#and now as an adult it puts my fucking hackles up
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The Youngest
CW: discussions of predatory behaviour.
He’s the youngest of the three, a fact that is all too easy to forget.
Sometimes, when he’s reminded, it’s something mundane, like when the boys have a disagreement and Steve, to ease the tension, jokingly ruffles Billy’s blond curls with some quip like, “respect your elders,” as Eddie nods sagely with a barely suppressed smile.
Other times, it catches him off guard, like the time he’d passed Billy a cup of coffee, “black,” (like he’d ordered) then watched, not without amusement, as the boy’s nose had crinkled in disgust at the first sip.
But then, far too often he’s reminded in moments like this. When the kid’s cornered by some self-serving adult.
This time it’s Karen Wheeler.
He watches as she crowds Billy, manicured talons glinting as she strokes the length of his arm. His back is pressed up against the Camaro, knuckles white where he grips the handle. When he sees a predator cornering it’s prey on Tv Jim’s skin pricks, just like it is now. He’s caught the live show and Billy sure as hell isn’t the predator.
Jim pushes himself out of his car, takes a breath, and tries to swallow the acrid anger rising in his gut. He needs to be calm. Diffuse and extract. He repeats this mantra as he strolls over.
“Billy!” the kid starts hard and turns, anxiety clearly coursing his veins. Karen just looks up, clear irritation spreading across her face.
Jim hates her.
He forces a grin “hey kid,” he shouts, flicking a pointed stare at Karen as he does, before focusing on Billy “why you still here? Pool’s shut, isn’t it?” Billy looks a little perplexed as he replies, “yeah, I was just, er, leaving, right Mrs Wheeler?” he turns back to the woman, who has at least taken a few steps back. She doesn’t look even slightly phased as she corrects him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “we’ve spoken about this Billy, call me Karen,” as she bats her eyes in a way that makes Jim want to knock her out.
It’s an image he allows himself as he closes in on them, stretches his grin further and says “with all due respect Mrs Wheeler surely Nancy and Mike are home by now,” she has the audacity to puff up at the dig “I was just about to head home Hopper. The kids will be fine for a bit,” Jim keeps smiling, “ of course Mrs Wheeler, you get back to your kids and I’ll take care of this one.” he says it in what El has affectionately dubbed his ‘Chief Voice.’ It leaves no room for argument. With a slight huff Karen shrinks back, sends one final sweeping glance at Billy, before retreating to the safety of her car with a sharp “Goodnight.”
He watches pointedly as she drives out of the car park, then turns to Billy. He’s strung tight, trembling and pale. Jim braces himself, ready for an argument as he speaks“you aren’t driving anywhere like this kid, get in my car,” he’s surprised when Billy complies. Jim follows suit, puts the car in drive, there’s no destination for now.
Billy’s shaking hands curl into fists as the car pulls out onto the road. Jim waits, gives the kid time to process. The silence is long but when the words come they’re seething “I was fucking fine,” he hisses, “I don’t need your fucking help,” he’s gritting his teeth, snarling like an animal, hackles raised. Jim won’t rise to it, he knows this is the ‘fight’ part of Billy’s wiring, something he calls upon constantly. Instead he simply and calmly states “no you weren’t, and yes you do,” eyes fixed firmly on the road.
His periphery catches the lock and load in the kid’s throat as Billy’s teeth grit impossibly harder, he twists in his seat and pulls the trigger as he roars “What the fuck do you know?!” it’s fucking loud, splits Jim’s ears, but he keeps his composure, because Billy is a fucking kid and he’s a fucking adult. Plus, Jim knows he’s being pushed for a reaction, violence is the only language Billy knows especially when it comes to adult men, and Jim will never speak it, no matter how hard Billy tries to make him.
He waits for a beat, listens to the kids laboured breathing before speaking deliberately and slowly,“she’s a predator Billy, old enough to be your mother. Hell, her daughter is older than you. She shouldn’t be anywhere near you,” he glances over, sees a little bit of the anger dissipate as Billy retorts “yea I know that,” he leaves a beat before adding “you old fucker,” and Jim does nothing but raise a brow, refusing to take the bait. He lets Billy stew until the silence becomes too much and the kid continues just to break it, “it doesn’t fuckin matter, it’s always like this, I know how to get away, it’s fuckin fine, I don’t need you,” he spits the word need like it’s poison on his tongue.
Jim gets it, he knows this visceral reaction to offered help is nothing but Billy’s innate survival instincts kicking in. The kid has never been able to trust an adult to protect him, never been allowed to need someone like that. He has no logical basis that would allow him to just trust Jim. But Jim is a stubborn ‘old fucker,’ determined to become someone Billy can trust. But to build that trust Jim needs to get through to the kid, and to do that, he knows needs to push, needs Billy to accept some sort of help. So that’s what he does, he pushes a bit, calm but firm “what were you gonna do Billy?” silence hangs, “to get yourself outta there?”
It takes a while but eventually Billy frowns and mumbles “dunno, but I’d have done something,” and Jim needs to drive his point home so he takes a bit of a risk and asks “would you have shoved her? Hit her?” and that gets a reaction, the kid shoots up straight-backed with an emphatic and horrified ‘No,’ and Jim isn’t proud of it but he has to keep pushing so he says pointedly “then what would you have done?” and the only answer he gets is an exasperated “ugh. I don’t. Fucking. Know.” the silence that settles is suffocating.
When Jim breaks it he treads carefully, speaks slowly as he chooses his words, “exactly Billy, you don’t know. Unfortunately, that isn’t a situation, though by god I wish it was, where I could’ve just arrested her. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, it just means our justice system is shite,” Billy flashes a brief smile at that “ so because I can’t just cuff her, we need an alternative plan.” Billy opens his mouth, likely to protest again, but Jim soldiers on “This is what is going to happen, you’re going to give me your work schedule. I’m going to give you one of my kids walkie talkie things, because it can reach my radio. If not me, someone from my team will be in the car park for every late finish and you are going to contact me with the talkie thing if you end up in a situation where you need me to come and get you immediately, Ok?” Billy doesn’t speak straight away, stares out into the darkness before answering in a voice that cracks just a little “fine, whatever old man.”
With that Jim lets the tension bleed from his body. He needs to speak to Billy more, needs to sit him down properly, have repeated conversations with the kid about personal safety, consent, hell maybe even stranger danger with how reckless he can be sometimes. But that is for another time, now he needs to get him somewhere safe, so he just says “great! Now where am I taking you?” Billy shakes himself a little “just home,” Jim questions that, pointedly glancing at his still slightly trembling hands, “is that wise right now?” Billy frowns a little but changes his answer, “Munson’s” Jim smiles. Eddie is so well attuned to Billy, he knows the kid will get nothing but comfort as soon as Eddie lays eyes on him (he also knows Steve will be with them in a flash).
He makes the short drive to Eddies, cuts the engine outside and turns to face Billy, “I’ll get you a talkie and give it to Eddie or Steve tomorrow ok?” Billy stares at him shocked. He looks so young, so lost, like he can’t comprehend the idea that Jim isn’t just all talk, it takes a while but he gets a quiet “yea ok,” before the kid is suddenly yanking the door open, turning to slam it shut with a brief muffled “thanks old man” slipping through the gap, before he’s off practically sprinting to the door.
Jim chuckles to himself, at least it’s better than ‘old fucker,’ he waits for Eddie to open the door, sees the blatant look of concern as he gently slides a hand into Billy’s and pulls him across the threshold, just catches a glance of Steve who’s staring worriedly at his cop car before the door swings shut. Jim sighs starts his engine and heads home.
Billy’s the youngest, the most vulnerable of the three, sometimes it’s easy to forget.
Sometimes it’s vital to remember.
#billy hargrove#jim hopper#eddie munson#steve harrington#mungrove#harringroveson#harringrove#stilldie#Karen wheeler#jim is Billy’s new dad it’s literally stuck in my brain#hurt/comfort#strangerthings#stranger things#fic#writing#dad jim hopper
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tuesday again 2/27/2024
this is the longest ive ever been unemployed and media is only doing so much to beat back the horrors. so let’s talk about the media instead of the horrors
listening
Come Up For Air by We The Commas, off i think one of the autogenerated spotify indie mixes?
youtube
sort of a rollicking modern little surf rock thing, they describe themselves as "surf and alternate rhythm and blue" which is pretty bang on imo. they're all brothers (their last name genuinely is Comma, which i salute as a fellow weird last name haver), and cite john mayer (i don't really hear it) and the beach boys (yes i hear this very much) as some of their influences. a song i had on loop for an entire forty minute drive and did not get tired of. spotify
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reading
three books that MUST go back to the library tomorrow bc their autorenew is up and i was emotionally unable to get a library card without tooling around and getting a stack of books a month ago.
thank you philip.
i really only liked the Carmilla adaptation by Amy Chu, bc it really gets at what i didn't realize was the heart of the original 1872 lesbian vampire novella: a toxic gay housing situation you have fallen into and can't get out of bc your area is so so so expensive and housing is so so so tenuous. i have read the original but not in a while, this is an excellent modern adaptation centering around a nyc social worker in the late seventies that presupposes no knowledge and intertwines the original novella in the form of a stolen rare book. (nonconsecutive pages)
i don't have much to say about the DC young adult comic about the circus career of one of the Robins (Dick Grayson). i didn't love the loose artstyle and am not in its intended age range plus it had a bit too much therapyspeak, but it did have a clever use of a very limited color palette.
let's yank the amazon description for the detective novel, which i grabbed bc it vaguely pinged something in my brain about one of the fallout 4 sidequests and i've picked books up for worse reasons (SPOILERS):
Jacob Rigolet, a soon-to-be former assistant to a wealthy art collector, looks up from his seat at an auction—his mother, former head librarian at the Halifax Free Library, is walking almost casually up the aisle. Before a stunned audience, she flings an open jar of black ink at master photographer Robert Capa’s “Death on a Leipzig Balcony.” Jacob’s police detective fiancée, Martha Crauchet, is assigned to the ensuing interrogation.
i simply fucking hated this authorial style and tone and ditched it two chapters in. i don’t currently have the patience for reading about a clinically insane mother and hate crimes against Jewish people. despite the fairly dark premise, the first two chapters veer into cozy mystery with very short sentences, which do not a noir make. now, it does not advertise itself as noir or neo-noir, but as an homage to noir. it is for me unbearably smug. in my most unkind heart of hearts i want to say it's like if wes anderson tried to make a noir. this is a book that wants you to know it has read other noirs. yes thank you ive read several others, that’s why im reading this one, stop reminding me of better books i could be reading.
there's some weird descriptions of womens' bodies in here. chandler (my beloved) is certainly guilty of this as well, but he lavishes a sort of equal opportunity eye on the men in his mysteries. cf the infamous daniel lavery description.
when i read a chandler description of someone’s physical appearance there’s a fruity bisexual aftertaste in my mouth. Howard Norman, below, saying a woman takes great care of herself puts my hackles up. i understand the difference between an author and a character believing something and i don’t want to read a book where either the author or the character have this sort of pitying condescension towards a woman’s body. im feeling extremely terrible about my own body right now due to the various maladies, and another sort of breaking point for me is when an author repeatedly describes "naked breasts" (exact wording) pressing against someone's torso. it feels so juvenile. that's the sexiest thing you can possibly think of??? that's the sexiest way you can think of to describe an early mornign moment of intimacy???? augh i read the NYT review and it gets worse.
shut the FUCK up. i left my apartment at 1130 PM to go put this book in my CAR. i don't want it in my HOUSE.
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watching
Bullitt (1968, dir. Yates, free on Tubi). the baddie in this is Robert Vaughn (who i know from cowboys), a guy i fucking love to see. i can take or leave Steve McQueen but he does such a killer job parallel parking in this movie and i wish all driving movies made their leads parallel park. shockingly realistic hospital, morgue, and police work scenes, apparently was one of the big films to popularize blood squibs. also love to see a haunted man splash water on his face and stare into a mirror.
youtube
if you asked me how long the famous car chase was i would have said like 2:30? substantial but snappy. no!!! eleven minutes!! (video a bit trimmed). also a rare movie that makes a foot chase through an airport as exciting as that eleven minute car chase!!!
the mob dodging plot was a little hard to follow, but i was operating on like four hours of sleep and a rum and coke. this has got to be a tremendous movie to watch when you’re home and sick on the couch huddled under a blanket. i mean this as a compliment, as someone who watches Escape from New York whenever i feel very sick
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playing
really wanted to get to 69 shrines before writing this post and finally did it. all the little divine beasts walking along the loading screen are SO cute i've never gotten all four before
all the divine beasts are unlocked and the champions laid to rest! im feeling some type of way emotionally speaking about all of them telling link IMMEDIATELY that it wasn't his or zelda's fault they died
rudania has the worst boarding mission (in order of ones i most enjoyed it's camel [SO fast and SO fun], bird [lots of time to think and plan and aim], elephant [did not make me do a tedious stealth mission but i am bad at locking on to rapidly moving things behind me, much like in real life], and lizard. the lizard stealth mission is simply unpleasant). however, my brain really clicked with the puzzles in rudania: i had to consult a walkthrough once for an optional chest. in order of interior beast puzzle enjoyment for me it's lizard, bird, elephant, and camel. really got stuck for a long time on the waterwheels with the elephant before consulting a walkthrough.
the yiga clan stealth mission was not as hard as i thought it would be. i don't know why i put that off for two real life weeks but i will not learn my lesson and i will never improve. this boss battle was just silly.
the vah naboris interior puzzles were not fun. idk what it was about them or my brain that made me have such a bad time, but i spammed revali's gale and skipped a lot of chests bc i was not having fun. this is why god invented the walkthrough but sometimes. shit is just too fiddly.
i did succeed on the thunder ganon boss battle first try, but i came in with extra hearts from mipha's grace, used another mipha's grace in the fight, went through five fairies and seven hearty simmered fruits that were 5x durians (which gives you 20 extra hearts or some shit). fucking nightmare. i was stuck on one hit left on ganon for like five minutes bc he got stuck in the very fast flurry attack cycle. unpleasant. deeply grateful it only made me smack him with the magnesis pillar once bc that was also really fiddly with my poor reaction time + poor fine motor skills + previously mentioned ancient controller with some drift. in order of boss battle enjoyment i think it's lizard (made me think and kept me on my toes a little but i did have to look up how to break the shield), elephant (you can just kind of tank it), bird (same), and camel (extremely not fun).
this was WITH a fully upgraded gimp suit btw. that shit (ganon) just hits hard.
shrine shenanigans:
crowned beast very fun, i have one or two of kass' songs left and then i hope i get to see him back in rito village with his family??? a little nervous bc i went right to the jungle spring without hearing his song first so idk if that will. count??? or softlock me.
the MOUNDS of failed cooking attempts around this shrine on the grasslands side of the gerudo barrier mountains were SO funny.
unlocked all the spring shrines. what a fun mission. what a fun climb.
went to my FAVORITE shrine!!! going into what you think will be a normal cave and discovering it is DEEP with a BIG WHALE INSIDE is top three video game whale moments (the other two are diving with the whales in ABZU and meeting the last whale in the first dishonored).
other bits and bobs:
eggman rocks???
this quest was really cute and i wish there was a corresponding quest for the guy hanging around the broken heart pond, but it always makes me laugh whenever a dragon shows up in the background of a screenshot. a really great touching moment but watch out for the elemental orbs rapidly approaching us
also made me chortle. get it together barta.
i wish the helm was upgradable but i think making me kill a molduga in order to borrow it is a pretty fair trade actually.
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making
i originally had a really long thing here about litterbox trials and tribulations but i have decided to spare you all. you're welcome.
many balcony improvements, including putting up trellises and installing bird spikes to hopefully keep a very persistent orange tom off my balcony and away from my girls.
there are a goofy number of obstacles in the way of me making a proper planting diagram (sketchbooks buried deep in closet. flung the seeds in a box on a shelf i need to find my stepstool for. can't find pencil sharpener) so for the second week in a row that's not happening. however, sprouts.
baby italian lettuce blend
bush beans in the front and cucumbers + sweet peas in the back.
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Do you have any tips about welcoming a new cat when you already have one ?
I've lived a long time with three cats. Now two are unfortunately gone (at age 16 and 15 <3). The one I still have with me is 13 now, and while she used to live with other cats, she has never 'welcomed' any new cat since I already had the other two when I adopted her when she was a kitten.
She's a little fearful so as much as I miss having more than one cat, I'm kind of scared that she would not take well suddenly having a new cat (she's been alone with me for a year and a half now), and I don't want her to start having medical issues because of it since she's completely healthy rn (and in the same way I don't want to adopt a cat and then have to send it back to the refuge because my cat can't accept it...).
Sorry for the long ask, I'm just really undecided about this (but let's be real for now I'm going with the no new cat option because my cat's well being is more important than anything I could want).
hiii!!! again this is gonna be a little long probably so ill put it under the cut heheh
I totally understand your hesitation even with a cat that has been around other cats before. adults, especially seniors, don't always take to new blood in the household. that said! I have had a lot of adopters with older cats successfully integrate new cats/kittens into their homes. here are some of my top tips for doing it successfully:
adult cats tend to tolerate kittens under 6 months the best. they are less of a "threat" and adults will typically be less territorial towards them. That said, if you have a senior cat who is not super active, a single kitten may not be a good match because their energy levels will not match. Cats are pack animals, which means most of them do instinctively want companionship, but only if their personalities work together. For this reason, among many others, I always recommend adopting kittens in pairs. this way they can entertain each other while still providing company for the older cat.
a slow introduction is the most important thing any time you are bringing in a new cat. keep the new cat or kitten in a separate room like a bathroom for at least a week. let them smell each other under the door. have their first face to face meeting be through a baby gate or something similar so on the off chance one of them reacts violently, they will not be able to get to each other before you can intervene. generally, if a cat is going to react aggressively to the point of attacking it will happen during the first or second meeting. they won't seem to be okay and then suddenly start fighting later. feed them near each other a few times and closely supervise their first few weeks of interaction.
hissing, growling, fleeing, and even mild swatting when they get too close to each other is all normal behavior when introducing a new cat. very rarely will a cat take to a new animal in their environment without some combination of these behaviors. they are not cause for immediate concern. these are "warning" behaviors that just mean one cat is telling the other to get the fuck up out of their face basically. calmly separate them and try again later. it's super unlikely especially with a borderline geriatric cat that she will react so negatively that you'd need the following information, but just in case....
actual red flags that mean you need to intervene immediately (my favorite method to intervene in a cat fight, as stupid as it sounds, is keep an upside down trash can or laundry basket nearby to put over top of the aggressor):
"mooing" (you will know this sound when you hear it. it's pretty self explanatory.) or yowling. 99% of the time these sounds means a fight is about to break out.
offensive/defensive posturing. examples: standing with their chin tilted down and ears flat, hackles raised, poofy tail. or crouching or lowering their front half to the ground, hissing, backing away. these stances are accompanied and sometimes preceded by a "pinched" facial expression and dilated pupils.
MOST IMPORTANTLY:
the best thing I can possibly recommend to you, and literally anyone reading this, is to look into fostering. not only are all rescues everywhere absolutely desperate for foster homes (we can only rescue as many cats as we have foster placement for), but it's also an excellent way to test the waters when you are thinking of adding a new cat to your home. in the event that your cat says Absolutely Not to adopting another cat, fostering is often a good alternative. your foster cats would need to be kept in a separate room (could literally be a bathroom or walk in closet) away from your resident cat anyway, so it is usually way less stressful for residents. not to mention it is so so rewarding emotionally and you get to play with kittens all the time literally for free and with none of the responsibility that comes with adopting. all you need to do is provide them with a warm loving place to hang out until they find their forever home:)
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Loved Her First Chapter 3 New Home New Baby
A/N This chapter is written by the Incredibly talented @omgbarbiegurl. 😁
AO3
The house they pulled in front of took Claire’s breath away.
It was late summer in Boston, the trees were a rich green color, but she could see some lightening of the leaves that would eventually lead to the beautiful golden hues of Fall.
“Here we are!” The realtor Mr. Nevers said as he pulled his car along the side the curb.
Claire got out of the car, clutching Faith in her arms. Faith was dressed in a blue dress that just brushed the tops of her knees with tiny white bloomers over her diapers. On her feet were tiny Mary Janes, and her red hair was bunched up in 2 curly pigtails.
