziraphale either didn’t notice or didn’t mind the light silvery glitter making him shimmer in the light as they walked down the seemingly endless corridor.

Crowley sighed but refrained from commenting on the obvious.

“’ello!”

“Oh, hello there, my friend!”

Aziraphale crouched down to be on eye level with what appeared to be a little blue worm.

“We’re trying to cross this labyrinth, but we can’t seem to find our way out of this corridor.” Aziraphale smiled at the tiny worm, who looked at him with big blinking eyes.

“Oh, you should come inside an’ meet the missus. The tea should just be ready.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley, somewhat at a loss. “We’re a bit in a hurry right now, I’m afraid ...but maybe on our way back?”

Crowley nodded, although there were more important things than tea dates with magical worms on his mind right now. Such as finding the Antichrist in order to ensure his own continued existence, for one.

“Lovely!” the worm exclaimed. “You two are the first who didn’t outright decline the offer, the missus an’ I do appreciate that, really!”

Crowley nodded again and gestured for Aziraphale to get on with it, becoming impatient.

“Uhm, the exit to this corridor, kind sir?”

“Ah yes, the exit! You aren’t looking for a door an’ you will have to look from the right angle to find it!”

Crowley nodded and, without another word, turned into his old form.

“Oh, fancy that skill!” The worm commented and nodded in approval.

Crowley slithered along the wall, turning his head this way and that way, until the wall seemed to give way beneath him. Or rather, disappear.

“There’sss another pathway right here, angel.”

He turned back into his human form and went to take Aziraphale’s hand in his to pull him along when he didn’t move.

But Aziraphale didn’t budge even so.

“We don’t even know what direction to take yet, Crowley!”

Crowley sighed heavily.

“Alright, Mister Worm, what direction should we take?”

“Take a turn to the right, this should fit your purpose. The path to the left is filled with grave dangers!”

His eyes widened comically and Crowley grinned at him.

“What dangers might those be?”

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hand twitch in his own and became aware of the heat rising in his cheeks when he realized that he was still holding the angel’s hand.

“The path to the left ...it leads straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”

Aziraphale turned sharply toward Crowley.

“Then the path to the left is the one we need to take!”

“But–”

“Thank you again, kind sir. I will keep your offer for tea in mind.”

Crowley turned toward the new path and felt, just as he was trying to let go of Aziraphale’s hand unnoticed, that the angel held on tighter to his own. Unsure what to say – or if he should say anything in the first place – he continued on, Aziraphale by his side.

The worm looked torn as they left, unhappy to see them choosing the more dangerous of the two options. But they had asked the right question and gotten their answer.

In the castle, the Goblin King nodded at a crystal sphere in satisfaction while rocking the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. They might very well make it in good time.

“Crowley, I’m starving!” Aziraphale was wailing and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“You can’t starve, you’re an angel.”

“But still, I very much feel like I am.”

Crowley got distracted by something to his right rustling in some sparkling bushes, so he didn’t notice Aziraphale moving on ahead and looking around the corner of the pathway.

He didn’t see Aziraphale’s delighted facial expression at the sight of an apricot tree that was yielding a lot of beautiful, ripe fruit.

He also didn’t see Aziraphale’s plucking an apricot from the tree or how he pulled out a handkerchief to quickly clean it.

And he didn’t see Aziraphale take a bite of the apricot or the moment of realization he had, mirrored in his widened eyes.

He did hear Aziraphale’s physical form hitting the grassy ground beneath his feet and was running toward him before he could even see what had happened.

He felt the panic rise in his chest.

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale, what happened?”

When Crowley reached him he still hadn’t gotten a reply or any other reaction, so he let himself fall to his knees to take a better look at the angel.

He was still breathing, which... Wasn’t a requirement for a heavenly being, but at least seemed to indicate that, albeit unconscious, Aziraphale hadn’t been discorporated... or worse.

Crowley frantically looked around, trying to figure out what had happened.

Then he saw it and froze.

Lying on the ground not far from Aziraphale’s outstretched arm and clearly bitten into – a peach.

Crowley growled in frustration.

