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julietandcinderellavocaloid · 4 years

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Broken Juliet Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Hello, beautiful people! May I present to you the prequel to my Vocaloid fanfic Blood Rose! It’s not necessary to read BR before reading this, but there will be some world building lacking as a result. Not a lot, so you should be fine.

This novella follows one of the characters, Rin, living through the events that lead her to where she is at the start of Blood Rose. Rin seems to be everyone’s favorite character in the main fic. Now it’s time to learn how she became the person she is in that novel.

Broken Juliet is Rin’s story, and it isn’t a happy one.

Trigger warnings for physical abuse and character death.

I do not own Vocaloid in any way, shape, or form. This fanfic purely exists for non-profit entertainment purposes. Enjoy!

Scrunching up her face, sixteen-year-old Kagamine Rin studied the cabbage. After deeming it satisfactory, she added it and others of similar quality to her basket. She also picked up a few turnips and walked to the counter to make her purchase.

"Will that be all?" asked the clerk, a look of disinterest on his face. Rin nodded to answer. When the clerk totaled the costs, he told Rin, "That will be thirteen coin."

"Thirteen?!" Rin exclaimed. "I spoke with Aoki Merli earlier today, and she told me she paid less than half for the same things I'm getting."

"Yes," the clerk agreed, "but Aoki Merli is an Alice."

Rin grit her teeth. "Are you truly going to discriminate against me like this?"

"I need to make sales one way or another. Now either pay seventeen coin, or get out of here."

"It's seventeen coin now?"

"Twenty since you insist in arguing with me."

Jaw clenched, Rin stared at the man for more than a moment. What she wanted to do was walk away without making the purchase. It's what she would have done if she wasn't required to get everything on her shopping list. Rin had to get the items regardless of their price. The clerk knew it as well as she did.

Without a word, Rin slammed the twenty coins onto the counter, picked up her basket, spun on her heel, and walked out of the shop. She covered her eyes and squinted at the sunlight as she stepped outside and waited for her eyes to adjust before she continued with her errands. There was barely enough coin now to buy a new cloth pattern, but perhaps Ms. Yuezheng would feel generous and offer Rin half a pattern now and the rest when Rin could afford it.

Rin kicked up the dirt road as she went. The wooden shacks dotted the town, and many of the villagers walked on foot from business to business, either running errands like Rin or moving to the next job. Laughter and chatter filled the warming air. The boys and Alice girls played outside of the schoolhouse, making the most of their recess. Women gossiped over their bread and cheese as they sat under their tent, their sowing left unattended for now.

Just the sight of the bread alone made Rin's stomach growl with earnest. Before Rin bought the produce, she had hoped to use the leftover coin to buy a pork bun for her first meal of the day, but now she would have to wait till she cooked dinner that evening to taste even a morsel. With a heavy sigh, Rin kept marching to her next destination.

"Rin!"

Freezing at the shout of her name, Rin slowly turned around to see Mr. Chris waving her over. She didn't want to think about what the gruff blacksmith wanted with her, but she approached anyway. The last thing she needed was another complaint filed against her reaching her father.

Yet Mr. Chris, a tall man with black skin who was mostly muscle and had an ugly scar disfiguring the right side of his face, didn't seem upset at Rin for whatever reason that had been dreamed up since the last time someone, namely Luki, wanted to cause her trouble. Instead he looked to be displeased with the young man by his side. The young man shifted from foot to foot, seemingly more out of energetic restlessness than concern over this big man glaring at him.

"Yes, sir?" Rin questioned, switching her basket to her other arm.

Mr. Chris, whose arms were crossed, used his chin to point at the other guy. "This lad here is looking for your father's farm. Your father's still looking for more helping hands, right?"

"Yes, sir." Rin turned her attention to the young man by Mr. Chris's side. He was a tall, skinny fellow who looked more like a scarecrow than a person. Unless he was applying to scare birds and other pests away from the vegetation, she doubted he would get the job. The poor soul didn't look as if he could hold a rake he was so thin.

"Then he can follow you home." With that, Mr. Chris waved his hand in the air as if wiping off an item on his to-do list. He turned away, and that was the end of the exchange.

The young man turned to Rin and grinned, and she used the opportunity to study him a little more. He had olive skin, dirty blond hair that stuck out in every which way, and golden eyes. His clothes fit far too loosely, giving away just how gawky he was. Nothing about this man made him appear qualified to work on her father's farm. She was never going to see him again.

"Nice to meet ya!" the young man greeted, sounding far too cheerful, as he and Rin walked away from the blacksmith's shop. "Name's Akita Nero. You are?"

He doesn't know what I am then. Okay, good. It's been a long while since I had decent conversation with a stranger.

"Kagamine Rin," she told him. Nero held out his hand, and Rin hesitated a moment before taking it. After Nero gave her hand a firm shake, Rin pulled away and asked, "Where are you from?"

"Tangerice," he answered.

"Isn't that village far from here?"

"Only by twenty miles. I was looking for work when Kagamine Leon's want ad reached the border of town. When I caught wind of it, I grabbed my purse and came straight here."

"Did you walk the whole way?"

"Yep. Stopped last night to rest, then woke up before dawn to finish the journey."

Not sure what to make of Nero's chirpy attitude, Rin said, "Well, your journey is nearly over. The farm is a twenty-minute walk from here. Follow me and—"

"Pardon the interruption," Nero cut in, "but were ya running errands when that scary man called ya over?"

"I can do them later. It's really no trouble."

"Nah, finish them now," Nero replied. "I don't mind the wait. Ya said it's only a twenty-minute walk from here? That's nothing! Ya do what ya need to do before we head that way."

Rin wanted to argue, but she knew arguing wouldn't end well if he saw her left wrist. Even if he really was kind enough to insist Rin finish her errands first, she still didn't want to risk it. Of course, this man was new to town and likely wouldn't stay after not getting the job. Never seeing him after this interaction motivated her to be a little careless in conversation. Although she knew better, Rin held her left arm in a way to hide her exposed wrist as she gave in.

Working quickly in case Nero lacked patience, Rin dropped off her letters at the church before Pastor Fukase knew she stopped by and visited Ms. Yuezheng's shop to buy, to her relief, half a cloth pattern. Rin folded the cloth and stepped outside the tent. When she didn't see Nero, Rin looked around and tried to swallow her heart.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to ditch ya," Nero suddenly called out, causing Rin to jump. A pork bun in each hand, he explained, "I smelt something good and thought I'd give it a try."

Rin looked at his hands and asked before she realized her mouth was open, "You're going to eat two?" She couldn't even afford one. There was nothing left in her coin purse.

That was why it surprised Rin when Nero held a hand out and answered, "Actually, I bought one for ya, as a thanks for taking me to your father's farm. Well, I know we're not there yet, but we will be soon so I guess an early payment isn't too big a deal. Unless ya aren't hungry?"

Feeling her stomach tie itself into knots at the sight of the very thing she wanted for lunch being offered to her, Rin greatly desired to accept the pork bun. Yet she didn't trust this man, and she especially didn't trust his kindness.

"I did already eat, but thank you regardless," she said, her stomach tightening so hard it hurt. It was as if her body punished her for refusing the food she badly needed. Rin reminded her stomach it was better to starve in safety than to feast in beatings.

Nero shrugged before biting into the first pork bun. The sight too painful to watch, Rin turned away and told him that she was done with her errands and they would be going to her father's farm now. He followed close behind, finishing the first pork bun and then eating the second.

After he had devoured both pork buns, Nero began conversing with Rin. "So, what do ya grow on the farm? What kind of help does your pa need?"

"We need help picking our cherry trees and also preparing the soil to plant butternut squash, sweet potatoes, and pumpkins. Maintain the crops all through summer, and then harvest in autumn just in time for the Celebration of Colors."

Nero nodded along as Rin spoke. He didn't ask about wages or if housing was provided. Instead he asked, "Will I get to see more of ya if I get a position?"

Cheeks heating up, Rin answered Nero's question with one of her own. "Why are you asking something so insane?"

"Is it insane to want to spend more time with ya and get to know ya?"

So he hadn't seen her tattoo yet after all, and Rin didn't help the situation by keeping it hidden against her body. However, she really wanted to talk to someone who saw her as another person too much to be more rational. "You're being too forward, Mr. Akita."

"Please, call me Nero, and I apologize if it seems I'm being forward. It's only that you're the first person I met in this town – well, not including the blacksmith – and I would like to think we could be good friends if given the opportunity."

"You don't want to be friends with me." Rin regretted saying the words, but she didn't doubt their truth.

Nero didn't ask why Rin thought that, however. What he said was, "I think I should at least get to know ya before deciding whether or not I want to be friends with ya. Does Mistress Kagamine not wish to be friends with me?"

"I'm no mistress. Just Rin is more than fine."

"Okay, does Just Rin not wish to be friends with me?"

Despite herself, Rin snorted. "You are persistent."

"Ya haven't answered my question."

"Very well. Like you, I would need to get to know you before I can decide whether or not I want to be friends with you."

"And will there be opportunities for us to get to know each other?"

"I fail to see why this is so important to you."

"Perhaps this is important to me because I think you're interesting."

"Interesting?" Rin looked at Nero from the corner of her eye to see him smiling widely at her.

"I know first impressions don't tell a lot about a person," he began, "but my first impression of ya when the blacksmith called ya over was how pretty ya are."

Rin ducked her head down. If her burning cheeks was an indication, she didn't want Nero seeing her blush.

"Next was you seemed rather passive," Nero continued, either ignoring or oblivious to her turned away face. "Now, as it's only the two of us around, ya seem rather outspoken. Interesting indeed. I'm curious to know if you're strong-willed or without agency, and if the former, why ya pretend otherwise with an audience."

He still hasn't figured it out yet. "And if you get your answer," Rin replied, "what then?"

"I would like to find out if my other impressions are correct."

"Other impressions?"

"Calm, level-headed, easily fed up with the likes of me—"

"I'll tell you now that last one is correct," Rin stated, laughing. She then slammed her jaw shut.

However, Nero didn't seem offended. He simply laughed as well and added, "Blunt, too. I can respect that."

"Most people don't. They like to be told what they want to hear."

"Not me."

"What if you don't like what you hear?"

"If I'm going to take offense at every comment that doesn't agree with me, then I'm too emotionally immature to have valid arguments and opinions."

As her cheeks no longer felt flushed, Rin turned her attention back to the young man. He was smarter than he looked, that much was now evident. Yet there was still a skip to his step, his arms swinging carefree by his sides. There didn't seem to be any burdens of life on his shoulders. Either that, or he carried them well.

"I think you're the interesting one here, Mr. Nero," Rin slowly replied, looking away again.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"I'll leave that for you to decide." Before Nero could reply, Rin announced, "We're here."

"Thank ya again for guiding me," Nero said as they stopped. He moved to stand in front of Rin, reached out, and took her free right hand. "I hope this won't be the last time I see ya."

Rin didn't expect Nero to kiss the back of her hand, that was why she was too stunned to yank it out of his grasp. He smiled as he dropped it soon after. If nobody had seen it, that would have been the end.

Only somebody did see.

And that wasn't the end.

What was meant to be a simple expression of gratitude was going to be a crime for which Rin would be punished.

It was from the corner of her eye Rin saw him coming. She jumped away from Nero, her heartrate shooting up. Pointing out the approaching man, Rin told Nero that the newcomer was her father.

Kagamine Leon glared at his daughter as he grew closer. Yet when he was within earshot, he called out, "Greetings, young man! What is your business here?"

"Greetings, Mr. Kagamine!" Nero returned, grinning the way he did at Rin back in town. "I'm Akita Nero from Tangerice. I saw your want ad and immediately was on my way. Tell me, do ya still need a hand?"

Looking Nero up and down, Leon clearly had the same initial thoughts Rin had. However, he couldn't deny Nero employment without first seeing what the young man had to offer. It was a law that never worked in Rin's favor, but perhaps it would give Nero a chance.

"Go inside the house and begin your chores," Leon told his daughter. Nero couldn't see it, but Rin could and did.

Rin forced herself to swallow. "Yes, father."

As she treaded to the house, she heard her father tell Nero, "I'm so sorry Rin had to be the first you met here. I promise, employment here won't be a shame for you to bear. My daughter is the only Juliet on this farm."

Not hearing Nero's reaction nor wanting to hear it, Rin kept marching forward. Now that Nero knew, he would be repulsed and wonder why he didn't seek out the blood rose tattoo on her left wrist sooner. That's how the story always ended for Rin's potential friends.

And that, Nero, is why you don't want to be friends with me, Rin silently told the young man as she walked farther and farther away from the first and last taste of kindness from a stranger she experienced in a long, long time.

#Juliet and Cinderella #Broken Juliet #Kagamine Rin #Rin Kagamine #Akita Nero #Nero Akita #Rin X Nero #Nero X Rin #Rinero #Vocaloid fanfic

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allatariel · 4 years

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Excerpt from the Rogue One: A Star Wars Story novelization by Alexander Freed below the cut.

TL;DR—Fourteen emails between Galen Erso, Shaith Vodran, and Orson Krennic regarding excess radiation buildup resulting from modifications to the reactor core of the Death Star in order to reduce primary laser recharge times at Tarkin’s directive which eventually leads to the approval of Galen’s exhaust ports solution by both Krennic and Vodran.

SUPPLEMENTAL DATA: BATTLE STATION ENGINEERING NOTES

[Document #YM3884L (“Waste Radiation Distribution Solutions”), timestamped approximately eighteen months prior to Operation Fracture, sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

Erso: I had the droids generate a new Systems Safety and Compatibility Report incorporating your team’s proposed adjustments to the reactor core. The new plans triggered a dozen subsystem warnings and spat out one blazing red stain on the line labeled “Hypermatter Annihilator Unit.” I didn’t bother asking my astromech how bad that could be—a redline on a critical system speaks for itself.

Why are we even making reactor modifications this late in the game?

Have your engineers check their work better next time. Suffice to say, no changes are approved.

[Document #YM3884M (“Reply to Waste Radiation Distribution Solutions”), sent from Galen Erso to Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran.]

Vodran: Sincere apologies. I fully agree that this is unacceptable. The modifications are intended to reduce primary weapon recharge times to satisfactory levels (I’m sure you saw Tarkin’s directive) but sloppy work is sloppy work.

I assume you alerted Director Krennic to the report as well?

More as soon as I’ve spoken with my team.

[Document #YM3884N (“Reply to Waste Radiation Distribution Solutions”), sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

Director Krennic is copied on all SSCRs, but if he wants oversight on these particular modifications, it’s your responsibility to brief him on your problems.

[Document #YM3884O (“Reply to Waste Radiation Distribution Solutions”), sent from Galen Erso to Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran.]

Vodran: I alerted the director personally, at your suggestion.

I also spoke to my team and we identified the problem. The reactor core modifications are resulting in radiation buildup, which in turn has the potential of interfering with the hypermatter annihilator.

The buildup is caused by the inner shield actively reflecting excess particles and metaphorically “cooking” the reactor core. Had the shielding team’s research not been so heavily compartmentalized this might have been avoided.

Nonetheless: The reactor core modifications must remain as-is. Therefore, we are left with three possible ways of avoiding radiation buildup.

Option one: construction of a particle funnel and recycler. This is known and tested technology. I am confident it will function. Physical requirements mean the recycler would need to replace existing noncritical mechanisms under the northern command sector, but I estimate the needed disassembly would take under two weeks.

Option two: further refinement of our reactor technology to reduce waste particles. I have several team members keen on this possibility. They are excited about the potential for a technological breakthrough.

Option three: construction of manual venting shafts and thermal exhaust ports. This should reduce particle buildup to a degree I find personally acceptable. In addition, adding venting shafts risks additional incompatibilities with noncritical systems.

Please alert me if you have concerns.

[Document #YM3884P (“Reply to Waste Radiation Distribution Solutions”), sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

I oversaw construction of the northern command sector myself. Tarkin has already toured the facilities. If the particle funnel and recycler can’t go anywhere else, stick with options two and three.

You might want to give Krennic the final decision. He’s concerned about the timetable.

[Document #YM3884Q (“Particle Buildup”), sent from Galen Erso to Advanced Weapons Research Director Orson Krennic.]

Director: As we discussed, attached are preliminary reports on two methods for reducing particle buildup. I made my preferences clear in person, but I defer to your judgment.

[Document #YM3884R (“Reply to Particle Buildup”), sent from Advanced Weapons Research Director Orson Krennic to Galen Erso.]

Galen: New research and technological development is out of the question at this juncture. Work up a full proposal for the exhaust port solution and send the plans to Vodran for SSCR.

[Document #YM3884S (“Venting Shafts”), sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

Erso: What is this trash? The Systems Safety and Compatibility Report quit running after two hundred redlines. I only reviewed the first dozen, but it looks like you’re flooding half the station with radiation?

I thought these venting shafts were supposed to solve the problem.

No changes are approved.

[Document #YM3884T (“Reply to Venting Shafts”), sent from Galen Erso to Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran.]

I repeat myself, but: I apologize.

As you know, an engineer may be single-minded in his or her focus on a particular task. I, along with my team, have fallen victim to the sin of hubris.

Of course I should have warned you that your droids might register dangers. The venting shafts are designed to expel the majority of the heat and particle buildup, but some radiation leakage is inevitable. We estimate that human crewmembers stationed in any of fifteen sections would—in the event that the battle station fires the primary weapon three times within one hour—be placed at increased risk for a wide variety of long-term health problems. The SSCR, of course, detected this in those “two hundred redlines.”

I am instructing my team to look into all options. To expedite matters, I must request the use of your droids in running several alternative scenarios.

This will be an inconvenience, I realize, but the safety of the battle station’s crew is paramount.

[Document #YM3884U (“Reply to Venting Shafts”), sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

Are the command sectors or officer quarters in the affected radiation zones?

[Document #YM3884V (“Reply to Venting Shafts”), sent from Galen Erso to Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran.]

No.

[Document #YM3884W (“Reply to Venting Shafts”), sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

Send me your final plans. I’ll declare the droids in error and override the next SSCR.

I’m not burying Krennic in redline reports while you figure out how to keep a handful of stormtroopers from developing a cough.

[Document #YM3884X (“Reply to Venting Shafts”), sent from Galen Erso to Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran.]

That’s not necessary. I’m certain we can resolve this. Even if a technical solution fails, we may be able to alter crew rotation schedules to mitigate any health risks.

[Document #YM3884Y (“Reply to Venting Shafts”), sent from Engineering Operations Manager Shaith Vodran to Galen Erso.]

You may be too obtuse to realize it, Erso, but I’m doing you a favor. This project needed to be done weeks ago.

Send me the final venting shaft and exhaust port plans. I’ll bypass SSCR and submit them for production, manufacturing, and installation.

Changes have been approved.

#rogue one #galen erso #shaith vodran #orson krennic #wilhuff tarkin #tarkin initiative #death star #rogue one: a star wars story novelization #alexander freed #the email chain that killed the death star #may the fourth episode be with you

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

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Ostinato: A Tale of Sotto Voce

Oooh, look what I finished :D

-o-o-o-

Title: Ostinato

A Tale of Sotto Voce

Author: Gumnut

Aug 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Why the Hood didn’t currently have him under his thumb, why he could now see and speak to John without innate terror, why he hadn’t thrown himself into Thunderbird Three’s silo and why Thunderbird Five was still mostly in one piece. But most of all, why he was still alive.

Word count: 8400 ( that is not a frickin’ ficlet!)

Spoilers & warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, family, science fiction

Timeline: Shortly before the last scene of ‘Il Mago’, as they don’t know the identity of Il Mago, definitely before ‘Father’.

Author’s note: Nutty’s Fandomversary Fic Ten – Prompt: ‘I’d still love to see a brother (maybe Gordon while healing from injury) sleepwalk to five or John sleepwalk down to TI.’ for @melmac78

I’m afraid I don’t think I answered your request ☹ Because Eos monitors the space elevator, it would only be with her permission that the prompt could happen. So, to get as close as possible, I delved into Sotto Voce. I hope you enjoy what resulted anyway. Sorry I couldn’t answer correctly.

Also, it is midnight here and I will admit that I haven’t re-read the last bits of this as thoroughly as I should, but I’m tired and just want to post this. I’ll probably curse it when I discover some horrible error in the morning, but I need to go to bed. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for their help on this one.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil, you there?”

“Hmm? Yes, John?” He let his fingers dance over the piano keys seeking reassurance. Today wasn’t one of his better days since the Maggot and he was doing his best to turn it around. Piano was good. Piano gave absolution.

The ivory was smooth under his fingertips.

“I’m sending the elevator down. Could you pack me some Y-345 and T-3245 process rods? Brains needs to replace six of each in the computer core.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow. “So, I’m allowed in the hangars now?”

It had been a long recovery. Since the attack, he had been plagued by headaches and an awful narcolepsy that had kept him down and barred from the hangers for safety reasons. It had gotten to the point that Virgil was surprised he was allowed on the balconies without a chaperone.

But then he had one anyway, didn’t he?

I wouldn’t really call myself a chaperone, Uncle. More of a supervisor?

Supervisor implies you can tell me what to do, Eos.

I can. Not that you’ll listen.

You’ve got it in one.

John, unaware of what was being said, but suspecting something was afoot, glared at him from his little hologram on top of the piano. His hair was still blond, though the red was starting to show. “Have you two finished?”

Still playing, Virgil hid a smile. “She’s your kid, bro.”

“And you are still a bad influence.”

The smile broke into a grin. “Glad to be of service.”

“That’s fabulous, but could you be of better service and pack me those process rods?”

The grin faded to be replaced with a frown. “What’s wrong?” John was uncharacteristically on edge.

“Nothing.”

Virgil’s frown deepened. “Do I have to speak to Eos?”

John glared at him, and Virgil swallowed. Something must have registered on his face because John was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, Virgil. It’s just with Scott, Alan and Gordon on rescues and TB5 not fully up to par. It is a little frustrating.”

Virgil cursed himself for his reaction. When the hell was he going to get over that?! Most of the time he was fine, but on the now rare occasion, John’s expression would trigger him and he couldn’t help himself. John scared him, but it wasn’t John who was the cause of his fear. It hurt the both of them and he hated it.

“No, it’s not your fault. Never your fault.” A sigh and the music came to a stop. “I’ll hunt down your rods and meet with the elevator.”

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“Not a problem.”

His brother signed off and Virgil pushed himself back from the keys. At least he could be marginally useful. He was still banned from working on his ‘bird. He was getting better, but there were still moments.

A roll of his shoulders to loosen up his muscles and he stood.

Grandma was the only person on the island with him at the moment. Kayo was with Penelope, continuing their hunt for his assailant, while Brains was up on TB5 with John. It was so quiet, it was lonely.

He shook himself. God, the self-pity was ridiculous.

Eos didn’t remark at that thought but there was a wash of indescribable emotion.

He ignored it and headed for the elevator. Process rods were one of the many spare parts stored in the lower caverns. The network of caves below the villa was massive. It was the reason his father had chosen this island and it served them all so well. Cavecutters had ground out the spaces not naturally provided and International Rescue was able to operate solely because of all the automatic machinery these caverns housed.

The elevator hit the hangar floor and Virgil walked past his beloved ‘bird to the cavern access on the far side of the bay. The module train sat snug in its niche and he found himself blinking at the familiar sight.

More self-pity.

Shit.

He was on a roll today.

Another sigh. Calm, keep it calm. No need to trigger one of those blasted headaches again.

Maybe this was a basic reason to keep out of the hangers. Too much temptation and memory. Here was where he had kidnapped Brains. Here was where he had nearly shot his brother with Thunderbird Two’s laser. Looking up, he could still see the scorch marks on the massive hanger door.

Self-pity shifted to hate for a man now dead.

He grit his teeth.

Focus.

The storage cavern was full of neatly organised and labelled resources. Virgil, of course, knew exactly where to find what he needed. The process rods were light in his grasp. He threw in a few extra and with a further thought, grabbed a trolley and threw on some of the standard supply run items that his brother might need, plus a few extra processors for Eos.

Thank you, Uncle.

Are you watching everything I do? It was both annoying and reassuring.

Of course, I am. You’re in the hangars.

And I can’t be trusted. His shoulders slumped.

You know that is not the reason, Virgil.

Yeah, well, it sucks anyway. He shoved a few more components into the trolley.

You are getting better.

It is taking forever. So he was being petulant.

“Virgil?”

Another sigh. “I’m fine, John, just gathering your stuff.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine!”

The line fell silent and he knew his brother didn’t believe a word. Another wave of disappointment in himself hit. Man, he was in the dumps today.

A dozen LED spots landed in the trolley with a clunk.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He grabbed the spots and checked them over visually for damage. Maybe he shouldn’t be in the hangars if a depressive mood had him breaking things.

Another sigh.

For goodness sake, get the hell over it! This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he thought. Where was the positive? Where was his strength? He leant over the trolley, his elbows on the handle and rubbed his face.

“Virgil?”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Be at the elevator asap.”

Focus, for crying out loud.

He shoved the trolley ahead of him, darting among the shelves.

There was another trek across the hangar past his ‘bird which he purposefully ignored, into the elevator and up several levels to the space elevator’s dock.

The cavern beyond was so empty it hurt. TB1 and Shadow were absent and the space echoed his loneliness back at him.

For Christ’s sake!

A sudden roar as the elevator fired its thrusters, slowing its descent. At least the noise filled the vacuum.

A clunk and she docked solidly. “Elevator secure.” Eos’ voice echoed over the comms.

“Thank you, Eos.”

“You are always welcome.” There was a smile in her voice.

He placed his palm on the hatch control and it blinked in recognition, the airlock opening. He strode in and found a stash of recycling in the freight containers. A little component juggling and he had the necessaries loaded and the unnecessaries lined up for the recycler. “Okay, John, she’s almost ready to haul up. Give me a sec for a pre-flight check.”

“FAB.”

Virgil paused a moment, staring at the controls of the elevator. A breath and his fingers ran through the checks automatically.

It was good to know that the knowledge had survived the frying of his brain.

His shoulders shifted under the weight of the depressive emotion that followed.

Definitely a bad day.

He needed his piano. Or paint. Or something.

Goddamnit!

Something shifted in his head.

Oh, shit.

He suddenly knew what was going to happen. No, not here! He turned towards the hatch. Get off the elevator. Get off-

He was on the decking, his hands barely catching him as his body succumbed to the sudden forced sleep cycle.

His head hit his forearm, and the world faded.

-o-o-o-

Eos knew the moment her uncle lost consciousness. She brushed electronic fingers across his interface and was reassured that he was simply asleep, victim of his narcolepsy. The fact he was asleep on the floor of the space elevator was the challenge.

“Father?”

John was in conversation with Scott on the far side of the planet, the Eldest struggling with a plane that was determined to fall out of the sky. Thunderbird Two’s presence would have been preferable and the man’s profanity proved that. However, neither Two nor her pilot were in any condition to go anywhere.

Current situation more than enough proof.

“Yes, Eos? Is the elevator ready to return?”

“Yes, John, but-“

“Please launch it, Eos. Scott, I am sorry, but my scanners are not at full capacity. This is all the information I can give you.”

Eos flicked back down to the elevator and checked again on her uncle. A number of calculations, safety variables. A glance in her father’s direction. A decision.

She fired the elevator’s thrusters and it launched from the island.

For the next eight minutes she hovered over that elevator, micro-firing adjustments, protecting her uncle as he was not fastened securely. She got him through the jet stream, up through turbulence until he was finally free of the atmosphere. Braking started early, the elevator slowing incrementally in order to prevent Virgil from being slammed into the ceiling at speed.