Claire herself was dressed in a checkered blouse with a matching skirt, loose for her growing bump.
She followed Frank and Mr. Nevers into the house shifting Faith as they walked. At 3 years old, she was getting a little heavy, but Claire needed her as an anchor for now.
Mr. Nevers opened the door and stepped inside.
“Crown molding as you can see, hard wood floors, it’s been completely modernized. Wonderful gas stove that you will find so helpful Mrs. Randall.
Claire gave a tight smile and set Faith down on the floor who grabbed her Mother’s hand.
Frank smiled at the little girl.
“Would you like Daddy to hold you?”
Faith put her thumb in her mouth and gave Frank a long wary look.
There was a beat of silence before Mr. Nevers cleared his throat.
“Uh shall we see upstairs?”
The small group climbed the stairs to the second floor
When they reach the 2nd floor, Claire glances at Frank with a small glare.
“There are only 2 bedrooms.”
“There is plenty of space downstairs, if push comes to shove, we can create a 3rd bedroom.”
Claire said nothing, just huffed out a breath, and lifted her daughter.
“Come on Faithie let’s go see your room.”
“Faithie’s room!”
Claire walks her into the smaller bedroom and smiles. There is lots of space if the new baby turns out to be a girl, the new baby and Faith could share. She hopes for a girl, a boy would be claimed by Frank, twisted and turned. A daughter would be hers alone.
There is a large window with a seat, perfect for sitting and reading stories.
“Well, this is lovely.” She said mostly to herself, Faith had squatted down and was poking at the carpet before looking up at Claire and smiling widely.
“Mama see!”
“Yes, my love, it’s very pretty hmm?”
“Well, it seems Miss Faith very much likes it.” Frank says as he appears in the doorway.
Faith scuttles up and runs to her Mama’s side, staring at Frank.
Frank blows out a breath and rubs his face.
“Claire, we must do something about her.”
Claire felt her hackles rise.
“There is nothing wrong with Faith.” She said firmly.
“I can’t get close to her. She runs every time she sees me, and acts like I am some boogeyman come to life.”
Claire looked over Frank’s shoulder and dropped her voice.
“She doesn’t know you, Frank. She remembers her Father-”
“I am her Father, we had an agreement-”
She consigned Mr. Nevers’s ears to Hades if he can overhear them.
“You can’t erase her Father with an edict, demand she forget about the good man that raised her for almost 3 years.” Her voice rose with the outrage she felt.
“No more than I can erase him fucking you those years huh?”
Claire felt her anger rise, and she was 2 seconds from striking him when Mr. Nevers appeared.
“Oh, here you are! I thought Mr. Randall was following me downstairs, but no.”
He immediately senses the tension, and clears his throat.
“Well, um shall we tend to the paperwork, and I can give you the keys.”
The three of them follow him down.
The papers are signed, Mr. Nevers gives Frank the keys and wishes them well.
Both adults are calmer now, Frank gives her a smile.
“Well, my darling, it is ours. Signed and Sealed.”
Claire looks around, holding Faith’s hand.
“You sure we can afford it?”
“A bit tight on an associate professor’s salary, I’ll admit, but... you’ve always said you wanted a place to call home; a real home.”
Claire looks around, taking in the house now that they are truly alone.
“It’s certainly real. A little too real, perhaps. All this space for just the three of us.”
“Soon to be four.”
“Yes, four.”
****
A month later, Claire’s belly is rounder and more prominent. She needs to speak to a Doctor about prenatal care, and also needs to get Faith examined and inoculated.
Right now would be the perfect time to do it, Faith was having a nap upstairs, lunch was on hold due to her being unable to work the stove, (bologna sandwiches again).
She turned off the handle of the stove, and walked over the phone attached to the wall.
She lifted the earpiece, made sure no one was on the party line, and dialed ‘0’.
There was a clicking noise and Rosie Proctor answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi Rosie! Claire Fr-Randall.”
“Oh hello Mrs. Randall! How can I help you this afternoon?”
“I need a line to Dr. Abernathy’s office.”
“Of course, Mrs. Randall. Just a moment.”
There was a click and then the line tapped for a moment before ringing.
“Good Afternoon, Dr. Abernathy’s Office, how may I help you?”
“Good Afternoon. My name is Claire, and I am currently pregnant, and I have a 3-year-old. We have been out of the country, and I need to update my daughter on her inoculations; and get her a general wellness exam.”
“Alright Claire, well Dr. Abernathy has an opening this afternoon that I can squeeze you into. About 3:00?”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Wonderful. Now, just for some preliminaries, I need you and your daughter’s full names.”
“My name is Claire Fr-Randall. And my daughter’s name is Faith.” She takes a breath and stares at the window at the birds dancing on the sill.
“Faith Elizabeth Fraser.”
****
That afternoon, as they left the Doctor’s Office, Claire decided she liked Dr. Joe Abernathy very much.
Unlike some other Doctors she had run into; he seemed willing to listen to her, and when she spoke about her War experience, he had understood. He had spoken of his own experience in the War as a soldier, one of the many that the country had forgotten about.
“But, when I came home, I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself be nothing again. So, I put myself through Medical School, got my degree, and now…here I am.”
Faith had put up with his poking and prodding as well, intrigued by his dark friendly eyes. She had howled though when he inoculated her, though he had tried to be as gentle as possible.
He had given them both a clean bill of health, but suggested they both take some vitamins to boost up their immune system.
“It will be very beneficial for both babies, who need a lot of nutrients to grow big and strong.”
At that statement, he had tickled Faith and given her a lollipop.
Now she sat on a bench near the park, Faith dozing in her lap as Claire watched the world go by.
“Well, this is a lovely surprise.” A voice said over her head.
She looked up at Frank and smiled.
“Hello Dear.” She said softly.
“Hello Darling, what are you two doing sitting out here?”
“Well, we have just come back from the Doctor’s, and when I realized how close it was to the Uni, I thought we would sit and wait for you.”
It was only a half truth. The whole truth was she simply didn’t want to go back home, she felt like she was slowly becoming part of the furniture.
“Oh, you went to the Doctor’s? Who did you see?”
“Dr. Joe Abernathy. He was a very kind man; I feel very comfortable with him.”
“Darling, you should have waited for me, I would have been happy to introduce you to Dr. Steubens, all of my colleagues swear by him.”
Claire wrinkled her nose. “I have heard of Dr. Steubens from some of the neighbors, the man is a quack.”
“I doubt my colleagues are wrong, Claire.”
Claire had to bite her lip because what she wanted to say is that she imagined that exams were not being done at Dr. Steubens, but a bunch of back slapping and palm greasing. She had seen it done back in the 1700s, why would today be any different?
Instead, she stood up and shifted Faith. “We should be getting home; I need to make dinner and Faith needs to be put to bed.”
****
9 Months later, Brianna Ellen Fraser came screaming into the world.
Claire had refused to be put into Twilight Sleep, and Joe had listened to her, despite the intern, William Thorne, trying to insist otherwise.
Joe had quickly put him in his place, stating he was the attending, William was the intern. And when William ditched his rubber training pants for a Doctor’s coat, he could run the show his way.
“Until that moment, young William, you will follow my instructions. Clear?”
He nodded with a frown. “Crystal.”
“Wonderful, now Claire, it’s time to get the baby out. Ready?”
“As I ever will be.”
****
Hours later, she held her red headed siren in her arms, tears falling down her cheeks.
“Oh, you were not what was desired, but that makes you no less dear to me. A boy would have been the son Frank wanted, but you, Brianna Ellen Fraser, shall be all mine.”
She looked up as the door opened, and Gail, (Joe’s wife), appeared holding Faith in her arms. Frank trailed behind her, a sour look on his face.
Claire looked at Gail, but Gail shook her head subtly.
Claire took a breath, and plastered a smile on.
“Come my sweet ones, and see the new baby.”
Faith all but leapt out of Gail’s arms and onto the bed. She crawled up to her Mother, eager to see the new baby.
“Faith, this is your sister Brianna.”
“She peety Mama!”
“She is, and she looks almost like you did when you were born.”
“Weally?”
“Yes.”
Faith tapped Brianna’s face lightly. “Hi Bree!”
Frank moved closer, a tight smile on his face.
“A grand nickname.”
“Indeed.” She presses a kiss to Brianna’s head, then Faith’s cheek, then looks at Frank.
“Frank, would you be a darling and go get me some water? The nurse was supposed to do it ages ago, but I think she forgot about me. And I'm dying of thirst.”
“Of course, my dear. Then I shall hold Brianna when I return.”
“Of course.”
When he leaves the room, she looks at Gail.
“Gail what the fuck?”
Gail sat down in the chair fast, and pulled Faith into her lap.
“Faith apparently was having a tantrum when I came, he was getting ready to spank her when she spotted me and ran to me. He got very upset and tried to grab her, but I told him to leave her alone. Then that idiot blonde nurse Muffy or Millie, whatever her name is says he needs to sign the Birth Certificate to be processed.”
“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ.” She closed her eyes; she could see the words she wrote as Brianna had napped in her bassinet.
Brianna Ellen Fraser
“I am sure he will have some words to say.”
“Hopefully he won’t say them in a hospital. You know Claire, if you need a safe place, Joe and I do have room for you and the girls.”
“Thank you, Gail, if it comes to that I will let you know.”
The door opened again, and Gail got to her feet.
“Well, I will take my leave, let me know if you need anything Claire.”
“Thank you, Gail.”
Once Gail left, Frank handed her the cup of water.
“Thank you darling, dry as a bone.”
“Indeed.”
He took Brianna out of Claire’s arms and let her sip the water as he cradled the baby.
“Oh, what a stout little one eh. She is just beautiful Claire.”
Claire nodded. “She is very beautiful; she looks a lot like Faith when Faith was born. Much bigger though.”
Frank chuckled and sighed. “Why is her name different on the birth certificate? I thought we discussed I was her Father.”
“You are her Father Frank, you will always be her Father. But, I wanted her and Faith to have the same last name.”
As Frank opened his mouth, she cut him off quickly. “I took Randall, I made no qualms about doing so, but I will be damned if these girls will lose the only thing that they have left of their biological Father.”
“People will talk.”
“And we will do well to ignore whatever they are saying.”
“I don’t know if I can live like this Claire.”
Claire took a breath and looked him straight in the eye.
“I didn’t force you to do anything, and I’m not forcing you to stay. You can walk away any time you wish.”
“And what then hmm?”
“I will get my Doctor’s Certification, Gail and Joe have both said they will help me with the girls. I would just need support from you until I can get a proper job.”
“All very neat and tidy.”
“I understand divorce often is when properly done.”
Frank flinches and shakes his head.
“When Millie and Jerry divorced a year ago, he gained his freedom but lost his children for it. Remember, the court ruled they needed a mother more than a father. Now he rarely sees them. That will not happen to me and these girls.”
“I would never keep them from you. We’d work out a compromise.
“You’ll forgive me, dear, if I’m not willing to risk everything on your goodwill. And besides, I made a promise to stand by you all, and I will. But I have some requests.”
“Alright.”
“I think we should have…discrete separate social lives.”
“Fine.”
Frank pressed a kiss to Brianna’s forehead before handing her back to Claire.
“To our new happy life.”
#my writing#omgbarbiegurl and i's#outlander fanfic#loved her first#chapter 3#new home new baby#jamie and claire#cannon divergence#outlander fandom
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Alright, I need to vent.
I know that I shouldn't take words to heart. Sticks and stones and all that rot. But the fact that all it takes to bother me for the rest of the day or night is my mother making some slick body-shaming comment........that anxious,insecure 12 year old girl comes right back out. Even though I know logically that I'm not above my recommended weight for my height, it doesn't stop my hackles from rising or the need to prove her wrong, that my body's not what she says it is.
And I hate myself for it. I'm in therapy, for fuck's sakes. Have been for the last 3 years. I thought I was over being hyperconscious of my body and being hurt by others' comments on it. Why does it bother me so much more coming from her? Shouldn't I be better now? Am I going to be 10 years in and still hurt by her words?
Hey, listen, I’ve been in therapy for almost twenty years now, and as an adult up until this past year, it’s been maintenance for the most part. Therapy is a tool, but it’s not a cure. There’s no real ‘all better’, you just develop better skills to get through shit like this. It took me three years to even get a diagnosis (granted my age likely played a big role). And when it comes to your relationship with your body, especially on the basis of your mom’s impact, it’s an uphill battle.
My mom hates her body, has since I was a kid. And that manifested as fear for me and that, paired with really terrible advice from fatphobic doctors led her to make decisions that still leave trauma. This is also why I am a firm believer that programs like weight watchers should be 18+ but that’s another story. The point is, your internal voice has to be louder. It doesn’t even need to be body positivity - starting at body neutrality can be all you need - ex ‘my body is healthy because I give it food that gives me nutrients and food that makes me happy’.
It’s easy to say ‘oh don’t worry about what she thinks!’ But that’s not always realistic, and that’s okay. Instead, acknowledge that she feels a certain way, but that does not impact your value on a physical, mental, or emotional level. It also helps to go into each therapy session with an outline of what you want to talk about so you can put your focus where it’s most needed.
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Posting here in its entirety now that it’s complete. Featuring the favors Neil used to get Andrew to go to Aaron’s wedding, Neil being a menace, and Andrew and Aaron talking, as well as Andrew submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known.
Enjoy!
--
Andrew shut the door with his foot, letting his bag sit by the door for a minute. He knew Neil would call out his hypocrisy the moment he saw,considering their previous conflicts about what apartment etiquette entailed, but for now, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Walking into the kitchen, he set his keys down on the table and scratched at Sir’s chin where he was headbutting against his hand. He stopped when he saw something unfamiliar on the fridge and walked over to inspect. They weren’t the type to keep mementos or reminders there; the dark blue stood out against the bareness there.
In loopy script, it read: “Save the Date! October 21st. Aaron Minyard and Katelyn Winters”.
He began peeling it off the fridge. Neil had wanted him to see it, but there was no way. Just seeing their smiling faces made something surge up in his stomach. He had let Aaron go years ago, but he never said he had to be happy about it, and he certainly had said nothing about supporting Katelyn or their relationship, the same as Aaron had never said anything to Neil that wasn’t strictly required for Exy. He could tolerate talking to Aaron, more than he had when they’d been in the same state, but that didn’t mean they did things like this. Nicky’s wedding was bad enough.
“Oh, you found it.”
Andrew turned, determined to not give Neil the satisfaction of seeing that he’d startled him. The slight smirk told him he hadn’t succeeded, but he kept his face placid and unbothered. “So you put it there on purpose? I assumed it had been put there by mistake.”
“No. I put it there so I’d remember to put it on the calendar...eventually.”
“What for?” Andrew asked, tilting his head in mock confusion. Better to not give him the satisfaction..
Neil raised his eyebrow, a look of condescension that had Andrew’s hackles up. “Because I’m going? I assumed you would too, but I can go alone.”
It was true. Neil was an adult who could make his own choices and Andrew wouldn’t stop him from going. But somehow he doubted that Neil would leave it there. The very fact that Neil had taken the time to put it on the fridge meant that this was premeditated and that, likely, this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. That didn’t mean that Andrew didn’t intend to gain as much ground as he could.
“So eager to go play with your friends?”
“Our friends.”
“Presumptuous.”
“You’re right. Aaron will be there, considering it’s his wedding. So he would be just yours then.”
“Aaron is no longer my responsibility. He can fuck up his life however he wants.”
Neil leaned against the kitchen counter, staring back at Andrew with the same level stare. “What do you want for it?”
Andrew held himself against the weight of being known that well. He kept his voice casual. “Skipping ahead so soon? You haven’t appealed to the fact that he’s my brother yet.”
Neil huffed. “Wouldn’t work. I’ve already worked through all your arguments. Had about a week to practice.”
Andrew drummed his fingers on the table. It was unnerving, as always, to know that Neil knew him well enough to anticipate his arguments, to have already taken the time to work this through in his head. It was as irritating as it was calming, in a way only Neil could manage to be. “You assume you have something worth that much to me.”
“Don’t I?”
“This conversation is starting to bore me. Get to the point.”
“I can sign the papers. One phone call and I’m transferred to Chicago. Same schedule, same weekends off. No more watching each other’s games on TV.”
Andrew worked his jaw. Neil’s status states away had been a source of more irritation than he wanted to admit. It had taken him a long time to be able to admit that Neil was a part of his life that was maybe permanent, as close to permanent as he could allow himself, and now that he had, he felt every mile like a slow healing bruise. Neil’s contract was due for renewal, but Andrew’s team conveniently needed a striker. No coach would turn down one of the best strikers in the game. It was the one thing worth saying yes to and Neil knew it.
“Yes or no?”
Andrew knew that Neil would drop it the moment Andrew said no. Neil didn’t pick fights he couldn’t win. He was only asking because he knew from the start Andrew would agree.
“I’ll go.”
Neil grinned, and moved closer, hovering his hand close to Andrew’s. Andrew took the next step and linked their fingers together. For once, Neil didn’t push his luck with some smartass comment, but Andrew could practically see him biting it back.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’ll be there.”
“Don’t say stupid shit,” he countered, pulling Neil in.
“Yes,” Neil said, before Andrew could ask.
He pressed him to the counter and kissed him, letting the invitation fall to the ground.
--
It takes another favor for Neil to convince him that threatening Katelyn at the wedding wasn’t worth the trouble. Andrew severely disagreed, but pushing the issue wasn’t worth it, when Neil would pull back on both their agreements if he did. He didn’t linger on what that meant, on the fact that somewhere along the way he’d decided that keeping Neil meant more to him than settling past scores, and more to him than his brother. He wasn’t sure if that was healthy or not, but healthy had never been in his lexicon either way.
Neil still looked like a disgruntled cat any time he had to wear a suit, but Andrew had picked out a nice fitting one for him years ago, and he takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork. Neil is oblivious as always, though, and it takes him about two minutes of trying to get his tie right until Andrew can’t take it anymore.
“Impossible,” he huffs, and moves closer to secure it properly. Neil grins down at him and Andrew still feels the urge to push his face away, not knowing what Neil finds there to look at. “Staring.”
“Says the man who was literally standing there for two whole minutes.” Not as oblivious then.
Andrew doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning with a hum and heading towards the door. He’s timed it so they’ll be just close enough to on time for the ceremony that they can slip in the back. He lets the hum of the highway drown out the tight feeling in his chest.
When they get there, there’s an annoying sign that says “We’re all family! Pick a seat, not a side!” and Andrew considers walking out, but Neil is swept up by Matt and carried away, so Andrew has to follow, despite his misgivings. Nowhere in their agreement did it state that Andrew had to pay attention to the ceremony, so he tunes out and recites some book he has memorized to himself instead.
It becomes painfully obvious at the reception that Neil is keeping an eye on him, so Andrew leaves him with Kevin, fighting over something inane and exy-related, and goes outside for a cigarette. He steps onto the terrace, only to find his brother leaning against a fence.
“I don’t think this is how weddings work,” he says as a greeting.
Aaron glances up, scowl as familiar as a mirror. “I told Katelyn I needed a minute.
Andrew nods and leans against the fence, taking a drag of his cigarette.
“Didn’t think you were going to come.”
“Thank Neil.”
“After you thank Katelyn. It was her idea to send you the invitation. I told her not to bother.”
“And yet here I am.”
“Here you are,” Aaron agrees, leaning further back against the fence.
Andrew lets the conversation drop for a moment. He’s about to head back inside, when he hears, “Why?”
He turns back. “Why what?”
“Why did you come? We both know Neil isn’t here as a favor to me. So why would he think it’s important for you to be here?”
And wasn’t that the million dollar question. Why had he bothered to come, when he and Aaron only spoke a handful of times a year?
“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.
Annoyingly, Aaron scoffs. “Yes you do.”
“Enlighten me then,” he plays along.
Aaron shrugs. “I didn’t say I knew why. I just know that you don’t do anything without having some convoluted reason for it.”
“I didn’t know I was coming out here to have a conversation with the cheshire cat.”
Aaron chuckled and the sound was foreign to him. “We’re not 16 anymore. Hell, we’re not 20 anymore. We’re grown up.” He holds his glass up, toasting to nowhere.
“When did you start philosophizing? Andrew asked.
“It’s my wedding day-I’m allowed,” Aaron says, shaking his head.
“You’re so weird,” is all Andrew can think to say.