They should’ve brought sandwiches.

A clearly magical sphere floated by him and Crowley managed to get a glimpse at the translucent image it showed.

It was Aziraphale, looking confused and kind of lost, in a ballroom, surrounded by ballgoers whose faces were covered with masks.

The people were staring at him, making it hard for him to pass through the mass. Then, music must have started playing, because several people started dancing and Aziraphale’s eyes lit up in delight.

“Damn it, angel,” Crowley hissed to himself.

A second glance into the sphere showed him Aziraphale dancing among the crowd and... a very annoyed looking person who could only be the Goblin King himself, albeit disguised with a mask. When said Goblin King turned to stare up at him through the magical sphere, Crowley cursed again and took a step toward the apricot tree.

They were all round and ripe, the perfect apricots. Since they would all hopefully lead to the same thing, however, he plucked one at random.

He hissed in his best snakely manner at the fruit he held with his fingertips and reminded himself that he was doing this for Aziraphale. So that after that, they could continue searching for the Antichrist.

Damn hell.

He took a bite and felt himself falling.

Damn all fruit trees.

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was that the world seemed brighter than before. Looking around, he decided that hundreds of candles seemed to be to blame for that. Second, things seemed rather... peachy. But not in the all-is-well kind of way, but in the way that the taste of the godforsaken peach he had eaten was still lingering on his tongue, coating his mouth and, quite oddly, also affecting his other senses, almost... clouding them.

He didn’t like that one bit.

He continued down an already quite crowded hallway and reached a big double door that presumably led to the ballroom he had seen. He pushed it open and shuddered momentarily at the sight in front of him. There were way too many people attending this ball for what he considered to be his comfort zone, if one were to ask him. But since nobody was asking him, he went on inside, hoping to find Aziraphale as fast as possible.

People were laughing and giggling almost manically as he made his way through the crowd, having to push more than a few of the ballgoers aside when they seemed to intentionally block his path or hold onto his sleeves.

He was getting rather annoyed by the time he spotted Aziraphale, standing rather lost in the middle of the ballroom. The spark Crowley had momentarily seen in his eyes in the crystal was gone and he looked rather worried as he unconsciously fussed with the hem of his coat sleeves. When his eyes met Crowley’s, however, they seemed to light up again and he started to make his way toward the demon.

Crowley felt relief wash over him when he came to stand in front of Aziraphale and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Don’t. Don’t ever just do something so stupid ever again! I thought you had died or something for a moment!“

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened and he looked so sorry and–

“Aargh, stop it, angel! I know you’re sorry, let’s just. Find a way out of here.”

Crowley turned around and started looking for the ballroom door, just to find it was ...gone.

“What in all seven –”

He turned back to Aziraphale when he felt the angel’s hand gently on his shoulder.

“It’s gone, Crowley.”

“What do you mean, it’s gone? It was right over there mere minutes ago!”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“I checked after I appeared here, as well, but the door was gone again moments after my arrival.”

“So what do we do now?”

Crowley was starting to feel antsy. Things were not developing in their favor.

Suddenly, music began to play. There were no musicians to be seen, except for–

“I’ll eat a damn hat if that isn’t the Goblin King himself.”

Aziraphale followed his gaze to the other side of the room where Jareth the Goblin King was standing in an inexplicable beam of light and, by all appearance, was about to start to sing.

The two of them were so surprised by his appearance, however, that they noticed only too late that the crowd had started to close in on them, pressing in from all sizes and leaving them surrounded by a slowly moving circle.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. If not for me, we weren’t stuck in this mess of a situation.”

Crowley took a sharp breath when Aziraphale reached out and held his hand.

He obviously didn’t mind holding the angel’s hand, but he also feared the treacherous color that rose to his cheeks the last few times it had happened.

Aziraphale must have noticed his intake of breath, because he let go of Crowley’s hand all of a sudden, a quiet sadness overtaking his eyes.

“There’s such a sad love,

deep in your eyes...”

Jareth was, in fact, singing now, and Crowley felt awful. They were running out to time to fix the mistake he had made and now they both were stuck in this place with Aziraphale looking like Crowley had kicked him.