“Eos, what are you doing with the elevator?”

Her father had finally noticed. “We have a visitor.”

That drew his full attention. “What? Who?”

“Virgil fell asleep in the elevator.”

“He did what?!”

“His narcolepsy flared as he was doing pre-flight checks.”

“And you launched?!” The frown on her father’s face was volatile.

“You asked me to.”

“Eos!”

“He is safe! I would not risk him.”

“But why?”

The elevator was travelling so slowly by this point it was hardly moving. It slid into dock with barely a vibration against its moorings. “Father, his thoughts have been somewhat depressed. I thought company would help.”

The worry on John’s face spiked. “What thoughts?”

“Father, I respect his privacy, however, today his emotional status has been poor. I don’t think being alone is in his best interests at the moment.” She paused. “You can do things I cannot.”

He looked up at her camera, expression thoughtful. “Monitor my brothers while I attend to Virgil.”

“Yes, Father.”

John propelled himself towards the airlock.

-o-o-o-

It had been a hell of a day. That was the only excuse he had and it was a poor one. He had thought offering his brother that simple and urgent task would have helped him.

Apparently not.

And now he was asleep in their space elevator.

The seal hissed as he released it and floated through.

Virgil hovered just above the floor, his open red-checked shirt moving as the man breathed. His eyes were closed and shadowed, his whole body limp.

His brothers had commented often on how Virgil fell asleep all over the house. It had stopped happening so frequently, but not completely.

Virgil was going to be so pissed when he woke up.

John reached out and touched his brother’s cheek. Whispered. “C’mon, bro, let’s get you secured.”

It took John activating his suit’s attitude adjusters to create the momentum to get both him and his much heavier brother moving through the airlock. Some careful manoeuvring through the comms module and he almost ran into Brains as he entered the gravity ring.

Fortunately, the engineer overcame his surprise enough to help catch Virgil as the gravity caught the sleeping man.

“He fell asleep in the elevator.”

Brains’ eyes were roaming over the prone engineer assessing his condition.

“Eos, has been monitoring him. He is okay.”

“I-I will be happier w-when this in-voluntary sleeping c-ceases.”

“Won’t we all.”

They carried the man down the length of the ring to John’s quarters and secured him in his brother’s bed. Virgil’s boots landed on the glass floor.

“He packed our supplies before collapsing. Could you alert Grandma of Virgil’s location and ask her to send up some of his things once the supplies are unpacked?”

Brains nodded and took the gentle request for what it was and left.

John turned back to his brother and sighed.

So much fear and so much anger was wrapped around his big brother. John had done his best to help, but due to the situation, he was often part of the cause. He had run out of profanity to aim at the deceased Hood and the energy along with it.

All that was left was the need to help his brother recover.

And protect him as much as possible.

Il Mago was still out there, somewhere.

Scott...Scott was volatile. Their big brother was struggling with his inability to protect Virgil. John, at least, had tools at his hands to set up digital wards and Eos patrolled continuously. Scott was after the perpetrator like a man possessed. They still didn’t know who it was. Kayo and Penny were desperately looking for clues. Virgil had managed a drawing of the man’s face, but even the artist wasn’t happy with it and facial recognition had been unable to connect any dots. Eos had also seen the man, but she saw things differently in the virtual world and the concepts didn’t quite translate.

It left Scott fighting an unseen foe and so much broken gym equipment. Today’s rescue had at least been a break from the confines of Tracy Island for his eldest brother.

With that thought came the sad irony that someone had to be in danger for the Tracy family to catch a break. Their lives defied logic at times.

Reaching over, he brushed a stray hair off his brother’s forehead. Virgil snuffled in his sleep and began to drool on John’s pillow.

A fond smile was all the astronaut had for that.

All he wanted was for his brother to recover...well, as much as he could. That thought lay embedded in a darkness reeking of a need for revenge that could never be sought as the perpetrator was already dead.

A sigh. He had to get back to his other brothers. “Eos, keep an eye on him.”

“Of course, John.”

The astronaut returned to the comms module and the business of saving people.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil? You awake yet?”

The fog of sleep stifled his response, but he did open his eyes.

“Hey, Virg!”

Blink. Alan?

Try again. “A-Alan?” Ugh, his throat was dry. Air conditioning parch. The pillow under his head had an interesting smell.

Another blink. This wasn’t his pillow. Focus. Hell, this wasn’t his bedroom.

“Three to Virg, are you reading me?”

“Go away.” He swiped a hand in his brother’s direction.

“Do you have any idea where you are?”

“I’m in hell and you’re my penance.” He rolled away from his brother and face the wall. A very wrong coloured wall. What the-?

“You’re on Five, bro. John says you sleep-rode the elevator.”

The elevator?! He shot up in the bed, the lower gravity sending him almost bouncing off the ceiling. He caught himself at the last moment as his head spun and sprouted a whopper of a headache. “Ah, shit!” He dropped his head to his hands and gouged his eyes out with his palms.

“Hey, Virg, take it easy.”

A hand landed on his arm and Virgil forced down a flinch. He groaned. “Alan, what do you want?”

“I was in the area and thought I would check in on you.”

A long drawn out sigh and he forced himself to sit up straight. Alan had been on a rescue. “Status?”

The astronaut’s response was habitual. “All three passengers and the pilot accounted for. Brains is checking them over.” A breath. “Now what about you?”

“Just fabulous.”

Alan peered at him up close. “Tell that to the red roadmaps on your sclera.”

An irritated blink. “How do you even know that word?”

“Did the same first aid courses you did, bro.” Alan sat on the bed beside him. “Headache?”

He gave in. “Yeah.”

“I’ll grab you some pills.”

Whispered. “Thanks, Alan.”

His brother squeezed his shoulder and left the room.

Virgil took the moment to centre himself. A breath and he levered his feet off the bed and onto the glass floor.

Far beneath him the world spun away.

Starlight danced on his skin.

The world spun back into view...Australia, New Zealand...Tracy Island...

The world spun away again.

He closed his eyes against the stars.

Alan’s step was quiet on the glass, his uniform boots designed specifically for this kind of environment. Virgil became abruptly aware of his own lack of uniform. Breach of regulations, breach of safety.

Alan must have picked up on his thoughts. “Don’t worry, Eos had Grandma fetch some of your things. Apparently, John doesn’t think you’ll fit into his.”

Alan’s smile was a little infectious and Virgil found his spirits lifting just a little despite himself.

Quietly. “Thank you, bro.”

Alan’s smile broadened as he handed over the tablets and a bottle of water.

Virgil downed the medication in two quick gulps. The water was lovely and cool on the back of his throat. it loosened tight muscles.

Alan sat down beside him on the bed again. They sat together staring out through the floor.

“I have to say, this view never gets old.”

Virgil blinked. “No, it doesn’t.” Admittedly, he could probably list on one hand how many times he had been up here without a mission. The brothers were happy to call John down, but few of them, except perhaps Alan, came up here much. “It has its own beauty.”

“John said you’ve been having a bad day.”

He darted a glance at his little brother, his head not appreciating the abrupt movement at all. Eos!

Father was concerned! What was I supposed to do? You were asleep in the elevator. You were having a bad day. You were frightened by John at least once. You spent all morning at the piano attempting to chase away negative thoughts, which is probably why you crashed in the elevator. I was worried. John was worried. Youngest was worried. Eldest is currently pacing the comms room, worried. Only the second youngest isn’t worried because Scott ordered me not to tell him.

That is why you don’t tell everyone when I’m feeling like shit, Eos! They worry. I don’t want them to worry. They’ve worried enough. I’ve hurt them all too much already.

The thought hit the core of the matter and he found himself caught in the concept. He hitched in a breath and fought to keep himself in one piece. His brain hammered on the inside of his skull.

“Virgil?”

“I’m-“ He closed his eyes. “Alan, could I have a moment to myself please?” The words were tight and parched.

His little brother stood up. “Uh, yeah, sure. Call if you need anything.” The brush of Alan’s fingertips on his shoulder nearly broke him.

The door slid closed.

He could hold it all back no longer. It was everything. It was what had been done to him. What he had done to his family and the simple fact that he was no longer the Virgil Tracy he wanted to be.

Head in his hands, he let go.

-o-o-o-

“Father!”

John swung around, sonic screwdriver in hand. “Yes, Eos?”

“Virgil is...upset.”

John’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“The youngest spoke with him. He has a headache and the youngest gave him medication. Virgil admonished me for telling you of his ‘bad day’. His mood shifted to one of despair. He excused the youngest and now he sits with his head in his hands. He is in pain. Please, Father, what do I do?”

John swallowed and wished Scott was here.

But wishing was useless, as his Dad used to say. Work with what you have. And Virgil had John.

“Leave him to me.”

As he moved to leave the comms hub, Alan barrelled in. “John, it’s Virgil. Something’s up.”

A squeeze of a shoulder. “I know.” he handed his brother the screwdriver. “Here, comm relay to Brains and do as he asks. That panel over there.” Without another word, John pushed himself through the airlock and onto the gravity ring.

A sigh as his feet touched down on the floor.

A matter of steps and he was opening the door to his room.

Virgil sat on the edge of John’s bed. Elbows on knees, head in hands. He didn’t react to John’s presence at all.

On soft feet, John crossed the glass and sat quietly beside his brother.

Virgil’s shoulders were shaking.

A moment of hesitation and John reached out and gently dropped a hand on flannel covered shoulders.

The muscles beneath immediately tightened, a shudder echoing through Virgil’s frame.

A whisper barely more than breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

John’s throat knotted. “Not your fault.”

“No, it never is.” A ragged breath. “But it always is.” Another shudder and his brother straightened, obviously attempting to throw the emotions off. The face that emerged from his hands was pale and tearstained. A sniff and Virgil rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Sorry I worried you again.”

“Virgil.” His brother’s name fell from him in a rush. The man was emanating pain and John felt so inadequate.

Work with what you have.

His arm snaked around Virgil’s shoulders and he drew him closer. Virgil looked at him, a frown on his face.

A sudden dread that his brother might be triggered by his closeness and the anger flared in the back of John’s mind. But Virgil’s brow only crinkled in query.

So, John did something that he had wanted to do so many times during recent events. He wrapped his big brother in his arms and drew him close, bringing his head to rest on his shoulder.

The bigger man shuddered again. “John-“

“It’s okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve got you.”

John bit his lip and found his own eyes wet as his brother shuddered again in his arms.

Virgil’s voice could barely be heard, its baritone strength whittled down to nothing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I-“ And it was replaced with a sob. “No. I can’t-“

“You can.”

His brother groaned in pain.

“Virgil.”

“‘S not fair.”

“Never is.”

What would Scott say? What were the magic words to release the family rock from his self-imprisonment?

“We love you, Virgil.”

The next sound was a broken sob, followed by another, and finally his big brother was crying.

He wilted in John’s arms, his massive shoulders, depleted by his illness, became frail under the emotional onslaught. John blinked away his own reaction and simply held on.

All the pain, the anguish, the torture, the arguments, the fear, the accusations...his brother had been through so much. It would be foolish to think a bout of tears could fix it all, but the release was a start, a chance to give the man a little healing.

It was a complete shock when his brother suddenly went limp in his arms.

“Eos!”

“He is asleep.”

“Again? So soon?” Virgil’s head lolled on John’s shoulder, tears still tracking down his cheeks from beneath wet eyelashes.

“He was emoting heavily. I suspect it triggered his narcolepsy.”

Damnit, the man could not get a break.

Awkwardly, John lowered his brother’s head back down onto the pillow. Standing, he dragged Virgil’s feet onto the bed and wrapped him in the thin blanket.

Once he was secure, John left the bedroom and approached the nearest holographic comms terminal.

“Thunderbird Five to Tracy Island.”

-o-o-o-

The smell of hot coffee woke him.

Virgil screwed up his face and let the muscles go, his eyes blinking. What the hell? He had been...speaking to John. Another blink and memory surfaced of what exactly he had been doing to his brother.

Shit.

“If you start kicking yourself for what happened earlier, I’m going to ask Eos to play some Neo-Boney M on loop.” John’s tone was firm from the end of the bed.

The threat was solid. Virgil hated the revival group. There were certain things that deserved to stay buried.

“Do that and I’m torching your ABBA collection.”

A snort. “You’d have to find it first.”

“I have an AI in my head.”

A pair of turquoise eyes pinned him to the pillow. “Really? You want to test my daughter’s loyalty?”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to god his brain would spare him the headache if he moved.

“Do that and I’m joining the circus and moving to Venezuela.” Eos’ voice was light over the comm system and a laugh echoed somewhere in the back of Virgil’s head.

John sipped his coffee. “Then I guess we won’t be doing that.”

Virgil frowned. “What’s in Venezuela?”

“Oh, they have been doing some very interesting AI experiments down there. Joe 23 is quite charming.”

Both brothers stared up at her camera in astonishment.

“You’ve spoken with other AIs?” John’s voice was strangled.

“Of course.”

“I hope you have considered the security risks, particularly considering recent events.”

Virgil’s heart froze. If Il Mago got his hands on other AIs...

“None of them have my capability. None could reach Thunderbird Five, much less endanger Virgil.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart hit the floor. “Reach me?”

“Eos!” John’ voice was sharp.

“What? They can’t hurt him.”

“Eos! We will discuss this later!”

He hadn’t known there were other AIs. It made sense. Eos was unique, but experts had been experimenting with artificial intelligence for a very long time. The thought that he might be vulnerable to other intelligences....

Voice parched. “There better be more coffee where that came from.”

John didn’t answer. He reached behind and pulled out a sealed thermos and handed it over.

Virgil sat up in the bed and accepted the drink.

I’m sorry, Virgil. Are you upset about the other intelligences? They can’t reach you. Some of them can barely speak. None of them are capable of what I am. A pause. Are you okay?

He didn’t answer, not wanting to think at all. The coffee was scalding hot as it hit the back of his throat and he was ever grateful.

Please, Virgil. I’m sorry. I won’t speak to them again, I promise. She was getting agitated and it vibrated his mind.

The breath rushed out of him. “It’s okay, Eos. I’m fine.”

You’re lying! I can tell. Please, Virgil. Forgive me?

“It’s fine, Eos!” Just...just give me a moment. Please!

She backed off immediately.

He sighed, took another swig of coffee and closed his eyes. Just breathe.

Breathe.

“Virgil?”

“I’m fine!” It was a shout and it was loud.

John raised a hand and backed off as much as his daughter.

And Virgil felt worse.

“Shit.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Sorry.”

John was staring at him, thoughts darting back and forth behind his eyes. A drawn in breath and his brother’s expression became firm. “Virgil, I want you in the infirmary.”

He blinked. “John-“

“Now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!”

Virgil jumped. John rarely raised his voice. It was his turn to stare.

“You’ve been to hell and back. You can’t possibly be ‘fine’.” That last word was snarled. “I need to check you over.”

“I’ve spent most of the last couple of months in the infirmary, John!”

“Then a few more minutes won’t hurt. You can visit mine for a little variety.”

“John-“

“Don’t argue with me, please. You will go to the infirmary even if I have to wait you out until you fall asleep again and I will check you over then.”

Virgil froze, lack of choice and power slapping him in the face.

“Father-“

Virgil cut her off. “Eos, shut it.” It came out sharp and nasty.

Well, that convinces me that Father is right. You need an examination.

“Leave me alone!” It came out as a desperate plea as far from his usually calm self as it could be. His head spun. “Leave me alone, leave me alone, please leave me alone, I can’t, I can’t, please, god, please, no more, please no more, make it stopmakeitstop, please make it stop, please, please...” Part of him sensed that something was very wrong. The rest of him was lost in a maelstrom.

An alarm sounded somewhere. Eos was calling his name. There were hands. He fought them, but more hands appeared and he was trapped.

That only made him fight more.

There was yelling. A young woman with flame red hair and a white dress caught his face and held him still. Uncle!

Hands held his body, but her eyes held his mind. Eos.

Green, aquamarine, turquoise, so deep he could fall into them.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

It happened so quickly, John was slow to react.

One minute he was verbally wrestling a stubborn brother to submit to a medical examination, the next that brother was pleading, heart wrenchingly desperate, tears in his eyes.

Eos was alarmed, reporting anomalous brain activity. Virgil’s coffee hit the floor and the hot liquid ran along the gravity ring.

His brother’s anguish drew him close in a need to comfort, but the moment his hand touched a shoulder, Virgil started fighting him.

It was uncoordinated and hysterical, but Virgil was a big man. An alarm sounded in the satellite and John vaguely registered Eos calling Alan and Brains. John was too busy avoiding getting his head handed to him.

A fist caught him on the arm as John grabbed a wrist. “Virgil!” That wrist yanked and John lost his footing almost immediately. He was dragged a couple of steps, but Alan grabbed Virgil’s other hand and the panic was deflected.

Neither younger brother was strong enough to tackle their tank of a brother at his usual fitness level, but the last few months had taken a serious toll on his health and the strength just wasn’t there anymore.

Brains grabbed a first aid kit. John and Alan struggled to hold Virgil...

“Father!”

Virgil dropped like a ragdoll, John and Alan staggering to support his sudden weight.

“O-on the floor. L-lay him on the floor. Vitals.”

John’s heart was in his throat as they ascertained that their brother was breathing, heart beating, alive.

His own respiratory reflex shuddered and let air out between his teeth.

Alan grabbed a collapsible hover gurney from the tiny medbay and moments later their brother was ensconced in the tiny room.

“What happened?” Alan’s voice hit a high pitch of worry.

“Th-that is w-what we will ascertain.” Brains worked with the tiny facility, connecting Virgil to an array of monitoring equipment. The reassuring beep of a regular heartbeat was a beautiful sound.

“Eos?” His daughter was unusually silent. When he got no response, his heart rate jumped a notch. “Eos!”

It wasn’t another attack was it? Please, no!

“John?” His heart missed a beat as she finally answered him.

“Eos? What can you tell us?”

“I...” Her voice trailed off.

“Eos?”

“He overloaded his system and forced a shutdown.” Her voice was puzzled. “Why?”

John glanced at his prone brother. So pale, so hurting, so wane. “Was there any incursion?”

“No. His...thoughts grew more and more distressed until he shut down.”

There was a mutter from the bed. Virgil’s head moved first to one side and then to the other. His eyes scrunched up and he groaned.

“V-Virgil?”

Another groan and he opened his eyes. “Brains?”

“How are you f-feeling?”

Those eyes blinked slowly. “Like crap. M’head...”

“Pain level, one to ten?”

It took Virgil a moment to answer. “F-four. Where am I?” Brown eyes peered slowly around the room until they latched onto John. They widened for just a microsecond before relaxing. “John. Thunderbird Five.”

So, his pain level was probably closer to eight if his previous report record ran true.

“H-have you eaten today?” Brains consulted a readout on his tablet.

Again with the slow blink as Virgil turned his head towards Brains again. “Umm...”

“He hasn’t eaten since he arrived here and that was a good five hours ago.” John mentally kicked himself. Busy was no excuse regarding his brother’s health.

Virgil was staring at him. “Five hours?!”

“You’ve been asleep for most of it.”

“Asleep?” The word was whispered and those eyes closed and didn’t open again.

Soft breathing and John realised that was exactly what his brother was doing. “Brains, what the hell is going on? He’s fallen asleep again.”

Brains was muttering to himself, fiddling with a hypodermic. He strapped up Virgil’s arm and drew blood from a vein. Shoving the sample into the blood analyser unit, his fingers danced over the controls. “I have my suspicions. I-if it is w-what I think it is...” There was an uncharacteristic anger in Brain’s voice. A blink and John realised the engineer was glaring at the analyser.

John’s hand drifted down to rest on Virgil’s leg. His brother didn’t notice.

There was a solid moment of silence punctuated by Virgil’s soft breathing before the analyser pinged its readiness.

Brains hit a few more buttons, muttered again, before hitting more, drawing further information from the machine. Another moment and it pinged again.

“Brains to Tracy Island.”

“Brains? How is he?” Scott had returned to the island half an hour ago, but he was still in his uniform, his expression predictably worried.

“Virgil is experiencing a dangerous deficiency in several crucial minerals, mostly iron and magnesium. I will send you a formula. I need you to visit Wellington and pick up some supplies.”

Scott paused a split second before moving. “FAB.”

Brains cut off the connection, turned back to Virgil and activated the bed’s holographic interface. A hologram of his brother’s body flickered into existence above the bed. A twist of his wrist and Brains focussed in on Virgil’s skull, bringing the image to a larger size and higher resolution.

The metallic filigree of the interface spiderwebbed across his brother’s frontal lobe.

John shivered.

The engineer continued to mutter to himself, focussing as close as the equipment would allow. “I have a th-theory. Virgil is showing a depletion of his mineral stores well into a serious d-deficiency range. This would explain his d-depression and ir-rationality. However, it does n-not give us a c-cause.” Brains frowned. “I had s-suspected this w-would be a problem and Virgil has been given sup-plements, b-but even if he m-missed one, the d-deficiency should not be this bad.” Another frown and the engineer returned to muttering.

John stared at the holographic portrayal of the device that had caused so much pain.

“Eos?”

“Yes, John?”

“Are you able to check on the condition of the interface and the nanites in Virgil’s system?”

There was a silence. Virgil began to snore. Another moment.

“Interface is fully functional. Virgil is asleep, however his mind is somewhat chaotic. Nanites...count is higher than previous.” There was a frown in her voice.

“There are more nanites? How?”

There was silence for a moment. “Father, they have reproduced. System logs report...the interface was damaged and required repair. More nanites were needed, so more were made. Checking....redundancy code was activated and enacted. Resources were required.”

And Virgil was the resource. It was left unsaid, but as Brains straightened, his expression grim, it didn’t need to be.

“Damn.” It came out as a single whispered breath. “Eos, we went through that code with a fine-toothed comb, where was this redundancy code? We rewrote the majority of their programming to prevent something like this from happening.”

Brains shifted where he stood and frowned. “W-we were more concerned with stopping the growth of the in-terface, J-John. We kn-knew there would b-be a m-maintenance cost. Unfortunately, it c-caught us un-awares.” A sigh. “We can c-correct this and m-monitor closely. It is j-just a m-matter of b-balancing between wh-what the nanites n-need and levels of toxicity in relation to the r-rest of V-Virgil’s body.”

On the bed, Virgil snorted in his sleep and rolled over, curling up as if cold. John grabbed one of the medbay blankets and, reaching through the holograms above his brother, draped the thin covering over the sleeping man.

As if to be particularly endearing, Virgil immediately snuggled up under the warmth. Another snort and soft snoring echoed through the room.

John swallowed. “Brains, are you saying that the levels of minerals the nanites need could be toxic?”

The engineer sighed again. “I d-don’t know yet. I need to run further tests. Extra supplements as w-with any m-medication have their limits.” He shifted where he stood. “W-we will start with an increase and see how we g-go.”

The expression on Brains’ face wasn’t giving John the greatest confidence.

Virgil snorted again, muttered something in his sleep, and began drooling on his pillow.

-o-o-o-

Uncle?

Hmmm-mmm.

Virgil?

Soft piano music began playing and he couldn’t help but smile. Chiddi’s sonata, a light and lively dance on a Sunday afternoon. It always made him feel like dancing. He swirled around the wooden floor of the comms room and found a young woman in his hands. Red hair, green eyes and a flash of white dress as they spun around together.

It was nice to have someone to dance with.

Uncle, are you going to wake up? She was smiling up at him and while the room continued to spin around them slowly, they had stopped moving. Who?

A sparkle in her eyes.

Eos.

Time to wake up, Uncle. Her hand was in his.

She took a step and he had to follow.

Pain crashed into him. Voices. God, his head.

“Pain c-count, one to ten?”

Eleven. “S-six. Brains, what the hell?”

“His estimate is actually much higher, Hiram.” Eos’ voice danced all around him. Don’t lie about your health, Uncle.

“I will do what I damn well want to, Eos!” Augh, he clutched his head. Damn, that hurt.

Fingers fumbled at his wrist and something cold shot up his arm. He groaned, but then the pain started to fade. Oh, thank god. He melted into the bed. Yes, he was lying on a bed.

“Better?” The soft voice came from near his head. He blinked and a blue and gold blur slowly resolved itself into little Johnny.

“Better.” It came out little more than a sigh. A blink. A frown. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep again.”

“Again?” Another blink. “I was dancing. Around and around.” He smiled. “With Eos. She looks so much like you. Lovely long red hair, eyes aquamarine like the ocean in the sun. So young, so old, so amazing. We need to protect her, John.” He reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm. “Promise me we’ll protect her.” His brother’s eyes, that same aquamarine, widened and stared down at him. “Promise me, John, we can’t let him hurt her. We can’t.”

His brother nodded slowly. “We will protect her, Virgil, I promise.”

He believed him. If anyone could do it, Johnny could. “Thank you, thank you.” He squeezed his brother’s arm and John’s fingers wrapped around his, tightening in return.

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s eyes were glazed by the haze of necessary medication, but he was awake. Three times he had awoken and fallen asleep almost immediately.

Brains actually swore. It was something John had never heard the engineer do, and in his native language no less.

Eos had been worried as much as John and Scott...Scott was only on the Island because Grandma ordered him to stay put. Consequently, John was on a five-minute update rotation for his eldest brother.

Speaking of which...count down....

Scott’s hologram flashed up beside the bed. “Thunderbird Five, report!”

Virgil jumped, his eyes going wide. “Scott? Is that you? Really you? Please be you. Eos? John?” His brother’s eyes latched onto him and widened even further before darting back to Scott, to John, to Scott...shit. “Not you, too, Scotty, please no.” Fear crumpled his brow.

“Virgil.” John squeezed the hand on his arm, holding it close. “It is Scott. I promise. Eos, tell him.”

Virgil’s frown deepened for a moment, his eyes going distant. A soft smile spread over his face and he closed his eyes.

It was John’s turn to frown. “Eos? Tell me what’s happening.”

“I’m sorry, John, but he’s slipping into sleep again.”

“Sleep?” Scott’s voice was worry itself. “Are we any closer to working out why?”

Brains, who had been absorbed in a readout from the EEG woven into Virgil’s hair, suddenly spun and grabbing a hypodermic needle, quickly drew some blood from the tap in the crook of Virgil’s elbow.

Virgil didn’t notice. He began to snore again.

John sighed.

The blood sample was shoved into the analyser and Brains stabbed the machine. “Eos, I-I need a nanite activity r-report. Access their logs and send to m-my t-tablet, p-please.”

“Yes, Hiram.” The tablet pinged.

For a few minutes there was only the sound of Brains muttering to himself and Virgil’s soft snores.

The expletive that shot out of Brains’ mouth a moment later was enough to curl even John’s toes.

“What’s wrong?” Scott still hovered beside the bed, his gaze caught between his brothers and the once again muttering engineer.

“They are p-putting him to sleep.”

“What? Who?”

“The nanites. When m-mineral r-resources drop too low, they stimulate a sleep cycle so Virgil’s body shuts down.” There was an untranslated mutter. “This cannot stay this w-way. They cannot have control.” He turned away again, stabbing the analyser with his fingers.

“John?”

He didn’t have any answers. Not yet.

Virgil snorted and rolled over in his sleep, dragging cables and IV. John gently untangled him.

“John?”

“I don’t know, Scott. As soon as I do, you will, too.”

His brother’s expression reflected the frustration in his own. “Understood, Tracy Island out.”

The hologram dissipated.