He looks at Aaron and wonders what he sees. Wonders if he mirror the relaxed posture, the way Aaron looks comfortable in his own skin. He wonders how long it’s been since he woke up screaming, if it’s a dull ache in the back of his mind, or an almost healed bruise, flaring up only when pressed on.
He hears the tell tale sound of heels on cobblestones. “Aaron? Honey, we’re about to cut the- oh.”
He looks up and sees Katelyn, wide-eyed and hesitant. He feels long forgotten anger well up, but thinks of Neil and pushes it down. With a long forgotten salute, he turns and leaves Aaron to his future.
Inside, Neil is leaning against a table, sipping his drink that Andrew can tell he hates. He takes it from him and downs it in a quick swig.
“That was mine,” he complains, nudging Andrew’s hip.
“You were too slow.”
“Everything okay?” he asks.
Andrew looks down at their hands, sees the newly acquired neat letters on the side of Neil’s thumb that match his own and feels something settle back into place. He looks up and past him to where Aaron is laughing while Katelyn puts whipped cream on his nose.
“Yes or no?” he asks instead.
Neil smirks. “In the middle of their moment?”
“Yes,” he taps Neil’s thumb, “Or no?”
“Yes, Andrew,” he says and pulls him in the rest of the way. He hears Nicky yell something and flips him off.
He’s okay.
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Story Request "New Introductions"
Greetings! I hope you are safe, happy, and healthy! I love your work and was super excited to see you were accepting requests. Yet I'm not sure if this is the right space for a that-- forgive me if it isn't.
How do you see Jason's return to the fold going with the rest of the BatFam? Personally I imagine this scenario: Dick is being a self-righteous alpha prick, acting super indignant on Bruce's behalf. B (who, for once, just wants to bask in these happy feelings) is having none of it and sets things straight. Either with typical omegaverse conflict resolution (*chomp*chomp*) or an actual adult conversation (or both!).
Either way, thank you for existing and I wish you a happy life!
---
Thanks for the wonderful request! We don't often get to see Dick choosing the less harmonious route in fics. Dick really might react badly to this revelation. Especially after Talia. Sprinkle in some jealousy and... yeah. Sadly he'd also going to burn some bridges with this. Enjoy!
Read on AO3
There were some benefits to having his daughter be a secret that Jason hadn’t really appreciated nearly enough before.
Like everyone and their dog suddenly wanting to visit and see the baby.
Like the flood of useless gifts he had to sort through.
Like all the new bugs and surveillance devices he found in or around his apartment from at least 5 different people.
Like having his landlord message him and assure him that he wouldn’t be penalized for breaking his lease and if he needed anything, she would be happy to do anything to help out Bruce Wayne’s mate.
Because Bruce had apparently told her that he was moving back into the manor.
After swearing impressively up and down the apartment, Jason called her back and told her that she’d made a mistake because he was neither Bruce Waynes mate, nor moving out anytime soon. Then he left a strongly worded voicemail for Bruce about boundaries and what he would not be tolerating.
Stephanie, Cass, and Tim came by and brought lots of junk food and movies for after Anise had gone to sleep. Cass hugged him and told him not to forget pack. Steph punched him and congratulated him on managing to pop such a chubby baby out. Tim said he would have appreciated a heads-up about an incoming addition to the pack, but assured him that he was very happy for him… and tried to make him promise that he’d never get left alone on babysitting duty.
Jason made no promises.
Still, this was the pack that he’d been missing, and having their scent around his den comforted parts of him he didn’t even know were there.
Damian was harder to deal with. He’d apparently thrown a huge tantrum when he heard and wouldn’t speak to Bruce now. Jason found him stalking him, silently lurking outside his bedroom window, or appearing to glower at him from across the grocery aisle. Jason was not unsympathetic to Damian’s position - he put so much weight on being Bruce’s blood son, and the existence of another biological sibling (possibly one he might want) was immensely threatening- but that didn’t mean his behavior didn’t raise Jason’s hackles.
Jason might like the kid, but he wasn’t going near his daughter until he did something about that open hostility.
No one gave him too hard of a time about hiding his pregnancy and Jason settled into an easy rhythm where Bruce came by everyday after work (before patrol) to hold and play with Anise and share a homemade meal with Jason. He stayed focused on the baby, and honestly Jason was grateful. He wasn’t ready for anything else that they shared to restart. Still, sometimes he could feel Bruce’s gaze heavy on his back when he wasn’t looking and it always made something ache deep inside him.
Then of course, the Golden Son had to come home and ruin it all.
Jason almost had a heart attack when he came out of the bathroom and found Dick standing in the living room looking nonplussed.
“What the hell is this??” Dick said shakily pointing at Anise where she was sleeping in her rocker.
“What the fuck are you doing in my den?” Jason snarled, feeling immediately agitated.
“What the hell are you doing with Bruce’s kid?” Dick growled back.
“Why, jealous?” Jason said mockingly.
Next thing he knew, Dick was shoving up into his space.
“He’d never have willingly laid a hand on either of us. Never,” Dick said looking pissed, “What did you do to him?”
Jason saw red and next thing he knew he was taking a swing. Dick blocked, and they were soon all out brawling. Jason was out of practice from staying at home with a baby, but he was pissed enough to almost make up for it. But Dick was pissed too, full of righteous fury on behalf of their pack alpha.
Something fell and shattered.
Anise started to wail.
Jason lost his focus and Dick had him pinned in an instant.
“Stay down,” Dick snarled.
“Fuck you!”
“The rest of the pack might be content to let you get away with this-”
“Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!”
“-I’m going to uncover the truth! You-”
“I’ll fucking kill you-!”
“Stay down!” This time the order came with a pair of teeth to the front of his throat. No one had bit him in submission like that since the Joker, and it would be so easy to slip back into that nightmare, but Anise was still crying and so so Jason struggled against the instinct with all his might.
The door slammed open and the smell of their furious pack alpha filled the apartment.
“What is going on here?” Bruce said in a very dangerous voice.
Dick sprang away from Jason as if he’d been burned.
“Bruce! We were just arguing and it got out of hand-”
Jason didn’t bother to listen, the moment he was free he jumped Dick again, managing to land a blow high on his cheek. He didn’t get to follow up though because Bruce hauled him off the other.
“I’m gonna kill you, I’m gonna-”
“Dick. Leave.” Bruce snarled.
Dick didn’t need to be told twice.
“You can’t just let him go! Not when he-!” Jason wheezed, feeling his limbs shake and shake and shake.
“Jason. With me,” Bruce said, “Calm. I’ll deal with him after. Are you ok? Is Anise ok?”
“Anise- I need-”
All at once, he was on the couch, Anise being pressed into his arms a moment later. Bruce pulled them back under his chin, but Jason couldn’t care. He buried his face in her soft little curls breathed slow. Anise hiccuped slightly, but quickly calmed being back in his arms and whatever calming shit Bruce was pumping into the air.
It was the first time he’d held him since Jason had first returned.
“Jason, I need you to tell me what happened,” Bruce said when Jason finally breathed away the worst of the fury, anxiety, and submission.
“Broke into my den,” Jason mumbled into Anise’s head, unwilling to lift his head just yet, “Yelling at me like Anise was only here because I forced you or something.”
“What- No-” Bruce said urgently.
“You tell him that. Because if I ever have to see his fucking face again-” Jason stopped growling as Anise started to fuss again.
“I will deal with the matter,” Bruce said firmly, “he won’t come near you two again unless you say so.”
Jason thought Bruce was being optimistic if he thought Jason was ever going to let this go.
“I’m glad you are alright,” Bruce said quietly, “When I first saw you two…”
Jason finally lifted his head, turned and looked at Bruce- the father of his child and the man he’d loved since he was old enough to know what he wanted.
Jason pressed a wordless kiss to his lips.
Bruce stayed still as he pulled away, and then made a quiet sound cupped his face and pulled them back together.
All Jason could think was finally.
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Some sudden fic! A moment with Argit and Kenny!
~~~
Even with how tattered and torn his ears had gotten over the years, he heard Kenny before he reached the door. Quick footfalls on the tile followed by the boy in question slipping in the door like it was second nature.
“Uncle Argit?” There was a tightness to his face and Argit immediately set aside everything to give his full attention.
“Hey kiddo, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Argit had known this boy from birth, that was a dirty lie. He was worse at them than Ben, scuffing his shoes on the floor and fiddling with the belt loops on his jeans. “Can I hang out here for a while?”
“Of course, when have I ever said no?” Kenny grinned, not enough to soothe Argit’s raised hackles but enough to break up some of his dim mood.
“Last year,” he countered, crossing the office at a brisk pace to curl up in one of the chairs in front of Argit’s desk, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them. The worst part was Argit knew exactly the incident he was talking about, if just because it was in fact the only deviation from a several year trend of always having space and time for the next generation of their little extended family. Especially with how busy some of the other adults could be, and with things it wasn’t safe to have them there for.
“That’s because I had a meeting with some unsavory characters that you didn’t need to be involved in.” Not that he was necessarily immune to that problem, but it was less of an issue. And that was all Kenny was getting about the matter. The less anyone besides Kevin knew about that meeting especially the better, doubly so as regarded the kittens. “Seriously, though, what’s bothering you?” An effective change of subject that also wiped away Kenny’s grin and replaced it with a solid pout.
“…I’m grounded,” he muttered under his breath that Argit might not hear it, and he bit back a snort. A smile of his own creeping onto his face, he propped an elbow on the desk and rested his jaw on his palm.
“Are you now,” he asked with a heavy ‘because you appear to be in my office’ undertone. The sheer pride that coursed through him, at the knowledge that there had been no questions over his whereabouts in the group chat and so he’d snuck out and gotten all the way there without anyone being the wiser, was wonderful. Truly the kittens were learning well. Across the desk, Kenny seemed to slump as the dam broke.
“I called Grampa Max a qihtre-” Oh. Oh fuck. “-but I didn’t know it was a bad word! Eleanor uses it all the time!” He was going to have to warn Manny- if he wasn’t losing his head at that very moment. “But Dad grounded me anyway, and it’s stupid because it’s not my fault, so I’m hiding out here until he apologizes.” It was decades of honed practice that kept Argit’s expression even and really just stopped him from falling out of his chair laughing at the whole situation. But he was pretty sure it wouldn’t help, so he put in the effort.
“That is stupid,” he agreed, partly because it was true and partly because he would, ninety percent of the time, take Kenny and Lyn’s sides over their parents. He loved them more. “But you know, if they ask I’m gonna have to tell your parents where you are.” Kenny’s eyes went wide and betrayed in that way only melodramatic children could manage.
“Uncle Argit!”
“Sorry, grown-up code.” Argit shrugged as he said it. If anything Kenny’s pout deepened.
“I thought you loved me.” Ah, melodrama. Leaning across the desk, Argit mussed his hair affectionately.
“Of course I do, kitten,” he soothed, “but if I lied about that they’d never let you come over again. And that’s if your Aunt Gwendolyn didn’t turn me into a coat before they could place the ban.” Despite himself, Kenny gave a little snort at the image, smile starting to creep back to his face. Argit flashed a grin of his own in response, with a sharp edge of mischief. “But of course, if they don’t ask… Should be fine as long as we sneak you back into your room before dinner.”
That creeping little smile lit up into a broad, toothy grin as soon as the words were out of Argit’s mouth, all prior worry gone at the reassurance. Good. As far as he was concerned there should be as little strife in the kittens’ lives as was possible.
“Thanks, Uncle Argit!” Settling back in his seat, Argit let out a please chitter as Kenny did the same.
“No problem, kiddo. Always here to help.”
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Slipping Through My Fingers - Six
masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter
warnings: none!
an: i know i usually post every other day, but i hit 700 followers today aaannndd im real happy so enjoy! this is the drama yall’ve been sittin pretty and waitin for
Elide glanced at herself in her mirror, popping her lips as her front door was practically bashed in.
Aelin was always an impatient brat, but tonight, Elide couldn’t blame her - they were finally getting to meet the mysterious Rowan and some of his friends as well. She knew her sister was inordinately anxious for this to go well.
Finally, Elide walked out of her bathroom, smoothing her hands down the fronts of her skin-tight jeans, and it looked like her door was just barely hanging on. Thank the gods for her deadbolt. “For Anneith’s sake, Ae, calm your titties, please.”
Elide sighed and unlocked her door, opening it to find her sister there, a slightly apologetic wince on her face. “Sorry! I’m nervous,” the blonde said, lifting her hand to run it through her locks, but she’d forgotten she’d thrown them up in a ponytail and so Aelin settled for picking at her cuticles. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, just gotta put on my shoes,” Elide said, “come in, maybe drink some water, calm down?”
Aelin entered and closed the door behind her, practically bouncing up and down uncontrollably. “I’ve been trying to calm down all day! I was pinning pleats and stabbed myself so many times.”
“You really like this guy, huh?”
A blush rose to Aelin’s cheeks and she ducked her head, “I don’t know! He’s just… you know? I like being around him, he’s… not really ‘nice’ but he’s nice, you know?”
Elide laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, I don’t, at all, but I get it. I’m happy for you, babe.”
“I’m happy for me too,” Aelin reached out and took Elide’s hand, squeezing once as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m really happy.” Breathing out and blinking, she smiled, “Ok, enough of that, can you get your shoes on please?”
“Bossy,” teased Elide, dropping her sister’s hand to sit down at her front hall bench and shove on her platform Doc Marten’s, lacing them up tight. “Pass me my jacket, darling?” She stood and held a hand out for the coat Aelin passed to her. Elide patted her pockets, feeling her phone, keys, and wallet. “Alright, I’m good to go.”
“Finally,” Aelin said, dragging Elide out into the hall. She was barely patient enough to wait for Elide to lock the door.
Aelin chattered nervously the entire drive to the pub, only talking faster when they picked up Nehemia.
Nehemia and Elide exchanged amused glances as they parked and Aelin practically threw herself from the vehicle, stopping herself from racing into the building when she remembered the two of them. “Sorry,” she said, smiling a bit as they walked over to her and were joined by Nesryn by herself.
“Hey, Ae, Lys had to work tonight,” Nesryn said, an apologetic furrow in her brow. “I’m sorry, she really wanted to meet him.”
“Oh,” Aelin replied, deflating slightly. “It’s ok, she can meet him another time, right? It’s fine, really, let’s go!”
+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Auntie D!”
Dresenda smiled as Kohana launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her legs. “Hey, kiddo.” She reached down and picked him up, propping him up on her side. Kohana smiled widely, his hooded eyes crinkling and nearly disappearing with his joy as they pressed their noses together, as part of the Bogdano greeting. “Lorcan, what’s up?”
Lorcan smiled at his sister-in-law, “Nothing much, what about you?”
“Same old, same old,” Dresenda replied, tickling Kohana’s side. The adults both chuckled as he giggled and squirmed away from the fingers. “But really, how are you?”
Lorcan found it hard to look at her sometimes. They had always looked alike, her and Essar. That had changed after Dresenda had joined the military and risen up the ranks, becoming hardened. Desperation, that’s what it was. A desperation to see the love of his life again, in anything, anywhere. “I’m ok, really. Little man’s in school and he’s liking that, aren’t you, K-Man?”
“I love school, Dad. I love it.” Kohana corrected him. He turned to his aunt and began speaking Bogdano to her, conversing easily in one of his native tongues.
Dresenda smiled and responded in the same language, putting him down and letting him run off into the house she was assigned after being discharged.
“And how’re you, D?”
“Well, I’d like to think I’m going good. Got a new therapist, one that has actually been in active combat,” she said with an eye roll. Lorcan had heard it all before when she’d first arrived back in town, about how an active combat soldier should receive an active combat therapist. Civilians couldn’t understand it and he couldn’t blame her for that.
“That’s good. Thanks for watching him, again, I know it’s not what anyone really wants to do on a Saturday but—”
“Lorcan, for fuck’s sake, man. I genuinely enjoy looking after your kid. What is it with parents, thinking everyone else just dreads interacting with their demons?” She punched his shoulder and he grimaced.
“Ow, that hurt.”
“Oh, you’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Dresenda said, shaking her head. “Get out of here, go have fun, I’m gonna go corrupt your child.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Lorcan said, calling out a good-bye to his son who raced back towards him, his face stricken.
“Até!” Lorcan crouched and hugged Kohana, swearing he died when the little one hugged him tight and pressed his cheek against Lorcan’s shoulder. “Bye-bye, até.”
“Bye-bye, prince,” he said, brushing back Kohana’s long hair and kissing his forehead. “Be good for D, yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. D told me we could watch a movie!” The two adults chuckled at his obvious anticipation. “Love you.”
“Love you too, K-Man.” Kohana stretched up on his toes to leave a little peck on Lorcan’s cheek before he spun away and reached for Dresenda. “Have fun, D.”
“You too.” Dresenda and Kohana stayed on the porch as he walked away, waving the entire time.
When he got in his truck, his phone rang and he connected it to the car speaker so he could drive. “Ro, what’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“Gods, man, can you calm down? I’m dropping off my child, I’ll be there soon,” Lorcan said, rolling his eyes. “Why’re you so jumpy?”
“‘Cause I really like this girl and Fen’s fuckin’ AWOL, L!”
“Ok, stop yelling, I’m driving to his house right, now, geeze.”
“Wait, are you driving? Why are you on the phone—”
“Calm down, daddy, it’s hands-free,” Lorcan said, laughing through the sentence.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then please remove your dick from my ass.”
Rowan groaned in frustration, “Mala fucking fry me, can you just pick up that fuckhead and get here faster?”
“Anything for my daddy.”
“Shut up.”
“Bye,” Lorcan crooned, “I love you.”
“Fuck off,” Rowan snarled. Lorcan waited patiently. “...iloveyoutoo.”
Lorcan laughed and hung up, slowing down in front of Fenrys’ house, where the golden-haired man was already waiting outside. When Lorcan honked his horn, he looked up from his phone and smiled, jogging out to the truck. “You ready to meet this chick?”
There was a smile Lorcan didn’t trust on his face and he gave Fenrys a suspicious look as he drove. “Yeah, I guess. I’m happy for him.”
“Well, me too,” Fenrys declared, still grinning.
“You’re freaking me out, what’s with the smile, Fen?”
“Nah, it’s nothing. Just excited, is all.”
“Alright,” Lorcan said, still wary. “Do you know any of her friends besides Mi?”
“Nossir. Ay, look at that, we’re here!” He was out of the car before Lorcan had parked the truck and stepped out, grabbing his beat-up jean jacket. Fenrys was waiting a metre away and waited for Lorcan before they stalked over to the pub’s entrance, where Rowan, Connall, and Vaughan were waiting.
“Finally, you’re here,” Rowan said, relief flooding his face.
“Hellas, you really like this girl, huh?”
Even under the darkness of the fall evening, they all saw Rowan’s cheeks flush as he ducked his head, “Yeah. I do.”
Fenrys jumped onto Lorcan’s back, “Well, then let’s meet her! Sooner I can tell her the story, the better!” They walked into the pub, Lorcan easily carrying Fenrys.
Time slowed as Rowan began threatening him into silence over a stupid and humiliating story from college, as Lorcan’s eyes landed on the corner booth where Nehemia sat and right next to her… Elide Lochan.
He was frozen in his spot, his mouth dropping open which seemed like his new thing around her, gawking. Lorcan was going to kill Fenrys. Maybe Nehemia too.
Probably having felt his gaze on her, Elide turned her head, an irritated expression on her face that faded into shock, closely followed by fury when Nehemia giggled and waved at him. Seeing her hit Nehemia’s arm with the back of her hand had Lorcan snapping out of his shock and dropping Fenrys unceremoniously, tersely telling Rowan to shut the fuck up. “Are you fucking kidding me, Fenrys?”
“What are you- oh, I see you saw Elide, hmm?”
“How long have you known,” Lorcan accused him, balling his hands into fists. “Fenrys.”
“Known what?” Connall asked, looking between his twin and Lorcan, who looked two seconds away from bashing Fenrys’ teeth in.
“The girl next to Nehemia is Kohana’s teacher. And I slept with her.”
Everyone waited with unimpressed expressions as Fenrys sighed, “Since poker night. Mia was out with her and pieced it together.”
Lorcan’s hackles raised and his fists twitched, his knuckles practically aching for the burst of pain when they collided with a face. Instead, he shoved Fenrys’ chest, making him stagger back a step. “You can’t fucking do that, Fenrys. What were you even trying to do?” He shook his head and didn’t wait for Fenrys’ response before he was grabbing Connall and Vaughan, dragging them to the bar.