Crowley remained quiet for a moment, lowering his gaze to the ground when he noticed Aziraphale turning away his gaze.

The Labyrinth was a place full of riddles, going by what Jareth had told them at the beginning. So maybe being stuck in a ballroom meant...

He looked up with an apologetic smile and held out his hand to Aziraphale.

“There’s such a fooled heart,

beating so fast in search of new dreams,

a love that will last...”

“Come on, angel.”

Aziraphale was looking at him and then at Crowley’s extended hand. He looked back at Crowley and, after a moment of hesitation, took his hand and let himself slowly be pulled in.

“Maybe this is gonna fix things.”

Aziraphale frowned slightly and Crowley let out a small nervous laugh, his breath brushing over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“...maybe it’s not, but it seems worth a try, right?”

Aziraphale met his gaze and nodded.

He looked back at the ballgoers surrounding them, a sort of dancing carrousel by this point, and frowned in thought.

“Perhaps we’ll manage to get closer to the Goblin King, that way. We should try to ask him what to do.”

Crowley nodded and felt warmth rise in his cheeks when Aziraphale squeezed his hand and took a step closer.

“I’ll paint you mornings of gold...”

“Let’s dance, my dear.”

“I’ll spin you Valentine evenings...”

Crowley nodded and took the first step.

And they danced.

While they were slowly swaying to the rhythm of the music, the ballgoers around them were still talking and pointing and moving around them.

Crowley tried to focus on the warmth that Aziraphale was giving off and not on ...everything else. He hoped that this would work. Things had obviously gone too well previously and...

“But I'll be there for you... as the world falls down.”

...Aziraphale was holding him, not letting go.

They made their way across the room in a slow pace, the crowd around them letting them move as long as they continued dancing.

“Falling... Falling...”

“It’s working,” Aziraphale breathed out in astonishment when he realized what was happening.

“Falling...”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed quietly and held on for dear life.

“Falling in love...”

By the time the song ended, they had also reached the Goblin King, who was giving them a long, contemplative look. In one hand he was holding a ball mask, which he made disappear in exchange for another crystal. He let it run up and down his hand as he looked at them a moment longer, before this gaze fell to their still joined hands again.

“You’ve made it all the way here. What do you want?”

The astonished look must have been similar on both their faces.

“We want out, obviously,” Aziraphale stated.

“Are you certain of that?” Jareth asked. “Even if out of here and out there might mean a less pleasant life for both of you?”

Crowley cocked his head in inquiry.

“The whole doomsday situation. And–” Jareth nodded toward their joined hands. “–that, perhaps, even more.”

Crowley saw Aziraphale blush and look away out of the corner of his eye, but the angel didn’t withdraw his hand.

Somehow, confidence at last got a hold of Crowley and he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand as he grinned at the Goblin King.

“We’ll figure it out.”

To their surprise, the Goblin King threw the crystal up in the air.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Jareth grinned back at them and around them, the world fell down.

After that, finding the castle in the center of the Labyrinth was a piece of cake.

They ran into a bunch of goblins and other fae folk, but for the most part, the direction they had to take was clear and their path free of dangers.

They had talked some and both realized that they were “absolute morons”, as Crowley had put it, smilingly. Aziraphale had returned his smile, equally radiant in its nature, and had gently squeezed his hand. They would talk about this once they had left the Labyrinth (‘this’ being their strong mutual affection that they both had previously been too nervous about to realize that it was reciprocated; ‘previously’ being the past four thousand years, give or take).

They also talked about the Antichrist and what they would do once they got him back from Jareth.

“Bring him to his new parents, of course.”

“Yes, of course, but what... what about his upbringing?”

“You aren’t suggesting...?”

Aziraphale nodded and, as they continued walking, they formed a plan.

They still had more than enough time to spare by the time they entered the castle together, only letting go of each other’s hands for the first time in hours to push open the big front gate.

They found the Goblin King and the baby in a big room at the center of the castle.

“At long last, here you are. And here ...you are.” Jareth grinned a toothy grin as he handed over the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness to Crowley. Then, he let himself fall back onto what appeared to be a fairly uncomfortable big chair that, on a second thought, seemed to function as a throne.