John sighed. “Do we have anything, Brains?”

“It appears the interface m-may have been damaged during the encounter with Il M-mago.”

“We didn’t detect any damage.” Both John and Brains had scanned their brother thoroughly after the incident, desperate to make sure he wasn’t hurt further.

Brains looked down a moment. “I’m afraid we m-must have missed something. The n-nanite logs definitely show a sudden increase in activity.”

“They didn’t at the time.” John’s stomach twisted. He hated this. The not knowing and his brother’s life in the balance.

Brains sighed. “No, they didn’t.”

John straightened. “Eos, I need a complete listing of all the nanites code. I want all their logs. I want everything.”

“Yes, John.”

He gently squeezed Virgil’s hand and placed in on the bed beside the sleeping man. “Brains, I’ll be in my office.”

“I will monitor him.”

“Thank you, Brains.”

The image of their genius engineer leaning over his prone brother kept him company for the following hours of writing code.

-o-o-o-

Do you like dancing?

I love to dance.

I’ve never seen you do it.

It is much more fun with a partner.

You have your brothers.

He laughed. Not quite the dance partners I had in mind.

What about Kayo? She has a great deal of control over her body.

Virgil frowned and stared at his niece. To be honest, it has never occurred to me.

You should ask her. I’m sure she would love to dance with you.

He shrugged. Grandma has danced with me in the past.

It was Eos’ turn to eye him as they spun around the room. While Mrs Tracy is quite capable, I don’t think she is quite the partner you have in mind either.

Virgil led her into another twirl across the balcony of the comms room, reality intruding on fantasy. It doesn’t matter now.

She drew them to a stop. What do you mean? You said you loved dancing. Why don’t you find someone to dance with?

Eos-

If you are going to use the interface as an excuse, I’m going to pull out that Neo-Boney M recording.

Don’t you dare.

A quicksilver smile and his niece danced across the balcony by herself, her arms outspread, dress twirling. I agree, this is fun. You should do it more often.

He sighed. Have you finished updating the code yet?

She spun again while staring up at the sky. Oh, that. I managed that in the second before you realised I was even here.

What?

I wanted to try this dancing again. It is lovely.

He searched his memory looking for any change or difference and found nothing. Is it working okay?

She stopped spinning and faced him. Everything is fine, Uncle. I promise.

Okay.

We will make this better. She approached him slowly. Hiram, Father and I will make this work.

I hope so.

He backed up and sat himself down on his piano stool. This place was so real, but so not home.

Can I wake up now?

She stared at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. Hiram, has started a regime to replace your mineral stores. He has given you several injections and is monitoring the results. There have been more blood tests.

He would have complained about being a pincushion, but to be honest he had had so much worse. Can I wake up?

You don’t want to dance anymore?

Eos.

Okay, okay. She reached for his hand and he let her take it, following.

-o-o-o-

John was tired, but determined.

“Eos, how is he?”

“Memory response is good. Knowledge retrieval fast. The interface is working well. Nanite response in minimal. He wants to wake up.”

“Give it a moment longer.” He turned to Brains. “Are his levels responding.”

“Slowly. It will t-take some t-time to b-bring them up to healthy levels. He will n-need m-monitoring for some days p-possibly weeks. I r-recommend we r-return him to Tracy Island for his own comfort. Mrs T-Tracy, Scott and G-Gordon are fully c-capable of r-retrieving the blood samples n-needed. I can m-monitor from here and continue r-repairs to Thunderbird Five.”

“Virgil is far more important than Five.”

Brains stared at him calmly. “He will be well, J-John.”

John let his shoulders drop. He hated this. Hated this powerlessness.

“Virgil is becoming insistent.”

“Okay, Eos. Wake him up.”

His brother lay on his back, face pale...which wasn’t surprising since he was actually anaemic. Eyelashes on pale cheeks fluttered. Brown irises sought his.

“Hey, Virgil. You with us?”

A blink. A frown. “I think so.”

“Are you in any pain?” Brains hovered beside the bed.

Virgil turned his head towards the engineer. “Headache.” Another slow blink and he turned back to John. “Eos likes to dance.”

It was John’s turn to blink.

Brains interrupted by relaying Virgil all the necessary medical information about his condition. His brother nodded once before once again latching his eyes onto John.

Somewhat unnerved by the intense but silent stare, John shifted where he stood. “You ready to go home, Virgil?”

“Home?”

“Back to Tracy Island.”

“Oh, yes, sure.” The stare continued.

“Virgil?”

His brother didn’t answer immediately, still staring at John. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly appeared at a loss for words. A blink and then, his voice rough, “You should be proud. Very proud.”

It took John a moment to connect the dots. But when he did, he straightened.

“I am.” A dip of his head. “Of both of you.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil returned home. He was quiet, but his mood appeared to be stable and possibly improving. Brains and John sent him down via the elevator, Scott at the other end to help his brother out of the seat and harness. Between Grandma, Scott and Gordon, he wouldn’t be alone at all. It was thought best that considering his induced depression and possible mood swings, that he should not be left unattended.

Virgil grumbled, but complied.

Of course, his blood tests would continue and Eos was monitoring the nanites closely. Virgil couldn’t sneeze without someone taking notes.

It was necessary. He had to be saved.

That bastard was still out there. Somewhere.

John floated in the hub, eyes scanning the code output of the nanites in Virgil’s blood. He watched their reactions to Virgil’s reactions. His brother was currently grumbling at Scott. Eos had rolled virtual eyes at that, throwing several exasperated questions at John as to why his brother was such a stubborn ass.

“Because that is one of the reasons he is still alive.”

And why the Hood didn’t currently have him under his thumb, why he could now see and speak to John without innate terror, why he hadn’t thrown himself into Thunderbird Three’s silo and why Thunderbird Five was still mostly in one piece.

They all relied on that stubborn.

John sighed.

The code scrolled past.

His eye caught something. “Eos, can you pull up that secondary function on the third tier?”

“This one?”

The code lines appeared midair and he re-read them. “I didn’t write this.”

“No.”

“I’ve never seen this. I thought we pulled all the code.”

“One moment please.”

John waited.

Waited.

“Eos?”

“Please hold.”

His shoulders grew tight under his suit.

A breath.

Another.

“They are capable of writing their own code.”

“What?! How?”

“Investigating.”

“They are reacting to certain situations. When one gets triggered another will respond and alter the code of the first to assist its needs.” The AI paused. “It is rather an intriguing concept.”

“How does this affect our code? And how did we miss the code that initiates this process?”

“I don’t know, John.”

“Then we need to find out. This is Virgil’s life!”

“I know, John. I will do my best.”

He sagged where he floated. Damn. “I know you will, Eos. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

His eyes returned to tracking the code, now picking out the small differences that weren’t there when he input the code. “Eos?”

“Yes, John.”

“Do you feel hate?”

“Are you referring to the people who did this to Virgil.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then most definitely.”

“He is still out there. He could attack at any time.”

“I know. I have put up as many defences as possible.”

“You know they won’t be enough.”

Silence.

“Eos?”

“I have to protect him.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can try!”

A swallow. “So can I.” He straightened, determination and his own version of Tracy stubborn setting in. “I want every piece of information we have about the interface, how it functions, what it is made of, everything. I want it here now.”

“John?”

“We are going to find a way.” His lips thinned. “Virgil shouldn’t have to stand alone.”

“I’m going to stand with him.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Hiram Hackenbacker #Eos #sotto voce #tales of sotto voce

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a-jynx · 5 years

Text

Lost in the Heart & at Sea; Chapter Three: Give No Reason

Summary: Sam and Nathan Drake finds themselves running in circles when they catch wind of a new treasure that was supposedly lost to the sea; the Diamond of the Pacific, a ring that was meant for Captain Jules wife. With enemies at every corner, they’ll need all the help they can get… Including, inside jobs. How will Sam and Nathan react when they figure out who Y/N really is? How will Sam react when she shows him sides of her no one else has seen?

Pairing: Sam Drake x reader; mentions Nathan Drake, Elena Fisher, Victor Sullivan, Nadine Ross, Rafe Adler,

Warnings: Cursing, blood/violence, gun violence, implied smut, angst, testing fate/loyalty, major injury,

Chapter Warning: Mentions of injury, mention of blood, stitches -- I hate stitches but they gotta happen.

** In tags; {they are on the bottom of the fic :’)} A/N: So, the guys did go after Henry Avery’s treasure, but in this fic, it turns out to be a bust – for now! I’ve decided to add a few things to the storyline about Avery and my own pirate, Jules! :) So, enjoy!

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

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“Al-Alright, Flower boy! Let’s just... Drop the gun, okay?” I hissed, slightly arching my back away from his stomach as he growled, glancing around before forcing me to walk backward, further towards a small cave-like area where no one could see us... I guess he really was going to kill me.

“Ahh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, my dear. With your training, I have to stay on my toes.” He chuckled dryly as I hissed, feeling the pressure growing tighter against my throat and the gun pressing harder against my temple. “This seems a bit... Harsh!” I sputtered as I tried to dig my heels into the thicker, wetter sand but the muck just built up beneath my feet as Flower boy drug me further into the overgrown cave.

“So, Aviators, Adam -- whoever the fuck you are -- why are you, Nadine Ross, and Rafe Adler here? Huh?” He growled against my ear, making me hiss as I tried to claw at the meat of his forearm again. “Nice attempt, but I’ve been shot at, exploded, beaten to a pulp -- your little claws won’t do anything to me.” He snickered as I sighed, yet I kept my hands wrapped tightly around his forearm. I need to distract him! But... But with what?! “You know, my trigger finger is starting to feel a little itchy,”

“Alright! Al... Alright, what do you want to know!?” I growl, feeling heat grow up through my throat and into my face as I leaned forward, dropping my head over his arm, my glasses tumbling to the wet sand. I felt anger and disgust rumbled through my body as he shifted his weight, trying to keep the gun against my temple.

“Now, that’s much better! Alright, first question, what the hell are you doing in Bora Bora?”

“Treasure hunting, the same as you, I presume.” I scoff slightly as he angles me back up, making me hiss at the upright angle my head twitched too. He stood there for a second; he didn’t know what to do next.

“What treasure are you after?”

“Does it matter?!” I spat, clenching my teeth as I tried to wring his forearm once again, only to stop as Flower boy reached over, aiming the gun right under my chin, ticking it upward. “Yes. It does. Now, answer the damn question.”

“I... I don’t know! I’m the protector, dumbass, I hold the gun power and take orders from that psychopath, Rafe Adler!” I spat, as I felt his arm slightly loosen. I wasn’t lying -- not entirely at least. “You... You don’t know anything about why you’re here? Nothing at all?” He questioned, I could hear that he was hesitant about me telling the truth. I clenched my teeth and tried to angle my head more to where I could see his eyes; if I needed to beg to get out of this, then I’ll grovel.

“I swear on my own life, I have no idea why the hell I’m here! I... I’m Nadine Ross’s right-hand gal, I follow her wherever she goes, I help with jobs where I can, and such.” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling as I felt his arm loosen even more -- I could work with this. “Come... Come on, Flower boy! You wouldn’t want to kill me before the first date, right?” I chuckled dryly as he slowly dropped the gun, allowing me to catch my breath as I somewhat relaxed against his grip.

“Yeah, I guess you’re-” I clenched my jaw, firing back my elbow and reaching down, snapping the gun away from his hand before swiftly turning on my heel and aiming the Beretta at his head, my chest rising and falling quickly as I panted.

“You little bitch,” he hissed, raising his arms slowly as I smirked, keeping the gun trained on him as I slowly reached down and wiped off my glasses, placing them back on my face. “You already forget, Flower boy? I’ve got at least 8 years of military training and 5 treasure hunting under my belt.” I snickered as he frowned, huffing slightly as I glared at him.

“So, what was your big plan here?” I sneered as he slightly shrugged, making me frown. “What? Didn’t have time to think about it before coming over tonight?” I teased as I studied his facial features; curly unruly hair, dark yet cheerful hazel eyes, a jackass smirk, and a strange sense of security and safety. Wait... No. No!

“Son-of-a-bitch! It’s you,”

“It’s you-who?” He smirked again, even without the gun he seemed to keep his stupid sense of humor. “Dammit, why didn’t I see it before!?” I growled, wanting to slap myself upside the head. “You were that stupid waiter from the Rossi Estate -- Sam, right?”

He slowly dropped his hands, a slow, sarcastic clap echoed around us as I scoffed, not finding his moves the less bit amusing. “Well done, detective! Now, can I have my gun back,”

“How about you shut up and I don’t pump you full of lead right now?” I snapped, aiming the gun high once again, causing him to take a step backward. I couldn’t help but smirk. “Samuel,”

“Just Sam would be fine.” He teetered as I rolled my lips together, flicking the tip of my tongue over them with a smile. “Sam... Tell me, what do you hope to gain from this little... Adventure of yours?”

“Something that that bastard Rafe has enough of as is; money.”

“Oh, so you’re as greedy as him, but you lack the more... Psychopathic nature.” I shrugged, swallowing thickly as I thought back to earlier this morning. We’ve been here for only two days the plan’s already falling to shit. Finish the job, then into retirement. I sighed, slowly dropping the gun as Sam straightened his back, feeling less threatened as I chewed on my lip.

“Okay, Flower boy, how about if we struck up a deal?” I wavered as he narrowed his eyes, seeming as if he was trying to read if I was trying to play him like a fiddle or actually come up with a plan. “What deal?” He crossed his arms over his chest, arching a brow as I innocently smiled.

“You and I leave this place, both alive, but we still meet up-”

“Ha, let me stop you right there, Aviators. You’re cute -- hell, you’re hot -- but I don’t think our relationship should be built on us not firing a gun into each other.” Sam snickered as I frowned, rolling my eyes as I shook my head. “Let me finish, Flower boy.”

“Please, do.” He teased as I snarled slightly, clenching the Beretta’s handle before rolling my eyes. “We leave here, both alive, but we meet up and trade information.” I arched a brow, waving my hands out to my side as he watched me, carefully. “I’ve got stuff you need, and if my memory serves me right, your little brother and his friend are off right now chasing some coordinates that Captain Jules wrote on his letters for his lover,” I paused, glancing up at him as I brought a hand to my chin, as if I was attempting to recall things of the past.

“How do you know about him.” He growled; defensive of his family; noted. I shot up my brows and waved him off. “Drop the big brother act, Flower boy. Nothing will happen to him, you or whoever else was with him earlier this evening.”

“And how do I know you’re not just dying to go tell Rafe we’re here like some little soldier?” He hissed, glaring daggers at me as I narrowed my eyes, taking a step closer, I aimed the gun at him and pulled the trigger. I watched a he turned, showing me his back as I smirked, watching him slowly turn back towards me with a shocked expression. “Empty.”

“How the hell -- you didn’t know that!” He growled, showing his teeth as I grinned, shaking my head. “Of course I did. The moment I grabbed it from you, it wasn’t loaded, so you had no actual plan of killing me, you just wanted your information without feeling the guilt of shooting a girl who you thought was a lap dog.” I huffed, crossing my arms as I popped out my hip with a smug grin pulling at my lips. Gently, I tossed the gun into the drier sand off to the side, before turning back to him and straightening my back.

“I don’t kill unless I’m given a reason, Sam.” I sent him a softer smile, taking a step towards him as he stood there looking at me with uncertainty in his eyes. “Just don’t give me a reason.” I lowered my voice as I stood just a few feet from him, only to stick out my hand with another smile.

“So, what do you say..? Deal?”

“I’m afraid to ask what happens if I say no,” He tensed as he went to reach for my hand, only to stop as I glanced up at him, noting that he was staring at me. “Again, how do I know you’re not waiting to report back after this?” He asked quietly as I sent him a soft smile; he was being cautious, smart.

“How about this, you can bring that gun, fully-loaded next time and if you even think I did something behind your back; shoot me,” I stated calmly as he stared at me with wide-eyes. I couldn’t help but break into another grin; it seems to happen a lot around him... Suddenly, a heaviness slammed against my palm, making me look down with a small grin; he accepted... I was tugged forward, his other arm wrapping around my shoulders, I stilled as his lips came next to my ear.

“I don’t kill unless I’ve got a reason,” he sighed, making me close my eyes and slowly smile. “So, give me no reason too.”

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Sam and I ended up trading numbers, he says it’s to keep tabs on me but... I don’t think that’s what was the true intention. Now, I was riding backseat with Nadine and Rafe while examining my glasses under the blazing sun. Nadine and I had discussed more of our retirement ideas; her’s involving nothing but beaches and coconut drinks and mine... No clue. With only being 35, I didn’t want to think about my retirement already. Hell, Rafe was younger than Nadine and I both and yet he was already set in stone with his money, though it crossed my mind he would never put his money where his mouth is.

“We’re here! Y/N, you take front this time, something tells me you need to work on your aim a little.” Rafe called, laughing at his joke as I fought the want to roll my eyes. Slipping on my glasses and jumping out of the back, I landed in a thick mud puddle, causing some to splash near Rafe, who growled.

“Hey! Watch where the hell you’re stepping,”

“My apologies, Mr. Adler.” I retorted, not turning towards him as I holstered my own Beretta, glancing at the smooth metal carving as Nadine stood beside me. “Are you alright..? You seemed off all night and this morning.” She whispers, I merely smile at her concern.

“Calm down, momma bear... I’m fine. I found my glasses and then I came back to the hotel.” I shrugged, checking my ammo before slinging on my rib holsters and rolling my neck. “Besides, we practically blacked out after drinking so much high dollar liquor.” I grinned before stepping towards Rafe, who held an unimpressed look as I sighed, marching ahead of him as Nadine slowly trailed me.

The caves around us seemed to groan and moan as we trekked through them. The occasional drip from seawater trying to find it’s way home, or the howl of the wind outside making me step up onto my platform of anxiety; maybe keep my finger off the trigger for now. I swallowed thickly when a sudden explosion came from above us, making me growl as I ducked and rolled away from a large boulder that shattered as it met the cave floor. I glanced around to see Nadine rush towards Rafe, quickly pushing him out of the way before a rock smothered where they once stood.

“Y/N! Look out!” I snapped my head up as Nadine’s voice echoed around me, I rolled towards the left as I hissed, feeling a large chunk of my leg get pelted by a few smaller rocks. Hissing, I reached forward, tugging up my cargo pants as I noticed a dark crimson already leaking through. “Shit.”

“Dammit, Y/N, are you alright?” Nadine took a knee as she peeled my hand away from my wound, making me hiss as she rolled it between her hands. I glanced up at Rafe with one eye as I squinted the other in pain, he looked disappointed... “Okay, it doesn’t feel broken. Can you move it?” She asked, watching as I flexed my ankle and rolled it; thank God.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you back to the Jeep and back to the hotel.” Nadine moved beside me, taking my hand and helping me up as I reached up, grabbing onto her shoulder as I felt painful throbbing echo from my open wound. “What? Are you insane, that’ll take at least two hours! That is not time that we can afford to lose, Nadine!” Rafe hissed as he glared at her, yet she didn’t freeze up or halt her movements as she pushed past him, helping me towards the Jeep.

“Nadine, get your ass back here or so help me-”

“Rafe! You injured my right hand!” She snapped. Turning us around before leaning me against the caves’ grassy wall for support as she took a few steps forward, almost to challenge him. “Those explosions were not supposed to go off until we reached the surface! Why in the hell did they go off already?” She snapped more, making me wince as I listened to her voice echo through the newly designed cave. It hurt to watch these places be blown to almost nothing, all for some stupid diamond...

“I’m the one signing your paychecks, I’m the one who is above you, I’m the one who you are supposed to be ready to die for!” Rafe shouted, his loud voice echoing as I flinched, snapping my head up as Nadine glared at him, yet... I knew she wouldn’t walk away.

“I’ll be back in an hour. My men are already waiting for you up top.” She hissed, turning on her foot and marching towards me, her eyes lightly softening as she hooks my arm over her shoulders and helped me hobble out of the cave. Rafe’s threats and anger slowly sinking behind us as I sighed, mentally scolding myself once again. I stayed quiet until we reached the Jeep, climbing in as she quickly drove us down the mountain and back towards the main roads. I sighed once more.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” I murmured, slowly unbuckling the rib holsters and setting it in my lap, shifting the Beretta’s weight with it. “He’ll have you for dinner once you go back.”

“He’s a child that isn’t used to being told no, Y/N. I’m not scared of him... Besides, you seem to forget that I was hired to protect him.” She grinned to herself as I snorted, nodding.

“Y’know, I think he should double your pay,” I grinned as she scoffed, glancing at me as we came to a slow stop. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re babysitting him while also being a momma bear on me. And trust me, working with me you deserve the double pay.” I smirked as she rolled her eyes, frowning before taking off down the road again.

“I’m not... Y/N, you shouldn’t compare yourself to him. Besides, I’ve known you longer than him.” She quipped as I shrugged, messing with loose strings on my shirt with a sigh. “Does that really matter? I mean, seriously?” Suddenly, I was launched forward as my hand grabbing onto the metal rib behind me, I snapped my head towards Nadine, whose foot was practically on the floor with the brake in between.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” I hissed as she glared at me, shifting in her seat as she threw the Jeep into the park. “Yes. I am. Y/N, why have you been acting like this..?” She stared at me, her eyes hardening as I tried to avert her gaze to somewhere else. “Nadine,”

“No! Don’t try to change the subject, you’ve been acting strange ever since we got here.” She sighed in frustration as we sat there, the silence growing between us as I found myself not wanting to speak. What has been going on with me? I struggled with becoming a lap dog for Rafe, wanting to fight him tooth and nail with how he was treating Nadine and I. Then, Flower boy came along... I thought about tattling -- fuck, I wanted to tell Nadine that I could’ve made our jobs 5x’s easier just by putting a bullet in his skull and walking away but... I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

“And there you go again,” she murmurs as I shift my gaze towards her, frowning with an arched brow. “You... You just go off into your thoughts, leaving me behind to try and figure out what’s going on inside that head of yours.” She grinned to herself, yet I could see it in her eyes... She was slightly hurt.

“Nadine, I... You know about my past, it’s molded me into who I am.” I breathed, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the built-up sweat and caked dust with a grunt as she looked at me, concern filling her dark eyes. I could see the sweat dribbling down her forehead and cheek. “I don’t let you in because it’s one hell of a place, and I believe that no one should see it,” I whispered, loud enough to where she could hear it, but low enough to where I was more-so talking to myself. Suddenly, the car jumped forward making me glance at her as she sent me a soft smile.

“You don’t have to let me in, just... Give me a sneak peek every now and then, deal?” She smiled as I parted my lips, wanting to argue as I sighed, smiling as I nodded gently. We grew into a comfortable silence as I glanced down, twisting my leg around with a frown; blood crusted around my cargo pants while a few shreds of skin dangled there.

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“I’ll come back later, don’t wait up on me, alright? I’ll send someone up here to tend to your wound.” Nadine helped me settle onto the bed with a grunt. I went to protest but she held up a hand. “I’m not listening to it, so shut up and sit there.” She thrust her forefinger towards me as I smirked, sighing before flopping back onto the bed.

“Thank you. You’ve got my number if you need anything.” She called over her shoulder, leaving the room with a loud slam of the door, making me shake my head as I propped myself up on my elbows. Boredom already moving through my veins as I sighed, sitting up fully before glancing around the room. I went to stand, only to fall back with a hiss. “Dammit.” I tugged my pants up, growling at the tug of dry blood on my clothes and flesh. The wound slowly began to bleed again, it leaking down my ankle and onto my sock and combat boot.

“Great. Just great.” I sighed, slowly sitting back and lifting each leg up, tugging off my boots and socks before undoing my belt and dropping my cargo pants, stepping out of them I moved towards my suitcase, pulling out and on some running shorts before limping back towards the desk. Settling in the chair, I reached towards the small bag that Nadine and I kept in here for emergencies -- it is there mainly for me.

Throwing the case open, I dug out some gauze, thread, a needle, and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. Setting out the materials, I leaned back in the seat before placing my torn leg onto the desk, making sure to not settle it on any of our maps. “I really don’t want to do this...” I whispered to myself, resting my wrist against my forehead, closing my eyes with a soft sigh.

“Don’t want to do what?” A voice asked as I screamed, reaching over and throwing one of the small compass at the intruder. A yelp made me snap my head towards them, readying the other drawing tool before realizing it was Sam.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Names Sam, but thank you for the compliment,” he smirked, moving towards me. I shook my head with a small snort, dropping the compass onto the desk as he paused, narrowing his eyes at the supplies I had set up on the surface. “Woah, what the hell happened,” he moved closer, stepping around me as he examined my wound, making me squirm slightly as he frowned at the amount of blood settling there.

“Freak accident.” I shrugged, trying to hide my discomfort with his sudden care towards my wound. He shook his head, his curls sweeping over his forehead as he grabbed the footstool from the small chair, sitting next to my leg. I went to bend it away from him, yet he grabbed hold of my ankle, holding it against the wood as I frowned.

“Flower boy, seriously, I can do it myself.” I slightly growled, feeling the pain pulse through my calf as he grabbed the rubbing alcohol, unscrewing it and suddenly dumping it on the open wound. I slammed my hand over my mouth, holding back the pained scream that tried to leave my lips, a small and pained whine worked through my teeth as he reached over, grabbing one of the bottles from the night before and placed it in my lap. “You might want to take a hefty drink, Aviators.” I merely nodded before untwisting the cap and taking a long gulp, almost biting the lips of the bottle as he sunk the needle in.

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I groaned as Sam sat next to me, frowning as I downed a few pain pills, a small gulp of GreyGoose chasing after it. “Uh, thanks... Flower boy.” I grinned, slowly dragging my leg back from the desk, hissing as I flexed it.

“Of course, Aviators... Hey, you know, I never got your real name..” He hinted as I arched a brow, turning my head towards him as I smirked. “So?” I teased slightly as he scoffed, leaning back against the desk. He reached over, taking a swig of the GreyGoose I had opened a few moments ago, before shrugging and cocking his head to the left.

“I figured you’d get sick of Aviators.” He grinned as I laughed, keeping my small smile as I hummed. “Depends... Would you ever get sick of Flower boy?” I glanced up as he scoffed, yet he held a grin.

“Y/N.” I sighed, glancing up through my lashes as he turned his head towards me, he eyed me with a smile. “Y/N..?” He asked, almost in an awestruck voice as I chuckled, nodding.

“How’s it fit?”

“I don’t know, I mean I’d get it changed if I was you-”

“What! Are you serious, you asshole?” I growled, sitting further on the chair, smacking his arm as he laughed, waving his hands around, sloshing the GreyGoose around.

“Kidding! Totally kidding! Y/N is a... Sweet name.” He quipped, a dazzling smile suddenly on his lips as I pursed mine, arching a brow while fighting back my own smile.

“Sweet, huh?” I asked, my lips twitch as he slowly nodded, leaning his elbows onto his knees as I rolled my lips together. “Mhm, very sweet... Almost like honey with some pineapple thrown in there.” He grinned as I shook my head, turning it to the left with heat blooming across my cheeks. I went to speak when Sam’s thumb and index caught my chin, making me look up with confusion clouding my eyes.

“Sam... Why are you here?” I whispered, glancing between us as I realized how close we had become. He gulped, his thumb seemed to almost brush against my bottom lip as I slowly leaned away from his touch, closing my eyes as I allowed a small, shaking sigh to pass my lips.

“I...” Sam started to speak when a sudden knock came from the door, making us snap our heads up with wide-eyes. “Hide.” I hastily whispered, grabbing the bottle from him and setting it back on the desk before I pulled at his wrist, pushing him towards the bathroom.