“I’ll talk to him,” Connall said as they ordered drinks. “You know he ain’t mean nothing by it, bro.”
He did know that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel manipulated or puppeteered. Lorcan just nodded vaguely and knocked back a shot and grumbled, “Let’s get this shit over with.”
He did feel a twinge of remorse as he watched the myth herself, Aelin, launch out of the booth to hug Rowan. Vaughan clapped him over the shoulder, whispering in their mother tongue, “Just give it a try, huh? You liked her enough to talk to her for at least three drinks.”
Lorcan rounded on his cousin, “You’re on his side?”
“No,” Vaughan placated, “but it’s Fenrys. Boyo thinks he’s the second coming of fucking Lumas or some shit. He’s a romantic.”
“He’s a fucking busyody.”
“Whatever. You coming or nah?”
+*+*+*+*+*+*
Elide was watching in amusement as Aelin babbled on and on, clearly nervous as she sipped from her drink. Nehemia exchanged a weird look with Nesryn and Elide, raising her brows towards the chattering blonde.
“So,” Elide stated, interrupting Aelin’s rambling. “What are his friends like, Mia?”
Nehemia’s eyes twinkled with something Elide couldn’t read, “Oh, they’re nice I suppose. Very rowdy, very loud. All pretty boys, very nice to look at, Elide.”
She rolled her eyes and looked to the door when a group of loud men tumbled in. Elide recognized one of them immediately, as well as the dark-skinned man on his back. Lorcan. Carrying Fenrys.
Life froze and Elide watched Lorcan’s mouth drop open. His eyes flicked to the side and she followed his gaze to find Nehemia waving. “Oh my fucking gods, are you serious, Nehemia? Lorcan?”
Nehemia smiled serenely, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You so do! I saw you waving at him, what the fuck?” She smacked Nehemia’s arm with the back of her hand.
“Girl, come on,” Nehemia said, nudging her, “it’s kind of funny.”
Elide scowled, “You know, it really isn’t. Not telling me that the guy I slept with, who also happens to be the father of one of my students, is also your husband’s friend? And Aelin’s boyfriend’s friend too?”
Nesryn’s eyes widened, but Aelin didn’t notice anything as she jumped out of the booth and ran to meet a silver-haired man. Nehemia slipped out to greet Fenrys and Nesryn moved to sit next to Elide. “You don’t have to talk to him, you know. I’ll ignore him with you,” she offered, smiling when Elide chuckled and leaned into her side.
“Thanks, but I should probably be an adult and be polite. It’s not like he’s dying to talk to me either.”
“El, Nes! Come meet everyone,” Aelin called, beckoning them over with eyes that read: If you don’t come over right now I will gut you two.
Rolling their eyes, they tossed back the rest of their drinks and stood up, walking over to the rest of the group. Lorcan caught her eyes and nodded once, acknowledging the awkwardness of the scenario. Elide relaxed a bit as Aelin pulled her to her side. “Hey, I’m Elide, Ae’s little sister,” she said, sticking her hand out to Rowan. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Rowan looked nervous as well and his eyes darted around the group, mainly telling some sort of message to his friends before he took her hand and smiled, “I’m Rowan, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Fenrys coughed and smirked, but Nehemia swiftly elbowed him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Introductions were made all around and the larger group moved back to the booth. Elide and Lorcan both scowled at Nehemia and Fenrys, respectively, when the meddling couple forced them together, making them sit side by side. Nehemia mouthed, Talk to him!
Sighing, Elide mustered up all her willpower and turned to Lorcan, “So what is it that you do? I’ve been wondering - you’re always covered in grease and wear overalls a lot.”
Lorcan loosed a chuckle and drank some of his whiskey, “I’m a mechanic. I work at the same shop as Ansel and Fenrys.” At the mention of Fenrys’ name, they both frowned for a split second, but after, they were visibly more comfortable.
Elide hummed and accepted the Manhattan Nehemia slid her way in apology with a forgiving smile and a slight eye roll in response to her friend’s triumphant smile and not-so-subtle eyebrow wiggle. “I admit I’ve been confused about something else.”
He rose a brow in question and looked down at her. She flashbacked to the fateful night and felt her cheeks heat. “Yes?”
“How old are you,” she blurted, thankful for the other conversations at the table so that no one would hear her bumbling words. “It’s just- you look so young and you have a kid, too.”
Chuckling, he said, “Haven’t you ever heard it’s rude to ask someone their age?” Elide rolled her eyes and jabbed his side with her elbow. “Hey, ow, I bruise easy,” Lorcan joked. She rolled her eyes again. “Fine, fine, got married the summer after highschool to the love of my life and she got pregnant a couple months after we graduated university. I’m twenty-five. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” she said, running her finger over the rim of her glass. “What’d you go to university for?”
“Mechanical engineering. Got a job at a firm and realized I hated it so I got a job at Malakai’s. Been there ever since.”
“Are you any good?”
He looked quizzically at her, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good at what I do. Why?”
Elide waved her hand vaguely, “I just moved here and I have a vintage VW that’s prone to throwing temper tantrums and breaking down on me. I’ve been meaning to look for someone since I’ll be driving more ‘cause it’s getting colder now.”
Lorcan bobbed his head and turned to Fenrys, “Marama, you got a business card on you?”
Fenrys perked up and opened his mouth to say something that would no doubt irritate both Lorcan and Elide. Thankfully, Nehemia deterred him and he passed one over. “Yeah, here you go.”
Lorcan took it and fished a pen out of his jacket, scribbling something on the back of the smooth paper. He handed it to her, tapping the back with a long finger, “Call whenever you need to.”
It was a number with his name beneath it. Elide traced it with the tip of her now-clear with iridescent butterflies acrylic before putting it in the back pocket of her tight jeans, smiling easily at him. “Thanks. I’m probably due for an oil change soon, so you’ll get to meet Betsy soon.”
“You call your VW ‘Betsy’?”
Elide laughed and nodded, “Yeah, what do you call your truck?”
“I don’t call my truck anything, the K-Man on the other hand…” Lorcan trailed off and shook his head. It had to come up eventually, the subject of Kohana. Less awkward than she thought it’d be. “He has a name for it.”
“Oh really? And what’s that?”
“Fillmore.”
Elide choked on her mouthful of alcohol, laughing incredulously. “Like the hippie van in Cars?”
Lorcan winced and nodded, “The exact one.” He smiled at her laughter and didn’t see the looks exchanged by their table mates.
They chatted easily, like that same night, but there wasn’t anything expected or alluded to. Just talking, no big deal.
Her drink was soon empty, as was his, and they both stood up from the booth to get another. Elide walked ahead of him and he unashamedly drank in her curves wrapped in blue jeans and a tight black top, exposing the ink on her back as well as the delicate laurel leaves on her collarbones.
He admired the coiled wyvern taking up most of the space on her back, recognizing the decidedly Frozen Wastes and Ironteeth influence in the artwork. The last time he’d seen her skin, he hadn’t exactly been focused on her tattoos, but thinking back on it now, he should’ve been. It was stunning, just like the rest of her.
Oh fucking hell, those drinks must’ve been stronger than he’d thought because there was no way his sober mind would’ve thought that.
Elide leaned against the bar and Hellas save him, he should’ve had more self control than to stare at her ass for as long as he did.
A group of college boys passed between him and Elide, separating them for a few moments, just long enough for some skinny kid to walk up behind Elide and put his hand on her lower back.
Lorcan stiffened, his grip on his empty glass tightening, as she did too. After the guy said a few words, she laughed and spun to the side, leaning back against her elbows. “L, baby?”
She had a look in her eyes, one Lorcan knew better than to mess with so he walked up to her, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah?”
“Will you buy me a drink?” she asked, pouting and batting her lashes as she glued herself to his side, fitting under his arm. “Pretty please?”
Go with it, her eyes said and he obliged her, a hand fitting perfectly on her waist. “Whatever my girl wants.”
“Oh, I’m- sorry, I didn’t know,” the other guy said, not that they were focusing on him any longer. Elide didn’t even notice when he’d left, but Lorcan did and he semi-reluctantly stepped away, putting that distance back between them.
“So what about that drink, Salvaterre?”
Lorcan laughed deeply, nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, you know what you want, kid?” Elide did not care for that nickname one bit.
I do know what I want, she thought to herself. And it wasn’t any damned drink.
+*+*+*+*+*+*
@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @lovemollywho @tacmc @soitsgorgeous @staarligght
#slipping through my fingers#stmf chapter six#elorcan#elide x lorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#kohana#isa writes#nalgenewhore
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i think anon did not expect me to match their fucking energy as though coming into my fucking inbox with an unnecessarily aggressive attitude was going to get them anything but aggression right back. I've made my personality pretty clear, haven't i?
anyway if you want to come at me with aggression for no reason yes, i am going to consider that an invitation to be just as aggressive back because you started it and also this is my house and i am showing you the door, hope it hits you on the way out and also that you gnash your teeth in your sleep and are annoyed about it for ages. that would amuse me.
anyways like... is it so hard to simply be polite about your opinions when coming to the askbox of someone you do not know whilst cowardly hiding your face and name because you know you are overstepping to inform them that their opinions about a tv show they themself said they never watched were incorrect? is that so difficult? i know how i would do that politely. you can at least give it a try. and if you want me to give you more slack use your actual face so i can dm you and be like "why are you being so aggro right now. chill the fuck out and put your hackles down so we can have a discussion like adults" because if you're getting your hackles up about me not watching a tv show then you are like. actively too immature for my tastes and either you can grow up or get out and etc etc see paragraph two.
#red rambles#psa for my followers. i do not give slack to random anons who give me attitude for no good reason#hope this helps!#i dont *dislike* arguing with anons but if you're gonna walk in with all the energy don't drop it the minute i push back#why are you gonna tease me like that :((( i love fighting and want more rude anons to fight with :((( just know what you're getting into
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It’s Not Rabies, It’s . . . Ch. 3
Summary: Lunky gets to meet some more of the family.
A/N: This was a suggestion-request from the anon Nightfall on AO3. Which resulted in this story and since this one was getting a bit long it inspired a bit for the Visitation Day on Sunday which will be a lot less angsty.
Chapters: 1, 2, 3
Chapter 3: Meet the Family
Bim was on stage when, apparently, Dark had contacted Wilford, saying to come to the Manor when they both finished up at the studio.
Which Dark tended not to do unless it was something serious. Usually he ordered Illinois and Yan to jump at his command.
But Wil took him home and they found Dark’s office empty. Which was strange because all his important meetings with them were in there.
There was talking in the living room and Wil quickly poked his head out of the room and let out a delighted gasp.
“Now who is this delightful little configuration of being?” Wilford threw open the door and Bim followed more hesitantly.
Bim stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Dark with a child in his arms. He looked at that kid and he could feel his hackles rising.
“Hello,” Wil leaned in close to the child, bracing his hands on his knees. “Are you lucky number seven?”
The spawnling screeched at Wil.
Wilford chuckled, absolutely delighted. “Is that so?”
The madman looked up at Dark with a huge smile, “Their hiss sounds a bit like your echo, Darky.”
“They’re Kay’s child,” Dark told Wil. “Their name is Lunky.”
“Really?” Wil’s enthusiasm didn’t dampen, he clapped his hands on his knees and stood up to look around. “Where is that boy?”
“Hey dad,” King smiled and waved at Wil from where he was sitting in an armchair.
“Congratulations my boy,” Wil moved to his side to clap his hand on King’s shoulder. “Who’s the lucky partner I’ve never met?”
“No one,” King told him. “I got stabbed by a soul splitter and almost died. It gave me a kid instead.”
“That sounds fake as shit,” Bim told him.
Lunky made a little screech.
Wilford roared with laughter, “Learn quick, don’t you?”
King surged up, “Are you teaching my kid to curse, I have to deal with that later.”
“Kid’ll learn sooner rather than later when Anti shows up,” Bim defended with a huge smile on his face as King stomped over to him.
Before King could shake or punch his younger brother, Dark spoke up, “Let’s not Kay.”
The animal magnet threw his arms up in the air, and glared at Bim, “Next time I get you alone you insufferable brat.”
Bim gave him a sharp toothy smile, “Try it Dolittle.”
“Bim, if you keep antagonizing him, you might not win,” Dark warned.
“So to clear the air, this is my nephew?” Bim asked, walking over to the spawnling who maintained eye contact with Bim and both of them began a low warning growl as Bim approached.
“Bim,” Dark warned, shielding Lunky with his aura. “They’re not competition, leave them alone.”
“That’s not why I’m growling,” Bim growled defensively.
“Then why are you growling?” Wil chuckled, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and resting his chin on the palm of his hands.
Bim glared at Wil before huffing in frustration at Lunky.
“To answer your earlier question, no Lunky is not your brother. You were, to quote Beauregard, a “creation of pure science” and since I killed the other scientists it’s not happening again anytime soon. Besides there are already six of you, and you are all grown adults. Having another child would serve no purpose.”
“I could get a sister,” Yan called as she ran from upstairs with a binder of colored squares and started holding the colors up next to Lunky’s face. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some quality girl time around here?”
“I don’t control that,” Dark reminded her, neither he nor King moving Lunky away from her.
“Come now Darky, we’d get to have another angel running around the house,” Wil pouted.
“That’s what grandchildren are for,” Dark reminded.
“Yes but we have to give them back,” Wilford frowned sadly. Then he seemed to think about that. “We could not give them back.”
“Dad, I am right here,” King reminded. “We don’t live here.”
“A shame,” Wil commented, then he held his hands out. “May I hold them, pretty please?”
“Just don’t kidnap them,” King allowed.
Dark passed Lunky over to Wil, Lunky made an unhappy screeching cry and tried to hold onto Dark’s coat.
Wil chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you back to him.”
Lunky was suddenly very quiet, going completely limp, their eyes large dark orbs as they started devouring Wil’s aura.
“What a little delight,” Wil smiled. “Can they talk to animals too?”
“No, it’d be so much easier if they could,” King sighed.
Dark walked over and lessened the spells keeping Lunky 3-D and they popped back into their actual form. Wil almost dropped them but Dark caught the spawnling.
Lunky quickly stretched onto the wall and started investigating the room.
“Huh,” Bim commented, “weird gift, do they sleep on a drawing of a bed or an actual bed.”
King let out a bubbling, uncomfortable laugh, “They don’t.”
“What? Sleep?” Bim asked.
“Yes,” King answered. “I’ve barely been sleeping.”
Dark pulled a scroll from the Void and passed it over to King, “This is what I used to use on all of you.”
Looking Dark dead in the eye, King said, “You are the best, if this even works half as well as it did on me.”
Dark smirked at him.
The conversation kept going and Bim went off to hunt again and Wil raced off to the attic with Yan to find something. Leaving Dark, the Host, and King alone with Lunky in the living room. The spawnling seemed to be resting but King knew it wouldn’t last and he would actually go to sleep.
Lunky was resting against Dark’s shoulder, still a flat image, and Dark was just sitting in one of the armchairs, watching them rest.
“You know,” King commented. “When they’re like this, I kinda forget they can be an absolute nightmare.”
“Hopefully that spell works for you,” Dark replied.
“How long did it take Bim to start talking?” King asked. “We came in when he was already talking and walking.”
“We got Bim when he was eight months old, he was walking before he started talking. Wil accidentally said the word “fuck” and that was his first word. I was furious. He started talking when he was almost two. Lunky is a little bit more developed than Bim was. However, Bim was completely artificial.”
King made a face that showed that he wasn’t too reassured by those words. “Okay so should I be doing something?”
“The Host should suggest that there is a strong possibility that Lunky could never be able to fully speak,” the Host warned.
The room went quiet.
“Is that caused by something in their aura?” Dark asked.
“It is something within Lunky’s nature,” the Host reported. “There is a possibility that the Host is wrong, but the Host doubts that.”
“Okay,” King said.
Dark frowned, “A large portion of the heroes can sign, you and Illinois can sign, so can I, Wilford seemed to be able to read his mind. Communication shouldn’t be an issue. It would be a shame if we wasted their time and sanity trying to push them to communicate in a way that makes them uncomfortable.”
“Yeah,” King was very quick to agree, taking in a huge breath and nodding, looking more resolute by the second. “I can talk to birds and dogs. Humans are just another animal, right?”
“Some more so than others,” Dark offered as a barbed comment.
King looked nervous as he looked at Lunky, “I just don’t want to hurt them. I want them to be happy and safe.”
“You’ll do fine,” Dark reassured.
“Because you raised six kids?” King tried to smile.
“Well experience certainly helps,” Dark smiled. “But I meant to say that you won’t be trying to raise this one in secret like I did with all of you.”
“How did you manage that, anyways?” King asked. “We went to Disneyland one year. Dad broke an entire rollercoaster and killed fifteen people.”
“I used the Anomaly to perfectly replicate areas we wished to take you,” Dark answered. “I even replicated police involvement to keep your father entertained.”
“You absolute ass,” King cursed. “You took us to bootleg Disneyland?”
The Host chuckled at that.
“I will have you know it took a full year to investigate the entire park, including how character actors and crowds reacted,” Dark defended. “Did you expect me to bring Wil, Bim, and Arthur to an actual theme park and have nothing happen?”
“Fair,” King grumbled, and then groaned as he checked his phone. “Alright let’s get back to the base.”
“Before you leave,” Dark held up his hand and a necklace with an eye design on it. It swirled with a myriad of colors. “Something I had to learn the hard way. Spawnlings require aura to survive and grow. Like physical activity for a human. Their own will not feed them. So you have a choice: human or demonic aura.”
“To eat?” A pit formed in King’s heart.
“Yes, a new spawnling can strip all the aura from a human and render them a hollow, dry husk, matured demons have more control over it,” Dark warned. “What would you like to feed your child?”
“Uh, how do I get demon aura?” King asked apprehensively.
“Well now that depends, either an older, more experienced demon can donate their aura to a younger one, helping that spawnling grow stronger,” Dark explained. “Or you could kill a lesser, weaker demon and take all their aura to make oneself more powerful.”
That alarmed King instantly. “Demons can actually die?”
“Not from a single hit or even a volley of hits, killing a demon is a drawn out process but if the lesser is significantly weaker and the other demon is significantly stronger the fight is almost not fair. I have to kill some upstart every couple of months who tries to wander into Egoton thinking they can just take over. Typically I can just run them out and if they’re smart they won’t come back, other demons not so much. Why not put all that energy to good use?”
“O-Okay,” King allowed.
“I figured you would side with the humans so I took the time to mix my own aura with another demon’s that I recently subdued,” Dark told him. “At Lunky’s current appetite this should last him a couple months.”
King moved to put on the necklace but Dark stopped him. “Try to avoid putting it on, we wouldn’t want Lunky to associate you with food, now would we? You have far less aura than I do.”
“Right,” King pocketed the necklace and King took Lunky back who was upset to leave Dark’s arms and aura, but was quieted when they were given the necklace to chew on. Wil and Dark said their goodbyes. The Host took Lunky and King back to the base.
A calm settling back over the city.
#Superhero AU#Masks and Maladies#Markiplier#Darkstache#King of the Squirrels#Yancy the Prisoner#Lunky#Darkiplier#the Host#Wilford Warfstache#Bim Trimmer#Yandereplier#Domestic fluff#discussions of demonic cannibalism
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Talk to Me
A Pynch Fic
Words: 2919
TW: Abuse (typical Robert Parrish bullshit), Food issues due to anxiety
Ronan paused in the entry way to the dorms at Harvard, struck by what some might call anxiety. Except it’s not. Because Ronan doesn’t get anxious.
What if he doesn’t want me here? What if everything is fine and I’m overreacting?
Ronan clamped down on that idea fast. He knew Adam. And because he knew Adam, he also knew that things have been off, and Adam was trying to pretend that they weren’t. At first, Ronan was going to wait for Adam to come to him, like the adults they were. Ronan didn’t like the idea of him having to beg Adam for information any time something was wrong. But that was before Adam’s roommate, Eliot, texted Ronan. Ronan swiped at his screen to look at the message again.
Yesterday 5:30 PM
Crybaby 1
Hey, I hate to do this but I’ve got to ask, is anything up with you and Adam? He’s been acting strange and distant for like 3 weeks now and every time we mention it he says he’s “fine.” The man is running exclusively on 5 hour energy drinks and granola bars twice a day. We’re getting worried but he won’t talk to us.