“You did it, great! And with four hours to spare, on top of that!”

As he shifted the Antichrist in his arms, Crowley heard Aziraphale exhale in relief next to him. Quite frankly, if the end of the world weren’t as immediate as it unfortunately was, he would have gladly spent the next two decades sleeping.

“So– any further... life-changing happenings or the like since you left my ballroom?”

When the two didn’t reply immediately, Jareth flashed a grin that only lasted for a moment, before being replaced by a more neutral expression.

“I have been told that it seems to be somewhat of a common experience among runners.”

Aziraphale turned a lovely shade of red and Crowley found himself rather tempted to just ...Ah, to hell with it.

He took Aziraphale’s hand in his as gently as he could while not jostling the baby on his arm and felt Jareth’s gaze on them even as he finally allowed the love he felt for Aziraphale to show when he looked at the angel.

When he looked back at Jareth, the Goblin King was smiling.

“So, there’s hope for you lot yet.”

With the Goblin King’s help, the three of them reappear Aboveground somewhere in the outskirts of Tadfield a short time later. The Bentley stood waiting for them a couple of meters down the road.

“Well, here we are.” Aziraphale looked down at the basket that was now, once again, holding the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness.

“Here we are...,” Crowley mumbled, when, suddenly, the thing that had been nagging him at the back of his mind for the past few hours finally surfaced.

“Oh, crap, we’re late for the birth of the other baby!”

Aziraphale paled and Crowley felt the panic rise in his veins.

“I’ll have to reorder time, though I don’t know if I can manage to turn back all thirteen hours, but I’ll have to try and–”

“Perhaps I could help with that.”

An owl sitting on a nearby tree branch turned into Jareth casually leaning against said tree’s trunk.

“Time is easily affected by my magic, Aboveground and Underground.”

A clock appeared in the air next to him, as if required for the impending demonstration.

The Goblin King snapped his fingers and for a split moment, Crowley and Aziraphale felt air and time rush past them. Then, it was night again and the clock on Crowley’s watch – just like Jareth’s flying clock – indicated that it was still 11.24 pm, mere minutes after Crowley had originally left Hastur and Ligur at the graveyard.

“Well, go then!”

Jareth made a shooing motion with his hands when the two others just continued staring at him for a moment.

“In that case... Thank you.” Aziraphale smiled and looked like he wanted to step forward and shake Jareth’s hand before coming to think better of it.

“Yeah, thank you, I guess. Spared us a lot of trouble if that had come out.” Crowley gave him what he hoped looked like an appreciative nod.

“Nevermind, I’m glad he’s not going to grow up with me. I have enough on my plate as it is.” The Goblin King sighed and shook his head.

“You still look like David Bowie, though,” Crowley couldn’t help but mention again.

Jareth just grinned at that and, within a blink of the eye, was gone.

Aziraphale sighed as they began walking toward the Bentley.

“You just had to point that out again, didn’t you?”

“Well, he does look an awful lot like David Bowie! Don’t blame me for stating the obvious!”

They continued their friendly bickering as they approached Tadfield, smiles on their faces and a plan for the upbringing of the Antichrist in the works. It was bound to go wrong, of course, before it would go right again, in the end.

A barn owl followed the Bentley down the street for a minute before disappearing in a light shower of glitter.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanart #ineffable husbands #crowley/aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #jareth #labyrinth fanfiction #labyrinth #go ff #labyrinth ff #my posts #my fanfics #29.9.2020 #2020

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years

Text

Open Flames: Part 17.1

Ok, so I know I missed my window but also, I’m close and I need to finish this for me so...whatever. Tee-shirt cannoning every chapter I get out into the ether and maybe people will catch up and maybe no one will but it’ll be off my brain slate.

AO3 (I haven’t updated the masterpost, archive is prettier, it’s all there)

One hour after Eret leaves, his mom asks Fuse where he is. Fuse refrains from mentioning that she would have saved everyone a lot of grief and time if she’d asked Fuse the last time Eret was missing. Fuse’s silence is half an attempt to mimic Arvid’s forced politeness and half because she’s not good with irony and Eret is actually gone this time.

