#allison manages to restrain him but someone ends up dead anyway

[wiitzend]

we need more five and allison content. i’m particularly fond of the idea of allison taking care of five and doing things for him and five begrudgingly accepting her help while loudly proclaiming that he doesn’t need it. 

allison stitches up five’s wounds and ends up giving him cartoon bandaids for his cuts and he’s like ??? why the fuck would i want that?? and allison tells him that they’re mainly for claire and it’s all she has so he just sits back and lets her work

allison asks if he wants hot cocoa one night when they both can’t sleep and five goes on this tangent about how he only drinks black coffee despite the fact that it’s one in the morning

“i’ve literally killed people, allison, i think i’m a little too old for hot chocolate but since you’re already making some clearly i’ll have to drink it so it doesn’t go to waste and i guess i’ll have to get the whipped cream and marshmallows because we don’t drink half-assed hot chocolate in this family gosh.”

 “look, i don’t want to go with you and claire to the park but with our luck anything could happen to you guys at any time so i guess i’ll just have to come along and make sure you two don’t get murdered.”

allison ends up mending a lot of his clothes and five is all, “i’m in my 50′s, allison, it’d be pretty damn sad if i didn’t know how to fix the holes in my socks by now...but thank you i appreciate it.”

allison has had to wrestle five into bed to get him to rest because he’s a mess and if she doesn’t do it he’ll be up for another three days straight.

five, scowling over a heap of blankets: i’m the fourth horsemen of the apocalypse. i hope you know that.

allison, hanging his clothes up in the closet: okay

#headcanon that five wouldn't last a single day with allison in the 60's because once he sees someone acting racist towards his sister #he's already armed and ready to commit mass murder #allison manages to restrain him but someone ends up dead anyway #cue a b-plot of them trying to get rid of the body without attracting attention #the umbrella academy #anyway s3 better give me more five/allison content because it's what we all deserve #i feel like she doesn't mother him necessarily because she knows he's more than capable of taking care of himself #at least when it comes to fighting #but the more domestic things?? eating proper meals?? a regular sleep schedule? he's a lost cause #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #tua

[plentyelegant]

never mind about the shape I'm in, I'll keep you safe

(alternative title: Klaus just loves his baby sister send tweet)

Summary: After getting bested by their umpteenth threat to the world's continued existence, the siblings not only get scattered across the city, but their powers scattered amongst them. After waking up without his powers, a clue which of his siblings' powers he did have, or where his siblings actually were, Klaus starts looking for them... only to see possibly the most heartbreaking sight he could have imagined: Vanya, obviously burdened with his powers of seeing and hearing the dead... in a cemetery.

Words: 3.8k

Pairings: PLATONIC Klaus & Vanya (and some platonic Klaus & Allison near the end)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Sensory overload/panic attack. Discussion of seeing/hearing ghosts. Mentions of death, drugs, and Reginald's abuse (The Mausoleum). One mention of insanity (klaus being worried his powers might drive vanya insane).

A/N: This is my first tua oneshot! I've been working on it since Friday because... well... the idea wouldn't leave me alone until I got it out in a fic. I actually did it instead of finally finishing s2, so... it might be a bit ooc? But I hope you like it! Title from "S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W by MCR. Based on the second addition of this post of mine. <3

---

Well, Klaus thought, isn’t this just swell?

“Swell” was probably, by far, one of the most inaccurate ways to describe this debacle that he could come up with. Just earlier that afternoon - Oh, what a nice afternoon it had been! - he and his siblings were dealing with some threat. Maybe it was more nefariousness from the Commission, maybe they were preventing the apocalypse of the week. Who knew? Who kept track, anyway, of the fires they’d been putting out?

(Well, Five probably did. But that wasn’t the point.)

But it just so happened that this fire they’d been putting out had been able to best them and scatter them across the city. What’s more, this fire wasn’t an ordinary fire, but one like themselves, or that chameleon-esque one from the 60s. Maybe that fire had intended to erase or absorb their powers, and the act had been botched, or this was their intent all along. It didn’t matter, really; all that mattered was that this fire managed to give his and his siblings’ powers a whole switcheroo before scattering them.

(Alright, metaphors aside, it wasn’t a fire. It was a villain.)

Klaus’ only reassurance that their powers hadn’t been erased entirely (or taken by the villain for themself) was that, after they’d sent a blast out at him and all of his siblings, leaving the six positively reeling, Klaus had seen a very confused Luther start “blipping” everywhere, ala Five’s teleportation, before they’d all been scattered. Oddly enough, he’d been grateful for seeing that; if Luther had Five’s powers, it stood to reason that each of them had the power of another sibling instead of their own… right?

Well, it was what Klaus was going with.

But when he came to without any of his siblings around, a clue where they were, or that power-swapper in sight, he decided against trying to figure out which of their powers had been thrown at him. He may not have been the smartest of the bunch (that was either Five or Allison, really. Probably Allison. Yeah, it was Allison.), but even he knew it would have probably been a bad idea to see if he could control things’ directions like Diego, or rumor things into existence (or nonexistence) like Allison, or make use of Luther’s super strength.

And he could only imagine the catastrophe that might come about if he tried to use Vanya’s powers. The only one who knew how to best handle them was Vanya herself. And even she wasn’t exactly well-acquainted with them!

No, no, no. The best plan - if he could call whatever the fuck he was improvising a plan, which just didn’t seem like the right thing to do - was to find the others, figure out who had whose powers, and realize which one he had through process of elimination.

Speaking of elimination, as Klaus searched through the streets for where the other five ended up, he’d at least been content with the power-swapping ensuring that he wasn’t hounded by the dead as he attempted to round up his siblings. Silence from the ghosts was a pleasantry he’d never quite been used to, especially silence that hadn’t come along with either being as high as a kite or drunk as a skunk. At least, it made it easier to look for the others.

“Allison!” he called out as he walked the streets, “Vanya! Diego!”

Of course, sober or not, he still drew stares from passers by as he called their names. That was fine. He just had to find them as soon as he could. They couldn’t have been far!

(Well, they very well could have, but right now, Klaus took quite a liking to trying to reassure himself through falsehoods so he didn’t panic. It was fun.)

After an hour or two of searching fruitlessly for his brothers and sisters, he eventually turned into a lesser-populated street of town - a street which harbored a cemetery.

He winced at the sight of the large plot. He always hated going into graveyards; they only bombarded him with ghosts (which he’d never forgotten Reginald taking advantage of with that fucking mausoleum). Of course, the dead couldn’t do much to him now, since he’d been stripped (or relieved?) of his usual powers that afternoon, but that didn’t stop him from grimacing.