“Y/N? Come on, Nadine sent me up here to check on you!” A thick voice yelled through the door as Sam paused for a second, only to have me growl and glare at him. ‘Go!’ I mouthed, jutting my index finger towards the bathroom door with a snarl before slowly moving towards the door. Glancing, I made sure that Sam had the bathroom door shut before slowly opening the door to reveal Justin.

“What, Just?” I hissed, trying to sound groggy as if I had just been abruptly woken up. He glanced over my head, then around before taking a step closer to the door, yet I kept it closed. “Nadine asked me to come to check on you. Make sure you weren’t dead.” He growled slightly as I glared, rolling my eyes. “Yeah. Well, obviously, I’m not dead. So, go away so I can sleep-”

“Who else is in there?” Justin hissed as he pressed his shoulder against the door, trying to force more weight onto it as I growled, trying to keep the door shut. “Nobody, you asshole! I’ve been trying to sleep for the past hour!” I spat as he finally forced his way into the room, his AK raised as he searched around the room. Once, he seemed satisfied he glanced down, noticing the tightly wrapped gauze on my calf.

“You patched yourself up?” He narrowed his eyes, arching a brow as I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah. I wasn’t about to let you or some other jackass do it for me.” I spat, moving back towards the desks’ chair, slumping in it as he glared at me, trying to see through any lies I could be telling.

“Okay, then why the hell is Nadine’s compass lodged into the wall by the balcony?” He asked, hidden threats dripping behind the question as I frowned, rolling my eyes. “What? I lost my last throwing knife while at the Rossi Estate. Besides she has others.” I spat, narrowing my eyes at him as if asking him to challenge me.

“Fine. I’ll report to Nadine that you’re fine, surprisingly.” He chuckled dryly as I scoffed, watching as moved out the door, shutting it loudly behind him. I waited a few minutes before slumping into my chair, sighing a breath of relief as Sam slowly snuck out of the bathroom, his Beretta out and ready.

“You’re fine, Flower boy... He’s gone.”

“How do I know that?” He glared, my lips parted as I hardened my eyes before shaking my head, looking to the floor before sighing. “You don’t...I,” I paused, swallowing at the small lump forming. “I almost forgot we’re still enemies,” I whispered, humming as Sam slowly lowered his gun and took a step towards me, but I held up a hand.

“You should go, she might send someone else to check on me.” I breathed, feeling the burning pain in my chest grow as he frowned, staring at the side of my head. “Y/N,”

“Just go, Sam. I’ll see you tonight.” I growled through clenched teeth, making him take a step back. He furrowed his brows before glancing at his gun, holstering it, sighing. “Fine... I’ll see you tonight, Aviators.” Sam whispered, moving back towards the balcony doors as I closed my eyes, feeling a strange twinge of pain throughout my chest as he whispered my new nickname with such... Hurt.

I listened to his grunts until they faded, leaving me alone as I slumped forward, resting my elbows against my knees with a growl. Curling my fingers slightly until my nails dug gently into my hair, tugging at the strands as they slipped from my loose ponytail. What am I doing...? Falling for the enemy, really? I scoffed at myself, throwing myself back slightly, bringing my fists up and biting on my knuckle as I stared out of the open balcony. I swallowed at my pride and my instincts before I faintly smiled.

“I’m not giving him a reason.”

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To be Continued...

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Oooooh, okay, so chapter 3 is actually so cute to me??? And I’m so happy with how this actually turned out :’) Thank you all for the support, it helps me write more and makes me more confident! Hope you enjoy!

I’ll see you all later 💋

Tags: @jodiereedus22, @littlemoonlightt, @clearlywayward95, @animallover4000, @kelsey-sheena, @kindablackenedsuperhero, @verytiredkate, @lordfloof, @cloudydayvibes, @aaudialeth, @aliceriddell-aka-zephyr, @paintingcrimsons, @fagen, @fanficsihaveenjoyed, @trappeddaydreams, @miss-puregotti, @ffofuxaa, @timaaaeus, @sophieelisabeth04, @slooshen, @kittykat1468, @holylulusworld, @reachagalaxy, @unchartedterritoria, @myommarie, @kerripamyupamyu, @rougeshadowkat, @icespinosaur, @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13, @abookomaniac, @baby-llama-dont-need-no-drama, @popriskra, @chilldanvers, @clearlywayward95, @keanureeues, @lonelypenguinsworld, @dang-itdaisy,

** You can be added/removed, it’s your choice! A mark through your name means I couldn’t add you! Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! 💖

#Sam Drake x reader #Sam Drake #Nathan Drake mentioned #Victor Sullivan mentioned #Nadine Ross #Rafe Adler #ooh boy #Uncharted fanfic #Uncharted #Uncharted 4 #im enjoying this :)

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smugsmythe · 5 years

Text

The One With the Disagreement || Seblaine

Date: May 20th, 2017

Location: Hospital in New York City

Who: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe

Notes: Following Sebastian's seizure, he is brought to the hospital by Nightbird, still seizing. Blaine enters in civilian clothes to assess the situation.

Trigger Warning: mentions of seizures.

dis·a·gree·ment /ˌdisəˈɡrēmənt/ noun 1. lack of consensus or approval. synonyms: dissent, lack of agreement, difference of opinion, dispute; "there was some disagreement about the details"

Sebastian Smythe:

After Sebastian had been dropped off in the emergency room, he was left in the care of somewhat clueless doctors. They didn't know how to treat him; he didn't have a typical case of epilepsy. They'd shot him up with drugs in an attempt to stop the seizure he'd been having that had gone on for nearly ten minutes now but it didn't seem to be working. They had managed to hook his convulsing body to machines that flashed and blared angry red numbers, alerting the doctors of the seriousness that was Sebastian's panicking body.

“If this kid doesn't stop seizing, he's going to fry his brain!” One of the doctors claimed out loud, ordering a nurse to inject another dosage to hopefully halt Sebastian's seizure.

It wasn't until just moments after Blaine had rushed into the emergency room, just after a third futile dosage into Sebastian's thigh but right before a fourth, that his episode had finally stopped.

“Heart rate and breathing signs are… stabilizing?” A nurse said aloud, confused. Sebastian's breathing wasn't nearly as strained as a moment ago but it didn't stop a nurse from attaching a nasal cannula onto him just to be safe.

“Hook him up to an EEG machine. I need a neurologist in here, immediately!” The doctor barked, frustrated at the situation.

When he turned to leave the triage area, that was when a nurse approached and informed him of Blaine's arrival. “Doctor, the patient's husband is here.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine tried to hold himself together the best he could even though he knew he didn’t have to be on guard at that moment, he was just Blaine again. It was as if he was walking in slow motion as he followed the nurse to Sebastian. He glanced over the nurse’s shoulder to see if he could peek at his boyfriend, but no such luck. When they stood there in front of the doctor finally, the frazzled, frustrated look on the elder’s face wasn’t comforting.

“Hi, Blaine,” the doctor introduced himself.

“Is he… is he okay?” Blaine asked, saying a silent prayer that Sebastian was just fine and didn’t have any long-lasting damage. He said a quicker prayer that he was still alive. He didn’t even want to imagine.

The doctor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the shorter man. “Your husband’s seizure lasted way longer than what we call a medical emergency.” The statement made Blaine’s heart jump into his throat and the tears built up faster. “We got him to stop seizing finally and now he’s… stable for the time being. We don’t know what caused this yet or why it lasted so long so we’re going to hook him up and run some tests. We’re going to start with an EEG and I have a neurologist on her way right now to come take a look at him. He’s alive and stable… right now.” The doctor stressed, unsure of what exactly could be going on with the man laying on the bed, he didn’t want to get Blaine’s hopes up in case something were to happen under his watch.

Blaine nodded with only a sniffle as he listened to the doctor speak, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. “Uh, yeah, thank you so much, doctor. Can I… Is there room for me in there with him?” The doctor told him that he could see Sebastian while they were waiting for the neurologist to arrive but no promises for after then. Blaine didn’t argue.

Thanking the doctor once again, Blaine made his way to Sebastian’s bedside, looking down at his man, his gorgeous man. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, brushing his hand through Sebastian’s soft hair. “This was such a big, good day for you.” Blaine felt extremely saddened that the day had to end on such a sour note. “I love you, Sebastian,” he said, leaning down to press his lips against the taller’s forehead. “Please wake up for me, okay?” His voice was gentle as he reached behind him to grab the doctor’s stool. He stayed back just a little, knowing that if and when Sebastian woke up he’d be majorly disoriented and he didn’t want him to be anymore startled than necessary.

Sebastian Smythe:

The triage area where Sebastian was situated gave the two just a little bit of privacy, the standard hospital curtain obscuring them from at least half the other patients there. The steady beep of the EKG machine Sebastian was hooked up to was akin to a ticking clock-- each beep signaled another moment had passed where Sebastian remained unconscious.

It didn't take very long at all for a different doctor-- supposedly the neurologist-- to make an appearance, holding a chart and being briefed by an ER nurse. “We're going to run a few tests to make sure he's okay, alright?” she told Blaine after she'd introduced herself with a sweet smile.

“That won't be necessary.”

The neurologist turned around to see another woman in a lab coat standing in the doorway. “Excuse me? Who are you? I was paged for a neurological consult on this patient.”

“I'm Mr. Smythe's neurologist and personal physician; he's been seeing me since his first episode and I've been following his case very closely,” the woman told the doctor before flashing her medical identification at her. She snatched Sebastian’s chart out from the neurologist’s hands. “Please leave.”

The neurologist grumbled under her breath and scurried away. The woman turned to Blaine and extended her hand as she introduced herself. “My name is Doctor Caitlin Snow. I think you already heard me say I'm Sebastian's physician.” She produced from her lab coat pocket a syringe filled with a green liquid, the needle covered by a bright blue safety cap. She didn't hesitate to undo the safety cap and stick Sebastian in the arm with the green liquid.

The EKG machine beeped erratically for less than a moment-- too short to alarm anyone-- before it evened out again.

“He should wake up shortly,” she assured Blaine.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine tore his attention away from Sebastian when he heard the voices coming closer, watching the exchange between the two with raised eyebrows. His brow furrowed a little when the younger woman explained she’d been seeing Sebastian since his first seizure, he didn’t recall but in all fairness, he hadn’t gone with Sebastian to his doctor’s appointment. “H-hi, I’m Blaine. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand.

He watched as she worked quickly with no hesitation, seamlessly. “What’s tha- oh.” He said when the machine beeped and then calmed down. “Oh. Really?” He asked her with a hopeful voice, looking down at his boyfriend, taking his hand once more. “What... Is he going to be okay? What’s going on with him?” Blaine asked, looking to her once more. “I don’t really understand all of this or why this is happening and honestly I’m really kind of freaking out right now,” he said, talking a little quickly. Though he was never one to have an anxiety problem, he was starting to feel physically exhausted with this worry of losing Sebastian.

Sebastian Smythe:

Snow’s jaw was set as she listened to Blaine and his questions. Truth be told, no one really knew what was happening to Sebastian or why he wasn’t getting better. According to Professor Garrick, the speed force should give him a healing factor and protect him. The more Sebastian’s condition worsened, the more it seemed that the speed force was actually hurting him. “I'll be honest with you, his case is increasingly concerning and he needs to be under close observation,” she explained. “The brain is already complex and Sebastian was struck by lightning. I don't think he'll ever have a normal life if he continues--”

“Wha-- Blaine?” Sebastian's scared voice cut through the room as he suddenly jerked awake, effectively interrupting Snow.

Sebastian weakly gripped his boyfriend's hand, his fear washing away when his eyes found Blaine's. He was still out of it and didn't know what happened but he knew Blaine was there and in that moment that was the most important thing to him. He found comfort in Blaine. “Did I have another seizure?” he asked as he tried to rub his eyes only to find there was a heart rate finger-clip attached to him. “... Why hospital?” he asked groggily, confused.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine listened intently to what Dr. Snow had to say, wanting every piece of information possible-- he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to relay some information to Santana and have her do her own research if this were to keep happening. Blaine’s head jerked towards Sebastian when he heard him waking up. “Sebastian,” he said, bringing the chair close once more to sit so he could be closer to his boyfriend. “Hey you’re okay,” he said in a hushed, gentle tone.

“Y-yeah, babe, you did. It was pretty bad this time. But you’re okay,” he assured him. “Nightbird brought you here to make sure you got the help you needed.” Blaine nibbled on his bottom lip, rubbing Sebastian’s hand with his thumb. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” he asked carefully, his voice soft and words slowed as to not overwhelm him.

Sebastian Smythe:

“I’m fine..? I think?” Sebastian’s furrowed brow creased deeper as Blaine filled him in on what he’d apparently missed out. He didn’t remember the details to his episode yet and his memory was very foggy. When Blaine mentioned Nightbird, his eyes widened a bit and he tried to sit up in the hospital bed. “Nightbird! Where is he?!” he asked with urgency. His sudden movements caused a jolt of pain in his head and he slumped back down against the sheets.

“Probably not a good idea to get out of bed,” Snow warned, looking through his medical chart and making a few notes. “In fact, I’d strongly recommend bed rest tonight and staying home from work tomorrow, as well.” She turned to look at Blaine and smiled at him. “I trust your husband will be able to keep an eye on you?”

“Huh? What?” Sebastian mumbled, still out of it. “Husband..?” he looked between his doctor and Blaine, still confused.

Snow just chuckled softly, seemingly not too concerned now that Sebastian was awake and talking. She produced a business card from her coat pocket and handed it to Blaine. “Call me immediately the next time something like this happens or if you just have any concerns,” she told him. “I’ll call Sebastian tomorrow when he’s feeling better for a proper follow-up with testing.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine shook his head as Sebastian tried to sit up. “Hey, hey, slow down.” His words overlapped Dr. Snow’s as he motioned for the other to stay put. When Caitlin addressed him, Blaine nodded with certainty. “I will absolutely be keeping an eye on him, don’t worry.”

When Sebastian questioned Blaine’s title, it made the shorter chuckle. “Don’t you remember? I’m always your husband in the hospital,” he winked at him before turning his attention back to the young woman in front of him. He stood up to shake her hand. “Thank you so much, Dr. Snow. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming tonight,” he said with a grateful tone as he took the business card. “It’s nice to know Sebastian is in such good hands,” Blaine expressed, though he didn’t know much about Caitlin Snow, he felt comfortable with her. Plus, she managed to get Sebastian awake and she didn’t seem frazzled when the other doctors did.

Blaine returned to his seat next to Sebastian and took his hand again, holding it tight. “I’m so happy you’re awake,” he whispered looking at his boyfriend with care and worry. “I was really afraid when they told me you had been seizing for so long. Thank goodness for Dr. Snow or else you might not have woken up.” He shook his head, scooting a little close. “As for Nightbird, he couldn’t stay long because of the crowd, he didn’t want to draw attention away from you getting help- also he wanted me to know where you were as soon as possible.”

Sebastian Smythe:

It took a moment for Sebastian to catch onto what Blaine was telling him and when it did, he quirked a smile. “Right, I remember-- happily betrothed,” he assured as he remembered what Blaine had told the doctors after Sebastian had been struck by lightning.

He didn't have the energy to argue with Snow or talk about how he didn't need to take the day off; a few hours of sleep and he'd be back on his feet in no time. It was weird to see his two worlds coming together-- Snow was a direct connect to the Flash, talking to Blaine like a completely normal person. He supposed even people who weren't superheroes had their own secrets to hide.

Looking towards Snow, Sebastian knew he was in for a lecture the next time he went over to Professor Garrick's lab. Thankfully the doctor didn't seem angry right this moment and left the two men alone in peace.

“You talked to Nightbird? Did you get to see him?” Sebastian asked, slowly and surely coming out of his grogginess and becoming a bit more alert as time passed since his episode. “Shit, do I have my bag? My camera?” Sebastian wouldn't know what he'd do if the entire interview went down the drain because he'd lost his bag.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine shook his head as Sebastian asked about Nightbird. “Yeah-yeah I talked to him, he pulled me from home to come see you. I was really worried about you, I was afraid that I’d come in here and--” he stopped, shaking his head when Sebastian mentioned his bag. “Yeah, it’s here so I assume he brought it,” he assured him, feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach because he knew his camera was nestled in the bag in shambles. Luckily he was sure the SD card was probably still just fine-- it was mostly the lens and camera that was damaged. “I’m sure your camera and everything is okay.

“Seb, please, don’t stress out. Everything is okay, your story is going to be great,” he nodded confidently as he wrapped his other hand around Sebastian’s. “You can worry about work and your story later, okay? You need to focus on relaxing right now and taking it easy,” Blaine suggested gently. “Dr. Snow said that this is concerning and your case is increasingly concerning and that we have to keep an eye on you.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian felt anxious, unaware of the exact location of his bag and its contents. “Hand it to me— I need my phone, I have to call my boss,” he insisted, his heartbeat picking up. Clearly Blaine’s suggestion to take it easy fell on deaf ears as he ignored his painful ailments.

“I just,” he grunted as he attempted to sit up again, “I need to write that article so it can get published before tomorrow..!” The EKG machine he was hooked up to started beeping but Sebastian paid no mind; he had a fast heart anyhow because of his abilities. In that moment the only thing that mattered to him was his Nightbird exclusive. “I swear I’m fine; we should get out of here so I can get to my laptop and—“

An ER nurse pulled back the curtain to the triage area Sebastian was sitting in, having been alerted by the urgent beeping. “Mr. Smythe, please calm down..!” She ordered, finally catching Sebastian’s attention. “Your doctor has ordered that you stay put for at least an hour for observation. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

Blaine Anderson:

“Sebastian, really, you need to calm down— you don’t need to work yourself up so much,” Blaine said, standing up to try and coerce his boyfriend to sit still. “You aren’t writing anything tonight, you just--”

He was interrupted by the nurse coming into the room, barking at Sebastian. He was relieved for a moment when the nurse seemingly made Sebastian calm down, thankfully. His nerves were beginning to come unraveled as the previous hour had taken its toll on his already exhausted body. He stayed quiet until the nurse was finished.

He turned to the taller, trying his best to keep his composure. “Seb, please. You just had a seizure, you don’t need to worry with work right now. Your things are fine and you can work on it tomorrow. At home. In bed.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian's frustration grew when the nurse informed him that he had to stay in bed for at least a while longer. Between his pounding headache and both the medical staff and Blaine telling him to stay put, Sebastian just wanted to get the hell out of there. With an immature huff, he crossed his arms over his chest and laid back in the hospital bed.

“I guess it can wait until tomorrow…” he mumbled, compromising a bit and trying to relax. Looking over to his boyfriend, he realized he was stressing him out further. “I'm sorry. I just-- I was really looking forward to tonight and this stupid seizure… fucked everything up.” He let out another sigh and draped an arm over his eyes. What Blaine had said was true-- Sebastian really did need to rest and de-stress.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine took a deep breath and then took a seat next to Sebastian once again. “Thank you.” He said when Sebastian agreed to wait until the next day. Rubbing his face with his hands gently he sighed. “It’s okay. I know you were looking forward to tonight and I’m really sorry that this happened.” The shorter said, placing his hand on Sebastian’s. “But, this… you… you’re more important than that interview right now.” His hazel eyes glanced down as he nibbled on his bottom lip.

He felt really guilty for his feelings in that moment, he felt like crying. He wanted Sebastian to hold him and console him because he’d been so afraid that whole night. But Blaine knew that was selfish and Sebastian was the one who needed him in that moment. “Are you okay? Do you feel okay? How’s your head?” he asked, reaching forward to brush his hair back, gently touching his forehead.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian didn't quite share the same sentiment as Blaine that he was more important, but he wasn't about to say so out loud. This wasn't the time or place to argue.

Smiling softly when Blaine reached towards him to comfort him, Sebastian gripped his hand and gave a gentle nod. “I'm okay, I promise. Just tired from… everything, I guess. I have a headache but it's no worse than last time. I promise I'm okay,” he tried to reassure Blaine that everything was okay and that he could breathe a sigh of relief.

“Honestly, I just want to put this behind us. I hate seeing you so stressed out because of me and these stupid fucking seizures, and being stuck on bed rest isn't exactly my idea of a great time.” Sebastian let out a heavy sigh then, bringing Blaine's hand up to his lips. He pressed a gentle and slow kiss to the back of his hand, finally relaxing for the first time that night since they'd gotten to the hospital. “I love you. I promise everything will be better after tonight.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine’s forehead wrinkled a little sadly when Sebastian attempted to comfort him at first but by the time he felt the other’s lips against the back of his hand he began to feel slightly less tense and even managed a tiny smile. “I love you, too.” He said gently, moving his hand to brush his thumb against Sebastian’s cheek. “I hate seeing you like this, too.” I hate seeing you have a seizure. It was the most terrifying thing and he didn’t know if he would ever get used to it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Hopefully Dr. Snow can help and we can get you on the right track so maybe this never happens again.” He said vaguely hopeful even if he didn’t know how much be believed it himself.

“I’m just thankful that you weren’t alone.” Blaine added, the thought of what might’ve happened had Sebastian been alone tonight when it happened made him sick to his stomach. Shaking his head, he tried to put the image behind him and focus on his boyfriend in front of him. He was awake, he was breathing, he was okay. Everything was okay for that moment in time. “I will just be happy to get you home and into bed. I know you’re safe here, but it’s less… scary… at home.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian gave a vague nod at the mention of Dr. Snow figuring something out. He, too, was uncertain where they were on the path to finding a cure. It wasn't something Sebastian liked to think about; this condition was almost like a crutch he felt like he might have to carry for the rest of his life. Still, Sebastian knew that his boyfriend thrived when all was well and there was nothing to worry about. “Hey, look at me!” Sebastian said in a cheerful tone despite his weariness, “I'm completely fine. I mean, I look like I had a rough night but in about an hour you and I are gonna be snuggled up in our bed together and you won't have any reason to be scared.”

He hoped his words and reassuring smile was enough to put Blaine's worries to rest-- at least for a little while-- until he could physically prove that he was at fit as a fiddle. Tonight was just a hiccup. “Besides, maybe you're right; if I wait to write the article, I can sell the story to a different paper. Like, this is the story of the century, B. I could get published in the Times. Can you imagine that-- my name-- in the New York Times?”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine let out a soft chuckle when Sebastian tried his best to make him feel like everything was fine. Unfortunately, Sebastian had no idea what it was like on his side of things just like Blaine had no idea what Sebastian had to go through. “I wish it was so simple.” He shook his head, looking down to play with the other’s fingers a little with his own, keeping his hand in his.

He held back an audible sigh when Sebastian mentioned the article again-- he knew Sebastian was really excited and he was excited for him, he just wished he was a bit more concerned with what happened and not with the article. Still, he couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping across his face as he looked at his boyfriend’s face. “I know, this is a story that no one else in the world has and you could actually take it anywhere you want.” He shook his head. “I’m really proud of you, Seb. Your name in the Times. It would be amazing. Well, your pseudonym, obviously.” He corrected, it would be far too dangerous for Sebastian’s name to be on the story-- everyone would be too interested in how he got such an in with Nightbird and they’d be all over him for more information. “Have you given any more thought to that, by the way? Have you decided on a name?”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian's brow creased at the mention of his pseudonym. Truth be told, he didn't want to use a fake name. He wanted the recognition and he wanted people-- editors, magazines, everyone-- to be knocking on his door offering him opportunities on a silver platter.

“Yeah, about that…” he started, speaking as he internally debated with himself. “I mean, I know we talked about this and everything but… Blaine, you weren't there; you didn't hear what Nightbird had to say and this interview… it was more than I could've ever wanted.” Sebastian recalled how Nightbird had come out as gay on the record. He tried to lean in as close as he could to his boyfriend and lowered his voice, “Blaine, Nightbird is the Gay Avenger. He told me he's gay..! I publish that story and I become like, the liaison for an LGBT advocate.”

Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about the endless possibilities. He saw himself walking down the carpet at the GLAAD awards for his article… going on Ellen to share Nightbird's story to middle-aged people everywhere. Sebastian saw himself with the recognition he had always craved in his career.

“I almost died tonight because of this stupid seizure so I'm not playing it safe. I'm not going to use a pseudonym.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine’s face mirrored Sebastian’s when the other began speaking about possibly not using a pseudonym, his brow furrowing. He listened as the other continued to go on about Nightbird, not really reacting much because he was too focused on his complete disregard for his safety. When Sebastian mentioned almost dying, Blaine raised his eyebrows and nodded his head quickly. “Yeah, you almost died; that’s all the more reason why you need to be careful, Sebastian.” He shook his head, feeling his blood pressure rising along with his exhaustion. “It’s not like using a pseudonym makes you invisible from the credit-- the important people will know who you are. It’s not like there will be some stand-in for you-- it’s just a name.” He explained, staying as calm as he could for the time being.

“Babe, I know you really want all of the glory from this huge story that you have-- it’s so huge. There’s no way you’re taking it back to your job-- people will be begging you for this story once they know you have it. I just think because of that reason is why you should absolutely not publish it under your real name. It could be really dangerous-- there are really dangerous people out there in the world, especially the super world, that will want to know how you got such an in with Nightbird. They’ll assume you know how to get to him and they’ll take advantage of that.”

Sebastian Smythe:

It only niggled at Sebastian’s brain a little when he revealed that Nightbird was gay and Blaine showed no interest. Obviously his boyfriend was only concerned about his well-being at the moment and nothing else mattered. Not Nightbird, not this story-- only him. Sebastian wasn’t quite so like-minded.

“Yeah, exactly! People will be begging for me-- by name-- because they know I’ll have the scoop. What if Nightbird agrees to a second interview? What if I find out another extra juicy secret like his twin brother is an evil mastermind from Croatia? Who knows what I’ll unveil next and how many people will be wanting me to get the story.” Sebastian tried to argue his point. “Besides, dozens of people put themselves into danger every day… If some asshole villain has beef with me, I’m sure Nightbird will come to the rescue, anyway. Or maybe even the Flash.” He chuckled a little to himself then, thinking about how if he ever ran into trouble he could just get out of it with his abilities.

Sebastian thought about how else he could persuade Blaine into seeing things his way. “If I get my name out there and start getting recognition and making serious money, you won’t have to spread yourself so thin with work and school; you can focus completely on getting your teaching degree and maybe even start going back to auditions for Broadway stuff again. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine looked down as Sebastian spoke, trying to listen but it was hard, there was a wall going up in his mind that didn’t care at all what his reasoning was or what kind of story it was-- Sebastian’s safety was the most important thing and had he known Sebastian would go back on his word he would’ve never agreed to the interview. “Seb...” he said, shaking his head. His heart beating a little harder as he grew rather upset.

“Yeah, babe, all of that would be amazing but it can literally all still happen. None of that isn’t possible. It’s literally only a pseudonym. This is ridiculous, Sebastian. I really can’t believe you’re going back on what we talked about already-- you know how I feel about this.” He began to tear up out of frustration, his fuse shorter due to how tired he was. Letting go of the taller’s hand, he stood up, shaking his head. “Do you not care about literally everything I just said? Your career and our lives will not be affected by a pseudonym. It’s just a name.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian frowned as Blaine stood up, hearing the frustration in his voice. He understood what he was being told; he just didn't agree. “Of course I care about all of that, I just--” he sighed again, not wanting to push his opinion further since it was clearly making Blaine upset. “I feel like you're just being overly cautious about this because I just had a seizure less than an hour ago.”