One day after Eret leaves, when the chief and Eret’s dad are searching in the wrong direction, Eret’s mom shows Fuse the house. She says it’s not conventional to see it before the wedding, but seems to be coming to peace with the fact that nothing about this situation is conventional. The house is closer to the Thorstons than the Haddocks and that means something, but not as much as the flame proof walls and heavy doors do. The two cribs next to the bed make Fuse’s chest feel tight with something like worry. The future feels more real than it has before, looking at Eret’s spare weapons hanging on the wall.

One week after Eret leaves, his mom is starting to panic. Fuse can only recognize it because it looks exactly like Eret’s panic, the obsessive taking care of everyone and inventing problems to solve. It’s the first time the resemblance has been so obvious, but there’s no denying that Eret’s mom’s wide blue eyes are identical to the ones Fuse so often tasks herself with calming down. They’re even the same shape, barely tilted up at the outer corners, naturally happy looking in a way that makes their glare more impressive for the effort it must take to turn them hard and stormy.

“Sit down,” Fuse says reflexively as Eret’s mom starts cleaning the hearth for the third time today. She looks up, stunned, and Fuse clears her throat, “I mean, do you want to sit down?”

Orders calm Eret down more than questions, because questions just give him another thing to wrestle with, but that’s not a button worth pushing.

“I’m fine, Fuse, can I get you anything?”

“You can stop panicking.”

Eret’s mom surprises them both when she laughs, dropping the rag she was just cleaning with and shaking her head.

“Right, I’ll get you some tea.”

“I don’t need tea,” Fuse looks at the half full mug in her hand. “Panicking isn’t helping anything.”

“I know that,” Eret’s mom sighs, “it’s just the only thing I can do aside from getting on Stormfly and going after my idiot sons myself. What were they thinking? Oh, I know, they weren’t, running off right now with you…” She trails off, gesturing at Fuse’s stomach like it isn’t making itself very obvious without announcement. “How aren’t you freaking out?”

It took a long time for Fuse to learn that when Eret asks questions that sound rhetorical, he actually wants an answer. He wants her to put words to the obvious, to the things that make so much sense to her that she’s never even thought to try and explain them.

“Because it won’t help anything.”

“You’re pregnant with the would be heirs to the throne of Berk, but you’re not married to the future chief yet because he’s gone doing Thor knows what. Your entire life is going to be decided in the next couple months, you can’t be that calm.”

Fuse shrugs. The truth is she isn’t this calm. She’s trying to keep from twitching, irritated fire in her too warm blood making her want to spark something. She wants Eret back, she hates that she understands why he had to leave. They both understand ingredients, the way that the right things have to come together to get the right result. An Eret family sword is an ingredient in the wedding that has to happen so that they can get along with their marriage. More than that, it’s a decision to keep respecting what makes each other most comfortable, no matter how weird or inconvenient or how much things are changing.

“I trust him,” she answers simply, “he said he’d be back so he will.”

“What if something goes wrong? What if he doesn’t come back?” It’s a challenge that doesn’t sound like one. Fuse knows she’s supposed to have a backup plan and she did until Eret made it so clear how much he wants this. Plus, that was a backup plan for the babies, not for Eret. Eret has always been her only plan.

“He will.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know it.” It’s one of those things there don’t need to be words for. “He said he’ll be back, so he will.”

“That kind of blind faith,” she shakes her head and Fuse expects to be called naïve or stupid or weird, “is really brave.”

“It’s not blind.” Fuse sees Eret keep promises all the time, “I just expect him to act exactly like himself.”

“And I keep expecting him to act like someone else,” Eret’s mom finally sits down, rubbing her temple with pale fingers. Fuse appreciates that she doesn’t follow up and ask for an answer that’s already been said too many times.

“Knock knock,” Fuse’s dad says as he opens the front door of the Haddock house and steps inside.

“Sure Tuff, come on in, make yourself at home,” Eret’s mom scoffs but she doesn’t jump up and back to cleaning like Fuse expects. Maybe some of her Eret calming techniques do translate, and that thought makes her hopeful that the babies might like it too.