But his grimace fell when he saw someone in a patch of trees far off on the opposite side of the property from where he’d stood outside it’s gates.

“Oh no,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head, “Oh, no, no, nononono-”

He wished he was mistaken in thinking he recognized that quivering little frame, curled up against a tree with her forehead against her knees as she kept them close to her chest; he wished he didn’t recognize her all-black outfit from earlier, or her brown hair which she’d had her hands dug into as she covered her ears.

He’d recognized that posture all too well. Not from her, but from himself; from his days locked in the dark of that mausoleum, trying to cover his ears to block everything out and make himself small, because he felt small - and he was, he was just a kid - and curling into a ball because he’d had no one there to hold him but himself.

It was Vanya.

Vanya had his powers.

...And she got dropped in a fucking cemetery.

“Oh, fuck!”

Klaus half-ran, half-stumbled into the graveyard. Thankfully, it was nearly empty, and the few people there paid no attention when he ran across the yard, dodging and hurdling over headstones when he’d needed to. He’d dodged them on instinct and reflex alone, because all he could think about was that scared little ball up against that tree. He didn’t try to call to her; not only was he almost out of breath, but he feared that trying to call her name while she didn’t see him would just add to the bombardment of voices that no doubt rang out in her head.

As he got closer, the sight just became more and more heartbreaking, but it was at its worst when he’d gotten right in front of her, and he could hear her sobs.

“Go away.” she pleaded, a little muffled with how her head had been ducked behind her knees, “Please, please just go away.”

Klaus knew she wasn’t talking to him, but the ghosts. She wasn’t even aware of his presence yet. And he couldn’t let that stand, so he dropped to his knees and put his hand on her arm.

“Vanya-”

“NO!” she jerked away from his hand with a sob. He didn’t blame her - he would have done the same, after being left alone with the ghosts for…

...Oh, fuck, it had been hours since they’d been scattered. Hours since she’d ended up here. In a cemetery. With overwhelming powers of seeing the dead. Alone. 

“Vanya!” he said louder, trying to speak over the ghosts if he could have. Gently, instead of putting a hand on her arm again, he placed both his hands on her shoulders.

Finally, her head snapped up, and when he saw those big brown eyes shine with tears that hadn’t already joined the others that streamed down her face, it took all Klaus had in him not to start crying too. Instead, he just put his hands over hers. It wouldn’t do much to actually deafen the ghosts, but he hoped it at least gave her some comfort.

“It’s me, Vanny.” he said, hoping she’d hear it, or at least know what he was saying, “It’s just me.”

Her lips, which had been relaxed as they trembled from shock, contorted into a grimace.

She hugged Klaus so tightly that it almost winded him. Even with her powers being as incredible as they were, he always got surprised at how much physical force could be inside one little violinist. Still, he hugged her back, tight enough to reassure her while not making her feel restrained. No one really hugged him when the ghosts got too strong before, but if they did, this was how he would have liked it.

Klaus could feel Vanya grab fistfuls of the back of his shirt and hold them in what he aptly assumed was a white-knuckled grip. That was alright, he was just glad she hadn’t scratched him in the process.

“There’s-” she started, her head nestled against the crook of his shoulder, her voice shaking, so little, “There’s - there’s so many of them-”

Even though she couldn’t really see it, he tried to smile reassuringly.

“Ohhh,” He tried to make his voice as reassuring as the smile she couldn’t see. “Don’t pay any mind to those silly gooses, Vanny. All their snarling and shrieking’s just for show.”

Klaus could hear her sniffle against his shoulder.

“...Geese.”

Klaus twisted his neck a little to look at what was visible of Vanya’s face, “Hm?”

Vanya picked her head up a bit.

“Not gooses.” she said, her voice strained and her eyes red, both obvious byproducts of crying as she was bombarded by the spirits of the dead in a cemetery for hours, “Geese.”

Klaus rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Of course, of all the things that helped ground her, it was correcting his grammar. Still, he took what he could get.

“Oh, so you write one bestseller, and now you know everything about grammar, don’cha?” he said, smiling and giggling when he’d finished so she’d hopefully know he’d been trying to be lighthearted.

Apparently, it worked, because a smile twitched at the corners of her lips, and she laughed a hoarse little laugh…

...until her little smile fell, and that laugh turned into more shaking breaths again, getting deeper and deeper until she gasped with every breath.

Oh, no.

Of course, it hadn’t grounded or distracted her for long; she hugged him tighter and nestled her head against his shoulder again. But this time, she screamed against his shoulder, a sound that wasn’t made one bit less heart-shattering by being muffled. As he tried to stop his own lips from trembling and his own eyes from watering, he just hugged her tighter.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Vanny, it’s okay.” he said, his shushing more to sooth her than to actually make her be quiet, which he knew wouldn’t work the moment she shrieked again, “You’re okay. Just focus on this. Just on me.”

“I can’t.” she choked out, “I can’t - I can’t do it - I can’t-”

As hysteric as she was… Klaus knew she was right; she couldn’t withstand this. Not for much longer. Even after almost thirty years with the ghosts, he still had a hard time keeping them at bay. For years, he couldn’t. That’s why he’d started the drugs. But even his experience with the ghosts all his life, as nightmarish as it had been, was nowhere near as bad as what had been thrust upon Vanya. He, at least, had ways to withstand it, or keep it drowned out. Vanya didn’t have that.

And it was killing her.

It was killing his baby sister.

Maybe it wasn’t killing her, but without a way to quiet it, or keep it at bay, Klaus didn’t have any doubt that… that it could drive her mad. He feared it for himself, some days in his childhood, but that fear became so much more real - and so much worse - as his sister shook in his arms.

“Klaus. Please. Help me.”

But he didn’t know how.

She was in too much hysterics to walk out of here, and he wasn’t strong enough to carry her. He didn’t have any drugs on him either - even if he did, he was not going to give them to Vanya; there was no way in hell he was going to fuck her up like that. She didn’t have any of the mood regulators she used to take, either, which might have dampened the ghost-seeing powers just like they did her moon-blow-uppy powers before.

He didn’t know what to do. His little sister was in pain and terrified and he didn’t know how to make it go away.

...He had an idea.

There was one thing he could try - something he’d wished and asked fruitlessly for often when he was little. He didn’t know if it would work, but he didn’t know for sure that it wouldn’t work, either. If it could help Vanya, it was worth a shot.