That text was what put Ronan over the edge.
He’d hoped that if Adam wasn’t talking to him, he would at least be getting support from his other friends. He hadn’t seen it until late, but he had immediately sent a response.
Yesterday 10:03 PM
No idea. Be up tomorrow.
Ronan paused, then:
Don’t tell Adam.
So now Ronan was in Cambridge. Standing outside his boyfriend’s building like some sort of coward. He knew Adam missed him. At least, he sure missed Adam. Still, the fear that Adam wouldn’t tell him what has been bothering him or, worse, Ronan is what has been bothering Adam, kept him glued to the sidewalk.
Deep breaths. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Ronan decided to take the stairs. For exercise, obviously. Not because he was nervous. Despite his racing thoughts, Ronan had to admit he was excited to see his boyfriend. Adam hadn’t made it back for spring break this year, and it had been far too long since Ronan had a chance to see his Magician. Stopping in front of Adam’s door, Ronan shrugged his backpack more squarely onto his shoulders, gave his trademarked slouch, rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness, and then knocked.
The door opened. Adam stared. Ronan blinked. It was Adam that broke the silence.
“Ro? What are you doing here?”
For a second, Ronan had to gather himself, not really believing his eyes.
What the fuck Parrish?
Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam and pressed his cheek to the top of Adam’s head. Rather than give a real reply, a reply which Adam certainly would not have liked, he shrugged into the embrace and simply said,
“I missed you.”
Ronan doesn’t lie, but he also loves his boyfriend enough not to tell the whole truth. Yet. Instead, Ronan squeezed tighter.
Fuck he’s lost weight… Eliot wasn’t kidding about the granola bars.
Adam pulled away enough to look at Ronan’s face, likely trying to read his expression to see if there was more. Whatever he decided, he didn’t elaborate, replying with a tentative smile and a kiss.
“Yeah, well I missed you too, you sap.”
Ronan scowled without any real malice. “Shut up Parrish.”
Adam pulled away fully, but linked their fingers together, using them to tug Ronan into the dorm. Ronan shut the door and followed Adam into the tiny, but still cozy, bedroom. Ronan tossed his backpack on the floor and turned around to Adam pushing himself up onto the slightly elevated twin bed. Ronan stopped and took Adam in for just a moment.
As sexy as his boyfriend was, it was not a good moment.
Despite the smirk on Adam’s face as he watched Ronan get situated, his face showed the marks of what could only be pure exhaustion. Dark circles lined his kind eyes, and his bottom lip was chapped from where Adam nervously chewed on it. Just like he was doing right now, as Ronan so obviously analyzed his appearance. Fuck. Ronan forced himself to smile, he didn’t want to ruin the reunion.
We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Parrish.
“You know, Opal’s going to kill me for coming to see you without her,” Ronan admitted.
Adam laughed.
Damn if I didn’t miss that laugh more than anything.
“Oh yeah?” He replied, “Chainsaw isn’t enough to keep her occupied for the weekend? What ever will she do without you there to brood at her?”
“No you idiot,” Ronan vaulted himself onto the bed, planting himself firmly on the pillows. “The problem isn’t that I’m not there. The problem is that she isn’t here with your smiling face…” Ronan faltered for a second, realizing that if Eliot was being honest, this is probably the first time Adam has smiled in a while. Ronan pulled his leg onto the bed to untie his combat boots. Pulling one off and chucking it at the wall, before repeating the process with the other to procrastinate starting another conversation other than, ‘What is your deal?’. Adam must have sensed his hesitation, quickly saying,
“So, have you completed any of those projects you had set out to do on the farm the last time I was home?”
Ronan glowed at Adam’s description of the Barns as home and, just like that, Ronan and Adam talked as though nothing was wrong. Chattering about the new floors Ronan was putting in one of the stables and the new cow Opal had taken a liking to. Time slipped away as the two boys filled each other in on things too trivial to be worth mentioning in their phone calls. Not that Ronan didn’t notice Adam deflecting questions about himself or how his classes were going or what he had been up to with his friends lately. Ronan absolutely did, and each denial and topic change had his hackles raising because why won’t he just tell me what’s wrong?
Ronan was uncomfortably reminded of the early days of his and Adam’s friendship. When it had been clear that they had more in common than Gansey’s unyielding loyalty, but still didn’t quite trust each other with the things that mattered. The days when Adam would show up with a black eye and reply “Oh this? My hand slipped at the shop and I dropped a tool on my own face while under a car, dumb right?” Or the weeks after that god-awful dream when Ronan didn’t sleep because “fuck off Parrish, if I needed another Gansey I’d let you know.”
Ronan went to pick up pizza so as not to absolutely lose it.
And it worked. Mostly. Well, it worked until Adam sat there on the bed claiming he was full after having only picked at one small piece of pizza. Ronan ignored him, shoving another slice of veggie into Adam’s hand.
“You need to eat. Chainsaw eats more than you.”
Adam sighed, putting the pizza back into the box, not doing anything to help Ronan’s already stellar mood.
“I eat.”
“Fuck off with that bullshit, Parrish. When was the last time you ate a full meal?”
“Ronan,” Adam rolled his eyes playfully, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “You’re overreacting—“
“Am I Adam? You see, I don’t think I am, because it appears this isn’t the only thing you’ve not been upfront with me on recently.”
Adam’s eyes went cold.
“Cool, I was wondering when we were going to get to the actual reason you’re here right now.”
“Can I not just want to see my boyfriend after two fucking months apart?”
“Don’t lie to me, Ronan. You’re bad at it.”
“That’s fucking rich coming from you.” Ronan combated dryly, trying to restrain his frustration.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
Ronan laughed without humor. “It means that for some fucking reason my boyfriend has been falling apart at the seams for weeks and didn’t tell me shit until it got so bad that his roommate texted me to see if he was okay! It means that you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping enough and you definitely haven’t been eating enough but you still start every phone call with ‘I’m doing fine how ‘bout you, Ro?’ It means that for some reason I’m being shut out, and you won’t tell me what I did wrong!”
After airing his frustrations, Ronan deflated. He rubbed his hands over his face, then through his hair to rest on his neck, curling in on himself. He sighed, resigning himself to whatever answer his boyfriend had to give.
“What did I do wrong, Adam?” His voice cracked.
Ronan looked up at Adam, who looked smaller than Ronan had seen him in a long time. As soon as the question had sunk in, Adam was immediately shaking his head, reaching to hold Ronan’s face between his warm dry palms.
“No, no.. Fuck, Ro, this isn’t your fault at all.”
Ronan put his hands on top of Adam’s, whose thumbs were rubbing small circles on Ronan’s cheeks.
“Then what is going on Adam? If it isn’t me that’s the problem, then why won’t you open up to me? I haven’t felt this distant from you since before you left that fucking trailer—“
Adam froze, a look in his eyes that Ronan hadn’t seen in a while: fear and… is that guilt? Ronan grabbed Adam’s hands tighter as the realization seeped in.
Robert Fucking Parrish.
“When?” Ronan said with steel in his voice, lowering their hands from his face but still gripping them tightly.
Adam avoided his eyes and gritted his teeth. “When what?”
“When did he fucking contact you Adam?”
“Ro you don’t get it. This is my fault.”
“In what universe has anything he’s ever done to you been your fault..”
“I told them they could—“
“Could what?!”
“Could contact me and—“
“And why the fuck did you tell him that?!”
“For god’s sake Ronan would you let me finish?” Adam said harshly.
Ronan closed his mouth, took a deep breath, and then opened it to use a word he’d been practicing.
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
Adam’s face softened, and then returned to the guilty look from earlier.
“When I graduated..” Adam swallowed. “When I graduated I went back to see my mom. I did it while my dad was at work. I had some crazy idea in my head that now that I had graduated and made it into an Ivy League that she would maybe listen to me for the first time in my life…” Adam trailed off, lost in his thoughts.
Ronan squeezed his hands and Adam’s eyes focused again.
“I had gotten it in my head,” he continued, “that my mom wanted to leave just as bad as I did. That she too was tired of my da— Robert’s behavior and would want to leave if she had another option. I asked her to move to Cambridge with me.”
Ronan inhaled sharply. Why didn’t he tell me?
“I figured that we could get an apartment and drop off of Robert Parrish’s map. It wouldn’t have been easy, but god if I didn’t want to do for her what you did for me.” Adam’s eyes went glassy and he squeezed Ronan’s hands tighter. “She said no, of course. Told me that she loves him and everything that happened was my fault, but it was obvious she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me.” Adam took a big inhale and then exhaled. “I said okay. I know as well as anyone that you can’t leave a situation like that until you’re ready, and even then sometimes it just doesn’t work out like that.” A tear leaked down his cheek, which he wiped clumsily on his shoulder as to not let go of Ronan’s hands.
“I gave her my phone number, just in case she changed her mind. I wanted to let her know that there’s a way out, even if she chooses not to take it.” Adam stopped, trying to calm himself, but Ronan could tell that wasn’t the end of the story.
“She called for the first time about a month ago and told me she was done, that she wanted to leave. I was so relieved. I told her to pack a bag and let me know a time and place, that I would drive down to pick her up. That we would figure something out. I immediately got online and started looking for apartments… I even applied for another job so that I could pay for it. But then I didn’t hear from her for a whole day, and I was getting worried. I didn’t want to call her in case he picked up because then she wouldn’t be safe, so I waited. A day and a half after she called the first time she called again and said she had made a mistake. That I needed to stop planting ideas in her head and that their marital problems were all my fault anyway. I could tell she didn’t mean it, that she was scared, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” The tears were flowing freely down Adam’s face at this point, but he seemed not able to bring himself to care.
“To make things even better, somehow Robert got ahold of my number,”
Ronan felt his shoulders tense.
“And, now, he calls me three or four times a week to remind me of how I ruined him and my mother, how his drunkenness is a result of how difficult I have made their lives, and how my entitlement was really the root of his inability to hold a job. Somehow.” Adam managed a watery chuckle in spite of himself, and then sobered. “I can’t block him because mom might change her mind. I can’t possibly imagine where I would be if you and Gansey gave up on me every time it caused you a bit of trouble.”
Ronan’s heart ached in his chest, knowing Adam was never any trouble to either him or Gansey, but also knowing Adam was not in a place to hear this. Instead, he pulled Adam into his arms, as if cradling him to the source of the hurt would soothe the pain. In some ways it worked. Ronan took a minute to gather his thoughts (also something he had been practicing) before he spoke.
“You have the kindest heart of anyone I know and the patience of a saint, Adam Parrish. You shouldn’t be punished for that kindness.”
Adam shook his head and the tears ran faster down his face as Adam turned around and swung his leg over Ronan’s. Now straddling him, Adam leaned his head on Ronan’s chest, hearing his voice vibrate through his good ear.
“I know you think that there is no other way to deal with this other than continually putting yourself through the very abuse you worked so hard to escape from. I want you to remember that, as much as your mom is a victim, she also had a duty as your mom to protect you and care for you.” Ronan kissed the top of Adam’s head. “She hasn’t held up her end of the bargain for the last 20 years. It’s a lot to ask of yourself to play the part she should have been playing all along when it means you have to face the very same verbal abuse she was complicit in.”
Adam nodded, but Ronan could tell that, while Adam knew logically that his mom’s situation is not his burden to bear, he couldn’t yet make his emotions reflect that reality. Suddenly, Adam sat up, face to face with Ronan.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Ronan,” he said softly. “I was embarrassed I got myself into this, and I knew you wouldn’t have approved of me talking to my mom again. I didn’t want to burden you with a problem that you would have been able to avoid.”
Ronan scoffed gently. “Idiot. I wouldn’t have known if I could avoid that problem or not because I’m not you. As much as I care about your experiences and try to empathize, it would be very unfair of me to make assumption based on my own life. I need you to talk to me. It sucks feeling distant and hopeless.”
Adam sniffed though the slowing tears, but smiled slightly. “Yeah, okay, Ro.”
“And we can handle this however you want. I am here for you regardless.” Ronan pulled his sleeves over his hands and used them to gently wipe off Adam’s face. “I just need you to work towards being okay again. Eating, sleeping… you know the basic bullshit we have to do as humans.” Ronan said with a half-smile.
Adam just looked at Ronan for a minute, giving him time to think, damn I’m lucky, before being pulled into a gentle kiss.
“Now,” Ronan said with a yawn and a smile, “it’s time to catch up on some of that sleep you desperately need.” He ran his thumbs feather-light over Adam’s dark circles before tipping the two of them over in bed.
Ronan tangled their legs as he pulled the covers over them both.
Fuck, I missed this.
“Tamquam,” Adam whispered into Ronan’s neck.
“Alter idem.”
Ronan closed his eyes as Adam snored softly.
This was my first fic so I’d love to know your thoughts!
AO3 @ in_a_pynch
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i love the unviable au an unhealthy amount, could you elaborate a little more on how they stop the apocalypse?
HMM. Well. They wake up, and Team Apocalypse is a go. Five absolutely insists that they get Vanya on the team, and he absolutely wants Vanya to know he’s alive. Well, present at least.
(Ben - Ben retreated from the world, after he died. He didn’t want the others to know. He wanted them to grieve and let him go. Besides. With how the rest of the family treated Klaus after - after everything
after Five. After Five vanishing and the drugs and Ben’s death and Klaus’s spiral that no one seemed to care enough to pull him out of. Klaus was the only sibling that could see Ben, and Klaus needed him. Needed him in a way that none of the rest of the family did.
Ben didn’t ask Klaus to tell them others about him. Klaus figured that no one would believe him anyway.)
Klaus in hemming and hawing but Five isn’t exactly Ben, is he? He can interact with the world, in his own limited way. He can write. He could do this with or without Klaus.
But no one else needs to know, probably.
(Five doesn’t think much about how Team Apocalypse is going to be comprised of mostly people who he didn’t find dead on the ground. The only one he saw dead is Klaus, and isn’t that funny? To Klaus, a solid half of the team is dead.
To Five, only Klaus is.)
So Klaus and Ben and Five get up in the morning, and Five says that they Have To Find Vanya. Except Vanya’s not in the house, she’s gone back to her own apartment because she has stuff to do and a life to live.
(Somewhere, the Commission is getting antsy. Klaus heads towards Vanya’s apartment, and that’s not supposed to happen. Vanya is supposed to be isolated. Something is changing the timeline, and they aren’t sure what.
So they send some investigators. Their best. Hazel and Cha-Cha are deployed.)
So they go to the apartment. Klaus awkwardly knocks on the door and it swings open and there’s Vanya blinking at him in the way she always does.
“Vanya!” Klaus cheers, and leans forward to wrap her in a hug, because he is a very touchy-feely person and he had to watch as Five and Ben got all the hugs last night.
“Klaus?” Vanya says, sounding confused, but she lets her brother in. She watches him with wary eyes, and Klaus feels his heart break a tiny bit but - he’s known to his siblings, as a thief and a magpie.
“Do you want... some tea?” Vanya asks awkwardly, shuffling towards her kitchen, “I have uh. I have a lesson soon, but I mean, uh...”
That’s about the time when Five loses patience from where he’s been telling Klaus to Say Something and starts picking up couch cushions and throwing them.
“Uh.” Klaus says, staring, from Vanya’s point of view, into space. In actuality he’s looking at Five who is behaving like an absolute gremlin.
(Klaus is reminded, all over again, of how young his brother looks. Is. How old Five was when he died.)
“Do you want to explain what’s going on, Klaus?” Vanya asks tightly.
“Five is really impatient.” Klaus blurts out, and then covers his mouth because oops.
“Five?” Vanya says loudly, and Five rattles a cabinet in confirmation.
“Uh.” Klaus looks at Ben. Ben shrugs, because lets be honest they weren’t able to control Five when they were younger either, they have no chance now.
“Wait,” Vanya says, pale as milk, “So yesterday, in the courtyard...”
“Yup!” Klaus says cheerfully, putting on his best grin, “Aw, you know, a broken calendar is right twice a year and all that!”
“That’s not the saying.” Five informs him, flopping dramatically onto the couch.
“It was almost the saying.” Ben says sympathetically.
Klaus valiantly ignores them.
“Five is... here?” Vanya asks, her eyes scanning the apartment.
“On the couch, like he owns the place the little shit.” Klaus tells her.
Vanya stares at the seemingly empty couch for a moment, and after a few beats of silence, she just says “I’m going to go ahead and cancel that lesson.”
(Somewhere, somewhen, the Commission’s hackles all go up in alarm as Harold Jenkins frowns down at his phone and wonders if he should try his luck and go to the apartment anyway.)
Later, when Ben has Five distracted trying to teach him to pick something up, Klaus talks quietly to Vanya.
“Van, he’s - he’s so little.” Klaus tells her, voice a little too thick, “He looks - he’s exactly the same as when he left. He’s so tiny, and he’s still in that fucking uniform. He’s so tiny and I can’t stand it.”
And Vanya wraps her arms around her brother. She and Klaus have never been close, not even when they were little, but they’re both outsiders. They’re both rejects. And there’s a certain sort of kinship in that.
“I wish I could see him, too. See them, too.” She whispers, because telling her about Five also means telling her about Ben.
And Klaus could say a million things to that. Could snarl and tell her to be careful what she wished for, because alongside Ben and Five came a hundred million nightmares that rattle around Klaus’s head every time he’s too sober to ignore them.
But he looks over as Five slaps at Ben’s shoulder to get his attention and then guide his hands over to the apple they have settled in between them as their test subject.
And then he looks at Vanya, and he says - “Yeah, me too.”
And then there’s a knock on the door.
“Shit.” Vanya says, swearing. “I left a message but - it’s probably my student. Just. Lay on the couch and look miserable or something.”
Klaus is very good at acting, sort of. So he immediately drapes himself across the couch and groans dramatically, adding in a cough for good measure.
Vanya rolls her eyes, and opens the door to apologize to whatever child was supposed to have a lesson and -
Oh. Not a child. An adult. She blinks, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?”
“Hi!” The man greets, smiling at her. Not too many people smile at her like that. “I’m here for the lesson? I know, I know. I’m a bit older than your usual clientele - ”
Klaus coughs loudly and Vanya winces, “I’m sorry.” She says, cutting the man off, “I tried to leave a message - I’ve had an emergency come up and I’m not able to do lessons today.”
“Oh, but - ” The man starts, and Vanya suddenly feels someone push on the door as if to close it. She manages to catch it, but considering there’s no one there, well.
“I’m very sorry.” She says firmly, using one hand to bat through the air behind the door to shoo who she assumes is Five away. “If you send me your availability, I’d be happy to reschedule.”
“That would be really great.” The man says, nodding. “Do you think you’d be free tomorrow? It’s just - I’d really like to get started, you know?”
The door rattles again and Vanya winces, “I’m not sure. If it’s urgent I can, uh, send you the information for another teacher. I really am sorry about this.”
“I’ll call later then.” The man says, “Sorry for bothering you.”
“Not a problem.” Vanya says automatically, “Have a good day.”
And then she closes the door, and turns around to frown at Klaus, “Tell Five to quit, I had that handled.”
“You know, I only have to translate his responses to you.” Klaus points out, sitting up and swiping a hand across the back of his mouth, “Like, he has ears.”
“Five, I had that handled. You didn’t need to be pushing on the door.” Vanya says to the room at large, her hands on her hips.
“Five!” Klaus says loudly, sounding very scandalized, “Why! We oughtta wash your mouth out with soap!”
Vanya gives him a critical look, “I’m not sure whether you’re saying that to get him into trouble or if he’s actually swearing. Either way, we should probably talk.”
“Five says to clear your schedule for the week.” Klaus says scooting over on the couch and giving it an inviting pat, “You’re officially recruited for team apocalypse.”
“Me?” Vanya asks, completely confused. And why shouldn’t she be? None of her siblings have willingly recruited her for anything before. Forget being the last kid picked for team sports, Vanya wasn’t even on the list.
Klaus’s eyes soften, because even if Vanya wasn’t on the list, Klaus was still the last picked kid. “Five insists. Loudly.”
And Vanya smiles. It’s wobbly, but it’s there, because she’s been leaving out peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches and leaving the lights on since she was a kid, grieving for the one sibling who was on her side. And here he is. Refusing to ignore her. Picking her for the team.
Of course the apocalypse can’t happen the same way, because Vanya isn’t isolated. She’s part of Team Apocalypse.