Fuse has made quite a few babies cry, usually with loud noises or smoke or random fires, but she can’t remember managing to calm one down on her own.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Fuse’s dad goes in for a hug and she puts her hand out to stop him.

“Dad, no.”

“But you’re my favorite daughter who brought the promise of Thorstonton back to the family after…how many years ago did you support Hiccup in cruelly taking my family’s deserved land from us?”

“I don’t know, thirty something?” Eret’s mom has been hit by that post agitation exhaustion that Fuse knows so well and her sleepy energy is more soothing than Fuse would have expected.

“After thirty something years of loss.” Fuse’s dad continues, “that merits a hug.”

“I’m your only daughter.”

“Astute, as always,” he sits down perched on the edge of the hearth and claps his hands together, “so, any news on the runaway Haddock? The lone fishy, navigating the archipelago alone with only a fish eating dragon for company?”

“Arvid is with him.” Fuse rolls her eyes.

“I know, he’s the dragon in this scenario.”

“Oh yeah, he sent a lovely terror mail this morning.” Eret’s mom’s sarcasm sounds more like the chief’s than Eret’s, attack instead of defense, “do you want me to go get it so you can give it a read?”

“Nope, I like the kid but he’s usually a little wordy for my taste. And the adverbs, argh.” He rubs his hands together, “any news on when he’s planning to come back though?”

“There’s no letter, Dad.”

“First my island and now my trust, when does it end, Astrid? When will you stop taking?” He’s louder than usual and Fuse realizes that he’s freaking out too. “You know, at this rate, it’ll be my turn soon and I’ll just have to take Thorstonton by force. Why do you think my sister had so many kids?”

“Yeah and I’m pretty sure that would void the marriage contract that gives the island to you.”

“There’s nothing in that contract about military coups.”

“Yet.” Eret’s mom raises an eyebrow.

“He’ll be back.” Fuse wastes the words, because neither parent’s underlying frown shifts.

“I guess Hiccup always came back,” her dad shrugs.

“He’s not Hiccup,” Eret’s mom shakes her head, looking between Fuse and her stomach and the empty axe rack on the wall by the door. “Wait.” She looks up suddenly, “I know where he is.”

“So he did send a letter?”

“No, he went up north,” she stands up, wiping her hands on her skirt, “he didn’t get to grave rob before Arvid’s wedding and he’s so Hel bent on something of his dad’s. Help me find Eret,” she yanks Fuse’s dad to his feet.

“I’m not going further north, it’s already winter and I have an autumnal complexion.”

“No, Eret Sr.,” she looks back at Fuse, “am I right? He told you, didn’t he?”

“I said I’d keep the secret for him.” The slight pout in Fuse’s voice is only because she’s pregnant.

“You did,” Eret’s mom assures, “he tattled on himself, I was just…I’m still re-orienting how I look at him.”

“He’ll be back, you don’t have to go find him.” It’s more real than a belief, it’s a fact, something so inherent to Fuse’s level ground that she’d never think about blowing it up.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be acting like myself.”

#eret iii #open flames #festerverse #feret #fuse thorston #fuse and astrid making nice #finally

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courageousguise · 5 years

Text

Tired

Words: 1782 Rating: T

Dealing with these balloons of itself wasn’t too hard, but Link kept finding himself getting tired nonetheless. He was glad that he’d gotten his bow and shield back recently, both of them pretty handy- both for shooting down the white balloons and defending himself from the black ones.

It really hadn’t been hard for Link to get points, either. Given his own experience, he was a pretty good shot- hitting balloons was easy compared to some of the other stuff he’d had to do. Maybe they were smaller targets, yeah, but they were manageable.

The black balloons were far more annoying and troublesome with how he had to keep running from them, but he could handle himself well enough. Being short had its rare advantages, he supposed- ducking around and running past was a bit easier than some of the taller people around were faring.

This whole situation… was stressful. To be perfectly blunt, it was very stressful. Link of course would give no indication of that, he never liked showing any sort of weakness that would cause someone to worry for him, but it was. And the lack of sleep would get to him, as much as he tried to insist he didn’t need it.