“Vanny, I have an idea,” he pulled his arms away, “But you have to trust me, okay?’

He felt her head move in a frantic nod.

“I do, I do, I do, just - just do something -”

He put his hands on her arms and gently pulled them away and pushed her back a bit so she was right in front of him, and he could look into her eyes. He didn’t know if eye contact was necessary for this, but why risk messing it up if it was?

He took a deep breath and said something he wished countless times to hear as a child; something he’d probably look really, really stupid for saying if this didn’t work, and he didn’t get the power that he really, really hoped he did.

“I heard a rumor that the ghosts went away.”

…Vanya’s eyes clouded over.

Klaus didn’t think he’d ever felt so relieved in his life. Not even after he’d been brought out of the mausoleum, or when he’d needed anaesthetics to wire his jaw shut after he fell down the stairs, and he realized that drugs shut the ghosts up. No, this was more of a relief than all of that, guaranteed.

After a few seconds, Vanya’s eyes cleared up, going from milky white back to their normal brown. Immediately, she closed them as she brought her hands to the sides of her head, her little frame sagging with fatigue.

“Did it work?” he asked with a tilt of his head. Letting out a deep breath, she nodded.

“Thank you…” she mumbled, exhaustion evident in her voice as she opened her eyes, though her eyelids were heavy.

Klaus smiled again.

“Pure luck, Vanny.” he said, “That’s all that was.”

“Mhm…” she nodded a little, sleepy nod before her eyes fell shut and her head lolled to the side… 

And the rest of her body followed.

Though she was still kneeling, and it wouldn’t have hurt much if she hit the ground, Klaus still caught her as she fell unconscious, keeping her back and neck supported as best he could as he gently laid her on the ground next to the tree she’d been curled up against. Of course she collapsed; he knew how exhausting this must have been for her.

So, Vanya has my powers, I have Allison’s, and…

Klaus thought back to earlier, when he’d seen Luther frantically blipping around.

...Luther has Five’s. Great.

Well, it wasn’t like he could go searching for the others and figure out where the other three powers ended up. Vanya, laying flat on her back in the shade, was already dead to the world, and would probably be for a while yet, and Klaus would never just leave her here. Also, since he didn’t exactly have Luther-like super strength (or, depending on who got it in the switch… Allison-like? Diego-like? Five-like? Oh, now that would be rich.), or as much upper body strength as he’d like, he couldn’t carry her out.

No… the best thing to do was wait here. Whether he was waiting for one of the others to find him, or for Vanya to wake up, or for someone to kick the both of them out when the graveyard closed, he wasn’t sure. But he knew he’d wait right there for one of those things… preferably any but the latter.

Resigned and relieved, he moved over to sit up against the tree, next to his sleeping sister. With his back against the bark, he let his head loll back. Until now, he hadn’t realized how exhausted he’d been in all of this, after walking the streets for hours, running to poor Vanya, and finding her as he did…

It had been a full afternoon, and he decided resting his eyes for a bit wouldn’t hurt.

---

Klaus was lured back into the realm of the conscious by the sound of voices.

“There they are!” he’d heard.

No, not the voices of the dead he usually heard. Those would be with Vanya when (if at all) that rumor wore off (and honestly, he hoped it wouldn’t).

No, it was the voices of his siblings.

“Klaus!” he heard Five’s ever-snippety tone.

“Vanya!” he heard the worry in Allison’s voice.

He opened his eyes to see the rest of his siblings coming towards them; Allison and Five, who he heard moments before, as well as Diego and Luther. He let out a sigh. Thank fuck. He’d been worried that he might get kicked out first, as that would’ve been his luck.

It didn’t take long for them to make their way over to them.

“What happened-” Luther started, a little loud due to his concern. So it didn’t wake Vanya (or disturb nearby mourners), Klaus brought a finger to his lips and shushed him.

He pointed down to Vanya, still sleeping at his side, and put up his hands - and their ouija board-esque tattoos - in a flourish, a clear gesture saying that Vanya had his powers.

They all got it immediately.

“What about you guys?” he whispered.

“Well,” Allison started, still glancing at Vanya. “After I tried seeing if I could control where things I threw went, I figured out I had Diego’s powers.”

She nodded to Diego as he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder to stare down at Vanya with a troubled gaze, which almost looked… restrained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“I landed by a lake, so it was easy to find out with skipping stones.” she explained. Of course, leave it to Allison to find the most practical way to deduct which power she’d gotten.

(It must have been fun holding the family’s brain cell.)

“And after a few broken streetlamps,” Five announced, hands in his pockets, “Figured it would be best if Diego here kept a cool head for a while.”

So, he’s got Vanya’s powers. Klaus figured out. Makes sense.

It didn’t, but none of this did. Nothing in their lives ever did.

“And it took a bit to find Luther when he kept blipping across the street every time he sneezed.” Allison said, eyeing a very sheepish Luther behind her.

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“That means…” Five trailed off.

Klaus nodded.

“I’m all…” he brought up his hands and wiggled his fingers, “rumory.”

Allison looked between him and Vanya. “Did you use it?”

Klaus nodded again.

“Just to get the ghosts off her back.” he assured, looking down at his sister, “Ohhh, they just terrified poor Vanny. She was crying her eyes out when I found her.”

He looked back up at them.

“She alright now?” Diego asked. Either he was doing a terrible job at keeping his worry for Vanya out of his voice, or he wasn’t trying at all.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, she’s fine.” He waved his hand as nonchalantly as he could manage, as if it didn’t feel weird to talk about how “fine” his sister was after he found her crying her eyes out. “She’s just… out. She ended up passing out all on her own.” He shrugged and shook his head. “Wasn’t me, or the rumor. She was just tuckered out, poor thing.”

Five walked forward until he was right in front of Vanya, crouched down, put one arm under her back and one under her legs, and - much to Klaus’ surprise - lifted her with no trouble. Klaus’ eyes widened at the sight, and his eyebrows raised.

“Super strength.” he said, completely and utterly matter of fact.

Oh. Klaus held back a grin and stifled a giggle. Of course.

“Which means,” he grit his teeth, “it won’t be hard to throw one of these headstones at you if you let out that laugh you’re doing a shit job at holding back.”

Keeping a poker face, Klaus put up a thumbs-up.

“Come on.” Five turned around, “Let’s figure this out.”

Five started to lead the pack of power-mismatched siblings out of the cemetery, and even though he wasn’t sure where they were going, Klaus followed where Five was leading. That always took him and his siblings to the most lovely destinations, didn’t it?