He figured he would try just once more to convince Blaine, wanting to reassure him and quell his worries. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me; there have been other articles written about superheroes and nothing's happened to any of those people.” He wasn't sure if that statement was fact but maybe just saying it would help. Sebastian sat up a bit straighter in his hospital bed, trying to reach out for Blaine.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Sebastian as if he was crazy. “Are you serious?” He asked, shaking his head. He knew that last statement was completely not true but he didn’t have specifics to back him up without blowing his cover. “I’m not being overly cautious because you just had a seizure, we had this conversation before all of this. Before you even met with Nightbird. There is no need at all for you to put yourself, me, and our future family in danger because you want to be greedy with your name.” He crossed his arms, letting out a huff, the tears getting a little heavier in his eyes.

“I can’t believe how stubborn you’re being about this. I can’t believe that you having your legal name on this is worth putting yourself-- both of us-- at risk. And you can’t just say nothing bad is going to happen to you when you have no idea. Did you know tonight was going to happen?” Blaine asked, more upset than the moment before. “No, no you didn’t. You have no way of knowing what is going to happen or what other people are thinking. These are super beings, Sebastian. It’s not something to play around with. Our lives are not something to play around with and if that’s not important to you then I don’t really know what more to say.” By the time he was finished he was more visibly upset than when the conversation began, his hands shaking out of frustration, the tears still threatening to fall-- one even escaping down his cheek.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian's frown deepened as they continued to argue; this was clearly something they weren't going to agree on despite what facts were out there. But Sebastian had to agree about one thing: he cared deeply for Blaine and his safety. He throw his entire career away before he let anything happen to Blaine. What was frustrating was that Sebastian couldn't tell him there was nothing to worry about because he himself was a super-powered being-- a metahuman that had a semi-decent alliance with Nightbird.

Seeing Blaine cry pulled at the heartstrings he usually denied existed. Tonight was an unmitigated disaster and making Blaine worry because of his seizure was one thing-- making him cry because of a stupid argument was another. “Fuck, Blaine… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset, I--” Sebastian let out another sigh, rubbing the side of his head. “I mean, the recognition and credit would be amazing but… I don't want someone come after you just because they know I've done an interview with Nightbird.”

He reached over the bars of his hospital bed, reaching out further for Blaine and one of his crossed arms. “I'm sorry.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine sighed heavily, shaking his head again at Sebastian’s statement. He himself was frustrated that he couldn’t explain that while he may be a super being himself, he couldn’t protect Sebastian from everything. He would die trying, of course, but he couldn’t have eyes on him at all times to make sure he was safe. Not to mention that was creepy and he wasn’t that kind of significant other. He was also frustrated that the point of his argument was seemingly falling on deaf ears even still. “Why does it matter so much that the name Sebastian Smythe is on this article. Any other name you come up with will mean just as much it won’t be any less you.” He frowned, his forehead wrinkled as he looked at the other sadly. His voice was softer in that moment, tired.

He looked down at Sebastian’s hand as it rested on his crossed arm before he shrugged one of his shoulders gently. “It’s not just about me...it’s mostly about you. Why can’t you understand that?” Blaine lifted his eyes to Sebastian, his face fallen. “Why can’t you understand that this is all a lot?” He motioned vaguely at where they were, implying their current situation. “I’m terrified, Sebastian.” With a crack in his voice, the shorter sniffled. “You could have died today. You didn’t-” He almost let it slip that he’d watched him seize for so long, that he was the one there when it began. “Your career and dreams are so important to me and I am so incredibly proud of you and what you’ve got here and I know that it is going to be amazing. I don’t doubt that at all. I just...really need you to be smart about this.” He said, taking a beat and then placing his hand on his head, closing his eyes. A sharp pain flitted across his forehead, running down into his eyes.

Sebastian Smythe:

“Hey, hey…” Sebastian coaxed, trying to pull Blaine closer to him. Even if he felt the exact same right now as he did the last time he had a seizure, he wasn't there to know what was actually happening. He remembered stories of how he had to be resuscitated multiple times after being struck by lightning and Blaine just had to stand on the sidelines, watching and feeling helpless.

“Okay. I'll be smart and I won't publish it under my name-- not my real one, anyways,” he told Blaine. “You're the most important thing to me and you're right that I should be more careful; maybe if I'd been more careful tonight this wouldn't have happened. I mean, I could do better to get an extra hour or two of sleep every night and maybe I need Dr. Snow to increase my medicine dosage.

“I won't use my real name, okay?” He looked to Blaine then, Hoping that by agreeing and coming to this decision together, he would finally calm down.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine looked at Sebastian, his face in a slight pout as he let Sebastian pull him closer. He went as far as actually sitting on the bed next to his boyfriend as he looked down, taking his hand again. He gave a slight nod when Sebastian finally agreed against using his real name to publish the article. “Okay,” he whispered. He felt defeated somehow even though his side of the argument came out on top.

The day-- and past weeks-- had really taken its toll on the young man’s small body and he was close to pure exhaustion and in that moment he felt rather sad. He felt tired and scared. His forehead wrinkled a little more as he kept his gaze down, fiddling with Sebastian’s hand. “I’m really sorry, I just….you’re really important to me and you’re really all that I have in this world and I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was heavy with tears and a few more escaped from his eyes, rushing down his cheeks, the weight of the day weighing heavily on him.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian nodded when Blaine expressed his feelings to him. He had underestimated how much stress Blaine really was under and it made him feel like a bad boyfriend. He needed to be better and that included taking better care of himself as to not make Blaine worry. “I know, B. You won't lose me, okay? I'm not going anywhere and remember, you slipped through my fingers once before so now you're stuck with me for life,” Sebastian gave a little chuckle after his mini pep talk, hooking a finger under the smaller man's chin and gently pulling up to meet him eye to eye. “I promise, okay? I'll do my best not to do anything stupid-- not even for a Pulitzer prize.”

Sebastian brought Blaine into a tight hug, wanting him to know that even though he was stuck in this ER bed, Blaine could always count on him. “After this stupid hour of observation is up, you and I are going to go home and get a real good night's rest. I'll be honest and tell you I have a killer headache so I'll actually stay home from work and take it easy… so I don't want you to worry about me so much. That means you actually have to sleep, too.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine didn’t resist when Sebastian lifted his chin so their eyes could meet. He held his boyfriend’s gentle gaze for a moment, giving a weak half smile when Sebastian chuckled and promised he was stuck with the taller forever. “Good, I want to be, you know.” He said softly before leaning down into the hug, careful not to tangle himself in and of the wires attached to the other.

Letting his eyes fall closed, Blaine could still feel the tears built up in his eyes, the pressure in his sinuses. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry hard, but he would save it for later when Sebastian wasn’t around. He didn’t want to make him feel guilty. “I’m always going to worry about you, Sebastian.” Blaine said, scooting up in the bed so he was a little taller than Sebastian. Slipping his arm under the taller so he could pull him in close, giving Sebastian the chance to rest his head on Blaine’s chest. “C’mere,” He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the other’s forehead. “You are… my whole world, you know.”

Sebastian Smythe:

“You're going to give yourself premature wrinkles if you keep worrying so much,” Sebastian replied in a teasing manner. “By the time you decide you wanna have a kid, you'll already look like a grandpa.”

When Blaine maneuvered them on the bed so Sebastian could nestle his head against his boyfriend's chest, Sebastian breathed a slow and even breath. The way his body rejoiced as he finally let himself relax told Sebastian he needed to calm down significantly to stay healthy. All the adrenaline he had going through him dissipated and he smiled gently at Blaine's soothing words. “You're my world, too, Blaine.” He carefully reached a hand up to cup the side of the other's face, opening his mouth to speak as he closed his eyes. “I'm sorry I made you cry; I didn't mean to.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine let his own eyes fall closed once again as they settled in the bed more comfortably, it felt good to have Sebastian in his arms. Even though he still felt scared, he felt a little more relaxed with their bodies so close together. It was like Sebastian’s energy radiated safety and it was something Blaine craved in those moments. It felt like home, Sebastian felt like home.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss the palm of Sebastian’s hand. “I’m okay,” he lied as to ease the other’s mind. “We’re both just really stubborn and passionate. Disagreements are bound to happen,” he said, gently running his hand up and down Sebastian’s back.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian knew that the minute he was feeling better, he had to pay close attention to Blaine. The man already spread himself too thin between school and work, and having to worry about this wasn't helping either. “Good,” he replied, even if he didn't fully believe it. “I'm okay too, so I need you to be okay.”

They stayed like that in the bed until the doctors seemed it alright for Sebastian to go home. Fortunately there weren't any problems in getting Sebastian home (with the exception of some sleep-inducing yawns from both of them on the way). Once they were back in their apartment, Sebastian let his boyfriend lead him towards the bedroom. Like Blaine said, he could get to his camera and the recorded interview when the time came tomorrow after he was feeling better.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine was grateful that the hour seemed to go by fast enough and Sebastian was released from the hospital. He made sure to grab Sebastian’s bag for him, trying to delay the realization that his camera was broken. He kept a close eye on Sebastian the whole way home, watching him for any signs of abnormalities in his actions or personality; thankfully there were none and he seemed perfectly fine.

Once they were home, Blaine carefully discarded their things on the kitchen counter when they returned home and led Sebastian straight to their bedroom. He fussed over Sebastian like a hovering parent, undressing him and getting him into bed. He excused himself for a moment to wash his face in the bathroom, letting himself cry a little so he could relax a bit once he was in bed. Maybe he’d shower later to cry some more, but he wasn’t going to cry in front of Sebastian tonight. After a couple of deep breaths, Blaine made his way back into the bedroom. He smiled to himself a little at the sight of Sebastian in the bed, climbing up into the bed next to him and cuddling close to him. “Mmm,” he sighed in mild contentment. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” Blaine whispered, pressing his lips against Sebastian’s gently for a sweet kiss. “I love you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian didn't protest to Blaine's hovering actions, aware that he was reasonably worried and having him hover was better than him having crying again. Besides, it was kind of nice to have Blaine pay such close attention to him. In the morning, Sebastian would make everything up to him and cook him a delicious breakfast and make sure to spend the day with him not worrying about work or Nightbird or anything else.

When the day was finally coming to a close and the two were together in their own home, in their own bed, Sebastian felt the most at ease than he'd ever felt in his entire life. “Of course I'm okay; nothing is gonna happen to me,” Sebastian replied as he moved in for another lazy kiss in the muted dark. “I love you, Blaine.”

#seblaine #seblaine rp #blaine anderson rp #sebastian smythe rp #nightflash rp #paras #016

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onisionisacanceronthisearth · 5 years

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The Swamp Chronicles: The Appeal (Department of Engineering)

Ok, both appeals are a fucking riot. Like I am so surprised his lawyer was even remotely involved with it but her additions were also marvelous. It is riddled with lies, misunderstanding of facts and the law, irrelevant facts, and stupidity. It’s glorious and so damn obvious as to why they ended up settling because they would have lost and gotten a much worse deal. If it’s in italics it’s a direct quote, if not it’s a paraphrase or my thoughts + government rebuttals. Please enjoy everything wrong with this appeal from choice phrases to every argument they made

“Factual” Background

1.3 Pierce County claimed that the Avaroes had cleared a wetland area with a bobcat. In actuality, the Avaroes were clearing-off noxious weeds - blackberry, devil’s club, and nettles in their garden

So this starts their argument that work was only done in a very specific area that was a pre-established garden on their property. We know this is a lie because work was done much more than in a garden given the video and photographic proof but also, either way Greg needed a permit to use a bobcat to remove anything off his property and only himalayan blackberries are considered to be noxious weeds in his area so he’d need permission for the others as well even if taking them out by hand. By mentioning the other two as weeds being pulled up Greg has accidentally incriminated himself. Glad to know his lawyer gives a shit. Also their garden would have to be in their already landscaped front yard because everything behind their house is classified as a wetland. And regardless you’d need permits to use a bobcat on your yard

1.5 Such noxious weeds endangered the safety and health of Mr. and Mrs. Avaroes’ children

This contradicts Greg telling the government worker that he was giving himself a view of the water which was in the initial reports. This argument comes up over and over in different phrases. Honestly this is such a redundantly-written appeal. Also, cool, let’s say this was their true intentions and the plants they pulled, they still illegally used a bobcat on the property and pulled plants they shouldn’t have. Who assumes they can bring a bobcat on their property? Why didn’t Greg google this? Pulling weeds accidentally without permission? Yeah, understandable, and the county is lenient on this letting people off with warning about this all the time.

1.7 Pierce County has issued an Order to Correct without having the slightest idea about the area in which alleged wetlands are located - Avaroes’ front, rear, or backyard

Um, yeah they do, it’s literally their job and they included an aerial photo of their property showing their property lines and where the wetland is (most of their backyard). This is also followed by 3 more points making the claim that by ~definition~ they don’t live on a wetland and acting like the county is saying all the non-wetland plants on their property was what they planted and making arguments based on that (They have an unequivocal right to maintain such existing landscaping). Again, this is irrelevant because they still got no permits, this is not the argument they are making (this is about their clearing the property and nothing about planting and clearing isn’t maintaining), and legally most of their backyard is a wetland.

1.12 Apparently, Pierce County officials sent Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife to search Avaroes’ property and see if their gardening activities had impaired fish and wildlife habitats. 1.13 Without Mr. or Mrs. Avaroes’ permission, two WDFW officers went to their home and conducted a search of their front and back yards. The Fish and Wildlife officers found no violation. But, they passed-on information derived from their illegal search to County officials. Mr. Avaroe had denied County officials permission to search his property

Ok, so here Greg doesn’t seem to understand that he was under investigation initially by two departments (ecology and engineering) and the engineering department reffered his case to other agencies who might find violations like the Fish and Wildlife one and that agencies talk with each other. Greg denied the Ecology department’s head to check out his yard when she visited in August, that doesn’t mean he denied everyone from other agencies. The Fish and Wildlife officers knocked on his door on a totally different date independent of her, no one answered the door so they did a quick look around back and obviously they saw his front yard as they walked up to his door. Greg released a Patreon video showing this from what I assume is a security camera. Besides that this is legal (it’s in his property agreement that government workers can visit the house without permission, they’ve just asked out of politeness), they were there for all of a few minutes to see if he was working in the pond. They saw he hadn’t so they were not involved in the legal action taken against Greg. Nothing in either Notice of Order to Correct involved what these people did or didn’t find so these points are totally moot

“Illegal” search

All this says is that the county can’t use any “illegally-seized materials or information”. Besides actually admitting earlier in the appeal that the Fish and Wildlife people found nothing (and therefore had nothing to do with this appeal), they still say the nothing that was found by these people must be thrown out. I feel like they think that following this trainwreck of thought will cause everything to get thrown out. Not sure why the lawyer didn’t take out the part where they admit nothing was found or used from that department but ok. Btw, choice quote: ”All of the evidence derived from WDFW’s illegal search of Avaroes’ property is tainted and must be suppressed”

“Vague” as Applied

This is my second favourite part of the appeal, here they say the two notices were vague while listing all the codes the notices actually included!

I’m sorry but no, the first part of both notices start with a “violation” section and even I could read the notices and understand what they meant when they specifically list their violations. I included links to both previous posts on this if you don’t believe me or need a refresher.

3.4 The Order to Correct indicates that the Avaroes must obtain wetland approval, fish and wildlife habitat approval, and “obtain permits and approvals in accord with Title 18E or other Pierce County Codes” to authorize their garden maintenance activities (3.5,3.6,3.7 are varriations of this too)

Um, yeah. Certain activities on your property require approval because you live on sensitive land and right on the wetland. And you get those approvals or permits from the appropriate department... What do you not get about that? This is simple to understand, and again, most people wouldn’t think they could just rent a massive machine to work on their yard. Also, adding in the knowledge we have that Greg has cut down trees (the proof is literally on his channel and the aerial shots I’ll add below), who here thinks you can just casually cut down a tree on your own without proffesional help or a permit? Also 18E is all about living on sensitive land, so yeah, it’s the most applicable to yard work in your yard. Take note of the law Greg, then you’ll know when and how to get the approvals and permits you need for any further destruction yard work

3.8 The Order to Correct specifies that if the Avaroes fail to comply with the Order to Correct, that penalties will be imposed in the amount of $1,000, $4,000, and $10,000. It does not specify what acts will trigger the above penalties (note, they did forget the quotation mark after $10,000, that’s not me) 3.9 In addition, noncompliance with the Order to Correct will trigger misdemeanor charges

Another point where I’m convinced the lawyer didn’t read any of the information on the case because even I understood this point. Also because the lawyer would understand that Greg got two notices not one. If Greg does not comply with the requests from the Dep of Eng and Eco then he is fined a a total of 15k for each day of non-compliance. This could be anything from continuing to work (look on his youtube and leaked patreon videos and you’ll see that he did) to every day he is late in doing any of the tasks he was asked to like hiring a specialist. Also 3.9 seems weirdly tacked on afterwards

Correction notice violates Avaroes’ right to use nonconforming property

This is just lying that all the work done on his property was not Greg but the previous owners and that they are punishing them for it (except they admit that Greg did illegally remove plants with a bobcat earlier...). They are saying that because the previous owners did some landscaping Greg can do anything he likes on the nonconforming land. They also say that their house and lot were created before the regulated area was created. Again, they’re not being targetted for things they didn’t do, and not being targetted for owning the damn house. But at least here they admit that their property is on regulated land but they’re claiming the fact that the regulations were created after the property means they should be exempt from any yard work after the fact as well. At one point it wasn’t illegal not to talk on the phone while driving, so can I continue if I used to talk on the phone before it was illegal? No, of course not

4.9 Mr. and Mrs. Avaroe should not be obligated to spend thousands of dollars on permits and studies to authorize them to weed their yard

Dumbass, if you were just pulling the legally noxious weeds that wouldn’t require any permits. If you pulled some fucking dandilions no one would give a shit. You cleared the fuck out of your property with a bobcat! And, the stuff you admitted to was illegal anyways. Also the studies you are being asked to do would not have been necessary for the permit in most cases. It’s called for now because they need to assess the exact damage you’ve done. Of course if you’re doing total landscaping of your property (like you actually did), they will likely call for a specialist to oversee the development to make sure you don’t fuck up (the previous owners had to do)

The rest cries that they should be allowed to maintain their yard and the law allows them to do this. Again, that’s not what they were doing and they already admitted to removing plants not considered noxious or weeds. They also claim that aparently the county regulations are infringing on their right to due process and fairness... in their legal appeal they were permitted to start if they felt the county got the facts wrong. Also ignoring that one of the things they have to do is hire a third party to do impartial judgement on the damage to their property. They also finish off claiming the county didn’t tell them they live on wetland (the contract they signed when they bought the house did though) and again that their nonconforming rights have been violated (when they don’t fall under that ruling)

Additional “defenses”

6.2 Mr. and Mrs. Avaroe were innocent purchasers for value; they had no idea that they were prohibited from weeding their backyard

In both the Notices of Order to Correct the definition of what qualifies as innocent purchasers is explained. It means if you innocently buy a house where the previous owners have broken the law you are not to blame. It does not mean that if you are ignorant of the law you are exempt from it. WTF? Again, did his lawyer not give a shit?

Prayer for relief

7.1 The Tribunal should exclude all evidence procured from the unauthorized search of the Avaroe property

That search found nothing as you yourself said, if nothing is found it means no evidence of wrongdoing, unless there is a blank space on the notices I didn’t notice that aparently represents the fish and wildlife’s search, IT’S NOT PART OF EITHER NOTICE

7.2 The Tribunal should declare that the Order to Correct violates Mr. and Mrs. Avaroe’s right to due process

I have yet to see any reason why, no argument was presented

7.3 The Tribunal should declare that Mr. and Mrs. Avaroe have a right to maintain their existing yard

Even if you were dumb enough to think that removing trees is a normal part of maintaining your yard, 1. why did you tell the government worker you were giving yourself a view of the water, and 2. both notices explain that what you did wasn’t normal maintenance (which they themselves include a definition for in the appeal). Normal maintenance includes mowing lawns, removal of noxious and invasive species (not two of the three plants mentioned and the only permitted removal of natural plants), harvesting and replanting of garden crops, pruning (not removal) and planting of vegetation (must be indigenous native species). Also they need to provide proof that the work was all done before they moved in and they were just upkeeping what they thought was legal work. One way they could have done that is emailing this claim to the biologist of their area who can, with permission, go through the records for aerial photos of their property before and after purchase

7.4 The Tribunal should declare that Mr. and Mrs. Avaroe are innocent purchasers for value

Again, an incompetent lie

7.5 This Tribunal should accord Mr. and Mrs. Avaroe any other relief which is just and equitable

You would have gotten it if you didn’t lie, didn’t keep working past the don’t work order, didn’t send multiple emails of bullshit to both departments, were compliant, and accepted your mistakes

My conclusion

I think you can see why Greg and his lawyer gave up trying to push this bullshit. But we have the other appeal to deal with next up, and from it, I can’t say that Greg has never made me laugh in recent years. Too bad it wasn’t a joke

#onision #the swamp chronicles #onision goes to court #gregory avaroe #taylor elaine avaroe

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stopforamoment · 5 years

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TRIGGERS Part Two: Disrespected (Series 19, Part 2 of 15)

Series Nineteen: Anger and Sorrow (15 Parts) Part Two: Disrespected (Series 19, Part 2 of 15) My masterlist is at the end of my bio.

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 1,832 Rating: M for Language and Adult Situations

TRIGGERS: Unwanted sexual contact Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh. Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova @silviasutton1989 @bobasheebaby @riseandshinelittleblossom for being my thirsty Bastien friends and for still being a part of the journey! Series Summary: It’s day two of the conference, and this series focuses on emotions—how anger and sorrow are connected, and how that causes problems for Rinda and Bastien. A big thank you to @asherella-is-a-dork-3 for talking to me about the connection between anger and sorrow, and for telling me that Bastien needs to show some negative emotions. We all have bad days—even our perfect Bastien Lykel. She did so much to help me with this series. Thank you!

Chapter Summary: Rinda is furious when someone feels her up during a training exercise, but her anger causes her to go beyond defending herself to attacking the man who violated her.

Part Two: Regret

Nadia agreed to take notes—good notes—so Rinda could sit in on a self defense portion of the conference. She slipped in the back of the room hoping to observe unnoticed, but Tagmatarcha Callas saw Rinda and invited her to sit next to him. While they were waiting for the instructor to begin the session, Rinda and Callas shared ideas about a conference that would have more interaction and cross training with teachers and security officers.

The instructor invited Rinda to join the training and he paired her with Callas. “Please don’t kick my ass, okay? I don’t think I can do much while wearing a skirt.” She began to take off her heels.

Callas shook his head. “Are these the kinds of clothes you would normally wear in the classroom? And shoes?”

Rinda shrugged. “It depends. I prefer to dress more casually with looser clothes and I’d have comfortable shoes. Not heels. But the days I have a meeting and teach, yes.”

“Then this is what you need to train in. It doesn’t do any good for you to know how to block a move if you can’t do it in heels. Besides, shoes with high heels can be a good weapon. I suggest you keep them on, and we’ll go slower until you figure out your center of balance.”

Rinda nodded because she knew he was right, and she resisted the urge to smile at a memory from her college days. She worked at a gentleman’s club for a short time, and the owner insisted on giving his employees self-defense lessons. He was a former Navy Seal who taught moves they could use in specific situations and showed them ways to take basic items and make them self-defense tools. Stripper heels could do a lot of damage.

Callas was a patient and respectful teacher, keeping his eyes focused on Rinda’s face when she would hike up her skirt a little too high before trying a kick. When Rinda realized what she was doing she used humor to make it less awkward, joking that she didn’t mean to put on a show or give him an eyeful. He reassured her that she should do what she needed to do—the only eyeful an attacker would get is her foot in his face. Rinda laughed and tried the drill again. She was feeling more confident . . . until it was time to switch partners. Callas heard her swear under her breath—she was going to be paired with the Dreckskerl, the filthy pig from yesterday. “You gave him a good tongue lashing yesterday, so you’ll be fine. I’m right here if you need me.” Rinda nodded to Callas, trying to channel confidence.

Rinda usually had embarrassing moments when she did this type of training. She had a rather large chest, so there was usually an awkward moment when her partner didn’t quite know where to put his arm, or when he realized he was grabbing a little more than he meant to. Depending on the situation Rinda either made a joke, ignored it, or reassured the person that it was fine. It was a professional situation—no worries. Just part of being a chesty woman. But when the Dreckskerl put his arm around her, Rinda felt him purposely tuck his forearm under her breasts and brush against her. “Don’t fucking start with me” Rinda hissed to him under her breath.

He gave her an innocent look and spoke a little louder than necessary. “What’s your problem? Relax. We’re just doing the drill.” Callas gave the Dreckskerl a warning glance, and they finished that drill without any further problems.

Now it was time for another drill.

The Dreckskerl grabbed Rinda’s shirt, purposely grabbing her breast. Rinda winced in pain before muscle memory kicked in. She reached across her chest, grabbed the swine’s wrist, and twisted her body to throw him off balance. Her other hand reached for the inside of his elbow, locked onto a pressure point, and pulled him back into the opposite direction and onto his knees. Mike, her former boss, constantly had to remind her that you ran as soon as possible. You don’t stick around because the goal is to get safe.

Get free and get the fuck out of there.

He knew Rinda, and he knew her temper and her stubborn sense of justice. If someone hurt Rinda, Mike knew she would continue to pummel and kick them as she released her fury. Some of the other women would squirm at the thought of gouging someone in the eye or using a pointed heel to pierce the flesh of a person’s body. Ugh, I couldn’t do that! And what if I hurt him?

Mike would try not to roll his eyes as he patiently re-explained that you don’t worry about hurting the person who is attacking you. Just do whatever it takes to get free and get safe.

But with Rinda it was different. Mike knew Rinda’s rage would allow her to do whatever it took to survive. He also knew why. He knew Rinda held the anger from the night she was attacked, the night she was unconscious and unable to protect herself. He also knew she would always carry that anger and it would re-emerge when she needed to protect herself. Because of that rage, he knew that she would never let herself be defenseless again. She would always go down fighting. But she also needed to remind herself to let it go so she could get away. Her anger would give her strength, but only if she didn’t let it consume her.

But right now Mike’s advice was the furthest thing from her mind. Actually, any rational thought was the furthest thing from Rinda’s mind. She was pissed, so she followed up with a forceful knee struck under his chin that knocked the Dreckskerl over and left him moaning on the floor Of course, Rinda was swearing like a sailor the entire time. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a goddamn security officer who is supposed to keep people safe, not violate them in a public setting. Do you have any fucking clue what it truly means to be a man? A protector? If you ever touch me again I will gouge out your eyes and bend you over to make you skull fuck yourself. Is that understood?” The man was still moaning and Rinda kicked.

Viciously.

Using her shoe heel.

Maliciously.

“I didn’t hear you. If I find out that you’ve disrespected anyone else at this conference you will answer to me. Did I make myself clear?”

His voice was a mangled whisper. “Yes.”

Callas and Bastien ran over to Rinda, but Callas quickly stepped back when he saw the way Rinda leaned toward Bastien for his help. She grabbed Bastien’s hand for reassurance as she continued, now addressing the room, trying to fix her fuck up. Her over-reaction. A sore tit was a small price to pay to keep her professional demeanor in a room full of security officers, especially the male officers.

Right?

She’d probably never see the Dreckskerl again, although she would see his type again. And again.