It was times like these where he wished he had the all-night’s mask back. It was one of the masks that Tatl had found the creepiest- she’d of course made sure he knew that any time he wore it. It’s useful, he told her each time. I don’t need to sleep.

Of course, it was more akin to a band-aid applied to a stab wound than any sort of actual solution to the greater issue, but it had been helpful. He could stay up as long as he needed, without feeling tired at all.

You’re going to get yourself killed, Tatl had always complained. That mask is creepy. Take it off. Where did that guy even get it from? I don’t trust it.

He could still hear her complaints in his mind, able to picture the way she looked when voicing her thoughts in perfect clarity. She’d fly right up in his face, almost touching his nose, and he’d always back up a little bit. She was so… blunt, was a good word for it. She always said exactly what was on her mind.

Strangely enough, at times like these, he found he really missed that about her.

Perhaps it was just due to the perpetual tiredness he’d experienced in Termina, but whenever it got particularly bad here he found himself missing her more than usual. She’d nag and complain and was rude to him sometimes, but she’d still looked out for him. She’d been kind, in her own way. She just wasn’t terribly great at showing it.

“Go to sleep.”

Link raised an eyebrow at Tatl’s sudden command, before shaking his head.

“Do you really think you’re going to get anything done like this? You need to sleep.”

Again Link shook his head, which only seemed to irritate her. She could get as mad as she wanted, though- Link didn’t feel like sleeping. He had to wait to talk to Anju anyways, so why risk missing their meeting?

“You can talk to her next cycle! You’re practically a zombie right now- you’re creeping me out. You need to sleep.”

‘But I promised I’d meet with her. I can’t let her down.’

“Do you think it’ll matter if you fall asleep on the third day and that thing crashes into the town? You need to get to sleep!”

‘No. I made a promise. I’m not making her wait for me.’

Link wouldn’t hear anything further on the subject, waiting until the time that Anju would be in the kitchen. This wasn’t the first time he’d delivered her letter, and it wasn’t going to be the last, but a promise was still a promise.

Even if she’d forget, he wouldn’t.

So he wouldn’t break his promise.

He blacked out for just a few minutes past midnight on the final day as the exhaustion caught up to him, waking up in time to see Tatl flying anxiously above him. As soon as he opened his eyes she’d flown right into his face, tiny hands making fists as she hit at his cheeks, but he could hear the tears in her voice.

“You idiot! This is why you need to sleep! Play the song, right now! We’re going back, and you’re going to that inn. No buts!”

Normally, Link would’ve wanted to argue, to reason that he would be fine- but he didn’t. Not when he could see her light wavering, not when he could feel her hands shaking as they’d come to rest against his cheek. He’d worried her, hadn’t he?

He played the song of time and went right to the inn, just as Tatl’d said, and sat down on the bed in their room.

“Sleep. Now.”

‘I’m… not tired.’

“Not tired?!”

He looked away this time as she flew right up into his face, not wanting to look at her. But that only made her more upset, and she refused to let him look away.

“How could you not be tired?! You look like you haven’t slept in a year, and for all we know that’s true.” Neither of them kept track, after all. It would’ve probably driven them both insane to know how many times they’d repeated those same three days. “Why don’t you ever sleep, anyways? What do you have against it?”

‘I just… don’t like it.’ Link bit at his lip, not really wanting to explain further. He didn’t want her to know about the nightmares, so the less he slept the more likely she’d never find out. ‘I don’t like sleeping.’

“That’s not an answer. Why don’t you sleep? I’ll wake you up, you know. I have a good internal clock.” She gave a dry laugh, and Link couldn’t help but join. That was something he could agree with- it felt like he’d gotten very good at knowing exactly what time it was. Repeating the same three days on endless loop would do that, he figured. “You can trust me. You should trust me. For as long as you’re here, we’re partners. Remember?”

‘I know.’ And he knew he couldn’t have done this without her. Yes, perhaps it’d sorta been her fault to begin with, her and Skull Kid and Tael- but he would’ve gone mad having to do everything here alone. As strong as he was, having to deal with Termina on his own would’ve most likely broken him. ‘I know.’