He ended up falling in stride with Allison, who kept looking at the ground.

“So…” she lifted her head back up and looked at him, “You used a rumor on her?”

Even though she’d already asked that, Klaus nodded.

“If there’s one thing I know, Allie,” he started, “it’s how bad the ghosts are. Especially somewhere like…”

He gestured around them.

“...this. I felt pretty out of options, really. I didn’t even know I had it. Pure luck - that’s what we usually run on, right? Luck, I think, is the lifeblood of the Hargreeves.”

“You sure it’s not things going wrong?” she asked. Klaus shrugged.

“Hey,” he said, “the family can have two lifebloods.”

Allison seemed to agree. “God knows we need it.’

After another moment or so of walking, she laughed a little laugh - not really a laugh, but close enough to one that any other word would have been too inaccurate.

“I remember…” She let her gaze fall to the ground. “When we were kids, you’d always ask me to use it. All the time. When we’d come back from missions, when you’d have nightmares, when Dad let you out of…”

She didn’t finish that thought. Instead, she shook her head.

“...and I never did. I wanted to, but-”

“Alliiie, you don’t have to explain yourself.” He waved it off with a shrug, “I get it! Dear ol’ Dad would’ve lost his marbles. I never held that against you, and neither-” he put his hand on her shoulder, “should you.”

Allison nodded before she said…

“It might not wear off.”

Klaus gasped, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, nooo! That's... the opposite of a problem!”

Allison rolled her eyes.

“Klaus...”

“Come ooon.” he said, “Seeing ghosts all the time is, surprisingly enough, not all it’s cracked up to be. Kinda spooky, actually.”

“I'm just saying,” she said, a little exasperated by her brother’s sarcasm, “It might be permanent. Even when we do get our powers switched back. Sometimes… rumors stick around for a while.”

“Well…” he winced, “I guess we’ll just burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“You mean cross that bridge?”

At that exact moment, they both heard a loud sneeze and whipped their heads forward at Luther - or at least, where he was. Much to the other four’s exasperation (Vanya didn’t respond, as she was still asleep), he’d blipped across the graveyard.

“...Nope.”

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #mine #tua #tua fanfic #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #my writing #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves

[kittymaverick]

Mystery Case Files 21: The Harbinger commentary and review, part 2.

outSpoiler free review first: Holy SHIT GRANDMA studios, talk about knocking the ball out of the park. Not only was that a solid good MCF game to start off with, you’ve now set up the expectation for the next game so high, I’m honestly a little afraid for you. Like... do you know how high the bar is now that you’ve hinted about the content of the next game? Right, coming back to Harbinger for a second. Barring one tiny little slip up which I think was just something that got lost in translation (English is like that), the lore of MCF managed to stay intact, which needs to be applauded. At one point, I almost questioned if there might be almost too many references, especially with that happens to the references in the game itself. (Yes, I, the MCF nerd and fanatic, actually had that thought). I still flip-flop a bit on whether this was a good execution, or a good but shaky execution. For one thing, the way it’s executed... wow, that’s some heavy stuff emotionally. Which is why I’m questioning if that’s “good”, because I suppose there was a line of emotional heaviness I didn’t expect we’ll cross in MCF, but GRANDMA took it there. And so far... part of me is guiltily okay with it, but wow... The studio’s art style does suggest that a detraction from from MCF’s usual Elizabethan English Horror Story with a side of Soul Steampunk and Celtic Druidism would not necessarily be a bad thing. That GRANDMA chose otherwise though, and stuck with a very, very MCF story (albeit more limited to the Celtic legends part), takes guts. What I do wish we’ll get, after the next game, is a story line that’s a GRANDMA original, sort of like Eipex’s the Black Veil, because I think the studio has potential in creating something that’s more them without pulling away too much from MCF. Anyway, that’s the spoiler free review part. Back to my spoiler filled commentary!

Aisling: I know I act suspicious, but I’m just a psychic! MD: I know I’m just a detective, but people keep dying around me, so hey, we’ve got that in common. Aisling: James gave me this cube by the way-- huh? *Emblem of MD appears* ...I’m sorry, that ancient celtic emblem... has a bloody hat. It has a bloody hat. I’m DYING.

Realized I jumped back too far to do this retroactive commentary. Oops.

MD: Okay, well, maybe he isn’t dead yet. We could probably dig him out-- *Nigel turns to bone* MD: ...Never mind. He’s beyond saving. Someone get the coroner!

Six thousand mirrors in the room, and not one shows your face. MD: A technique I have perfected over the two decades of my career. Didn’t save you from getting married to a homicidal madman though. MD: ...I don’t think he picked me because of my looks to begin with.

...Hey MD, I know paper work wasn’t exactly involved and all, but did you actually divorce Charles, or did you just betray him? MD: *DEATH GLARE* You know what, pretend I never asked. MD: You’d better.

MD: Let’s see what skeletons Nigel has in his closet. You know, the last time you found skeletons in a closet, quite literally... MD: Shut up, I was trying not to think about that! (This happened in Key to Ravenhearst. The Skeleton was Charles and Victor.)

Okay, so James was a MCF fanboy, Marge you met on one of your American trips, Nigel was a Fate Carney, John worked on a restored Ravenhearst. I don’t want to say her Majesty might have under exaggerated the number of keywords there were going on here... MD: Oh no, she definitely made it out to be less important than it seemed. She also definitely sent me in because the report she’s going to get out of this is going to be spectacular. The idea that HRM might be the ultimate MCF fan in-universe tickles me with delight. MD: And fills me with utter dread.

Nigel’s shadow puppet theatre: I got fired from the carnival! Boo! MD: Nigel, getting fired from Fate’s Carnival probably saved your ass. Temporarily, until whatever is going on here got you. MD: .................... What? Oh... MD: Yeah. Oh geez I’m looking forward to the case after this now! 8D MD: Why is it that the more I’m tortured, the more gleeful you are?

*Telephone rings* MD: Hello? Marge: HELP ME SOMETHING IS HERE AAAAHHH Well shit. MD: Yeah, she’s done for. Let’s go see the body.

*Gibs collects collectibles before going to body* *I die laughing because that’s my priority too*

MD: Oh no Marge I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you in time... ...Yeah right, says the person who doesn’t want to get their hand on the black stuff. MD: Look, my sorrow doesn’t in anyway override my desire for hygiene, okay? Reminds me of that one time I called some detectives from the last century dandies for refusing to stick their hand into a barrel of rainwater...