Instead of nagging at her about Leonard, Allison sighs and tells say that she loves Klaus as well but... he’s Klaus. He’s probably going to rob her the moment her back is turned and all that. He’s still their brother, and it’s nice that Vanya is hanging out with him but...
And Vanya bristles, because yeah Klaus is the family fuck up but he’s their brother. She’s the family wallflower, the odd man out, the freak. So she and Allison still fight, and Allison still insists that she’s just looking out for Vanya and Vanya insists that she’s never needed Allison to look out her before now -
An important thing of note.
Five doesn’t have the eyeball.
Five knows what it looks like, he probably had it in his apocalypse nest and poked at it when he was stuck on an equation. He knows that color it is. He probably memorized its serial number. He doesn’t have the physical eye.
Klaus is still chaotic as fuck, but Vanya adds a certain sense of... level headedness to the team. And despite everything, Klaus is actually fairly efficient... when he wants to be.
Vanya has the exhausted “I don’t want to be here any more than you do” look to her that inspires some measure of sympathy from overworked desk ladies so they probably get the info about the eye not existing yet without all the... extra drama.
Now. Hazel and Cha-Cha aren’t hunting someone down. They’re investigating. So they don’t burst in gun blazing, they’re basically stalking Vanya in an effort to figure out both What Changed and how to isolate her.
I know what you’re thinking. But what about Griddys? Do the squad not know about the commission agents trailing them?
Well, after the whole eye escapade, Klaus is hungry. He fondly recalls food an ex used to make with Vanya and she smiles and marvels at how different their lives are. And then, because she’s suddenly a little nostalgic, she offers to take him to the one restaurant they went to as kids.
Griddys.
So they go, and Ben and Five are there are well, and Klaus probably insists on getting them waffles as well (“it’s lunch time Klaus” “waffle time is ALL the time Vanya”) so they’re sitting there eating
and of course Cha-Cha and Hazel are stalking them. And why be careful and hide their faces. The Hargreeves don’t know them. They can just blend in as two ordinary people, eating lunch.
Except there’s the one little ghost who can. Five spots them, and immediately freaks out because those are ASSASSINS and he never did figure out what role Vanya played and What If They’re There To Kill Her
So he frantically informs Klaus, and Klaus whispers to Vanya, and Five tells them they need to get the hell out of dodge. ESPECIALLY Vanya.
And this is Vanya’s life now, so she sneakily tucks money under her plate (because she isn’t dining and dashing Klaus, jesus) and smiles at Klaus and goes to the backroom, where she shimmies out the window.
Klaus stuffs the remainder of his waffle in his mouth and grimaces at his hands and goes to the bathroom as well, except he diverts and goes out the back entrance where he meets Vanya in the alley and they both scarper.
“I can totally talk you through stealing a car.” Five says eagerly, “I saw like, loads of commission agents hotwire a care. I totally know what I’m doing.”
“Fucking sweet.” Klaus says, nodding. “Pick out a ride then, little man.”
“Absolutely not.” Vanya says, having gleaned enough from Klaus’s words to understand, “We are not stealing a car, jesus. If we need a ride, I can always... I don’t know. Call a cab.”
“The little dude has a point.” Klaus says, “Calling a cab isn’t exactly uh, you know. Conducive to a quick getaway.”
Vanya frowns.
“We could steal Diego’s car.” Ben offers, because secretly Ben is also very chaotic.
“Diego’s car.” Klaus agrees with wonder.
“We’re going to get stabbed, aren’t we.” Vanya sighs, putting her face in her hands. It’s not a question.
(And meanwhile in the diner, Cha-Cha realizes that the targets are gone and checks outside, and Hazel gets to chat with the lovely owner. Agnes. What a lovely name, huh?)
Honestly the whole au sort of ends up being like. The Klaus and Vanya show against the siblings while Five and Ben work together in the background and Five causes, you know, absolute chaos. And also gets lots of hugs. Ben and Five get lots of hugs in this au.
Klaus still gets kidnapped. Not because they want to get Five, but because they want to isolate Vanya. Well, not just that. They’d just kill him if that was it. They also want to know - what changed. What made Klaus seek Vanya out. What changed the timeline.
And Five can move things. Five can write on things. So he sees Klaus get kidnapped and follows him, figured out where he is, tells Ben to look after Klaus, and goes back to Vanya. He grabs a sharpie, and scrawls the address on the closest available surface, and hey if Vanya just happens to be fighting with Diego about the car...
“What the FUCK.” Diego demands.
“Fuck.” Vanya says, looking at the address. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, Diego, are you in?”
“In what?” Diego demands, scrubbing a finger over the sharpie that has popped up on the windows of his fucking car.
“Rescuing Klaus.” Vanya says, looking braver than she feels.
“Klaus can deal with his own shit.” Diego growls.
“Okay.” Vanya says, and of course she’s alone, she’s always been alone in this fucking family -
“Where are you going.” Diego asks, jogging up to her, “I don’t know what the fuck he’s gotten himself into, but you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Then I guess I’ll get to see Klaus either way.” Vanya bites out, “And the family will have rid itself of another problem, huh? Win win all around.”
Diego swipes a hand over his face and swears, “Fuck just, fuck. Okay. Okay, fine. We’ll go drag Klaus’s ass out of the fire. And then you are going to explain exactly what the fuck happened to my car.”
“Deal.” Vanya says, already in the passenger seat and buckling in with determination.
Safety first, bitch.
So they go to the hotel. They bust in. They manage to get away. And Klaus manages to get his hands on the briefcase.
“Klaus, wait - no!” Five screams, and Klaus opens the suitcase and vanishes.
(But Five was touching Klaus, was trying to grab his arm to pull him away, terrified and incapable of helping because he’s intangible. Five gets to go with on this side trip to Vietnam.)
And then a light flashes, and there’s Klaus, and Five, and - some random dude.
“I thought you were joking.” Dave hollers, staggering backwards and staring at the suitcase like it’s going to jump up and bite him.
(Five is impatient, and irritable, and wants to get home to take care of things and stop the end of the world. Klaus falls head over heels for a soldier, but in the past few days... he’s gotten awfully fond of Vanya. He wants to help her.
By our powers combined, we have a Klaus who is motivated to go home, but also motivated to convince Dave to come with. We end up with... alive Dave.)
(Wow this is one of the few aus I have with alive Dave. Go me.)
“Vanya, Diego, Ben.” Klaus says, beaming, “Meet my boyfriend, Dave!”
“Klaus, I say this with the utmost sincerity.” Vanya deadpans. “But what the fuck.”
“Ben?” Diego demands.
Vanya and Klaus turn to Diego with contemplative looks.
“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” Vanya says.
“In my defense I’ve been gone for like, months.” Klaus says. And then pauses meaningfully. “Wait a second, does that mean - ”
A pebble flies and hits Klaus in the face. This does not stop him.
“I’m the oldest sibling!” Klaus yells, preening like a peacock, “Behold, infants! It is I, your eldest brother!”
“Absolutely not.” Diego growls, as Klaus points at thin air.
“Am so. Physically, I am older than everyone else. Yeah, it’s on technicality. Suck it, Casper.”
“Klaus, stop messing with Five.” Vanya sighs, sounding like this is something she has said before. “You know he can probably kill you.”
“Five?” Diego squawks.
“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Dave asks, already looking like he’s accepted his fate and life might as well be this weird.
“The world is ending in five days. Welcome to team apocalypse.” Vanya tells him sympathetically.
“The world is what.” Diego hollers.
“Oh yeah.” Klaus muses, “Forgot to mention that as well.”
“What is going on!” Diego howls.
“Don’t we all want to know.” Klaus flutters in sympathy.
After that, they decide to convene at Vanya’s apartment and go over what they know, and what they’ve learned.
Team apocalypse gains two (2) members! Welcome to the team, Diego and Dave.
(Diego didn’t complain to Patch about a missing sibling because he doesn’t know Five is around. Patch doesn’t find a ransom note, because Hazel and Cha-Cha didn’t leave one. Patch doesn’t die, and Diego has no reason to go tearing off in grief and anger and vengeance.)
And that’s more on team apocalypse trying to stop the apocalypse lmao
#unviable au#the umbrella academy#tua#tua au#five hargreeves#number five#vanya hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#diego hargreeves#dave katz#dave lives in this au#long post#far tua long#klaus and vanya get proper sibling time#diego and dave join the team#five is a little shit#ben loves his little shit brother#leonard peabody is frustrated as all fuck because he keeps trying to meet vanya and getting brushed off#vanya has SHIT TO DO sir#she already called all her students and informed them that she's taking the week off#in all fairness her dad just died#she is entitled to grief leave#circumstances mean that leonard isn't able to get close#Anonymous
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an FYI ~
Without a doubt, I’ve been distracted from RP but I digress… I’ve also been dipping into fanficland, a Strifehart feels run being my first instalment yet to come.
A snippet below, I guess? I’m quite dubious when sharing as I sometimes feel I don’t get Squall just right, let alone other characters… ergo, this leap of faith? Eh. Enjoy what will come, I guess?
Brief synopsis; Cloud is a werewolf that lives in the world of FF8. Other characters will appear, but for now, Strifehart mains~
In the beginning, not all was well. Those born from extraordinary circumstances – “Mythics” – were scorned, exiled from belonging in any place of man due to their collective (misplaced) fear; of not knowing what they might do, despite not knowing what they might not do.
Long, tedious battles took place, sometimes figuratively, mostly physically, until one fateful day, a breakthrough finally happened. One man, known among mankind as a hero of their time, used his influence over the world to fight for them, and he fought fiercely for their rights as living beings to survive and thrive with everyday people.
Vampires, once feared through centuries of misrepresentation and slander, strolled about in broad daylight, dressed head-to-toe in protective gear, specialised to deflect the life-threatening UV rays. Werewolves, once thought of as nothing but mindless monstrosities carrying an uncontrollable, infectious disease, walked among the public without fears of being ruthlessly hunted. Fairies, demons, pixies, sirens – so many Mythics roaming freely for, potentially, the first time in their lives.
**
Squall Leonhart was, for lack of a better term, fed up.
Why, one might inquire? Simply put, in the outskirts of Winhill, he’d purchased a luxuriously large plot of land and set up a homely ranch-slash-house for himself. The final decision to settle down in the middle of nowhere was partially due to the beautiful scenery, mostly from the unrivalled privacy and his overwhelming need to stay out of the limelight to enjoy his reluctant retirement. On the land roamed a few dozen chickens, some cows, a random goat or two, and a grumpy old chocobo that wandered in one day and stayed, allegedly liking what she saw (and whom he’d fondly named Chocorita – he wasn’t great at naming things, sue him).
In the solitude of Winhill and the mountains, he’d expected peace. For the first time in his life, he wanted to take it slow, to relax and maybe take up a boring hobby that kept him off his feet (just as the doctor prescribed, ugh). Instead, anywhere he went, he got chaos. Destruction, mayhem, calamity, regardless of how minor or extreme. Natural, man-made and in-between, there was no way to escape his horrendous luck.
Such was what had him out of bed at an ungodly hour one morning, standing in nothing but fraying-at-the-edges pyjama pants and worn out boots in long need of replacing, staring in utter disdain and absolute exasperation at his hen house… that was currently being ravaged by a gigantic, rugged as heck, wolf. Flashlight pointing directly at the offending creature, which halted on the spot like a deer caught in headlights the moment the beam landed on its furry hide, unblinking eyes on Squall as he glared back his unrelenting disgust.
Why. Just why.
“…I use these for eggs!” he howled, agitation and exhaustion (with everything) winning over any common sense warning him to back away from the potentially dangerous beast, waving his only viable weapon of a flickering flashlight at the frozen mongrel. Who, to his complete surprise, dropped the feathery carcass like the soft exterior burned and fucking scampered away in (what he could only describe as) unbridled terror, wispy tail tucked firmly between long legs. Silence crept in around Squall, apart from the occasional chirping cricket, as he stared in the direction the wolf fled, trying to process what just happened.
After a moment of further consideration, he shook his head roughly, forever in his way hair falling over his face as he clapped a palm to it, running it down while groaning in defeated frustration. Miles and miles of forest teeming with wildlife just as easy to catch, plus neighbouring placements just a few clicks out, and… it was still him that was ransacked. Hand lowering, noticing the flashlight beam gradually dimming, he deemed it time to call it a night. One wearily curious glance after the thieving mutt was all he spared before turning on his heel and wobbling his way back inside to the persistent light and welcoming aircon.
He’d deal with the chickens come sunrise.
**
Come morning, a more reasonable morning, someone had the nerve to knock loudly on Squall’s front door. With his establishment being all ground floor, noises travelled quickly and efficiently. Thus, obnoxious banging woke him from a restless sleep despite his bedroom being in the furthest corner away from the main hall. Blissful silence occurred briefly, his pounding head welcoming the peace, before it was rudely interrupted with, yet again, more incessant knocking. It seemed his unwanted visitor wasn’t giving in.
Groaning lowly to himself, Squall’s right arm raised and flew to cover his eyes, knowing full well if he were to open them immediately, he’d be temporarily blinded by radiant sunshine. Despite having blinds that supposedly repelled sunlight, he still woke most mornings by an impish beam to the face. One of the wonderful things about living in Winhill was the endless sunshine, but it was also one of the worst. Contemplating his next move while gingerly stretching out tender limbs, he barely refrained from growling aloud in annoyance when more knocking came.
He was going to deck whoever it was VIP status (Laguna) or not (Seifer).
Grudgingly, he removed his arm and squinted his eyes as they slowly peeled open, pre-emptively braced. Lightly shaking off the familiar numbness filtering in from his left leg, Squall sluggishly pushed himself up and to the edge of his bed to sit. Running a hand through his hair while the other provided a sturdy support as he leant back, he didn’t care to stifle the bothersome yawn momentarily clouding his mind. Scratching an itch to the rear of his skull, he blinked his eyes a few more times before he was ready to combat nature’s wakeup call.
Or fates, if the knock, knock, knocking was any implication.
“Yeah, yeah… on my way,” he mumbled to none as he forced himself up. Wavering slightly to start, he used the headboard to help stabilise his equilibrium. Taking a moment to ensure his balance was up to par, he surged on with murderous intent. Well… more like waddled on like an angry duckling – he doubted anyone would take him seriously with an unfortunate case of bedhead (fluffy, sticking up everywhere, untameable; he’d tried, trust him) and wearing only pyjama pants with a hole in the left knee. Muttering darkly to himself as he marched onward, soft carpet beneath his feet turned into solid wood, one click sounding for every two steps he took. Obviously, he’d forgotten socks in his eagerness to return to bed last night.
Finally, he reached the front door, solid wood slash metal with a singular, one-way peephole embedded and grabbed the slick metal handle, twisted the key to unlock and all but yanked the thing open like it caused him great offence. Not the door at least, but the one standing on the opposite side had. “What’s your goddamn problem…?!” Squall fired out instantly, although some of the ferocity died down by his fourth word at seeing who was there.
A man, possibly around his age, with hair worse than his own sticking up all over the place (platinum blond, didn’t look dyed – cute), skin pale enough to suggest he’d never seen sunlight, let alone been outside in it and the brightest blue eyes Squall had ever seen staring at him widely, looking oddly innocent despite being stuck to a grown adult… and oddly familiar. If only to add to Squall’s ludicrous attraction to the man, a rosy tint overtook definitely illegal cheekbones and the man, who’d been staring relentlessly, dropped his adorable gaze bashfully and rambled under his breath.
Squall struggled to hear, features automatically down turning into something reminiscent of a scowl. His unfortunate visitor caught the look and perceived it to be for him, rather than Squall’s lacklustre hearing. “I—I’m sorry for the early morning call but I couldn’t wait any longer. My name’s—uh, Cloud Strife, and I, I’m your new neighbour,” he, allegedly Cloud, said, rather rapidly and in a tone that suggested questionable embarrassment and… guilt? “I happened to be passing by when I figured it—it’d be neighbourly to give you a welcoming present—” Wait, wasn’t that supposed to be the other way around? Squall was becoming more puzzled by the second, yet he continued to watch the blond ramble. “—so, I, I have something. For you. If you want them?”
When Cloud concluded his introduction, Squall simply stared. Blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with the palm of a hand to ensure that yes, he was awake, and yes, there was potentially the cutest blond idiot babbling on his doorstep just after sunrise. Said blond peek at him coyly through his bangs and Squall’s heart skipped a beat.
Well, at least he knew his eyesight was still functioning well.
“I… sure?” he replied, more of a question than a response, but it seemed to suit Cloud’s expectations perfectly.
His neighbour hopped to attention and beckoned Squall over with enthusiastic waves of his whole arm, looking him up and down when he suddenly stopped. In an instant, Squall’s guard rose as he watched where that sky-blue gaze fell, hackles instinctively prepared. A heartbeat past and… Cloud simply shook his head and said, “Sorry, shoes—I’ll let you put on some shoes.”
And that expelled any suspicion Squall held over that inquisitive gaze. If he hadn’t caught himself, he would’ve expressed a small smile at the blond’s antics. He blamed his messed-up sense of defence and common sense on his lack of sleep. Making to abide by Cloud’s reasonable suggestion, he slid his sockless feet into his trusty boots, left one stiffer than the right, and grabbed a jacket from the hooks by the door. Pulling on the coat to make himself at least semi-decent, he stepped outside into the already harsh warmth of the summer sun and joined Cloud’s side. Who had waited for him in the exact position he’d stopped in and not another glance was thrown downwards to Squall’s feet.
He didn’t know whether to be impressed by someone’s apparent self-control or see if he couldn’t torment the man for looking in the first place. The sassier, snappier side of him wanted anyone that stared to suffer first-hand mortification, but somehow, Cloud slipped by and made his way to the ‘simply impressed’ side.
Following his energetic neighbour to wherever he deemed necessary, Squall took the opportunity from lingering somewhat behind to check him out. A faded-check shirt was atop a sleeveless black tank-top, black combat pants with thick-soled biker boots, and twin (again, you guessed it) black fingerless gloves shielding strong-looking hands. Screw his hands, when they stopped by a monstrous, fucking fantastic motorcycle parked just off the driveway, Cloud’s shirt sleeves pulled up when the blond lifted something that had been secured to the rear of the bike and Squall saw jaw-dropping muscle definition on his arms alone.
Silently, the gremlin part of his brain prayed for gale-force winds to suddenly whip up and rip the clothes from his neighbour’s body so Squall could check out the rest of him. Decisively, he ignored it.
What was impossible to ignore was the crate Cloud was carrying, filled with… chickens? Improbable as it seemed considering the already perplexing introduction, Squall found himself feeling off-balance on how to respond or what to respond with. Why on earth was Cloud presenting hens to him? It seemed absurdly coincidental that he lost such birds the night before to the foul mutt… Stormy eyes squinted at still-radiating-innocence blue and popped his right hand on his corresponding hip. “…Do you have a dog?”
Weirdly, Cloud fumbled with the crate at Squall’s legitimate question, the wooden box and livestock inside nearly falling directly onto booted feet. Immaculate reflexes avoided disaster, though the same couldn’t be said for the man himself. “Dog?” was Cloud’s inquiring reply as he straightened up, voice going oddly high-pitched as though he felt targeted by Squall’s suspicion… which he was, he supposed, and the given reaction wasn’t helping Cloud’s case. “No—no, I have no animals. Why?”
He studied Cloud in brief silence, offering a meek shrug soon after, hand falling from its perch back to his side. “No reason.” And now back to the topic at hand: “Why have you brought me chickens?” And why would you think I need any, his mind finished for him. Patiently, he waited.
Cloud toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking everywhere but Squall. Almost like he struggled to think of a valid reason. Shady… In the moment of muteness, Squall’s focus shifted to the sleek machine stationed just behind them. The coat was midnight-black and shimmered in the sunlight majestically. Thicker than most two-wheelers he’d seen in his lifetime, potentially heavier from the additional compartments his keen eyesight made out, and two front wheels instead of the usual one… Simply put, it was a work of art and Squall was yet to find any piece of machinery he couldn’t wholly admire. Wonder what it’s like to ride…
“I—I noticed you have a ranch and figured you could never have too many chickens.” If that wasn’t the lamest excuse Squall had heard in a long while… and he was friends with both Rinoa and Selphie. “So—take them?”