“Then just trust me with something for once, won’t you? You never share anything!”

Link wanted to retort, to mention that she hardly shared much either, but he didn’t. He didn’t feel like bringing that up would do much aside from make Tatl more upset. But just saying nothing wouldn’t solve things- Tatl didn’t take kindly to being ignored.

‘I don’t… sleep well.’

“Who can, in times like these? Is that all it is?”

‘That’s not it. I get… nightmares.’

“…oh.” Tatl seemed awkward at that, not really sure what to say or do. She was like that often, he’d found- he’d say something, and she’d immediately get awkward. “W-Well, uh… either way, you still have to sleep. I’ll be here, though. I need sleep too.”

‘I’ll try not to wake you up…’

“Th-that’s not what I meant.”

Link tilted his head, unsure what else she could mean, but she didn’t offer any further explanation.

Try as he might, Link was genuinely exhausted, and he found himself falling asleep soon enough. Tatl had decided to rest on his hair, and soon enough they were both asleep.

“Hey! Hey, wake up! Link!!”

“…Na…vi… ?”

Opening his eyes slowly, Link found himself looking at a fairy- Tatl. Not Navi, he should’ve known it wouldn’t be Navi, but for just a few moments she’d reminded him so much of his old friend.

“Finally, you’re up. You looked like you were having a nightmare… and, it’s been a full day. You should eat something. You’ll pass out again if you don’t eat.”

He could hear from her tone of voice that there was something more she wanted to say, but for whatever reason she refrained. He didn’t have any problem with eating though… even if Anju wasn’t the best cook, it was better than nothing.

After a few moments Tatl landed on his head, walking around on his hair. She liked to pace sometimes, he’d learned.

“Also. You need to sleep more often.”

‘But-‘

“No. I want you to promise me- sleep more often.”

‘But sleep gets in the way of getting things done. Seventy-two hours isn’t very long.’

“Then… we’ll have cycles where you don’t leave clock town. You can sleep or rest or whatever, but you don’t leave.”

‘Why?’

“Because we can’t have you passing out again! Do you know how scared I was- I mean, that was dangerous!”

‘…I’m sorry.’

“If you’re sorry, then promise me.”

‘…Okay. I promise.’

“Good.”

Link woke up, not feeling terribly rested, but finding that he instead only missed Tatl more now. He hadn’t meant to doze off- but he didn’t have the comfort of their ‘rest cycles�� anymore, not here. Granted, he’d take that over what happened in Termina… but he still didn’t like sleep very much. He still had nightmares, and he still felt it was better if he stayed up all night- safer. There was nothing he’d miss.

He at least knew what he’d miss whenever he’d taken a cycle to rest. Here? Here, he couldn’t know. Even with reassurance, it still made him anxious just to think about.

So for now, still, he tried to not think about it. Better to just keep focused on the events at hand, and not get lost in thoughts yet again. He was at least a better rested now, so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting distracted. He wouldn’t have to sleep again for a while, and he could tell himself that Tatl would be glad he’d gotten some rest.

Bow in hand, Link found himself running back into the pandemonium on the streets. He didn’t know what the minimum of points he’d have to get was, and wasn’t going to take the risk. The more points he could get the better, so he’d rack up as many as possible.

He’d tell himself it was like Romani’s balloon game, and try to forget the reasoning behind that, as impossible as it was. Anything to distract himself, and keep up focus.

At the very least, this game thing hopefully wouldn’t go on much longer.

#; ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇs ( IC )#ir event: pandemonium #drabbles #honestly it's only loosely connected to the event #i just wanted an excuse to write a drabble #and this was good enough lol #it's more bc i really wanted to get a little more into link and tatl's relationship #they weren't the best at communicating with each other but they were still friends #tatl cared abt him and wanted him to be safe still #honestly lol this drabble has also opened up other avenues for me to drabble later #ie the inevitable time tatl asked him abt navi #and the all night mask in general #but.... leave those for later rip #this is melancholic enough

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