MD can I point out how you’re making detailed sketches of MARGE’S BODY in your journal? MD: Look it’s this or pyromania, okay? Don’t judge me. Also, I’m starting to think people that meet you on your cases shouldn’t bother locking their diaries. You always manage to crack them open.

Marge: Oh James is such a darling, I should get him to marry my daughter, then I’ll be such a happy mother-in-law. .............................. MD: ...................... Well, um, I guess Marge was a cougar on the inside, maybe? MD: Yeah, let’s phrase it like that (Restrain desire to make crude NSFW jokes...)

Marge: DAMN THAT GIRL FOR STEALING MY BOY. Marge, seriously, there’s officer Davis. I’m sure he’s just as nice! MD: And not on anyone’s death list. For now. MD: Don’t say that...

Davis: Well, I guess that’s one more evidence against Aisling. HOLD IT! MD: This note here shows clearly that Marge intended to frame Aisling for an attack on her! And the diary entries clearly document how much she hates the suspect. Therefore, the evidence shouldn’t be permissible-- Davis: Yeah, but Marge is dead, and there really isn’t anyone else in town left. *Record scratch* MD: ....It could be... you? Davis: Harhar, look here’s the evidence, go talk to Aisling. MD: Urgh, fine. It’s okay, MD, I was rooting for you there at least!

Aisling: Death, death is all around us! *Flees* MD: Okay, Aisling, that’s really not helping and only making you more suspicious! But since you’re away, I’m going to rifle through your trailer. Um, now who’s suspicious???

Hm, you know, this place would have been great for a holiday spot. MD: I don’t know, given my records with holidays... ...True, you’ll probably end up doing exactly what you are doing now. MD: That said, I think I’ll take a slice of apple pie since no one’s looking. Does the agency pay for your food on your cases? MD: They’d better because I’m giving the recipes to Her Majesty if they don’t...

Aisling: I came here to save John but he’s locked upstairs, please help! MD: Um, if you had let me come with you... maybe some time could have been saved? Aisling: But what if I get killed first then? MD:........ She’s got a point. MD: Dammit, fine...

Hm, so John’s ancestor worked on the original Ravenhearst... We’ll probably need to open up the original game to see if that was the guy that fell from the construction site. (My guess is it’s not, because that carpenter was originally meant to be Rose Summerset’s husband, so it should have been Summerset. Plus Rose’s kids were the twins and Victor.)

Oh damn, a model of Ravenhearst-- MD: Hm, it’s missing a weather vane. ........... MD: Look, just because I burn the place down several times, doesn’t mean I don’t care what it looks like, okay? Can you point out the window that you escaped out of by any chance? 8D MD: *sighs* This one...

Aisling: John, NOOOOOO. MD: Right, gotta cut him down quick! He might still be alive. *Proceed to spend over minutes solving puzzles* MD: I swear, this happened very fast in actuality... Never as fast as the plot demanded though...

*Puts weather vane on model* *Model turns into a raven* MD: ???????????????? Okay, I need to take points off for THAT ridiculous transformation and animation. XD

Aisling: I can’t take this anymore! MD: I know this is hard, Aisling-- Aisling: Here’s the next slab, btw. ....This mood whiplash... I’m dying.

Um, so apparently the banshee wasn’t trying to destroy the world, but was trying to restore herself, which... you disrupted. MD: Look, Allison and her friends needed rescuing okay? I couldn’t just sit idling by. ...If that was disrupted, then how DID Aisling turn human then??? MD: .....Let’s save that mystery for another time because I feel a headache incoming... (Fix edit: It seems to imply that the ritual was only disrupted, not failed, so Aisling did get her skin back, though now she doesn’t remember being a banshee...)

Aisling: I’m a banshee? That’s... That’s impossible. MD: Well, I’ve been through a lot to say most impossible things are actually probable in reality, though if you somehow don’t remember me shoving you back into the cave, um, then I’m grateful. Once you do, please don’t kill me. BTW, your turn on the cube of mystery!

Aisling: Well, if I’m a banshee, I guess I should go back to Dire Grove. We can catch the next ferry. MD: You know that’s a really long trip right? It might take us the better half of a day-- Or a single puzzle’s worth of time. MD: ...Where was THAT kind of fast travel all these years??? I do like how it’s implied that you guys had a huge detour with picking people up and dropping them off though.

Ais: Okay, we’re here in Dire Grove-- AH! MD: Wow, even nature is saying NO to you. Ooooooor it could be a certain immortal druid-- MD: Please don’t. It’s fine! We have a banshee. MD: All she does is predict death! Oh yeah, forgot about that...

*Aisling gets “kidnapped” by green energy* Gibs: That can’t be healthy. MD: That’s honestly pretty normal at this point for us. At least she didn’t get dropped down a tube.

Um, what’s with the Chinese incense in a Druid’s domain? X’D (I’m going to pretend they traded that...)

(I honestly don’t have a lot of stuff to comment on in the section in Dire Grove, because there isn’t much to snark about. Which, I guess, comes to show that 99% of silliness comes from MD dealing with PEOPLE, alive, dead, revived, or otherwise not really a human.)

*Aisling goes back to banshee form* MD: First, no hard feelings about last time, right? Aisling: *stares* MD: Please, thank you, and I’m sorry??? Aisling: You did help me out, so I guess it’s fine. MD: *sigh of relief* BTW, four people technically did DIE though in the process. Aisling: Um, that wasn’t me, if you recall your lore correctly. MD: True enough, but STILL. Just pointing it out. You want her to scream in your ear? She’s still got time for that.

Aisling: BTW, this energy is still floating about. And I think I know why. Will you accept this energy and use it to save the world? MD: Oh hold ON a minute. You want ME to do WHAT? Aisling: Save the world. You heard what I said. MD: Okay, listen. I started this detective job mostly because I thought it was cool... (MD’s going to be at this for a while. Are you going to listen, Aisling? A: To be honest, I’ll probably stop around the part where MD apologized for shoving me back into the cave... By the way, want to hear my part of the story on how I turned back into a banshee? Sure!) *****************************************************************

HOW AISLING BECAME A BANSHEE, AGAIN. Aisling: To make a long story short, there was a lot of puzzles Puzzles which you had to personally solve, without MD’s help? Aisling: It really makes you appreciate how hard MD has had it for the last 21 years...