Fuck.

Rinda never knew how to react in these situations, especially now that she didn’t have the protection of a wedding ring and couldn’t use her status as the widow of a police hero any longer.

Double fuck.

So she took Bastien’s hand, and she rambled.

“I know there were a lot of teachers who were disrespectful to all of you this weekend. And I’m so sorry. The majority of us know that we need you, your expertise, to keep us safe. I know the majority of you would give your lives to protect us. Please. We need each other so we need to respect each other. In the United States we’re starting to do more lockdown drills and ALICE training with the children in our classrooms, but the research is pouring in that this is traumatizing our children.”

She looked at Bastien. “You once told me that teachers and safety officers all have the kids’ best interests at heart, but we have different priorities and strategies to accomplish that.” She looked back at the strangers staring at her. “He’s absolutely right, and we have to work together to figure out how to keep these kids safe without completely traumatizing them or taking their childhood innocence away from them.” Rinda was tearing up and she felt like an idiot--most of them probably didn’t even realize she was just violated in a room full of people and didn’t know this conference actually made Rinda even more anxious about how much work needed to be done. But right now she was so pissed at the people who were fucking things up, herself included. But not Bastien. And not Callas. They were two of the good ones.

She turned to Callas. “Will you help me and Bastien host another conference in Cordonia? Once that will focus on teachers and security officers working together and sharing ideas?”

Callas nodded. “Of course, Dr. Parks. It would be my honor.”

Rinda smiled and then turned to Bastien. “Can you help me get the fuck out of here without making more of an ass of myself? I would have preferred a dramatic, inspirational walk out the door, but I’ll settle for anything at this point.”

Bastien chuckled. “Do you want me to sweep you off your feet and carry you? Otherwise we could do the slow walk with a fist pump at the end.”

Now Rinda was shaking her head and laughing, so Bastien settled for wrapping his arm around her waist and escorting her out. Callas came out a few minutes later and smiled when he saw Rinda sitting on Bastien’s lap, her head resting on his chest as he gently massaged her back. “I’m sorry for interrupting. You left your bag in the room.”

Rinda looked up and started laughing again. “Thank you. It would have been humiliating to do the walk of shame back in there.” She gave Bastien an affectionate kiss on his check. “What the hell, Tiger? You help me leave the room with a shred of dignity intact, but then you forget to grab my stuff?”

Bastien snickered. “You’re right, my dearest Tria. Everything was my fault and I’m so sorry.”

Callas started laughing at their banter, but now Rinda was standing up. “I was serious before when I asked for your help. May I stay in contact with you so we can work together?”

He took Rinda’s hand. “Yes, it would be my honor.” Then reached over to Bastien, who was also standing, and shook his hand. “I look forward to working with both of you.” Callas was about to walk away, but he couldn’t resist. He gestured back to the room and grinned at her. “Nice work back there, Dr. Parks. You put on quite a show.”

#19 anger and sorrow #choices trr #long post #bastien lykel #rinda parks ofc

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concussed-to-pieces · 6 years

Text

Comfort

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Ambrose/Omega!Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: How about a Thirst Party Saturday...Wednesday pick-me-up? I was thinking an Office!AU, with that sweet, sweet Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamic we all know and love. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and of course, the campaigner for all things LaBraun, @hardcorewwetrash!

Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains threats of rape, musings on consent and general manhandling. Stay safe everyone!]

You knew that you probably should have stayed home today.

Suppressants were expensive and you had the sneaking suspicion that your script had been cut to begin with. You hadn’t felt right for months. But your doctor always dismissed your concerns as Omega paranoia and you didn’t want to make your visits any more difficult, so you just put your head down and accepted the reports without complaint.

You were very lucky after all, you had to remind yourself. Getting hired into an office setting while being an Omega was no easy task, but you’d managed to pick up some runner work that would get your foot in the door over at King’s Game Enterprises. It was only small things for the moment and you’d had to sign a waiver before you started stating that you would keep up with your dosages or face immediate termination, so you couldn’t exactly afford to have your prescription cut with sugar pills. But you had this unshakable feeling of restlessness while making your morning commute. You were tense and tight, as though you were about to jump out of your skin at any given second.

In a burst of desperation, you decided to be honest with your boss about your situation. There was an off chance that maybe, he might understand and send you home early. His wife was an Omega and he treated her like an equal.

Maybe it’ll be okay.

You gathered up their coffee orders and a few files from Alicia, then squared your shoulders and headed for Hunter’s office. Please don’t fire me, you begged mentally. Please please please.

You heard the office door click open before you were halfway down the hall and Stephanie poked her head out. “Alright, move it.” She said, not unkindly. “Smelled you a mile away.” Your heart sank. They know. She at least waited until she’d closed the office door behind you before she started in on you. “Did you not understand the paperwork you signed? Because I can find someone to explain it to you. In perfect detail.”

You bowed your head meekly and pressed her coffee into her hands. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly the equivalent of coming in with a sore throat, but I don’t have any sick days saved up yet. I didn’t know what else to do, ma’am, I need this job so much.” You kept your eyes on the floor, blinking back tears. “I wanted to ask if…if maybe Mr. Hunter could send me home. Or even you, if you have that authority. I know it’s dangerous for me to be out and about like this, I swear I didn’t skip a dose. I-I take my meds, always, but I don’t feel right today and I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“I’ll get Hunter in here. You sit down.” Stephanie clicked her tongue. “Your script get swapped? Did they put you on the generic?”

“My doctor doesn’t give me my scripts, he calls them in himself. He says it’s too dangerous to have an Omega walking around with an unfilled script.” A tear slipped out and you quickly wiped it away, irritated with yourself. Stupid suppressants!

There was a loud knock on the office door and then it was shoved open, the person on the other side not even waiting for acknowledgment. “Heya’ boss one, is boss two he…” The person, a man with a mop of unruly sandy-blond hair, ground to a halt. His nose twitched.

“Perfect timing Ambrose, as ever. Hunter already call you?”

“Y…yeah.” Ambrose said slowly. He shook himself all over. “Whew, sorry. I’m back.”

“Wonderful, I’m so glad Seth is teaching you to be prompt.” Stephanie turned back to you, gesturing at Ambrose. “Dean is one of our Omega therapy Alphas. It’s a new program that some of the higher-ups initiated for the safety and comfort of people like you and me.”

“Basically we’re here to keep you okay.” Dean explained simply. He radiated calm Alpha scent, the new fragrance washing away your terror at being fired.

“We?” You asked in confusion.

Another knock sounded on the door and Ambrose moved to open it, revealing two more men. The Alpha smell, which was heady enough in the room from Dean alone, instantly thickened. Your stomach filled with warmth and you gasped for breath, dimly aware that Stephanie was saying something. Seth. Roman.

Mr. Hunter’s hand was suddenly tilting your chin up. “You still in there, kid?” Hunter Helmsley was the epitome of mated Alpha, broad-shouldered and confident in his own skin. You could see why Stephanie adored him.

You barely had the mental capacity to shake your head. “I don’t feel well, sir.” Your voice was a trembling whisper.

“It’s alright. That’s why our boys are here. Can you make it to lunch time? Two hours.” Hunter glanced at the clock. “Then, it’s only half a shift missed instead of a full one.”

Two hours. Two hours. You nodded dumbly. You could do whatever this Alpha asked. You were a good Omega.

Hunter chuckled. “Alright. The boys are going to escort you to our Omega office, okay? Scent-dampening walls like mine. We need to keep you under wraps until this calms down. You may want to talk with your physician as well, figure out what he gave you.”

“Not the right amount. He won’t listen to me.” You breathed.

“He’ll listen to Dean.” That was one of the other Alphas, but was it Roman or Seth? Seth or Roman?

“Our Alpha partner program can also accompany you to appointments, if necessary.” Hunter added gently. “They’re here to make things easier.”

The idea of having a strong, secure Alpha with you in the doctor’s office made your chest ache with longing. You whined without meaning to, blushing and covering your mouth. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t apologize, Omega. We understand.” Seth (or was it Roman?) took your hand, sending tingles through to your fingertips. “C’mon, before everyone in the building is banging on Hunter’s door.”

Roman (or was it Seth?) opened the door for you, making you flush even hotter than before. Normally only mates were offered the courtesy of having a door held for them. Dean came up on the other side of you, the two Alphas flanking you in the hallway while the third brought up the rear.

You finally got up the courage to whisper, “Are you Seth or Roman?” to the dark-haired man at your side.

“He’s Seth, I’m Roman.” The young man behind you answered, making you glance over your shoulder to look at him. He gave you a small smile, as though he was doing his best to soften his hard features. “Roman Reigns, Alpha at your service.”

“Um, no offense to any of you but…why were you guys picked for this?” You asked awkwardly.

“Even temperament, mostly.” Roman replied, shrugging.

“I don’t get nuts around Omegas. Hormone imbalances.” Dean said shortly.

“And I’m too smart to lose my cool.” Seth added smugly. “We aren’t like those other Alphas, butting heads over a piece of ass.”

“Rollins.” Roman’s tone held a sharp note of warning.

“Sorry, sorry. Not to imply that you’re a piece of ass or anything.” Seth apologized hastily. “You’re an Omega, and an Omega that doesn’t want to sit at home and do nothing! Pretty rare.”

“Sitting around is only good until the bills need to be paid.” You commented dryly. “Wait, how am I supposed to do my job if I have to-”

“Ambrose is going to be with you when you’re running errands, okay?” Seth murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not ideal, I know, the space in here is kinda’ tight. But if something happens while you’re in our care, Hunter will eat us alive.”

Dean opened the door to the Omega office and stepped in, gesturing for you to follow. “C’mon, let’s sit you down for a minute. How you feeling? Doing okay?” He asked kindly, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel fevery.”

“I’m just nervous, mostly. Restless. Like it’s hard to breathe. I mean, it’s not actually hard to breathe, but like how you feel when it is?” You fumbled to explain. “Chest is kind of tight.”

Roman had pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, the well-built Alpha turning to a fresh page before clicking his pen. “Can I get the name of your primary care physician, and a rough estimate of how long he’s been cutting your medication? Mr. Helmsley will need it for your file.”

“Oh, b-but I have no proof-”

“Your body is out of sync. Unless Hunter--er, I mean, Mr. Helmsley, has put you under a significant amount of stress, there’s no logical reason for you to be feeling like your lungs are too small.” Seth raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you have anything going on outside of work that could contribute to the level of discomfort you’re dealing with. Shortness of breath is a pretty common complaint in Omegas once their meds are switched.”

“According to my primary, every complaint is a common complaint for someone like me.” The statement came out more bitter than you intended and you grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, this is good information to have. With your consent, Dean will accompany you on your next appointment.” Roman continued to write for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Ah, when is your next appointment?”

“I had made an emergency one for tomorrow, a cancellation happened and I picked up the slot. Waste of a day off, but I was really hoping to talk some sense into the doctor.” You said weakly. “Or at least try. It’s...hard. He has me strip down and put on the examination gown before he’ll speak to me and I just…I mean it’s a vulnerable situation for someone like me and I don’t really have anyone to come with me.” You were so relieved that someone might be taking you seriously, the words just came pouring out. “I know he doesn’t like Omegas so I just try to make everything simple but now I’m sick or confused and I’m scared, what if there’s something really wrong with me?”

“Easy, easy. Look, I’m gonna’ go grab you a soda from the break room stash. We’ll get some sugar into you, perk you back up. Like Mr. Helmsley said, if you can duke it out for two hours you’re in better shape.” Dean reminded you, heading for the door. “Everything’s gonna’ be just fine. I can come with you tomorrow, I don’t have any prior assignments.”

Of course, as soon as the words were out of his mouth the door flew open and half the contents of the IT department poured into the office. Drew, Tony and Perkins led by one Brian Kendrick who shouted, “There! I told you I smelled heat in the hallway!” pointing an accusing finger at you. You were frozen with fear. The small room was packed with Alphas and Betas now, crowding in on you from all sides. The air was thick with different smells and the snap of hungry teeth and this is why you can’t have a job this is why you need to stay at home-

“Ambrose!” Seth yelled over the hubbub. It must have been something they had rehearsed, because you were suddenly pulled tight to Dean's chest.

“Face into my collarbone, breathe in. Breathe out. Don't look at them, focus on me.” Ambrose said calmly. There was the sound of a solid impact behind you and Kendrick abruptly stopped hollering.

“You're all really gonna' let this yappy son of a bitch rile you up into acting like a bunch of animals?” Roman asked, his voice low and irritated. “Get out. All of you! Out!”

You whimpered and Dean cupped the back of your head, humming comfortingly. “It's alright. He's a friend. You're safe with me.” He soothed. “We're on your side. Nothin' is gonna' happen to you while I’m here.”

“I'm going to talk to Kalisto and Mustafa. This is some bullshit.” Rollins grunted angrily. “Jesus Christ, that was a fucking nerd mob.”

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, sounding concerned. A large hand covered Ambrose’s on the back of your neck and you relaxed a little into Dean. “Go talk with the smart ones, Seth. We’ll stay put with them until you get back.”

“My legs are going to give out in a second.” You warned thickly.

“Grab the chair, Reigns.” Dean ordered. You closed your eyes, the sound of your swallow loud in your ears. “I’ve got you. Focus on my voice, calm that breathing down so you’re getting enough air.” Ambrose coached, settling you into the chair.

Roman’s hands rested on your shoulders, keeping you upright in the seat. Ambrose shifted in between your thighs, the comfort you felt at his presence a little startling. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you while one of us is here.” Roman said firmly.

“Promise?” You whispered, opening your eyes.

Dean stared back at you until you glanced away, unnerved by the intensity of his look. “Promise.” He replied softly.

…

“Clothes stay on. No, fuck you, their clothes stay on. You’re not bullying them anymore, got it asshole?” Dean rasped, looking like he was inches from pinning your doctor to the wall. “I’m here with them. Now do your damn job and explain what’s happening.”

You hadn’t taken two steps into the examination room before your primary care physician had gestured at the gown on the table and barked at you like he always did. But Ambrose didn’t take kindly to that, the light-haired man glaring holes through the old Alpha doctor. “You can’t threaten me in my own practice!” The older man sputtered.

“They have the right to be treated with fucking dignity, not like they’re an inconvenience. Shit, they’re sick and scared and you’re over here playing high and mighty!” Dean snapped. “What’s the story, huh doc? What’s your issue?”

“Omegas are breeding machines with hysterical, hypochondriac tendencies. My issue is that I’m having my time wasted.” The doctor answered primly.

“This is an Omega who’s got shortness of breath and their heats are getting worse even though they’re taking their suppressants. You’re the one writing their scripts; you’re the one who switched them to a generic without asking them first and then, you cut their doses in half!” Ambrose was fairly roaring at this point. “Feeding them some bullshit story about how they couldn’t take their own script to a fucking pharmacy! ‘Course they can, most Omegas do!”

“I’m not going to stand here and be accused of-”

“Accusing you? Buddy I haven’t even shown you my evidence. I’m flat-out condemning your ass. I have invoices. Faxes. Pages and pages of scripts with your name all over them. I suggest you fucking play ball with my Omega, or King’s Game is gonna’ raze your little pop-up clinic and turn it into a fuckin’ penny candy store.” Dean bared his teeth. “You feel me yet, doc?”

“I…” Your doctor paused, looking like he’d had the rug yanked out from beneath him. “Listen, this is standard procedure for Omega-exclusive practices, I can’t just-”

“You’re diggin’ a pretty deep hole for yourself, doc. You tryin’ to tell me that there’s more guys like you out there, purposely fucking up people’s lives?” Dean snarled.

“It’s the way things are.” Your doctor replied with a weary air. “We need to perpetuate our species one way or another. I don’t expect you to understand, you don’t smell quite right yourself.”

“You’d better watch that nose around me, doc. I’ll bite it off.”

“Aside from your own issues,” Your doctor continued, looking much more pale, “I can’t just up their dosage on a whim, this-”

“Hey, you’re not talking to me. Talk to them. This is their health at stake.” Dean growled.

“Fine.” Your doctor turned toward you with a huff, still not meeting your eyes. “It will take weeks for the suppressants to regain their previous effectiveness. A gradual increase is the only way to straighten you out. If, of course, this is all true.” The doctor didn’t seem to be able to help tacking on the snide remark at the end.

Dean was all over him like a bad suit, fists digging into the older man’s white jacket. “You keep this attitude up and I’ll bite your nose off for free.” He threatened. “This is your last warning to cut the shit. Write them the correct script or so help me God, my people will call your people.”

You just sat there wide-eyed, barely believing what you were watching. Dean was going to bat for you like you were his, radiating scents of fury and Alpha. Your body lit up with excitement and you barely kept yourself from begging Ambrose to mate you until you couldn’t remember your own name. Your face flushed. Where had that desire come from?! You had never been that forward before!

Ambrose kept up the rumbling threat of a snarl in his chest while your doctor printed off some new paperwork, the younger Alpha quickly yanking it out of the older man’s hands and then passing it to you. “Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” Dean murmured, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steer you out of the examination room. “I know a guy, Doc Swagger. I’ll give you his number for when this script runs out.”

“Wow.” You breathed.

“Too much? I wanted him to take you seriously. I wasn’t sure whether ‘upset mate’ would work, so I went with ‘upset bad cop’.” Dean sounded worried. “Did I overstep?”

“Oh no, gosh. I’m just…a little hot is all.” You admitted, flushing.

“A little h…oh. Oh.” Ambrose paused, then gave you a grin. “Yeah? You think maybe you like when I get tough?”

“No! I do not!” You protested frantically, watching his grin widen. “I’ve never had anyone defend me like that is all and I don’t…I mean I’m not…look, I don’t want to offend you.”

“Offend…?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “I think you’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Well because I’m an Omega. And…and I can’t control myself as well as I should.” Your flush was from shame now. “It’s not fair to you that you have to deal with me all…messy like this and probably smelling like a...I-I don’t mean to be this way. It’ll be so much easier once my medication is evened back out.” This was so embarrassing. You had never felt smaller in your whole life. “I really don’t mean to be this way, I know what you must think of me.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with how you smell.” Dean finally murmured after a minute of silence, his back ramrod straight and that teasing smile gone from his face.

…

Hunter assigned Dean to you permanently when he saw how well the two of you were getting on. He mostly just seemed pleased that the program was a success and that you could get your work done with minimal interruptions.

There were no more outbursts from the IT department, and if anyone so much as twitched their nose at you it seemed like Ambrose was at your elbow, brandishing a stapler with deadly intent. His methods were a bit more…hands on than you would expect from someone in an office setting, but you were grateful all the same.

“I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.” He confided in you one day while you were making copies, his lean frame towering over you. He tended to station himself to the side of you if he could help it, stating that he didn’t want to loom. “Used to pretty often though. This little program is good for me, I think.”

A huge pair of hands abruptly clamped down on your hips before you could respond, and you were rudely hoisted into the air and dropped to the side to free up the copier. “Out of my way.” Brock from Financial grunted.

“Hey!” Dean snapped, his expression gone fierce. “You don’t fucking touch them, Hunter’s orders!”

“What makes you think I give a flying fuck about Hunter’s orders?” Brock snorted derisively, “The little go-fer with slick-reek was taking too long. I have important work to do.”

You blushed hotly with shame, hoping that you didn’t actually smell like slick. How incredibly embarrassing!

“You can ask them to fucking move.” Ambrose’s fists clenched. “Or you can wait.”

“Copies really worth getting your panties in a wad over, Ambrose?” Brock’s grin was infuriating, arrogance shining through in his slouched posture.

“Certainly seemed like it was to you, Lesnar.” Dean scooped up the copy that Brock had made before the other Alpha could reach it, quickly ripping the page in half.

“Your maturity knows no bounds.” Brock sighed.

“Were you all set with the machine?” Dean asked you, studiously ignoring the massive Alpha blocking the door. You nodded quickly, not wanting to cause more trouble. You could always come back on your way out, after all. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Lesnar.”

“You do realize that they’ll fuck anyone, Ambrose. Regardless of how that person treats them.” Brock chuckled, his nasty smile back full-force. “Isn’t that right, little Omega? I bet you’d love it if I shoved up your skirt and just-”

“Stop!” You said while shaking your head violently, unsure at first if you were trying to shut him up or trying to keep your thoughts from circling on the visuals his words were eliciting. Normally you would have been thrilled at the idea of an Alpha offering you any sort of attention, especially attention that might ease the hot shivers in your stomach. But all you could focus on was the brief flash of a wounded look that crossed Ambrose’s face and the nausea that was building in your throat.

“Man, why the hell would you say something like that? Were you raised by wolves? Jesus.” Dean seemed more offended than anything else, moving until he was between you and Brock. “I mean shit, what’s your problem? Mommy issues? Daddy issues? Tiny penis? All three? Get the fuck away from them.” He gave Brock a hard shove, clearing the doorway. “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Dean urged you, making you scramble for the hall.

You slid down the wall once you were in the hallway, tucking your knees up into your chest. Brock had done nothing but make everything worse, your face still hot from the notion that you might smell like slick and be unable to do anything about it. You got unsteadily to your feet and fled to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall and resting your forehead against the door. Too late you realized you had forgotten your copies in the hallway, and tears choked your throat. Why was this so hard? Why did you have to be so stubborn about this job? Plenty of Omegas stayed at home, raising babies and keeping house. Why couldn’t you?

Maybe the suppressants failing was a blessing in disguise. Maybe…maybe you should be one of those Omegas. You had been so sure of yourself, and look where it had gotten you! Huddled up in a bathroom stall, your stomach rolling and tears dripping down your face. And now your nose was running. You thumped your head against the stall door and then flinched back when the bathroom door opened with a loud bang!

“Omega?” It was Dean, whispering as loud as he could. “You in here?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, unlocking the stall and opening the door. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry I ran. I know you have the worst job in this place and I’m not exactly making it easier by taking off on you.”

“Hey, I get it. You were scared, maybe a little embarrassed. Don’t listen to anything that asshole says, okay? He’s just pulling the same shit every other Alpha and Beta does, trying to guilt or threaten you into boning them.” Dean said bluntly. “Like I need to tell you that, like you don’t already know.” He laughed weakly. “And what the heck do you mean by ‘worst job’?”

You just shook your head, finally raising your eyes to look at him. He had a new graze on his cheek, the small cut oozing blood down the side of his jaw. “Oh, what happened?” You asked unhappily, reaching out and wiping the blood off with your thumb.

“Caught the side of the copier funny. It made that low toner warning t-turn off though, so I think I fixed it.” Dean’s voice hitched slightly and you hastily pulled your hand back.

“Sorry, I…reflex.” You apologized, tired to death of blushing. But you shouldn’t have touched him! He wasn’t yours, after all, and it was a little frowned upon when an unmated Omega went around touching unmated Alphas unnecessarily. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright.” Was all Dean said in reply, jamming his hands into his pockets. When you caught sight of his hands later on in the day, you noticed his knuckles were scraped open in a few places.

I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.

What did he consider ‘for real’?

…

Your heat cycle ended and life returned to normal for the most part. Dean no longer needed to accompany you everywhere and he said as much, pressing the phone number for his doctor friend into your palm. “I’ll see you around, Omega.”

You scolded yourself for your daydreaming, sentimental tendencies on the way to your appointment with Doctor Swagger. You felt guilty for the trouble you must have put Dean through during your cycle and you were hoping this new doctor would be able to help you manage yourself better.

Doctor Jack Swagger was the largest Omega you had ever met, the blond man standing head and shoulders over you when he shook your hand warmly. “The usual? I doubt you want to spend your whole day off in my tidy little exam room.” His easy demeanor was a complete change from your prior physician and you found yourself relaxing. “Ambrothe recommended me, huh? I’m flattered.” Swagger grinned. “He’s normally all teeth when I have to poke and prod him, poor bastard.” He patted the examination table. “Alright, quick checkup and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

True to his word it wasn’t long before you were on your way, the fresh script for name brand suppressants tucked safely into your pocket. Swagger said he had already called the order in, but that “it might be a good idea for you to have the script in hand, so they can cross-reference it.” Which you were sure was his way of letting you know that he wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to be certain you were getting the right product.

You were grateful that he seemed to understand your plight. But then again, who knew what kind of trials he had been through? Nobody could have believed he was an Omega, as huge as he was. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Of course, not every Omega was going to be small-boned and delicate, the world just didn’t work that way. People like you did lean towards the diminutive, but an Omega’s size wasn’t nearly as much of an issue as it would be for, say, a shorter Alpha.

There were plenty of other things people could find wrong with Omegas. Size was an outlier.

You shook your head at yourself. Those thoughts weren’t going to do you any good. Everything would be okay now! You would be back to your usual self in a few months and hopefully you could still see Dean every now and then--

No! Stop it! That’s not how this works! Just because he had treated you decently, just because he was required to keep you safe when you were more likely to have a lapse in judgment? You were a job, that was all. Something to keep Mr. Helmsley signing checks for him. Nothing was going to change that. I don’t get any say in the matter, you thought sadly. He’s not mine and he’s never going to be. Might as well get used to it, no Alpha is going to so much as look at me unless I’m in heat.

…

The next time your cycle came around, you were caught off guard. It was almost two weeks early! You did your best to remain calm on the drive to work, calling ahead to let Stephanie know you would be a little late. Dean met you at the door, his expression carefully neutral. “Again?” You nodded, biting your lip. He grunted, taking off his heavy leather jacket and dropping it over your shoulders. “That ought to mask it, at least for now. How do you feel?”

“Queasy.” You admitted, snuggling down into the coat and tucking your nose into the collar where Ambrose’s scent was cloyingly thick. It was pitiful and you knew it, saying as much when Dean gently took your arm to lead you in. “M’sorry, your jacket is going to smell all gross.” You mumbled.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t mind your smell? Damn.” Dean huffed.

“What if people think you’re my mate because my scent is all over your stuff?” You continued over him worriedly. “What if Brock comes after you?”

“That’s kinda’ the point.” Dean said matter-of-factly, making you pause. “Look, I’m here to help you avoid conflict. No one said I had to fight fair.” His smile was crooked. “I just hope you can deal with the group of people who will pity you.”

“Pity…?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a prime cut of Alpha steak.” He shrugged. “Not really much interest. Hell, I’m scrawny when you look at Reigns or Rollins.”

“I don’t think you’re scrawny!” You protested, touching his hand on your arm. “You’re trim.”

“Is that a thing? Sure, okay. I’m ‘trim’.” Dean chuckled. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“Not every Alpha needs to be huge, y’know.”

Dean fell silent at your words and you wondered if you had annoyed him. His hold tightened momentarily on your arm. “Come…come in here for a second.” He muttered finally, ushering you into an empty conference room.

You were instantly on guard, your death grip on the jacket around your shoulders the biggest oxymoron you could think of. Ambrose left the door to the hallway slightly ajar, and he leaned against the wall beside it.

“Look, I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe me for this uh…well, whatever it is that I’m doing. Escorting, I guess. I was trained to do this, okay? It’s not like I moonlight in HR or somethin’, this is what I clock in to do. So you ain’t gotta’ be delicate with me, alright? I’m a big kid.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t understand.” You said slowly, feeling like that was the best course of action.

Dean dragged a hand through his hair. “You…what you said. Not that I don’t appreciate hearin’ stuff like that, mind you. I don’t want to think that I’m…fuckin’, inadequate. And I usually don’t think that way anyhow. But you don’t have to say stuff just to make me feel better. Like I said, I’m a big kid.” He tried for another smile and it was even less convincing than his previous attempt. “Now, let’s get you to your office.”