Earnest blue eyes practically begged him, and the box was shoved his way suggestively, Squall’s answer was simple. He hadn’t the heart to tell the allegedly generous man ‘no’. “…Fine,” he sighed, growing instantly pensive when Cloud beamed – like he was doing the blond a favour by taking the hens. Were they infected or something? “Bring them this way,” he continued quietly, jerking his head in the direction of the main coop. Since he was already holding it, why not make use of Cloud a little longer? “I didn’t see you move in,” he commented as they began to walk, the blond keeping pace with his slightly stunted one.
If Squall was to describe the stream of expressions that flitted over Cloud’s face in the next moment, he’d be there all day. The blond chose to settle on sheepishness with a matching smile. “It was a quick overnight thing… didn’t have much to unpack,” Cloud murmured, keeping his eyes facing forward to avoid further contact with Squall’s.
Everything about him set off warning bells inside Squall’s mind but he couldn’t make heads or tails of what or why. Was it due to his own reclusive nature and the fact he’d evaded human interactions as much as realistically possible over the last few months, that simple conversation with new people was putting him on-guard? Too mindful over what everyone thought about him now? Shiva, he needed to get a hobby other than overthinking. Fat lot of help it was in the past.
Thankfully, Cloud neither glanced his way to assume Squall’s souring mood was his fault or commented on the silence dragging between them as they strode on. It was only when the wooden hutch was in sight that Squall recalled last night’s problem – deceased chickens all over the place. Great, now Cloud would assume he was a disturbed maniac that feasted upon the flesh of the poor birds that had been ripped apart –
Stopping suddenly in his tracks, Squall stared openly at the area surrounding his hen house. Cloud also paused, eyes sweeping up in an inquisitive manner, but voiced nothing. Again, he was grateful for the blond’s apparent love of silence because he wouldn’t know what to say as the entire ground was clean. No residue blood, no scattered feathers, no messy carcasses – hell, it looked like someone had swept the floor, too. Picking apart his brain for plausible solutions to the glaring problem encountered, he came up empty and his only reward was undiluted bewilderment.
Eventually though, Cloud broke the silent treaty and asked, quite reasonably, “Is, uh, everything okay?”
Surprisingly speechless, Squall turned his head to bring the virtuous blond into view, who was genuinely asking from misguided concern about his wellbeing. But… what could he honestly say? ‘Oh, yesterday there was numerous bodies littering the floor and now they’ve miraculously gone!’ Pfft, not likely. Flicking out his tongue to swipe along his bottom lip (noting idly how blue eyes seemed to follow the motion), he finally nodded and resolved to not telling the truth. “Phantom pains,” he said shortly, hoping the tone of voice dissuaded further questions. Luckily, Cloud complied but dropped his gaze out of apparent embarrassment again and Squall felt his chest squeeze. He hated feeling guilty. “Happens all the time, don’t worry about it.”
Hopeful eyes raised to greet his and Squall determined that shade of blue to be illegal now. Everything about Cloud was illegal. “I—I understand,” Cloud said, nodding in sincere comprehension, hefting the crate a little higher. “Should I just set this down and free them, or…?”
Right, the chickens. Squall nodded once. “Yeah, free roaming and all that.”
“’N all that,” Cloud echoed with a faint smile, placing the box gently on the (clean!) floor. Nimble fingers worked over the latches holding the front plate on and a second later, three golden birds scooted out, interested in their newfound freedom and unfamiliar surroundings. He watched Cloud watch them closely, like he was wishing for the hens to accept their new home without complications. Seemingly, it was granted as all three clucked and shot off towards the coop, fluttered up the ramp and out of sight through the swinging door. He smiled, looking up at Squall from where he crouched. “They seem to like it here.”
Squall’s brain was apparently malfunctioning and his brain-to-mouth filter broke, as the next moment after nodding in agreement to Cloud’s statement, he spewed out, “I think you would too if you wanna join me for coffee?”
An awkward pause ensued. While Squall wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole (like it apparently did to his poor chickens), Cloud, rightfully so, stared as him like another head just popped out of his shoulder. Dazed blue eyes blinked a few times while the blond visibly contemplated his next move, or words. He, being the gentleman he was, figured it was only fair to give Cloud a way out and opened his mouth to withdraw the offer with as much nonchalance as he could mister, but Cloud beat him to it.
A slight raise of a shoulder and an uncertain but curious smile sketched onto his face, murmuring, “We could go to the town—I do need a guide and I’m sure there’s a café somewhere.”
Squall paused. Cloud was not only accepting his pre-morning-coffee suggestion but was entertaining further interaction with his lunatic of a neighbour. It was impossible that he’d made a good impression so early, so the simplest deduction was Cloud being masochistic and liking the pain that came alongside social interactions with hermits like himself. Raising a hand to ruffle the hair waving in his face, he ignored the background clucks of his regular hens coming over to inspect the ground for food (since he was out and provider of said nutrients), eyed Cloud with a weariness that came naturally to him and, beyond all reason, nodded his agreement. “Alright. I’ll be ready in five.”
Promptly, he made his way back to the front of the house. Once there, he glanced back slightly over his shoulder and queried, “My truck or your bike?”
Cloud, who tailed him closely like a lost puppy, lit up the yard with the smirk he sent Squall. “Bike—unless you can’t handle it.”
Squall’s eyes narrowed in playful challenge. Not that anyone outside his inner circle knew what it looked like. “Five minutes, Strife.”
“A second past that and I’m assuming you’ve backed out—uh,” Cloud paused midway into his retaliation and Squall realised he was yet to introduce himself. With a slither of awkwardness, the blond found an interesting patch on the floor to stare at, apparently incapable of asking a simple question.
Squall decided to put Cloud out of his misery. Almost. “Leon.”
It was daft how adorable it was when Cloud perked up at the revelation. He nodded, quirking him a half-smile. “Leon—tick tock.”
Squall huffed in earnest astonishment from his neighbour’s audacity (and the depth of shock he was feeling at how well they hit it off) and hobbled his way back inside at a quicker pace than his norm. Efficiency was a skill he possessed, as was haste without magic being involved. Kicking off his yard boots and shrugging off the outdoor jacket on the way to his room, he wondered on whether Cloud carried a spare helmet with him for such happenstance that strange neighbours agreed to tagging along with his wild journeys. Entering his bedroom, he yanked open the closest door and pulled out the thickest pair of jeans he owned and SeeD-issued combat boots. Nudging the door shut with a hip, he dumped them on his bed before beelining for his drawers. Retrieving underwear from the top drawer, he dug out a plain old shirt from the middle one – those were dumped on the bed too.
Briefly, he wondered about the state of his hair but shrugged it off – it’d be underneath a helmet, who cared? Wriggling off the pyjama pants (whoops at going commando to greet his neighbour for the first time), he dressed himself while keeping a flickering gaze on the bedside clock to watch the time. Three minutes and twenty-two seconds later, he was adequately dressed and ready to go. Theoretically. For a moment, he questioned where his mind had gone and what replaced it to make him so whimsical. Uncaring in the end, he shrugged off such thoughts at hearing the starting rumble of the alluring thing awaiting him (the bike was pretty neat too).
Finally, Squall moseyed on to the front door again, picking up his trusty leather jacket along the way. Too often he’d been teased (or ridiculed) about the fur adorning the lining, but fuck those guys, he liked being warm, thank you very much. Pulling said jacket on as he exited his condo, grabbing keys, wallet and his cell phone along the way, bitter warmth greeted him already but he paid it no heed at the sight he was blessed with – Cloud straddling the beast, a pair of goggles sitting atop of blond spikes, arms crossed and peering at him with… clear admiration and perhaps a hint of amusement.
Locking the front door with a snort, Squall then pointed the sharp enough key (to get his point across) at the blond, and said, “Not one word about the jacket, Strife.” A raised brow was his response. His own eyes narrowed. “I mean it.”
Cloud raised his hands in a show of mock surrender and then lowered the goggles to shield his eyes. “No words said.”
Squall nodded in approval while making his way over, studying the sleek machine. Obviously, his choice seat was behind Cloud, although it seemed it would be a tight fit for two grown adults. So what. Steeling his determination, he gritted his teeth and, after bracing himself on Cloud’s shoulder, swung his right leg over the bike to attain his seat. Unfortunately, it applied unnecessary pressure to his bad leg and a bolt of pain lanced through him. He went rigid and a concerned look shot over the shoulder he just leaned on.
“I’m fine,” Squall growled out, a low warning poorly concealed within the words. Giving himself a minute to settle and for his head to stop pounding, he breathed in and out steadily, and then sighed. Only when he impulsively ran a hand through his own hair did he realise something critical: “Where’s your helmet?”
A gleam came into blue eyes and Squall felt slight trepidation in his choice. “No helmet. Hold on tight.”
The engine roared to life as Cloud twisted his right hand and Squall instinctively grabbed onto what was closest: Cloud’s jacket – procured from where, Squall didn’t know, but could certainly appreciate. Not a second later, they were tearing up Squall’s driveway, dust clouds and debris kicking up behind them as wheels scrambled for purchase. Before long rubber kissed tarmac and Cloud released the clutch, twisted the throttle, leaned forward and really started to move. The bike shot off like a rocket and Squall could only hold on for dear life, vice-grip on Cloud’s sides being switch for the more secure looping around his waist, face buried into the back of Cloud’s jacket, heart racing as fast as the vehicle he’d willingly jumped on, idly wondering if he’d make it out alive.
Exhilarating was too tame a word to use in description for the feel of wind whipping his hair about. The sheer amount of fresh air hitting his throat when finally releasing the breath he’d been holding nearly made him choke (and he lived in the mountains already). Eyes watering immediately when he attempted to open them to view the rapidly passing countryside, he chose to keep them jammed shut, listening to the roar of the engine whenever Cloud accelerated and the pounding of his own heart that felt was about to leap out of his chest.
Now to say Squall had lived a lively, fast-paced life so far would be a gross understatement, but there was something so utterly terrifying, yet breathlessly freeing, about riding so recklessly with a gorgeous stranger he’d just met.
Liberating.
#Strifehart#WIP fic#ooc.#I really like the concept of this one and wanna finish it#but time???#what is this eheh
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I’m Dreaming of a Spooky Christmas
@gaycrouton Sorry it took so long! I had the idea right away and then got super anal about it and kept changing the tenses and doing all kinds of crazy shit. Thank you to @observeroftheuniverse for making sure it all made sense. Also thank you to @xfilesfanficexchange for always having neverending patience with me.
***
A month before Christmas Eve Scully noticed that the office door was sticking. She played with it a bit and it seemed fixed so she moved on. Two weeks before Christmas she noticed that the door had gotten worse and she realized that it needed to be fixed, however, she was on her way out the door so she turned to her busy partner.
“Mulder, could you put in a work order for the door?”
Neck deep in an X file Mulder looked up and nodded absent-mindedly.
Scully looks at him flatly, “Did you hear my question?”
He’s already back to reading as he answers, “Put in a work order.”
She sighs quietly and nods before heading out.
A week before Christmas Scully had given up on the wishful idea that Mulder had ever put in a work order so before she left she filled out an order and held it in front of Mulder’s face.
“All you have to do is deliver this to maintenance.”
He gestured down at the file down in front of him, “Scully, I’m right in the middle of this why can’t you?”
Scully glanced away, “It’s Friday, Mulder.”
Mulder’s eyes widened, “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I’ll take that up.”
As Scully walked out the door Mulder said, “Uh, good luck.”
She didn’t turn to look his way but nodded, “Thanks. I’ll see you Monday.”
But on Christmas Eve, a day Scully shouldn’t be at the office, Scully finds the basement office to be freezing. And so she goes to open the door to let in some warmer air but when she does, she finds the door stuck in place.
Mulder watches her for a moment, curious, until he remembers something she’d asked him to do a week ago. Something he’d never done.
He looks down at the pile of papers littering the desk and holds back his despair when he sees the work order under a pile of paperwork.
When Scully sighs loudly Mulder looks at his desk as if deep in thought.
“Mulder.”
“Hummm.” Studiously he continues to not read the paper in front of him.
She begins to walk back over to him and each click of her heels sounds to Mulder like one more nail in his coffin.
He doesn’t look up when she begins to rifle through the papers on the desk. Mulder just silently watches her manicured fingers wondering if her nails would draw blood.
Static fills his ears as he watches her grab the work order.
“Are you kidding me?! I ask you for one thing, one fucking thing, Mulder.”
Unearned indignation fills Mulder and he gets up from his desk, stomping to the door, “I’ll get it open.”
After two minutes of violently pulling at the door, a loud clang fills the basement followed by the door handle coming loose causing Mulder to wheel back.
At that Scully doesn’t hide her laugh. His ass hits the desk, and he lets out a few choice words.
Sighing, Scully picks up the phone to call maintenance, a call that naturally goes unanswered.
“Goddammit!” Scully slams down the phone and glares at Mulder.
“I ask for one thing! I just needed you to be responsible this one time! Mulder, I hardly ever ask you for anything!”
Mulder’s hackles rise to the occasion, “Really? Hardly ever? Half the cases I ask you to read over you don’t even skim before saying no. Maybe if you actually showed more enthusiasm for the work I’d show more enthusiasm for the paperwork!”
“I follow you across the country on a whim, Mulder. I don’t know what more you could possibly want from me. I’ve given everything to our work and you-”
The argument stops suddenly as blood drips from Scully’s nose and lands squarely on the undelivered work order.
An agonized expression comes over Mulder as he stares at the evidence of Scully’s sacrifice, and he really and truly feels like a dick.
Scully, on the other hand, is quick to grab up a tissue.
“Scully-”
“I’m fine.”
Mulder ping-pongs back to fury before Scully can close her mouth.
“No. You’re not fine.” Scully looks back up at him with fire-filled eyes.
“Would you just talk to me?! This isn’t only happening to you Scully! Everyone you love is struggling I just want to help you, I want you to let me in! I’m terrified that I’ll lose you and that the last months of our time together will just be you pushing me further and further away!”
The echoes of his shouts are the only sound after his outburst as Scully stares at him with wide eyes.
As soon as he comprehends his own words he wants to eat them.
“God- Scully- I’m-” He halts when Scully holds up her hand.
“I’m going to try a few more people.” She dabs again at the bloody paper to no avail and nods toward the door, “Keep trying the door.”
Accepting defeat, Mulder does as instructed.
Forty-five minutes later Scully has exhausted all her leads and she thinks that if she hears ‘I’m away for the Holidays please leave a message’ one more time she is going to scream. Mulder, meanwhile, had given up on his mission after only fifteen minutes and has since been making paper airplanes to fly around the office.
Scully bats one away as she listens to a final voicemail.
“Fuck.” She states simply as she sets down the receiver.
Mulder’s blank yet somehow arrogant expression sets Scully on edge.
“You’re stuck in here too. It’s freezing and I’m supposed to be at my mom’s.” Scully wraps her thin arms around herself.
Mulder flings his arms wide, “I’ve got nowhere to be. Let’s play a game.”
Scully’s brow creases, “You weren't going to see your mother?”
She knows their relationship isn't the most stable but she'd never considered that they wouldn’t be together for the holidays.
“Why didn’t you say something? My mom would have had you over.”
Mulder, unlike his partner, did not mind the sympathy. He drinks in Scully’s care and for a moment he lets it ease the constant ache that’s been living in his chest since Scully had asked him to meet her at the oncology ward. He wants to take her hand but holds back.
“It’s fine, Scully. I’ve got a rotation of bad Christmas movies that I watch every year. And my fish would wonder where I was.”
Scully gazes at him for another moment before looking at the floor, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“Don’t be. I deserved it; you didn’t deserve to be yelled at though. Especially about…” He trails off; they both know what he means.
Leaning on the desk Scully thoroughly examines her shoes, “I could be more open… I know this hasn't been easy on you- I just don't want you to think that I can’t do the work.”
“I would never think that.”
The two share a meaningful look for a long moment before Scully shivers and Mulder becomes filled with regret.
“Hey remember when the temperature dropped a few years ago and we had to keep blankets? I think there are still some hidden in here somewhere.”
A few minutes later Mulder has made them a makeshift fort. He crouches down inside and offers Scully a hand and she joins him.
A blanket is pulled from his desk to the wall and makes a tunnel from under the desk. The cold floor is covered in a couple pillows and blankets.
“Why are there pillows in the office?” Scully asks as she sits on one.
Mulder looks away and shrugs, “Sometimes I decide to just sleep here.”
Scully can’t suppress the little smile that crosses her lips.
“Well, I guess I should thank you for your obsessiveness then.”
“I prefer to think of it as work ethic.”
“Sure, work ethic.”
“So what do you want to do Scully? Strip poker? Twenty questions? Trivia?”
Scully snorts, “It’s freezing Mulder. And you know I hate playing both of those with you.”
“How about name that serial killer?”
“There is no such game.”
“I’m making it a game right now. I’ll think of one and you ask questions like ‘are they organized or disorganized?’ and ‘are they bigger than 5 bread boxes?’”
Scully can’t hold back her laughter and when she giggles Mulder’s eyes light up.
“I love your laugh.” It pops out of his mouth before he can consider it.
But she just looks at him with soft eyes, “Thank you.”
Scully rubs her hands together and tries to hide them in her coat until Mulder tentatively takes her hands between his and blows warm air on them.
She wants to pull them away but the warm sensation radiates through her hands into her body and down her spine so she doesn’t resist.
“I’m really sorry about this, Scully. You should be with your family.” He keeps her hands between his under a blanket.
“Bill’s not too happy with me anyways. No one really is, actually.” She takes a breath, “I’m worried they’re all going to act strange around me.”
Mulder’s brow furrows.
“I’m worried they’re going to act like it’s my last Christmas.”
Mulder’s face falls and he squeezes her hands.
“Do you think it’s my last Christmas, Mulder?”
Mulder feels drained of blood. No. No, never, I won’t let it. No.
He realizes he’d been muttering the words out loud and shakes his head, “Absolutely not.”
Her smile is the kind that adults use on children who make ridiculously hopeful statements.
“You don’t think that do you?” His voice is so quiet that it’s nearly drowned out by his own breathing.
“I’m not sure.” Scully plays with his fingers, “I hope not.”
Mulder pulls one hand away from her and cups her cheek; “I’ll find a cure for you Scully, I promise, whatever it takes.”
And to Mulder's absolute horror Scully begins to cry.
“Oh, Scully.”” He pulls her against him but is still surprised when her arms wrap around his neck. She grasps desperately at his jacket.
It’s quiet for a moment until he feels a small smile against his neck, “Can you get us out of the basement first?”
His laughter is unexpected and he kisses her forehead, “Now that I can’t promise.”
What is even more unexpected than her joke is her kiss. The shivers down his spine have nothing to do with the freezing basement or her chilly lips. The kiss is gentle but he can’t stop his tongue from brushing lightly against her lip before they pull away. They are just a breath apart after that and his hand goes to her cheek.
“Your hand is cold.” Scully says with a breathy laugh.
“Can you warm it up for me?” Mulder traces her lip with his thumb.
She begins to laugh in earnest but he cuts her off with another kiss. Scully’s own icy fingers begin to run through his hair.
Scully’s tongue warms his lips. They move closer together, trying to get their bodies as close as they can but the layers of clothing and coats prevent the nearness they crave.
After a few minutes of fumbling Scully begins to violently pull at Mulder’s coat only to find two more layers which she bypasses in irritation until she’s finally able to flatten her palm against his bare chest.
His heartbeat is strong under her hand and it speeds up when she brushes her thumb over his nipple. Desperation at an all-time high, Mulder clumsily tears at Scully’s clothing as his lips find a nice soft purchase on her neck.
They form a cocoon around the two of them and pull closer together, finally skin to skin. In the dark, under the blankets, they exist in a world alone. The air between them is heady and peppered with moans, small words, and breathless laughs. Mulder tries to find various spots that draw reactions from Scully. He nips at her collarbone and she sighs, he runs his fingers down her ribs and she laughs and squirms. His favorite one though is the reaction he gets when the tips of his fingers find her swollen clit. The resulting noise is very un-Scully like and he wants to hear it again. His efforts are rewarded many times over as he finds new combinations and sounds.
He’d always been a curious, hands-on learner.
Time is an impossible concept to them but when Scully finally comes for the first time she’s had enough of his shenanigans.
She pulls Mulder around until he is cradled between her legs. Mulder makes a slightly disappointed sound when he is forced to disengage his mouth from her breast but is pleased when his length is finally pressed against her.
His immediate reaction is to thrust forward and she reacts in kind right back. Scully recalls dry humping with her first boyfriend in the back of a car and lets out a snicker.