Did... did you just KILL four people to restore your spirit? Aisling: I just helped their soul cross over! I swear! Aisling, you’re being really SUS right now and I’ve practice how to spot a liar lately! Aisling: I only predict deaths! And then find the souls and tell them where to go. I swear that’s my task. EVERYONE VOTE AISLING AISLING IS THE IMPOSTER

Is one of your abilities literally “summon joyride”???? Aisling: it’s a carriage A carriage can be an awesome joyride if you use it irresponsibly Aisling: How does MD tolerate you? They don’t, they’ve just had worse company and I’m a lesser evil. 8D

Aisling (actually Gibs): *suffers through the last giant super puzzle* ...Yeah, REALLY makes you appreciate what MD goes through. Aisling: Is it always this bad??? Sometimes. I’ve seen worse.

Gibs: THAT CARRIAGE IS BADASS. See, I told you it was a joyride. Aisling: You know, I think I’ll float back to the MD. No joyrides. Awwwwwwwwwwww... Okay, now let’s rewind back to when MD started their rant. **************************************************

Aisling: BTW, this energy is still floating about. And I think I know why. Will you accept this energy and use it to save the world? MD: Oh hold ON a minute. You want ME to do WHAT? Aisling: Save the world. You heard what I said. MD: Okay, listen. I started this detective job mostly because I thought it was cool, and it was for the first couple of cases where all I had to deal with was bust the criminal organization STAIN and recover the Hope diamond for the Queen. But then that’s where all my trouble started because she sent me to this creepy manor which turned out to be a prison to not one, not two, but FOUR ghosts. What’s even worse is the first time I went, I thought I only had to rescue Emma. I was wrong, and for the longest time, I thought Fate Carnival folks were dying from my mistake. Turns out later it was completely personal. This was everything that happened before I met YOU. (Again, really sorry about kicking you back into the cave and getting you stuck in the situation you were in in the last who knows how many years...) Afterwards, I went to the Louisiana which got me on the bad side of a certain ghost pirate, who turned out to be the grandfather of the guy killing the carney folks from his mother’s side. Which was why he was killing them by the way. She sold him to Fate’s Carnival. Anyway, after figuring out that I’ve dun goofed, I went back to Ravenhearst manor, which turned out there was a WHOLE OTHER SECTION I didn’t discover last time, which was somehow a very personalized and twisted marriage proposal that I didn’t notice until too late. I burned THAT down for good measure before taking a break in some place near a lake. But then that guy’s FATHER took up issue with what I did, which I didn’t even started, to be honest. He tried to kill me for whatever grudge it was that he had. I had to stab his horocrux with my badge to get him to stop that time. But then it turns out that father ALSO has some offspring here in Dire Grove, and I had to come back to prevent THAT from going down in flames as well. Thankfully, I think they remained sane. I can’t say the same for the twins, who turned out to be the evil guy’s kids. They most definitely went insane, and REMADE Ravenhearst, which I had to burn down for THE THIRD TIME. All that plus the jump I took landed me in an asylum, which turned out to be the one where both the evil bald guy and his dad was imprisoned once upon a time. Of course, the guy’s father tried to kill me, AGAIN. Took care of that, and also removed the shard that was driving me bonkers. It only gets worse from here though. I got chased around by an woman with a clock for her heart who I had to defenestrate out a clock tower. She didn’t stab me, but then the guy who probably ENGINEERED MY ENTIRE LIFE did, because apparently he wanted to use my soul’s virtue to anchor death to the mortal world or something. I got an immortality feather out of that, I guess, so it wasn’t too bad, but I basically DIED. And then afterwards there was that undead guy who was really hung up about his biker jacket. Next was the evil guy’s ancient youngest son nearly destroying the world (4th wall break: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT) trying to revive him which thankfully DIDN’T HAPPEN BECAUSE OH GODS I WOULD HAVE DIED FOR REAL ON THE SPOT IF IT DID, FEATHER OR NOT. Then a creepy woman in a mirror had to be locked back into the mirror dimension. And that’s when my agency had a fucking SECURITY BREACH which turned out to have been in the making for YEARS. And then the pirate guy came back and nearly enslaved me. I had to blow up his ship and exorcise him from this world. And AFTER all of that, I was finally sent to Blackmoor, where I met YOU, and also saw a bunch of people marginally related to me die from a cause we still don’t have any answers for. *DEEP INHALE*

Aisling: Okay, so your point is.... MD: My POINT is.... out of ALL the sane and wholesome people in the world who don’t have ANY BAGGAGE whatsoever, why do I, the Master Detective, have to be the one to save the world here-- Charles: Hello. MD: *SCREEEEEEECH*

CHARLES IT’S BEEN FOREVER-- wait, you’re not here to serve the divorce papers are you? Charles: Of course not. I’m asking MD to come back home with me. MD: WHAT?! Charles: Where else would I welcome you back to? *Evil cackle* ......... 8D8D8D8D8D8D8D8D Aisling: ........... :| :| :| :| :| :| :| :| :| MD: .................D:< D:< D:< D:< D:< D:< D:< MD: Aisling, hand that energy over, I’ve a WORLD TO BURN.

I have to point this out... the last time we saw Charles IN THE FLESH in game, was Escape from Ravenhearst, which was NINE YEARS AGO, likely TEN by the time Crossfade comes out. Happy Tenth Anniversary of your wedding, Master Detective? 8D

MD: AS IF.

#Mystery Case files #The Harbinger #MCF

[philosophiums]

Closing Time - TFCFansgive fic

This is the fic that I did for @curlyhairedneil through @tfcfansgive. Hopefully this turned out alright!! I won’t lie, I really super struggled with the prompt, because we all know I’m not one for fluff writing, but this was... admittedly a lot of fun once I finally figured out where I wanted the story to go.

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Neil doesn’t know what to do on a snow day. Not that he considers this much of one. There’s barely a dusting on the ground, hardly enough to even call it snow. It’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, if not later this evening. He doesn’t get it. Classes – canceled. The whole school – shut down. Even Wymack, the betrayer, had called off Exy practice for the day. It’s not that Neil doesn’t get that, regionally, this is a lot of snow. It’s not even an inch, but to people who live here, who make a home in the south east, this is an abomination. Neil’s been here for three years – has called himself a Fox for three years, holy shit – and they’ve never called a snow day before. It’s unprecedented.

And yet all Neil can see when he looks out the dorm window is a lack of ice and perfect running conditions.

“We’re not going out there,” Andrew says from his spot on one of the bean bags. Kevin is at his desk doing homework. He’s been grumbling for the past fifteen minutes about stubborn coaches and unreasonable fathers. Apparently, not even Kevin could win Wymack over. The court is closed to them.