“But-” You began to protest, bewildered.

“Please. Drop it.” Dean said softly, his hand tucked back into the crook of your elbow. “Seriously.”

You nodded, not really wanting to but understanding that he was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. And wasn’t that odd, an Omega trying to make an Alpha feel at ease! “Hey, if you ever need to talk to someone…”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Oh, you had definitely upset him. His words were clipped and short, bitten out. “What’s up with me is my own business, Omega.”

“Yeah, but if you have to babysit on top of that-”

“I’m not babysitting you.”

“You literally put your coat on me and now you’re leading me along this hallway like I’ve never been here before. Face it, you’re a babysitter.” Your stomach twisted suddenly, robbing you of your breath and making you stop in your tracks. “Oh.”

“Omega? Shit.” Dean swore, glancing both ways before propping you up against the wall. “It's okay, you’re alright. You’re alright, it’ll pass.” He said softly, brushing your hair back from your face.

You tried to focus on his voice, tried to focus on his hands on your shoulders. “Dean-” You whispered.

“Shh, you’re alright. Breathe.” Dean urged and you nodded, trying to be obedient for this Alpha. “Just keep breathing, you’ll be okay. Nothing bad is gonna’ happen while I’m here, I promise.” His eyes lowered. “Is it your stomach?”

“Y-Yeah.” You choked out. “Hard to breathe-”

Dean grimaced and spread his palm flat on the lower portion of your stomach, applying firm, even pressure as he worked his hand in small circles. The heat of his fingers bled through your blouse and you whimpered, quickly biting down on your knuckles to stifle the noise. “Easy now, just relax into me.” He rasped, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ve got you.”

The pain in your stomach dissipated almost as quickly as it had arrived, and you held onto Dean’s arm while you tried to regain your balance. “What…God, I feel like I just ran a marathon.” You said finally, making Dean snicker.

“You probably blew through your caloric intake for the week. Let’s get you to the office and then I’ll find you a snack.” Ambrose’s hand stayed on your stomach, supporting you during the rest of the trek to the Omega office. You wanted to wonder at that, but you quickly crushed the notion. He was doing his job. Nothing more, but definitely nothing less.

He kept closer than he usually did, touching you with some part of his body for the majority of the work day. Fingertips, his jeans brushing your slacks or his arm bumping your own in the narrow hallways. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but after his curt behavior earlier it was entertaining to a degree. And confusing.

“I just don’t think I could do it.” He muttered out of the blue.

You glanced up from the pile of mail you were trying to sort, seeing that he was fiddling with his phone. “What?” You asked, making him jump.

“Oh, sorry. That was supposed to be in my head. My bad.” Dean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinkin’ about…well, it doesn’t really matter.” You raised an eyebrow and he swallowed hard, the sound seeming over-loud in the quiet room. “Uh. Jesus, if I hadn’t seen you earlier I’d swear you were an Alpha. You’ve got the stern look down pat.”

“Oh?” You wrinkled your nose, unsure if you were being complimented.

Ambrose practically lunged across the desk to pick up one of the bottles of water he had grabbed earlier, clumsily popping the cap on it and downing half the contents. “Okay, alright, you win, you can’t do that shit with your nose.” He gasped once he was done. “Look, it wouldn’t work between us. I ain’t never even thought about dating an Omega before!” Dean sounded outright panicky and you got the feeling his mouth was miles ahead of his brain as he rambled, “I mean, I have thought about it, yeah, but it scares the shit out of me. I just--if-if they have some kind of wave and I ain’t around, what happens? What fucking happens? People talk a lot of shit but there isn’t any hard proof, do Omegas want to bang whatever whenever? And if they do, why would--”

“Listen, I’d love to answer but I can’t. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Official orders from Omega higher-ups.” You interrupted Dean pompously, barely holding back your giggles when he gave you a wide-eyed look. “What, you don’t know about the network? We have influential Omegas stationed at key points across the globe, Dean. There’s nothing Alphas or Betas can do without us knowing.”

Understanding dawned on Dean’s face and he shoved your shoulder, giving an embarrassed laugh. “Shut up, I was bein’ serious y’know.”

“I don’t really know the answers.” You admitted. “I’ve been on suppressants since my first heat, and up until relatively recently they worked fine. So I couldn’t tell you. I doubt Omegas actually want to bang whatever whenever, but hormones are a funny thing. Especially if they’re combined with a fertile Alpha or Beta. Your scent makes me weak in the knees, sure, but I’m not about to jump you. With the half-strength suppressants the hardest part was dealing with the mental images.”

“Oh. Like when Brock was-”

“Ew, Jesus, don’t remind me.” You cut him off, covering your ears. “It was bad enough in the moment, God. I wanted to die.”

“Why do people do that shit to you guys?” Dean asked, “Just to get you wound up? Give you some kind of picture that’ll make your body feel even worse until you get some relief?”

“So that they can conveniently offer to be the relief.” You shook your head. “Guilting and manipulating an Omega into mating while they’re in heat ought to be a punishable offense. Nine times out of ten we aren’t in our right minds, how are you supposed to get consent out of someone who can’t even remember words anymore?”

“And that’s the ticket right there, isn’t it.” Ambrose growled. “Fuckin’ pieces of crap get an Omega riled to the point of incoherence and have their fun.” He gave you a sidelong look. “That uh, that something that’s happened to you?”

“No, not me personally. I’ve been very lucky.” You replied softly.

“Well you ain’t gotta’ rely on luck anymore, okay? I’m here. I’m not particularly lucky myself, but what little I’ve got I’ll happily spread thin for ya’.” Dean cracked his knuckles, looking very serious. “That’s why I signed on to this program anyway, figured if my Alpha hormones are fucked I might as well do some good.”

“How are they messed up?”

“Ah, I get weird dry spells. Months, sometimes. I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks. It’s like testosterone overload, I can’t get a straight thought through my head even with the meds. I’ll be like ‘I need food’, then two seconds later I’m out climbing my fire escape, stealing tomatoes off the balcony of the guy who lives above me.” Dean shrugged. “Probably naked too, if I know myself.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, I’m uh, not too bright when I get that way.”

…

Friday had come at last. It had been a long week and you were definitely looking forward to some time off. Ambrose was more fidgety than normal, to the point where it was actually getting on your nerves. Usually you barely noticed it, but today Dean seemed like he was trying to tap and shimmy his way out of his own skin.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, much sharper than you had intended.

Dean flinched, not meeting your eyes when he looked up and instead focusing on a point by your shoulder. “Yep.” He said shortly.

You quirked an eyebrow at his behavior, getting to your feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of your skirt. “Hey, if something is wrong you can tell me, you know. I’m not in anyone’s pocket just yet.”

“I just have to get through this shift. I’d appreciate it if you would drop it.” Was his stiff reply.

“Is it something that I did?” You asked worriedly, thanking God that you were at the end of your heat and your flush wasn’t quite so neon. “Did I say something? Did…did Brock do something?”

“This ain’t got anythin’ to do with you!” Dean said, his voice rasping badly when he raised it. He deflated almost immediately. “Sorry, I’m…sorry. I promise it’s not anything that you did. I just gotta’ get through today. I’m trying real hard to keep my cool here, Omega.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked, lowering your own voice and crouching so you were at eye level with him. Dean still wouldn’t look you in the eye, awkwardly shifting in his chair. “Hey, I’m serious. You take such good care of me all the time. Do you need a water? Something to snack on?”

“It feels like someone cranked the knob up to eleven and then snapped it off.” Ambrose mumbled, not answering your question. Then, “If something happens…”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m running down the hall to the lounge, getting you a water and some chips, then coming right back. Three minutes tops.” You promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “Let me take care of you.”

Ambrose groaned loudly, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. “Alright, okay, fine. Just be careful. Three minutes. I’m coming to get you if you’re not back.” He threatened half-heartedly, making you snicker while you stood.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” You eased into the hallway, making sure it was empty before you closed the door behind you. As you made the short walk to the break room, you wondered whether this was the beginning of Dean’s own proverbial hell week. Your heart went out to him if it was, you of all people understood that having your body go to war with itself was not a fun experience.

The vending machine was devoid of chips, but there were a few packets of crackers available. You fed it your change and then huffed in annoyance when the crackers got stuck in the dispenser. Pounding your fist on the side of the machine did no good, and you resorted to shoulder-checking it until it rocked enough to drop the crackers. “Ha!” You said triumphantly, retrieving your prize and turning around.

Brock was so close you all but walked into his chest and your heart sank to your shoes. “Well well well, if it isn’t the office pet. Where’s your cuntlicker?” Brock leered down at you.

You swallowed hard. Cuntlicker? “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Omega bitch. Where’s Ambrose?” Brock’s tiny eyes narrowed even further. “I owe him for the other day, after all. Maybe I ought to have you suck me off as an apology.”

“What makes you think I would agree to something like that?” You snapped, ignoring the faded response of your body that clamored to be claimed by an Alpha.

“I don’t need you to agree-”

“If you don’t want me to bite your cock off, I feel like my agreement is incredibly important.” You snarled, surprising yourself with your own aggression. “Also? Not even if I was out of my mind with heat, Lesnar.”

“Is that fucking so?” Brock’s hands crushed your shoulders, the large Alpha hefting you up and pinning you to the wall without so much as a noise of exertion. “Try again, Omega bitch.”

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” You struggled in his grip, kicking your legs and wriggling wildly. “You don’t own me, no one owns me, no one has any right to treat me like this so fuck you!” You proclaimed furiously. “I’m nobody’s sweet little Omega and I will tear your dick off if you touch me again!” You were screaming at this point, so incredibly outraged that you were seeing red.

“What are you gonna’ do to me? You can’t even fight back.” Brock sneered. “Until I decide to let you go, you’re stuck. So do me a favor and stop wasting my time, little bitch.” His fingers dug in harshly but instead of crying out in pain you spat at him, refusing to be cowed. “I know you’re gonna’ change your tune the second you see my cock, you Omegas are all the same. Once I wreck you, Ambrose won’t come within thirty yards of your sorry ass.”

You jerked your head to the side and sank your teeth into his hand. Brock responded by slamming your back against the wall so hard you saw stars for a second.

“Don’t push your luck-”

The door to the room opened and Ambrose half-fell through the doorway, barely catching himself in time. “What are you fuckin’ doing?” He asked Lesnar bluntly, his teeth clicking loudly at the end of the sentence. Dean looked feverish, his hair messy and eyes wild.

I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks.

You gulped. “Ambrose why are you so fucking obnoxious?” Brock grunted. Dean didn’t bother to respond, he simply latched onto Lesnar’s fingers and peeled one of his hands off your shoulders. You dropped to the floor and then with an ugly twist of his wrist, Ambrose snapped every finger on Brock’s hand.

“Keep it up, Lesnar. Give me an excuse t’ send ya’ ass t’ the fuckin’ ER.” Ambrose snarled. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? I figured you’d appreciate the black eye, but I guess you’re more hands-on than that.”

“You broke my fucking fingers!”

“You had the Omega trapped, not much choice.” Ambrose shrugged. “My job description is ‘any means necessary’.” His footing was unsteady, the slender man almost falling over when he managed to pull you upright. “Are you alright, Omega? Anythin’ hurt?” He asked, straightening out your blouse clumsily.

You threw your arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as you could. Dean stiffened for a second before he returned your embrace, holding you tight to his chest and cradling the back of your head like he had the first day you had met.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, quieter this time. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, I’m okay. I had it under control.” You selfishly buried your face in his shirt, inhaling his scent deeply.

“I noticed.” Dean whispered.

“You're gonna' fucking pay for this, Ambrose!” The larger Alpha swore, easily ripping Dean away from you and delivering a blow to the smaller man's jaw that snapped his head to the side. “After I'm done with you, you'll eat through a straw for the rest of your life!” Brock raged, his broken hand cupped to his chest.

Dean shook his head and then bared his teeth, blue eyes wide and pupils blown in a fixated stare. “And I was gonna' let you live, too.” He rasped, giving a harsh bark of mirthless laughter. He caught your arm and pushed you towards the door, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than he needed to. “Get Hunter, Omega. Be good for me, okay?” His scent was saturated with Alpha smell, strong enough to take your breath away.

“But-!”

Ambrose didn't have another second of attention to spare, throwing himself bodily at Lesnar and flooring him. The last thing you saw before fleeing to go find Mr. Helmsley was Dean straddling Brock, the slim Alpha ranting swears while the two of them swung wildly at each other.

…

What was left of Brock Lesnar was blackballed from King's Game and all its subsidiaries. Which may have stretched further than you had anticipated. Dean was released into the care of Rollins and Reigns. According to Mr. Helmsley he was a little too far gone to be trusted with driving himself home. “He’ll be fine in a few days.” The older Alpha assured you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He bounces back pretty quick. Tough kid, Ambrose.”

You spent the weekend quietly. You were shaken by the fact that while Ambrose clearly displayed dominant tendencies, he hadn’t ever tried to assert that dominance over you. He also hadn’t thought for a second about taking a piece out of Brock, recklessly lunging at the larger man.

Was it because Brock had gone after you? Or was simply because he had hit Dean? Ambrose had seemed to be in his right mind until he had been punched, then he had obviously lost the battle with his surging hormones. Now that you thought on it, if what Dean had said was true, Brock was probably lucky to be alive.

Dean wasn’t at work on Monday or Tuesday. When Wednesday came, you marched straight to the Alpha Program office and banged on the door.

Seth opened the door, staring down at you momentarily. “Uh. Yes?” He asked after an awkward pause.

“I need Dean’s address.” You said firmly.

“Ha! Pay up, Rollins.” Reigns called from his desk across the room, chuckling while Seth swore under his breath and dug into his pocket for his wallet.

“Why do you want Ambrose’s info?” Rollins questioned you warily. “He’s not in the greatest shape right now, and I dunno’ if he’s fit comp-”

“He lit into Lesnar and I want to know why.”

“Brock put his hands on you. Dean takes his job very seriously.” Seth explained like you were a child, making you bristle.

“But why pummel the guy? Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you. It just seemed like overkill is all.” You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to talk to him. Make sure he’s alright. I haven’t felt okay since that day and I…” You trailed off, feeling that familiar blush creep up your neck.

“Ah. Talk.” Roman cleared his throat. “I don’t know if he’ll be in the proper headspace for speech. But hey, maybe having you there will help him come back around.”

“Is he really that far gone?”

“The spat with Lesnar pushed him further than it should have. He’s been mostly non-verbal whenever Rollins or I check on him.” Roman shrugged. “He’s not hurting himself. He’s all bundled up in a blanket den like usual, it’s just that he’s not talking. Dean gets into his own head sometimes and there’s not a whole lot we can do about it except let him know that we’re there for him if he needs us.”

“Will he hurt me if I show up?”

“Ambrose ain’t like that.” Seth answered sharply. “He’s a couple sandwiches short, yeah, but he’s never violent without a reason. He thinks the world of you.” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “Uh, not in like…a creepy way or anything. Just, y’know, you’re important to him, I guess.” He floundered.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. “So give me his address.”

…

Ambrose lived in a rougher neighborhood and you were immensely thankful that your heat had passed. You weren’t sure you would have been as confident if it still had your body in its grip. Even in your right mind, you spent a solid five minutes talking yourself up in the car. “C’mon, Rollins said he wouldn’t hurt you. You don’t even think he would hurt you, you big baby.” You shut the car door behind you firmly, straightened out your skirt and headed for the apartment complex stairwell.

Reigns had given you Dean’s door code, stating that he was unsure if Ambrose would be able to answer the door in his current state. The lock clicked open under your fingers and you let yourself into Dean’s apartment, knocking your knuckles against the wood of the door to announce your presence. “Ambrose?” The first thing that hit you was the smell, Alpha scent so strong it made your head spin and knees weak. You braced yourself on the chair beside the door, trying to clear your head.

The second thing you noticed was that the whole apartment was dark. Daylight filtered in weakly through the curtains, but other than that the place was in shadow.

You put the small bag of groceries that you had picked up before coming over onto the counter, noting with worry that there were no dirty dishes in the sink. “Dean?” You called a little louder, thoroughly concerned now. “Hey, where are you? Roman and Seth said that you’d be here.”

Behind you there was the sound of a door creaking open. You whirled just in time to see Dean unfolding his lanky form from a pantry that was definitely not meant to be a living space. He spilled out onto the floor and laid there for a minute, before he turned his head to the side and groaned pitifully.

“Dean!” You dropped to your knees, forgoing your usual Omega propriety in favor of touching his shoulder. “Dean, oh my God. Are you alright?” After another long minute he raised his head slightly, dazed blue eyes trying hard to focus on your face. “Dean, it’s me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You said quietly.

Dean’s reply was a hum that turned into a low moan, his forehead hitting the floor again with a dull thud. “Om’ga.” He slurred. “Thought y’ were th’ guys. Y’kay? Lesn’r come back? I’ll geddup, ‘ll kick his ass again…” Ambrose struggled to do just that, shoving himself into a sitting position. He then inhaled deeply and you watched his pupils dilate. “Y’ didn’t need to come over here. M’ fine. Just been in my den.”

“Is that what you call the pantry?”

“Small, dark. Quiet. I need that when I’m like this.” His voice sounded shot.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You offered. Dean flailed an arm out until he caught hold of a drawer pull, hauling himself partially upright. You grabbed his free hand and managed to help him the rest of the way.

“Fuck’s sake.” He rasped, holding tight to your arm. The knuckles on his hands were still cracked and yellow-green bruised, presumably from his fight with Lesnar. “Feel like hot garbage. Why y’ here?” He asked wearily, his head lolling back momentarily.

“I’ve been worried about you.” You said, a little plainer than you had intended.

Ambrose jerked his head up to look at you, obviously startled. “You…what?” You propped him up against the counter and filled him a glass of water from the sink, which he quickly drank. “Om’ga m’ serious, wh…what did y’ say?”

“I was worried about you.” You whispered, twiddling your fingers nervously.

“Why?” Ambrose asked bluntly.

“I don’t know, because you got into a fight with an Alpha who’s at least twice your size? If I had just-”

Ambrose placed a finger on your lips, stopping the flow of words. “Y’ not gettin’ raped while I’m on th’ fuckin’ clock, un’nerstan’? Don’t care how sick I am.”

“But if I had let him-” You tried to continue your previous train of thought.

“No. There’s no gray area here, Om’ga. Not allowed. No is no, always has been. Y’ did th’ right thing by fightin’ back.” Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back to bump the cupboards. “I saw him fuckin’ pinnin’ you there an’…thought I was too late. Got so scared.” He confessed. “Needed you t’ leave. Wouldn’t hurt you, but…but I didn’t want y’ afraid of me if I fucked him up.”

“Is he at least fun to punch?” You asked dryly.

Dean’s drawn-out groan of a response sounded downright filthy. “So much fun.” He dragged a hand through his hair, finally seeming to notice the shopping bag you had brought in. “Whuss’at?”

“Dinner. I didn’t know how sick you were, so I um. I brought dinner.” You fought down the feelings of self-consciousness when Dean’s face became guarded. “It’s pretty basic stuff, but I know when I’m knee-deep in heat there’s nothing better than not having to make your own food.”

“Omega, m' okay. You don't need to--y'know.” Dean fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I already tol' y' that I'm a big kid. Don't have to take care of me or say shit I wanna' hear. Which one of th' guys put y' up to this? Bet it was Rollins.”

“Nobody put me up to anything, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, thoroughly irritated.

“It wouldn' be th' firs' time, is all. Don't mean t' be all weird abou'it.”

“I'm here because I was worried sick about you, and I wanted to know why you went after Lesnar so hard even after you got him to let me go.”

“Make sure he never did it again. He shouldn't have put his hands on you.” Ambrose snarled. “He talked so much shit when you weren't around, tryin'a rile me up n' get under m' skin. Fuckin' rattlin' on about how I mus' be fuckin' you, there's no other reason I'd take on the job 'cept to get first crack at an Omega, righ'?” He said bitterly. “It's Alphas like him that made me apply in the first place, an' look at me. Stooped to his fuckin' level th' firs' chance I could get away with it.”

“But you were on the opposite side of it!” You protested.

“It don't fuckin' matter. I went full rut-brain and hauled off on someone. Coulda' killed him.” Dean muttered grimly. “Been thinkin' about it this whole time. If Hunter hadn't gotten there when he did...Christ, was so fuckin' mad.” You wrapped your arms around him impulsively, hugging him tight. Dean actually moaned at the display of affection, his cheek dropping to rest on the top of your head. “Omega, y' can't...”

“I can.” You said softly.

“I won't prove him right, Omega.” Ambrose whispered, his hands trembling when he rested them on your hips. “I won't accept a reward for bein' someone like him, some domineerin' Alpha fuckstick.”

“I'm not a reward, I'm a human being. A lot of time and effort goes into me, Ambrose. I expect you to appreciate that.” You said huffily into his chest. “I'm hell on wheels during my heat if I'm not on suppressants and I don't fully understand how bad you get during your own spells, but I'm willing to try if you are.”

“Y' willin'?” Dean tipped your chin up, searching your eyes with his own. “Are y' serious?” You kissed him on the mouth instead of answering and he startled you with a gravelly whimper, his body going slack against yours while he cupped your face and kissed you back. “God, Omega, I've been goin' out of my mind, I wanted t' ask, wanted t' do it right.” He breathed. “I know I'm not much of an Alpha, m' skinny an' not nearly as dominant as I oughta' be, but...but God I want you. Wanted you t' want me, t’ take me as your mate.” He crooned helplessly in his throat. “Knew it from the first second I saw you, but you were so pretty. I don’t get pretty things.” He buried his face in your hair, rocking you back and forth. “I thought I fucked everythin' up when I went after Lesnar. Thought I scared you.”

“I was scared for you. I knew you weren't feeling well and I didn't want you to get hurt.” You assured him, boldly resting your hands on his hips.

Dean chuckled. “Ain't gotta' worry about me, Omega. Been in way worse shit than that.”

“Don't say that. I don't even want to think about you getting hurt.”

The Alpha groaned louder than you expected at your words. “I don't think anyone's ever not wanted me to get pummeled. You sure I ain't dreamin'?” You kissed him again, softer this time. “God, if I'm dreamin' don't wake me up.”

“Will you let me fix dinner?” You asked cautiously. “You can shower while I do that, might make you feel a little more human.”

Dean kissed your forehead, then teasingly rubbed his overgrown stubble across your cheek. “Not a fan of the mountain man look, Om’ga?”

“I didn’t say you had to shave!” You protested quickly, making him snort with laughter. “Just get washed up. Nothing better than a nice hot shower when you’re in heat, take my word for it. Yes, I know you’re not in heat, but I feel like a few of the rules are universal.” You ticked them off on your fingers as you spoke. “One, any food you don’t have to cook yourself is good food. Two, a hot bath is next to godliness. A hot shower will suffice, but it has to be hot. Three, if you need to cry because something hurts, that’s okay. And four, the most important one, be careful.”

“I ain’t gotten murdered in the shower yet, have I?” Dean looked troubled for a second. “Does…does it hurt when you have your heat? Where does it hurt? We learned that stomach soothe thing in our trainin’, but that can’t be all.”

“Ah, I personally get pains in the small of my back, my neck and shoulders. The stomach throbbing I think is universal, something to do with the reproductive areas going into overdrive with prep work.” You shrugged. “It’s so strange to me that there’s no concrete answer to essentially any Omega problem. It’s always a ‘possibility’ or some crap like that.”

“Tryin’ to keep you guys under everyone’s thumb.” Dean grunted, moving to scoop his blanket nest up out of the pantry. “More research means more informed folks like Doc Swagger, right? Can’t have that shit fixin’ their system.” He reasoned. His face reddened when he caught the incredulous look you were giving him. “My uh, my ma was an Omega.” He fumbled to explain, clinging tighter to the blankets as if they were a shield. “Never knew my dad.”

“Oh, so you’ve had a vested interest in that kind of thing.” You realized. Dean nodded wordlessly, ducking his face into the blankets. “Hey, don’t hide from me you goof, that’s a good thing.”

“Seth thinks it’s weird.” Dean muttered.

“Seth’s not an Omega, now is he? Of course he thinks it’s weird.” You chided. “I think it’s awesome that you pay attention to stuff like that.” You tugged the blankets down and kissed him again, smiling. “Now go get washed up.”

“God, just havin’ you around makes me feel more human.” He said dazedly. “Yeah, okay, shower. Goin’.”

You squealed quietly to yourself once you were sure he was in the shower, doing a giddy little shimmy before you started making dinner. He likes me! He’s liked me since the beginning! Your whole body still felt like it was buzzing happily from all the kisses and touches; you had never been touched tenderly by an Alpha before Dean. It had always been so clinical, as though being an Omega was contagious and no one else wanted to get infected.

Dean obviously didn’t give a damn, never shying away from the limited contact you had been bold enough to make. He seemed to welcome your hugs and kisses as well, so you made a mental note to do that as often as you thought you could get away with.

A still-stubbled chin rested on your shoulder and a set of strong arms wrapped around your midsection. “Miss me, Omega?” Dean asked, grunting when you wiggled back against him contentedly. “Think I’m about eighty-five percent human again. Makin’ mac n’ cheese?”

“Mm. Ultimate comfort food.” You nodded, continuing to stir the pasta. “Want to set your table, or should I?”

“I can manage it.” Dean pulled away, pecking the top of your head. “Thanks for takin’ care of me, Omega. Y’know you don’t have to, right?”

“I’m doing this because I want to, Alpha Ambrose.” You teased, making him rumble in his chest.

“Could get used to that.” He said finally, his tongue poking out from between his teeth when he smirked at you. The smirk vanished after you commented positively on his dimples, his face taking on a more bashful look while he set two bowls out on the counter. “Always thought they were out of place on the mug of a guy like me, y’know? Weird fuckin’ cherub smile.”

“You must have gotten away with so much when you were little.” You sighed. He grinned at you, silently indicating that he absolutely did. “Who am I kidding, you probably still raise hell.”

“Nah, Lesnar was my first fight in ages. There’s this thing called getting arrested, happened once or twice. Kinda’ not a fan of it so I’ve kept my nose clean.”

“Arrested? Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, it’s when ‘The Man’ decides he’s had enough of your semi-vigilante bullshit.” Dean snuck a taste of mac n' cheese out of the pot as you reached over to turn off the heat and he laughed when you swatted him on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, I'll be good! You gotta' hurry up though, m' starvin'.”

Dean, it turned out, didn't exactly have a kitchen table. His living room sort of...flowed into the kitchen and he apparently ate on his couch most of the time. He ended up hauling the worn coffee table in close enough to bump his knees when he sat down, then patted the space on the couch beside him.

“C'mere, Omega.” He urged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you obliged him. To your surprise, he scooped up a spoonful of cheesy pasta from his bowl and proceeded to feed it to you. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you chewed and swallowed, and Dean cocked his head to the side. “What is it?” He asked.

“You just said you were hungry.” You pointed out, tentatively accepting another mouthful of mac n' cheese.

“I am. But if you're my mate, if...if we're dating, you come first.” Dean said firmly. “So you eat, and then I'll eat.”

“How about we compromise?” You suggested, emptying your bowl out on top of his and then offering him a spoonful of your own pasta. “We'll eat from the same bowl. I'll feed you, and you can feed me.”

“Yeah?” Ambrose looked suspiciously misty-eyed for a second, before he cleared his throat and eagerly ate the comfort food. “M' old-fashioned, sorry.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “Never had anyone to share stuff with like this. I always thought I'd have t' bring a fresh-killed deer to someone's parents or somethin'. But I guess sittin' in my apartment eatin' cheesy mac ain't so bad.”

“Think you can live with the disappointment?” You grinned.

“Oh, I'll manage somehow.”

His quiet murmurs of contentment slowly turned into outright purring as the evening went on, and you found yourself petting his hair while the two of you watched television. “Hey, can you look at me for a second?” You requested softly, making Dean tilt his head up. “Hi.” You kissed him and he moaned into your mouth, seeming caught off-guard.

“Omega, fuck.” He breathed. “Hi. Huh.” He shuddered all over. “One more of those and I'll wreck my pants. Go easy on me.”

“Why? Do you get like it when I kiss you?” You asked, giggling when Dean nodded wildly. “What else could I possibly do to you, if that's all it takes?”

“Everything.” Dean growled, twining his fingers with your own. “Everything and anything is great. Kiss me, bite me.” He was all but begging, baring his neck and burying his face in your shoulder. “Bite me, bite me please.”

You blushed bright red, licking your lips at his invitation. “Are...Are you sure? What if I hurt you?”

“I dare you.” You mouthed over his neck and he sobbed out a breath against your shoulder, his body twitching. “God, please, please Omega, just-” Your teeth dug in, canines crushing down. Dean froze for a second, almost long enough for you to get worried. “Fuck.” He snarled, “Yeah, you're perfect.”

“More?” You asked, squeaking when he yanked his shirt off and pulled you into his lap. His eyes met your own and the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. “More.” You announced.

“You're my mate.” Dean replied, cradling the back of your neck when you nosed across his shoulder. “Whatever you want, just keep biting me.” You sank your teeth in harder this time, giving a growl of your own when Ambrose rolled his hips. Your skirt rode up on your thighs. “You want to go further, Omega? We can if you want to.”

“You say while I have a mouthful of your neck.”

“Hey, don't talk with your mouth full.” Dean scolded, carding his fingers through your hair. You giggled and he started laughing as well after a second, his smile warm when he looked down at you. “What do you want from me, Omega?”

“A lot of things.” You answered truthfully, pulling your skirt up out of the way. Dean's eyes widened gratifyingly when you ground yourself against the swell of his cock in his jeans. “A specific thing right now, if you're interested.”

“Jesus Christ, if.” Dean unbuttoned his jeans, biting his lip when you pushed his hand away and unzipped his zipper. “You're dangerous, know that?” He rasped. “Checkin' up on me, feedin' me.”

“I have to take care of my Alpha.” You said simply.

“Yours, Omega. All yours. As long as you'll have me.” Dean spoke just as plainly as you, cupping your cheek. “Until you leave.”

“I'm not going to.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” He watched hungrily while you shed your panties, rumbling when he saw the slick that shone in the dim light. “Fuck, you can't still be...”

“No, m' just wet.” You rose up onto your knees and Dean shivered in anticipation, his thighs tight beneath you. “It's much worse when I'm in heat, trust me. Half the time I don't even bother with underwear.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He sighed, gripping the base of his cock and giving himself a lazy stroke. “If that ain't a turn-on, I dunno' what is.”

“Good to know.” Dean's knuckles brushed the soft skin on your thigh and then he pulled away, letting you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You weren't able to hold back a moan and he echoed your noise, sounding desperate. His fingers dug into the couch on either side of his body when you were fully seated, and you panted out a few shallow breaths as you tried to get used to the size of him. “God, Dean.” You gasped.

“Oh Jesus, fuck.” Dean grunted, whimpering when you snapped your teeth back down into his neck. “Yes, good Omega, good Omega, bite me, mark me.” He urged, his eyes rolling back in his skull as you tugged at his hair and began riding him. “Best Omega, don't be shy little Omega, fuck me, fuck me-”

You leaned back, using your hold on his hair to make him watch his dick slide in and out of you. “You like it? You like the way I take your Alpha cock?” You crooned, his passive behavior driving you to quicken your pace. He still had his hands clenched into fists on the cushions, like he was afraid to touch you. “Fuck up into me like you mean it, Alpha. Claim me.” You demanded. His hips bucked once, shallowly, and you ground down onto him.

“Don't want to hurt you.” He groaned, his hands seeming to move of their own accord despite his words. Dean palmed your thighs, only tightening his grip after you nodded encouragingly. “Won't hurt you. Your Alpha's gonna' make you come.”

“Yes please!” You begged, leaning into his touch.

“Look at you, taking every inch of me. What a good Omega you are.” Dean praised, “You needed this, didn't you? Needed your Alpha inside you to fill you up. Alpha's here.” He thrust his cock up, snarling, “Alpha's right here to give you what you need, tell him what you need. You need it harder? You need it faster?” You could have cried with relief when he crushed you down to sit in his lap again, his dominant tendencies shining through. “Grind on your Alpha's cock.” He ordered and you obeyed, making him grit out a swear. “Hah, fuck, Omega, you're so tight around me, fuck--”

“I'm a good Omega, right?” You panted, and Dean pressed his forehead to yours. “M' a good Omega, make you feel good?”

“God fucking dammit Omega, this is the fucking best I've ever felt in my life.” He growled, “Come for me, c'mon, get my knot fuckin' slick for you, do it, do it-” The bulge at the base of his cock throbbed against you, prodding thickly at your pussy with delicious intent. Just the thought that something so big would be inside you in a matter of moments was enough to make you arch your back and grind down even faster, your pubic mound bucking against his stomach in a frantic bid for completion.

Your orgasm surged through you, sending jolts up and down your spine where Dean gripped you fiercely. In the midst of it all, his knot slipped into you and you buried your face in his shoulder, crying out loudly and circling your hips. “Oh sweetheart, oh God, God are you alright? Are you alright?” Dean gasped, trembling fingers combing through your hair soothingly. “Jesus, I'll stop if you're not alright Omega, need to tell me y' okay.”

You managed to give him a thumbs up, making him moan in what seemed to be relief. His knot throbbed inside of you and then he grunted, coming hard. You sucked in a breath at the sensation of being mated, claimed and proven worthy by your Alpha's knot like you were an Omega out of the history books.

“Fuck.” Dean breathed. “Fuck. I've never knotted anyone before.” He mumbled finally. “Never had it engage. Holy fuck, you're my mate.”

“I'm your mate?” You echoed, unable to hide your smile.

Dean appeared to be in the same boat, his eyes going wide with the realization. “I'm your mate.”

“You're my mate.” You kissed his forehead. “My Alpha.”

“My Omega. I...God, wow. That sounds...that sounds really great.” He smiled up at you, his curls a frazzled mess and blue eyes bright with affection. “My Omega-mate.” You relaxed into Dean's arms and he began humming softly, continuing to stroke your hair and plant the occasional kiss on the top of your head. “Take a breather, Omega. We've got time.” He murmured. “Sleep good.”

Sleep good.

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morsmordrehasbeensaved · 6 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS JESSIE, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS REMUS LUPIN WITH THE FACECLAIM OF ALFIE ENOCH!

Jessie — you know I think you’re an actual angel already, but for bringing us Remus and completing the Marauders? I didn’t know it was possible but I love you even more now. This was such a beautiful application and you really managed to capture his essence and character. I’m super excited to see him on our dashboards again!

Check out our acceptance checklist right here on what to do next!

♔ OUT OF CHARACTER INFO ♔

NAME/ALIAS: Jessie aka The WifeTM

AGE: 22

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY: EST, the bEST timezone. Activity is the same as normal!

TRIGGERS: REMOVED.

ANYTHING ELSE: REMOVED.

♔ IN CHARACTER INFO ♔

FULL NAME: Remus “Moony” John Lupin

BIRTHDAY AND AGE: 10 March 1960, 17/18 in game! I think we should celebrate.

PRONOUNS: He/Him

SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bisexual, Biromantic

EXTRACURRICULARS: Prefect, Charms Club, Dueling Club, and Magical Creatures Club are all perfect!

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

(+) Loyal — Afraid of the world turning its back on him, Remus holds his friendships dear. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for his friends. They have overlooked his greatest flaw, and so he does the same in return.

(+) Empathetic — Knowing what it’s like to live as the outcast, Remus can’t bring himself to make others feel as such. Though he takes no part in belittling others, to step in and stop such strife takes a courage he does not yet possess.

(+) Persevering — Even in his darkest moments, he remembers that there is also light. So much tragedy befell him at such a young age, but he has remembered that sometimes the most difficult tasks bear the sweetest rewards.

(+/-) Intelligent — Remus has a natural intelligence coupled with a studious nature that allows him to excel in his schoolwork.

(-) Reserved — Often quiet, he has learned to be content on his own. If everyone knew him to be the monster he was they would quite quickly shut him out. The pain of rejection has taught him to keep guarded and treasure the few friends he has already.

(-) Eager to please — His condition, though a big part of who his is, is not what Remus has chosen to define himself by. He has so much more to give and he is eager to prove that he is more than his condition.

(-) Insecure — Remus has known judgement and fear from a young age. Even those who assure him they see past his condition can find that Remus doesn’t always believe them.

BIOGRAPHY:

Trigger warnings: Self-harm, Depression

Remus John Lupin, even from a young age, had known of the evil that lurked in the shadows, the sounds and stories of the dark creatures who stalked the earth, and he knew of the mystery that shroud the things that go bump in the night. His father was an expert in such things after all, and what was there to be afraid of when your father, your hero, knew the secrets of every last monster and assured you that you were safe from them all? Perhaps that was why he slept so soundly that night, even at the tender age of five years old, when Fenrir Greyback slipped into his room from the window and changed Remus’ life forever. His own screams and the sting of claws in his skin and the bite on his shoulder were some of the most vivid memories he had of his childhood and they were the memories that replayed in his mind each night of the full moon where he became the monster of his own worst nightmares.

His condition had a name; lycanthropy. At least, according to some. Others termed it werewolfry, but Remus didn’t much care what it was called. Though his father could explain every facet and nuance of the condition to a scared and confused Remus, who now jumped at the very sight of the moon in any phase, Lyall Lupin, the famed expert in dark creatures, could not cure him. Neither could the hundreds of healers the Lupins took their son to, desperate to reverse the effects. Spending nearly everything they had and coming up empty-handed, it was devastating for Lyall and Hope when they finally accepted that there was nothing to be done and that their beloved son would be forced to live with this condition for the rest of his life.

Hope Lupin handled the news surprisingly well, though Remus suspected this was partly because she didn’t quite understand the condition as well as Lyall, but she always did have a particularly optimistic attitude even at the darkest of times. Her arms were always open, ready to pull Remus into a hug or sneak him bits of chocolate when he was feeling especially low. But despite her warmth, she could never fully ward off the chill deep in his bones at the approaching full moon. Still, she encouraged him to count his blessings and to find the silver lining behind every grey cloud and promised him that he was no monster.

Lyall Lupin had handled the news of his son’s lycanthropy much harder. Perhaps that was because he knew of the discrimination his son faced in the wizarding world, and the trials of his future. How could his son ever complete a proper education, find a job, or even someone to love him? Remus’ lycanthropy turned his father into a bitter man, the weight of his own guilt crushing as he took the blame for the attack when his son was so small. If only he hadn’t spoken out so publicly against Fenrir Greyback, if only he had placed additional protective charms over the home, then perhaps his son would not suffer from the monster he held inside. It broke his heart each night of the full moon to pull his frightened son out to the shed and lock him inside, listening to his screams as his sharp teeth and claws tore at his own flesh in his frustrations at the transformation and the confinement.

Each morning after, Lyall would unlock the doors of the shed, pull his son into his arms and weep with him before taking him inside to tend to his wounds. Hope would be just inside, dark circles under her red eyes from a sleepless night of listening to her little boy’s screams. Remus could see the burden resting on their hearts and at first welcomed their loving embraces, their gentle hands tending to his self-inflicted wounds, and the small pieces of chocolate they gave him with the promise that it would make him feel better. After a few years, however, he grew tired of the routine. Out of pain, fear, and confusion he would push their gentle hands away and lock himself in his room. A monster in a cage, he supposed. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? It was what he saw in the mirror anyway. He hated it, he hated the monster and the bitter resentment building inside of him. The shattered mirror couldn’t bring him seven years of bad luck when he was already living in hell.

Receiving his Hogwarts letter was not the joyous experience his classmates gushed about now and then when they recalled their fond memories. He only remembered his father’s hand on his shoulder, a choked apology, another warm hug from his mother and the bitter disappointment of losing something that he was supposed to have. Lyall promised homeschooling, that it would be safer and he would teach Remus everything he knew, but they all knew it wasn’t the same. The real joy came with Professor Albus Dumbledore’s visit where he assured the Lupins that Remus would be able to attend as any normal boy, with a few special accommodations to address his condition. Normal. Remus Lupin could be normal. With a chance for a fresh start amongst peers who knew him as nothing more than another student, Remus had eagerly promised Professor Dumbledore to do whatever was necessary to ensure the safety of the other students in order to attend.

Remus knew he was different from the other boys in his dorm or the rest of the students sitting around him in the Great Hall, however, and the weight of his secret was heavy on his shoulders. The fear of how his friends might react should they realize what he was, was even heavier. In second year, when Peter, James, and Sirius uncovered his secret, Remus had feared his time at Hogwarts was over. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew what he was, parents would write to the school to have him removed, and he would return home to his lonely isolation. It had come as a shock to him when the other boys didn’t run from him in fear, nor did they share his secret with anyone else. Instead they carried his books when his arms were too weak to lift them himself, they shared their notes when he fell asleep in class out of exhaustion from being up so late, and they covered for him when other students questioned his frequent absences or the marks on his skin.

Never before had Remus Lupin had friends like this, who saw his condition as nothing more than the occasional ailment. They overlooked his greatest flaw to see him for everything else that made him who he was. He did like charms class, and of course he knew what that creature was on the DADA exam. His favorite color was blue, and he didn’t think pumpkin juice was gross. He was a person, maybe a little different, but wasn’t everyone? Even the Prewett twins who were absolutely identical in looks had their own unique personalities and struggles as well. It was at Hogwarts that Remus Lupin realized that his struggle, though apart of him, didn’t have to define him.

In fifth year when his friends, his brothers, managed an incredible magical feat to become animagai did Remus find that the monster within could be tamed. It was only when locked away in isolation did his condition lead to frustration and rage, which manifested itself in the wounds he suffered for years. But with the company of his friends, and the freedom of the grounds of Hogwarts in the moonlight, he found that he was much more in control than he had ever believed he could be. Of course James and Sirius were able to keep his actions in check should they stray too close to the village, but after countless nights roaming the grounds and without a single fatality or injury caused by Remus, he found he was growing more comfortable in what was once his dreaded form and thus more confident in himself.

Remus had found his silver lining. For too long he had merely been coping with his condition, enduring the worst of it and trying to move on with his life otherwise. He had been successful in such endeavors, able to find happiness and peace despite his condition. To realize his friends had embraced his lycanthropy, and found a way to celebrate what made him different, well Remus realized that he didn’t have to merely cope any longer. For once, he didn’t dread the nights of the full moon, he looked forward to them. What had been his greatest fear for so long was something he actually enjoyed. Moving forward with a new confidence and a sense of true belonging, Remus flourished at school. He joined clubs, made other friends, he was even appointed as a Prefect. If he could do all of that, he supposed anyone could and he dismayed at the way the muggleborns and his fellow half-bloods were treated. He’d known discrimination for far too long and resolved to fight against it, eagerly joining the Order with his closest friends. After all, if his differences could be accepted and celebrated, shouldn’t everyone else’s?

ADDITIONAL INFO: If there was a way to attach my undying love for this rp and all of you to this app, I totally would.

#morsmordre accepted #remus lupin #hp rp #marauders rp #hogwarts rp

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wolfpawn · 5 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 34

Chapter Summary - Taylor's new song causes Danielle to wish she was a more physically aggressive person, but she keeps herself calm.

When Luke turns up on set, slightly miffed, his annoyance is quickly diverted from Danielle and Tom's relationship to Taylor, leading to him getting to know Danielle even better, what does he think of Tom's new flame?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum@nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

It took every fibre of restraint in Danielle’s being to not want to go over and slap that smarmy tart across the face as she gave the Safety Officer a sickeningly sweet false smile on her entered the set for everything she had said of Danielle and of Tom. Danielle remained right next to the head of the studio, who of course, would not miss the opportunity to suck up to the famous pop star. It was her best defence, knowing from Taylor’s demeanour that she would relish in getting Danielle fired.

“Well then, Ms Hughes, this is the placements for everyone, is there any issue?” the producer and choreographers asked.

Scanning the plans, her eyes widened. “You can’t do this.”

“And why not?” Taylor demanded, “Just because it hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it can’t. That is the difference between an artist and some set worker, you lack the vision to do something like this.”

“Actually, I am sorry to inform you, Ms Swift, this is not a revolutionary idea, it has, in fact, been done ad nauseum. The issue here is not the inability to do it, but the safety factors involved. That.” she pointed to a nearby pillar, “Is purely for decoration, it not for function. It is only plasterboard and other cheap, breakable materials, and is not attached to the ceiling, or indeed the floor. Your dancers are very much at risk if you have them dance too close to it, it could very easily fall over, and though it is not functional, it is close to half a tonne in weight, not something I could ever possibly sign off on as being safe.” She explained logically, loving the fact that every word she spoke drove Taylor more and more to the brink of a tantrum, knowing that she could not argue Danielle’s point without others thinking her as being nothing more than petulant. “I can suggest other safer areas if you’d like.” She offered the producer.

The rest of the shoot went as well as it could in Danielle’s opinion, considering the main person dictating the shoot was the narcissistic ex-girlfriend of her boyfriend who seemed hell-bent on getting a reaction from Danielle. The song, as Danielle had gathered, was not only slating Tom as a user, a manipulator and a cheat, but also ensured to hint that Danielle, or the ‘The Heeler’ the title of the song referenced to, was the reason for the protagonist’s pain and hurt. She just bit her lips together and made comments to the producer where necessary to ensure the safety of everyone on set; though were Taylor to be hit across the head by a low beam, she would not have been entirely heartbroken.

“Thank you for all your hard work, Taylor was right to specifically ask for you.” The producer smiled politely.

Danielle mulled over those words for a moment when something came to her. “I have never worked with Ms Swift before, how did she even hear of me?” she asked, playing innocent.

“Well, I assume it has something to do with your work on other music video’s.” the producer dismissed, thinking nothing of it.

“I have never done a music video.” Danielle countered.

The producer frowned, “Did you work stateside?”

“I have never been to the States. This is my fourth ever gig. Sherlock, a soap opera, Game of Thrones, Beauty and the Beast.” She listed off.

“Odd, she knows no one really on those; your reputation obviously precedes you, because she was adamant about having you here.” He shrugged and walked off, leaving Danielle very concerned as to how Swift knew her career change.

“She’s over there, black jacket saying S.O. on it.” She heard a guy instruct.

Terrified as to who it was, she turned, shocked to see Luke Windsor coming towards her, grimacing internally at the annoyed look on his face “Mr Windsor.”

“Ms Hughes.” He replied curtly.

“You do not look best pleased.” She commented.

“Perhaps that is because I am not.”

“Is it anything to do with my relationship with one of your clients?” she gambled.

“That is exactly what it is.”

“Have we been spotted?” She knew it was only a matter of time before they were, but she had hoped to have spoken with Sophie before being thrown to the wolves or crazy fangirls as the case may be.

“No, there is no hint of anything.”

She frowned. “Then I don’t understand.”

“Would you like to know how I found out my biggest actor is seeing a set safety officer?”

“Tom sending a drunken text?” she guessed.

“No, that would actually have been better.” He growled. “I found out when I was speaking with Emma, Watson that is, and she made mention that she has seen Tom quite frequently of late, and how she was delighted he found a, and I quote ‘great, down to earth and decent’ girlfriend.” He explained.

“I know you’re mad Tom didn’t tell you that your conversation with me fixed our little miscommunication issue, but I am just going to bask in the knowledge that the Emma Watson called me those things.”

“You were just as capable of telling me.”

“I am not your client, though. I can’t imagine your secretary putting through my calls.”

Luke made a face that told her he could not argue that. “Well, a warning from either of you would have been nice, I need to make sure that when this does become public, that I actually know what is going on, as it stood, I thought there was nothing between you.”

“Shh!” Danielle looked around to see if anyone was close by. Luke looked around confused. “I…Do not bring that up here, please.”

“Why not?”

“Well, one; I don’t want anyone thinking I got where I am by sleeping with an actor, and two; of all the days for that to be made public here, today is not the day.”

“Why not?”

“You have no idea who’s here, do you?” he shook his head. “Your favourite pop princess.”

Luke’s face fell, his pallor changing. “What?”

“People were wondering why she was in London; she is here to shoot her new video, in this studio, today, and guess who the song is about?”

“I am going to kill him. I warned him.”

“I know, but there is nothing we can do about it.” She soothed.

“How bad is it?”

“He manipulated and used her, and I made him cheat on her with me.” She explained.

“Fuck,” he shook his head.

“You need to go,” Danielle stated. Luke looked at her almost indignantly. “If she sees you here, she will make a big deal of this, you are Tom’s publicist so she will know we’re together. She already knows I’m working here. That’s already too much.”

“Well, if you knew she was going to be here, why did you take this job, are you actively looking for trouble?” he growled.

“I was told, under no uncertain terms, that should I leave set today, after my actual job, I would be blacklisted. She demanded me specifically.” She informed him. “How she even knew I was working here, or indeed that I changed careers, I don’t know.”

Luke’s brows furrowed. “She wouldn’t have known?”

“They were broken up when I moved into it, and Tom didn’t find out until a month ago. There’s no way she should know.”

“Unless she has been keeping tabs on you.” Danielle cocked her head slightly, “Why come to London to shoot a video, the company she is using,” he looked at the emblem on the side of a soundboard case. “That’s an American company, she flew it all here.”

“She wouldn’t have done it specifically for me.” Danielle dismissed.

“Wouldn’t she?” Luke challenged. “I went snooping on PR Barbie when she and Tom were linked. I cannot believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but I agree with Kim Kardashian, she is a snake.”

“Hey, we don’t even know that woman, don’t judge her.”

“She got famous for nothing.”

“Actually, she got famous for something; something I don’t think many people would be willing to do, but to say she maintained fame shows she is not an absolute airhead, she’s worth more than you and I are.”

“You don’t strike me as a trash television fan.” Luke eyed her up and down.

“Never saw her show, not overly bothered by her existence, I just don’t know her, and as a fellow woman, I commend her for doing well with her life.” She shrugged.

Luke was about to say something else to her, but his eyes flickered over her shoulder and his jaw clenched. He made a slight movement of his eyes to Danielle to inform her who was coming towards them.

Taking a deep breath, Danielle composed herself and turned around. “Is there anything more you need Ms Swift?” she asked, though keeping the words polite was difficult.

“So you were only after him in the end, that’s a surprise.” She snarked, looking between the pair. “I was right all along.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” Danielle feigned ignorance. “Mr Windsor and I are merely discussing his client and a future lunch between themselves and myself.”

“He seems to have only one client, and he follows him everywhere like a faithful puppy.”

Luke’s brows rose at Taylor’s comments. Danielle only laughed. “It wouldn’t be a successful PR firm if he had only one client. He has others, one of whom I happen to be a huge fan of, and whom I am working with at present, so with her being on this set, but having to leave early today to facilitate you, and him stuck in a meeting dealing with the premieres for this movie, he is merely relaying her message to me while here.”

Luke stared at Danielle, impressed with how she had concocted a story from thin air and had stated it with such conviction, he had to remind himself for a moment with was fabricated.

Taylor glared at her, “So you expect me to believe you aren’t sniffing around my scraps?”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you believe or not, it is no concern of mine. My only concern here was that nothing happens anyone on set when shooting, I have done my job, so I am getting ready to go home for the evening, perhaps get some room service, and see what’s on TV.”

“God, you’re boring.”

“Perhaps to you, but I’m happy, and that’s all that I am concerned with.” Danielle smiled, seeing the head of the studio coming, she decided to finish the conversation, even if Taylor didn’t want to. “Have a safe flight to your next destination Ms Swift, and thank you so much for asking for me today.”

Taylor’s nostrils flared at her manner. “What?”

“Well, I thought you would like to know that the money you’ve paid me for this shoot means I can take a month’s break after these few reshoots and spend it with those I love and get a new car, so thank you.” She beamed as the singer stared at her blankly. “You’ve paid for my Christmas and car.” She almost burst out laughing, loving how Taylor seemed to only then realise it was entirely true. “Thank you and safe journeys.” With that, she gave a wave goodbye to her superiors and walked off.

“You lie with too much ease,” Luke commented, having followed her out of earshot.

“I am dating an actor, I work with actors, all I see day and night are lies, people pretending to be people they’re not, people pretending to believe everything they say, you pick it up easy enough.” She commented, going for the exit.

When they came to Luke’s car, he stopped, looking at her for a moment. “I didn’t think I would be saying this, but you may actually be able to survive the gauntlet that being with Tom requires.”

“I hope so, but I’m not always sure. I am so scared of when we are found out.”

“Don’t you want to be with him?” Luke asked, confused.

“Yes, God yes. But it’s not really him and me in this relationship, though, is it? It’s us and every fangirl, gossip rag, and ex-pop girlfriend’s, that’s the worry.”

“If he wasn’t famous, would this be a concern to you? Would you be so sceptical?”

“If Tom worked as, I dunno, what would Tom be if he wasn’t an actor? I suppose something in literature, isn’t that what everyone thinks; then I would actually be happier, and probably not have spent five years of trying to convince myself I wasn’t completely in love with his dorky nutty ass.” She laughed.

“But he is an actor,” Luke commented.

“Yes, and a brilliant one.” Danielle concurred. “But it means we are not allowed be normal, are we? I mean, even you have an internet following, just because of him being him. I am just trying to get used to it Luke, I am doing everything I can to. I love him, I love everything from the fact he seems morbidly afraid of learning how to work a washing machine to the fact that his greatest brag in life is he can cook a breakfast, to even that weird attempt he does at dancing.”

“That fucking dancing.” Luke shook his head, causing Danielle to laugh. “What about the fact he is being seen as getting older now, getting…well, thinner haired.”

“If he heard you.” She scolded. “I guess he is going to get a few more ‘Dad’ roles in the near future, and yes, his hairline is receding a little, but if he turns out as bald as a coot, why would I care, he would still be the same dork that tripped over his own gangly limbs the first day I met him, the same guy that seemed to think it appropriate to make a sex noise because I made his tea right on the first go in my new kitchen, and the same guy who acted as though I gave him the moon when I got him a joke present of Baloo in the Disney store.”

“You really do love him, Tom the person, not the actor.”

“I met Thomas first, Tom came along after, and to be honest, being in the spotlight caused him to become colder, more clammed up in public, which startled me really, but when he is away from that, when he is behind closed doors, he is still the same happy sweet guy, thankfully. I was so scared she had destroyed that, it scared me so much; I wanted to save that part of him. When I fought with him during that relationship, I would have had it that he hate me for eternity than him risking becoming a cold person.” She explained. “Have a good evening Mr Windsor, and I’m truly sorry for any trouble today may cause for you.” She opened her car door and got in, leaving Luke slightly flabbergasted for a moment, before getting into his own car, mulling over her words, knowing that of any attempt Tom had at a relationship in the time they were working together, Danielle was there for the right reasons, and he found himself hoping she would be the one to stick.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 34 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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