He should take a page out of Kevin’s book and get caught up on some homework. His chemistry is falling a bit short, but it’s fine because he’s still managing to maintain his GPA. Neil’s already done the math for that. He’d still be eligible to play even if he gets a low D in the class. And thank god, because Neil doesn’t understand the subject and his tutor is atrocious.

“Do your homework,” Andrew says as Neil drops down onto the sofa beside him, heaving a great sigh of boredom.

“No.” Neil stares at the ceiling and then at Andrew’s lap, debating.

“Yes,” Andrew says, and Neil can’t tell if it’s to maintain their argument or if it’s an invitation, but he takes it as the latter and settles down with his head on Andrew’s lap. Neil likes the way Andrew’s eyes track his progression all the way down until he’s on his back, neck at a bit of an uncomfortable angle, but it’s fine because Andrew is watching, looking. It makes Neil warmer, as if it wasn’t winter outside at all.

Kevin puts in his headphones and turns on an Exy game. Neil had known that the homework wouldn’t last long, especially since it was for his literature class and not any of his three history classes. It’s still nice to know that anything Neil says to Andrew and vise versa will be in confidence.

Neil waits for a staring comment from Andrew, but what he gets instead is a hand in his hair as Andrew returns his attention to the television. Neil doesn’t know what’s on, doesn’t care. He watches Andrew the way Andrew watches the show, taking in the reflection of the screen in Andrew’s glasses only to the extent that he likes the way the colors play on Andrew’s amber eyes beneath the lenses. He hums when Andrew takes to lightly scratching his nails over Neil’s scalp, and Neil likes the way Andrew’s jaw works like he’s trying impossibly hard to restrain himself from looking at Neil at all.

There was a time in his life – a long, long time – when this, here with Andrew, wasn’t even a thought in Neil’s head. It wasn’t even a fever dream. Neil knew his life was running and running and lying, was new identities and his mother’s backhand when he fucked up their backstory. Teenage hormones had gotten him a secret kiss that had turned out in the end to be not as secret as he had thought – and nothing special anyway. It hadn’t been worth the beating, hadn’t set off anything inside of Neil that kissing Andrew had – does.

Kissing Andrew is… different. It’s something Neil is afraid will be taken from him one day, something that could be used against him. Every kiss could be the last, every moment like this could be taken away from him so quickly, so easily. His father is dead, Lola is dead, Romero is dead, but there are so many, many others. And on top of it all, there’s Ichirou. Neil could wake up one day and his life could be in ruins.

So when moments like this come – no classes, no practice, an invitingly comfortable Andrew to lounge against, Neil knows better than to wish for anything else.

Neil tracks time by episode changes. They’re all half-hour segments, short little skits that Neil still finds too long and uninteresting. The tropes are boring, and Neil hates how poor the acting is, how the information is never tied together properly and how most of the “facts” are presented through a screen of bullshit. The plots are predictable, all following the same arch, the same path. The jokes are subpar and bourgeois. He’s never asked why Andrew likes them because it never seemed relevant; there were more important truths to be shared.

“Why do you watch them?” Neil asks during a commercial break. Andrew mutes the television and looks down at Neil. “If I spewed half of the nonsense coming from these shows, you would knife me.”

Andrew gives him a look which clearly tells him to not be so dramatic and then returns his attention to the still-muted television.

Kevin swears into the silence, then mumbles something about the stats of the game he’s watching. Neil picks up on the scribble of a pencil and wonders if Kevin is going to assign him this particular game to watch at a later date – tomorrow, most likely.

“I watched them in juvie,” Andrew says, pulling Neil’s focus where it should never have strayed from. The position of his neck is getting uncomfortable, but he doesn’t dare move. If he pulls away now, Andrew might stop talking, and Neil would rather die. “It was always funny to me,” Andrew continues in a humorless tone, “that the detention center allowed us free range on the television for an hour each day, but most of my foster homes wouldn’t even let us look at their screens.”

Thinking about Andrew’s past is never fulfilling for Neil, in the same way that he would rather never think about his own past. It happened, it was awful, and he doesn’t want it to keep affecting who he is today. Neil was never allowed to watch TV shows either, unless it was the news or it was a requirement for class – and those were usually documentaries. It was only when Neil showed up here, rooming with Seth and Matt, that he was allowed television. And despite Neil never taking advantage of Matt’s open invitation to watch sports other than Exy or Allison’s near-insistence that Neil watch some reality show with her, Neil can empathize with Andrew, with the juxtaposition of gaining a freedom in a place that should have been his prison.

But, for all of the hideous events that they have survived, television is not something worth weeping over.

So Neil snorts derisively and gives his head a small shake. “And of all of the channels available on cable network, you chose this one?”

Andrew blinks quickly enough for Neil to count it as surprise. Of course, Andrew chose the channel in juvie. Andrew has been frightful since day one, and Neil doubts that Andrew has ever allowed himself to be weak. Juvie would have been the perfect opportunity for him to bulk up, to punch someone hard enough to knock a tooth, to gain some semblance of control for the first time in his life.

It’s not surprising when Andrew tugs at Neil’s hair, signaling him to sit up. It’s also not surprising when Andrew immediately stands and makes his way to the kitchenette. But Andrew’s crooked finger is intriguing enough to unfold Neil’s legs and get him off the sofa. He glances just once at Kevin, sees his nose mere inches from the screen, and decides to just let him go blind.

Andrew pins Neil with a yes or no the second he’s in the kitchenette. The answer is yes, always yes, and Andrew’s mouth is a fire trying to fend off South Carolina’s poor excuse for a winter. Neil winds his fingers through Andrew’s hair to tug him along as he backs himself into the counter. He likes being here, something solid at his back and Andrew at his front. It doesn’t feel like being pinned for dissection. It feels… good. It feels like home, like reassurance, like Andrew’s hot breath against Neil’s wet lips as they break apart for a quick grab of air.

They don’t need words, don’t need misguided and ambiguous ‘thank you’s. They don’t even need to trade one calm assist for another.

Andrew kisses Neil once more, just as intense but not for as long, and then pulls away.

“We’re out of ice cream,” Neil says, half-amused when Andrew beelines for the freezer. They haven’t eaten supper yet – fuck, they haven’t even eaten lunch yet – but ice cream is an easy way for Andrew to, well, cool down after a mention of his past. Andrew stops before his fingertips even brush the freezer’s handle. Neil waits for Andrew to open the door, to double check as if looking for himself might make the ice cream appear, but he’s mildly surprised when Andrew instead turns back to Neil. Being the recipient of trust is still a new sensation.

“Who ate the last of my ice cream?”

Nicky did. “I don’t know,” Neil says, and he knows that Andrew knows he’s lying. But Andrew doesn’t call him out except to frown a little deeper. “We could always go get some.”

That suggestion is greeted with indifferent eyes and a simple, “It’s snowing. Everything is shut down.”

“I’m sure Walmart is open.”

“That’s in Columbia.”

Neil shrugs. “Good thing you own a car.”

“I’m not going to drive in this weather.”

Neil has a close call with a humorless scoff, but manages to pass it off as a hitch in his breath. “It’s just a little snow, Andrew. Haven’t you ever driven in snow?”

“No,” Andrew says, immediate and honest. “But you have.” It doesn’t have to be a question.

Once more, Neil shrugs. “That’s not a very interesting story. Just some shitty cars, some grinding gear shifts, and some snowy mountains.” Maybe Neil owes Andrew for the story about juvie, but that doesn’t mean he owes it now. It could be a debt, something to pay later when Andrew needs something from him versus simply wanting something.

“To Columbia, though?” Andrew asks, and Neil gets where he’s coming from. “It’s just ice cream.” And it’s a long fucking drive.

“Not only,” Neil says. “It’s a way to get me out of the damn dorm. I’m dying. I hate being cooped up.”

“So dramatic. Alright,” Andrew says, agreeing just like that.

They don’t bother to say goodbye to Kevin, to tell him where they’re going or what they’re doing. Andrew doesn’t even text Nicky to put him in charge of Kevin. Riko is dead and their deal is off – Kevin needs independence more than he needs protection.

Andrew grabs his jacket and for a half-second, Neil debates shirking his own just to prove a point – but in the end he doesn’t know what point he’s trying to prove, and he, like Andrew, has adjusted to South Carolina’s temperature enough that it does feel chilly outside. He can afford time for comfort, so he puts on the jacket and follows Andrew outside.

The car keys are traded for the cigarettes in Neil’s pocket, and Andrew crosses behind Neil for the passenger side. It takes a moment to readjust the driver’s seat to where Neil likes it, but soon enough they’re on the road.

The snow plows are out. Neil honestly can’t fucking believe it. There’s less than an inch of snow collected on the grass, and the pavement is wet but completely clear. He doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend how an entire campus and surrounding businesses can close down from such a minor inconvenience.

In the passenger seat, Andrew lights a cigarette, but he doesn’t offer one to Neil. More surprised than offended, Neil glances at Andrew.

“Eyes on the road,” is all Andrew says.

“There’s nothing wrong with the road except slow-ass snow plows and the congestion they’re causing,” Neil says. “Can I have a cigarette?”

Andrew seems to debate it, staring stonily out of the windshield. After a moment, he digs out a new stick and lights it. “If we end up in the ditch because of you, you had better pray that the crash is bad enough to kill us both, or you’re paying for all of the damages and buying me a new car.”

“Again,” Neil supplies – unhelpfully, judging from Andrew’s expression.

The interstate is shut down – really? Neil thinks, and flips a U-turn in the middle of the on-ramp – so they take the back roads. It’s freeing, Neil supposes. Peaceful in a way that comes from them being alone on the road, everyone else shut-up inside their homes, enjoying a day off from school or work. Though the snow is melting almost faster than it can accumulate, it’s still pretty as it falls from the clouds, and Neil likes the sheer screen it makes across his vision, something beautifully obscure.

“Do you like the winter?” Andrew asks, and maybe it’s collecting a debt but maybe it’s just curiosity.

“I miss it, sometimes,” Neil admits. “I’ve had a lot of good ones and a lot of bad ones. I’ve seen snow turn red, seen it fall like crisp linens to cover bodies and any traces that my mother and I were there. But I’ve also woken up and seen an inch of frost covering the trees, catching the light.” He wants to say that he’s spent a couple of winters with Andrew, now, and they’ve been the best yet, but he keeps that to himself. “I like the cold. It’s refreshing, makes me feel alive.”

“You have Exy for that.” Andrew digs out the pack of cigarettes, and Neil thinks it’s to hide his bemusement. “I’m not living anywhere that gets constant snow. You’re on your own.”

Neil’s hands relax on the steering wheel as a laugh rolls through him. “Making me choose between you and snow. That’s not fair.”

“I could make it be Exy and me,” Andrew threatens around the cigarette in his mouth, clicking lighter in his hands.

Neil takes the cigarette away and catches Andrew’s eyes for as long as he dares on the snow-wetted highway. “I would choose you,” he says, “without hesitation.”

Andrew looks away. For a moment, Neil thinks he’s lost the conversation, lost their pleasant afternoon. But then Andrew rasps out, “Don’t say that.”

“You think I don’t mean it?”

The slight shake of Andrew’s head would have been answer enough. “You’ve told me once already that Exy is everything to you. Don’t lie to me and tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

Neil puts on the brakes and pulls the car over to the side of the road. He puts the hazards on just in case before he twists in his seat to face Andrew head-on. “Look at me,” he says, and Andrew does. “I mean it. I don’t believe that you would ever make me choose between you and Exy, but if something happened… if the world aligned the wrong way and I had to give up one or the other….” Neil reaches out, stops, and then touches Andrew’s cheek when he nods. “You are the single best thing in my life. That I get to share my favorite hobby – my future job – with you is beyond amazing. But you are worth so much more than that, Andrew.”

They both know what it feels like to not be wanted, to be used and then pushed aside. Neil is not going to let Andrew feel like that anymore, not around him, anyway. But he’s also not about to force Andrew into an emotional conversation so far from home, in the middle of the snow that Andrew seems to loathe. So Neil smiles and hands back the cigarette. Then he shakes his head and pulls back onto the road.

“I’m driving two hours just to get you some damn ice cream,” Neil mutters, as if that should be proof enough. It’s not, but it does what needed to be done. Andrew relaxes and takes a drag, flicking the ash out through the cracked window.

“Stop bitching and drive.” He sounds normal again.

Neil has every intention of bringing up this conversation at a later time, but for now… for now, he’s content to just drive and reaffirm that this is real life, that he’s not dreaming, and that he’ll have Andrew for as long as Andrew will let him.

#the foxhole court #tfcfansgive #curlyhairedneil #andreil #mine #my fics