Mulder pulls his head back and raises an eyebrow, highly entertained by the look of naughty happiness on his partner's face.
“Does this not remind you of teenage humping at a drive-in?” Her reply is interrupted by giggles and whimpers.
Mulder, though, lets out a belly laugh at that and pulls her hips tight up against his.
Lowering his head so his lips brush her ear he whispers, “I always found classier places to do the dirty.”
“Classier than a blanket fort in a locked basement?” Scully tried to sound teasing but it left her lips with a moan that killed any real intent.
“Only the best for you, Scully.”
Mulder, always a fan of the dramatic, chooses this moment to position himself and push inside of her. The response is indeed dramatic. Scully’s nails drag down his back and Mulder is sure he’s seeing the face of god.
They pause for a moment to take it in and Scully pulls Mulder’s head back so she can cup his face.
The two smile at each other then and before their movements start back up they share a tender kiss.
Tenderness takes a backseat after Mulder begins to thrust and both of them become frantic. The blankets and pillows under them can’t totally hide the rigidity of the concrete floor and much maneuvering is required to keep up constant movement.
After a time Mulder makes a decision for both of them and quickly, as quickly as one can under a pile of blankets, flips his position.
Once Scully is sitting astride she decides to throw off the blanket covering them and is finally able to clearly see Mulder’s face.
This is a delightful development for Mulder whose hands are drawn to Scully’s breasts like a flower opens to the sun. They’re loud then and in the back of Scully’s mind, she is glad that they are apparently alone in the building.
Under the fort, they truly do forget everything else for a time. They forget her cancer, the broken door, the X Files, Christmas, family. The only thing that exists is the two of them.
Together they achieve the nearly impossible: simultaneous orgasm. It rips through them together as Scully holds Mulder’s hands to her breasts.
After some jerky movements and shivers, Scully collapses bonelessly onto Mulder whose arms wrap around her automatically.
He strokes her hair with one hand and her back with the other as he enjoys her breath on his neck. Scully holds tight and thinks that this is a pretty nice way to spend Christmas Eve, even if it is her last. At that thought she kisses Mulder’s neck and burrows in deeper against him, hoping he can keep reality at bay for now. Later they will make more calls and try to bash down the door and argue more about solutions while eating stale hostess cakes, but for now, they enjoy the quiet sounds of the other’s breathing. Mulder pulls some hair out of Scully’s face and watches her close her eyes and smile. A true Christmas miracle.
Kissing her temple he murmurs to her, “Merry Christmas, Scully.”
#xfsecretsanta2019#txf#the x files#txf fanfic#x files fanfiction#xf fanfic#msr#dana scully#fox mulder#xmas#my stuff
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look through your textbook (cause i’m history) ch2
Content warnings: implied/referenced domestic violence
Summary: After dropping out, Yuri’s life is a haze of working and trying not to lose his damn mind. Then he meets Estelle.
Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.
Estelle spends a whole morning huddled down in front of Yuri’s clunky old laptop. He doesn’t have internet at his apartment right now, so they bring it over to the community center. Hanks helps her for a while, but soon the morning crowd trickles in, and duty calls him away. Yuri is banned from helping, on the grounds that he has no business advising anyone on how to interact with the police. He wishes he could do something for her, aside from repeatedly confirm that yes, he’ll be a block away the whole time; yes, she can still stay with him afterwards; yes, he will break into the station and whisk her away to safety if the police try any bullshit.
“I thought I told you to get away from her and not give any advice,” Hanks says, smacking Yuri away from Estelle’s side with the soft end of a broom.
“It’s not advice,” Yuri protests. “It’s reassurance.”
"Do n’t you listen to a damn thing that boy tells you,” Hanks tells Estelle, sternly. Estelle smiles nervously at both of them, eyes crinkled up despite the dark bags underneath them. She didn’t sleep much last night, according to Yuri’s creaky old box springs. That or nightmares, the way she was tossing and turning. It doesn’t make a difference which it was, really. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
What she’s doing is reading a lot of advice blogs and mumbling to herself about her rights. Just watching her raises the metaphorical hackles of Yuri’s protective instincts. Hanks has a point, though. The less Yuri is involved, the better. He keeps himself busy in the kitchen for the rest of the morning. At least he can be sure the chicken stock won’t try to coerce Estelle into returning to an abusive household.
After lunch, they pack up Yuri’s laptop and get ready to go. Hanks unexpectedly flags them down before they make it out the door.
“Be careful, you two. Yuri, you’re on your best God damned behavior, you hear me?”
“Sir yes sir,” Yuri says, dryly.
“Young lady, you take this.”
“Huh?” Estelle fumbles with the solid object he drops into her hands. “Your—your phone? But—“
“I turned off the password lock,” Hanks says. “And Yuri’s name is plainly labeled in the contacts. That should stop him getting antsy and bursting in because he thinks it’s taking too long. I imagine it’ll make you feel a smidge better, too.”
“Thanks, Hanks,” Yuri says. He doesn’t have the heart to brush this one off. It really does make him feel a fuck of a lot better to know Estelle will be able to reach him even if she can’t get out of the building.
“Mind you, I want that back, of course,” Hanks says, patting Estelle on the shoulder. She clutches the phone to her chest, wide-eyed.
“Thank you so much...!”
Yuri flippantly salutes Hanks, reaching for the door. “Alright, boss, I’m clocking out for now.”
“No, you aren’t; community escorts are on the clock. Same as it would be if you were taking her to a clinic. Don’t argue with me, son. You need to pay for that gas somehow. Get a move on.”
“A clinic?” Estelle asks, as Yuri shepherds her out the door and into his car.
“Planned Parenthood, usually,” Yuri says. He turns the key and the car rumbles angrily at him, put out that he continues to expect it to function. He gives the dashboard a consoling pat. “Or other reproductive health clinics. Anywhere you can get an ob-gyn. Family planning services. You get the picture.”
“I think I do.” Estelle endearingly turns with Yuri to check behind the car as they reverse, then pull out of the parking lot. Even his shitty car seems to be a novelty to her sometimes. “You do an awful lot for the community center, don’t you?”
“Mm. Yeah. No more than they’ve done for me, though.”
There’s a moment of silence where Estelle fidgets with the sleeve cuffs of Hanks’s jacket. Yuri keeps an eye on her in the corner of his vision, but he can’t get a very good look at her expression. He needs to focus on the road. The last thing they need right now is for him to break a traffic law or cause an accident and get pulled over.
“Can... can you keep talking?”
“Sure. Any requests?”
“Ah... tell me a story about you and Flynn?”
Yuri ends up telling her the story of Repede’s blind eye. It’s not too gruesome if he plays it right, and he’s got a bit of practice at that from curious kids at the center. Yuri was her age at the time—God, that was a weird thought—and he’d been new to dog-ownership. Repede broke out of the hovel he and Flynn called an apartment overnight. After hours of searching in the dark, Hanks had hauled them both inside by their ears and forced them to rest. Repede turned up on the doorstep the next morning, face horribly scratched and howling for all his tiny little lungs were worth. Yuri was terrified to so much as wipe him off, in case he made the wound worse. All he could do was bundle Repede up in the cleanest towel he could find. He didn’t have the car yet, so Hanks called them a cab and Flynn, stuttering with panic, had asked to be taken to the vet their Coach used to take Repede and Lambert to.
“So you’ve got these two scruffy, sleep-deprived teenage boys obviously losing our minds while trying to keep a grip on this bloody puppy that was just—I know it sounds wrong, for a dog, but really the only way to describe it is screaming,” Yuri says. He flicks his turn signal on. They’re getting close to the police station. “And the poor receptionist was trying to ask for Repede’s info, but we didn’t know what to tell her, because we hadn’t taken Repede to the vet before—don’t look at me like that, we’d only had him two months or something, it’s not like we skipped out—and all the sudden the vet comes out to see what all the noise is about, and he takes one look at us and he goes, ‘that’s Lambert’s pup.’”
“Lambert?”
“Repede’s dad. He was our fencing coach’s dog. Apparently the vet worked with Coach at ZU back in the day, although we didn’t know that until later. Anyway, he whisked Repede into the back and told us to wait in the lobby, ‘cause it wasn’t going to be pretty. I was flipping my shit, because, you know, we’d only been taking care of Repede for a little while, and the wound looked so bad I had convinced myself he was going to die.”
“Oh, Yuri.”
“I was also running on like two hours of sleep at the time, which may have contributed. Anyway, Flynn had to sit there for like an hour, literally holding my hand, telling me that Repede was going to be fine and everything would be okay. He was freaking out too, but he still babysat me while I lost my min d . It was fucking heroic. And we were covered in blood that whole time. I mean, the receptionist took us to a sink where we could clean up a little bit, but some shit is just there to stay unless you change clothes.”
“Ew.”
“Uh-huh. But after a while the vet popped back out and he was like, ‘your dog is fine, come see him.’ They had knocked him out and stitched him up all pretty. Funny in retrospect—I wish I had a picture. Repede was boneless. Puppy puddle.”
“Maybe Flynn has a picture?”
“I don’t think so. We were both too busy being relieved.” Yuri pulls over in front of the police station. Estelle is a rigid line of tension in the passenger seat. “Alright, princess. You’ll just have to get this over with and hurry back out to get the rest of the story.”
Estelle’s lower lip wobbles. “You’ll have your phone on the whole time?”
“Max volume. Texts and calls.”
“And I don’t have to go back. I can—I can still stay with you.”
“Long as you need.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“You’re gonna be A-okay,” Yuri says, firmly, “Just like Repede was. Look, you’ve got the beat-up face and everything. You have to be okay. It’s just cinematic parallels at this point.”
Estelle smiles, even though it doesn’t reach her eyes, as she clicks open the car door. “Where are you going to be parked?”
“You see over at that corner?” Yuri points down the block, through the windshield. “I’ll be at that convenience store. I’ll go in and buy a snack at some point so they can’t boot me out, since I’m a paying customer.”
“I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
“Sure thing.” Yuri holds his hand up to her. She stares at it blankly. “What? Come on. High five for good luck.”
Estelle slowly presses her palm against his and holds it there for a beat, looking at him dubiously. Yuri snorts.
“Okay, we’ll work on that one later.”
“Is this not—?”
“Nope, nuh-uh, this is a problem for post-police Estelle. Out you get.”
She puts Hanks’s phone into her pocket and slides out of the car. She gives Yuri another halfhearted smile as she closes the door, mouthing bye through the window. See you, Yuri mouths back. He doesn’t pull away from the curb until she’s all the way inside. When he does, he’s muttering curses under his breath.
Dammit. She’s going to be fine. Cinematic parallels. Estelle is a smart cookie, and she spent all morning preparing. She has Hanks’s phone. She’s a legal adult.
Yuri wishes he had brought Repede along. But there was a toddler read-along today at the community center, and Repede likes to lounge on the carpet between all the kids, soaking up their attention while he naps. It’s not like there’s anyplace close to the station where Yuri could be exercising with him, which is the only way he could justify it. If Repede isn’t getting a workout either way, he might as well do the one he likes better. Yuri’s the human here. He can suck it up.
He pulls into the lot of the convenience store and cranks the parking brake into place with more force than necessary. His forehead thuds against the top of the steering wheel, well away from the horn. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Estelle a Flynn story. Now he just fucking misses Flynn. He always does, has for the last few years, but now it’s sharp and immediate. He misses knowing that Flynn could take Repede out between classes when Yuri was too busy. He misses having his best friend there to tell him shit’s going to be alright. He misses Flynn being able to cheer him up just by being there, misses Flynn helping him do school shit even if it was too simple for him when it was stupidly hard for Yuri.
The problem is that it’s so easy to talk to Estelle about Flynn. Everybody at the community center drives him up the freaking wall treading on eggshells about it. They’re always watching him when Flynn comes up in conversation, waiting for him to snap and get mad. They only know scattered fragments of why Yuri and Flynn aren’t the same unit they used to be, but they know enough to be wary of bringing it up. Estelle, though. Estelle doesn’t know any of it. It’s bizarre to Yuri. They nearly physically fought the last time they saw each other, and Flynn told Estelle that Yuri is his best friend. Estelle will go, one time Flynn—and Yuri can go, yeah, that’s Flynn alright, did he tell you about this other time? And there’s no secret second conversation about whether Yuri’s about to go completely unhinged. It makes him run his mouth more than he should. He didn’t even tell Hanks that Flynn held his hand in the vet lobby while Repede had surgery. He doesn’t think anybody but Raven knows about that, if Raven even remembers.
If he doesn’t get a grip, Estelle is going to figure out a lot more about how he feels about Flynn than he wants her to. She’s not an idiot. Worse, she’s a romantic. She’ll connect the dots.
...Now he’s worrying about Estelle and missing Flynn and kicking himself over his shitty feelings again. Great. Fantastic. This afternoon is going just swell.
Yuri lets himself out of the damn car and goes into the convenience store to buy chocolate or something. He needs it.
Yuri is used to his friends just opening the door and hopping back in the car, so when Estelle taps on the window, he jumps about a foot in the air and almost hits his head.
“Sorry,” Estelle says, cracking the door open to peer in at him. “Can I—?”
“Yeah, get in,” Yuri says. She climbs into her seat and draws her knees up so she can wrap her arms around them, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Yuri watches her for a moment, then reaches past her to get into the glove compartment. “Hey. Here. Got you something.”
“Huh?” Estelle sniffles a little. Her eyes go big when she sees what Yuri is offering her. “Oh, you didn’t have to—“
“It’s convenience store chocolate,” Yuri says. He pokes her in the arm with it until she frees a hand to take it from him. “Not exactly a crazy luxury gift. I got the receipt if you want a different flavor, though.”
“No, this is good,” Estelle mumbles. She unwraps it, sniffling some more. “’M—‘m sorry. I know c-crying makes you uncomfortable.”
“That’s my problem. You worry about yourself.” Yuri crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat to watch her. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Th-they wanted me to go back.” She scrubs at her eyes. “I knew they would. It’s okay. I expected it. You were right, they couldn’t force me to do anything because I’m eighteen.”
“Still shitty, though.”
“Y-yeah.”
“They give you any other problems?”
“I had to argue with them about n-not telling my guardian where I was staying. But they said they would officially delist me as missing. That’s what—what matters.”
Yuri nods, slowly. “You just tell me if there’s anyone I should be running off the property if I catch them near the apartment, alright?”
“Ah. Okay.” She nibbles at the chocolate. “...Will you, um, tell me the rest of the story about Repede?”
“Sure. Lemme pull out first.” When they’re both seat-belted and Yuri has managed to exit the parking lot without running anyone over, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Where was I?”
“P-puppy puddle.”
Yuri huffs out a laugh. “That’s right. Poor Repede. Raven—that’s our vet—he gave us a bunch of antibiotics to give Repede, and talked us through what to expect during Repede’s recovery until he woke up. Once he was conscious they got the cone of shame on him. Only time he’s ever needed one, while we had him. Think he had one when he got fixed, too, but that was before we took him in.”
Estelle giggles wetly. “P-poor thing. Borzoi pups are all—all skinny, aren’t they? He must’ve been falling over with the heavy cone on his head.”
“God, you would think so, but Repede was a big boy when he was a puppy. Solid chunk of dog. He was like that even when Coach had him, so it wasn’t our fault for overfeeding him or anything . Probably the German Shepherd blood. They’re a little thicker than Borzoi pups. I definitely do have pictures of puppy Repede, I’ll find them for you when I get home from work tonight.” Yuri sifts through the memories and snorts fondly. “Didn’t help much with the cone, though. I don’t think losing one of his eyes was doing him any favors either. The first few nights after the surgery were terrible. He would wake up and try to get some kibble or water, and he’d knock over damn near everything in the apartment, so of course that would wake us up, too. Even if we managed to sleep through that, he would get frustrated and start crying. ”
“But you were already so tired!”
“Like I said, rough couple of nights. We ended up having to coordinate a schedule of who got up to deal with it at what times on what nights. Hanks kept telling us it was a practice run for having kids someday.”
Estelle cocks her head, more alert. “Kids? For you two, together? Flynn didn’t tell me—”
“No.” Yuri grips the steering wheel tighter and prays his cheeks aren’t red. “No, not together. Just in general. It was a bad joke either way—I’d make a crummy dad .”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“You’re very nice to say so, but you’re also very wrong.”
Estelle gives him a thoughtful look. Yuri hurries on with the story.
“Anyway, giving him the antibiotics was probably the worst part. Raven gave them to us in a syringe at first, to squirt into his mouth, but Repede would lose his mind when we tried to open his mouth to give it to him. It was hard to hold his head still without aggravating the wound. So we tried switching to pill form and mixing them into his food, but the little brat would just pick them out and we’d find a little pile of them in his empty bowl after he ate.”
“What did you do?”
Yuri grins nostalgically. “Wrapped ‘em in bits of deli turkey.”
“Yuri!”
“Yeah, Flynn yelled at me too. He damn near killed me the first time I did it. Still, it was the only thing that worked, and we were too exhausted to fight over it. Repede would be so excited to eat the turkey, he wouldn’t realize there was a pill until it was too late. Flynn did get to say ‘I told you so’ a lot afterwards, though, because I’ve never been able to keep deli turkey in the house since. Repede is convinced it’s for him.”
“Can’t you just keep it away from him?”
“Nope. He’s a dog on a mission.”
Estelle smiles, small but real. Some of the tension has left her posture. Good.
“That whole ordeal is probably why Repede hates the vet, now, anyway,” Yuri says. He mentally plots their route back to the community center. He should have enough time before bartending to drop Estelle off and take Repede for a run.
“Maybe if you switched vets...?”
“Nah—I don’t think it’s just Raven, since he’s not very happy to see any of the vet techs, either. I guess it could be the location itself. Best vet within a convenient distance, though—if you ever meet Raven, don’t tell him I said that, okay? He’d be fucking insufferable about it. But he did us... a lot of favors, back then. Had to guide me through a lot of stupid first-time dog-owner stuff. Least I can do is give him my business.”
Estelle’s been looking out the passenger-side window, but now her head lolls against the headrest to face Yuri. “Hey, Yuri?”
“Hm?”
“Why do you talk about Repede like he was yours and Flynn’s when he was a puppy, but just yours now?”
“...Flynn’s pretty busy with school these days.” Too busy to be wasting time on some stupid drop-out. “I’ve got more free time, so I took Repede. He hasn’t seen Flynn in a long time. I don’t know if he would remember Flynn now.”
“You don’t have very much free time at all, though.”
Yuri cocks a smile with as much conviction as he can muster. “Yeah, because I’ve filled it all with Repede. It doesn’t really look like free time any more. It just looks like Repede time.”
Estelle is quiet for a moment. Just when Yuri starts to hope that she’ll drop it, she says, “You miss him.”
Yuri brakes maybe a little too sharply at a stop sign. Their seatbelts snap taught. Estelle yelps.
“Sorry,” Yuri mutters. “Noticed the sign a little late. Miss who, Repede? It’s true, I do miss Repede when I have to leave him for more than five minutes— ”
“Flynn. You miss Flynn, don’t you?”
Yuri tries to fast forward through all the different ways this conversation could play out in his head. What’s the answer least likely to swamp him with a discussion of his feelings and his current relationship with Flynn? If he tries to say no, Estelle might tell him why she thought he did, and he doesn’t want to deal with that kind of self-awareness. The truth is probably safer. “...Yeah.”
“Why don’t you call him?”
“He got a new number at some point since I last saw him in person.”
“Wh—oh.” Estelle frowns a bit. “I think I remember when that happened. He didn’t give you the new number?”
“Nope. Probably didn’t have mine memorized, or something.” Or he just figured it was as good an excuse as any to move on to better social circles, and leave the squalor of his past behind. That’s what Yuri’s been betting on.
At least, it was until Estelle showe d up and started saying weird shit about how Flynn still talks about him.
“I could give you his new number!”
Somehow, that catches Yuri completely off guard. He glances over at her. “You have his number memorized? Wow, princess. I didn’t realize you were that into him.”
“I’m—“ Estelle splutters at him, red-faced. Yuri grins despite himself as he turns back to the road. “I am not! It’s not like that! I forgot I didn’t have my phone—”
“Uh-huh. I’ll start working on my speech for your wedding.”
“Yuri! I don’t like him that way! And that’s not even—Flynn doesn’t even like g—“
Girls. Estelle slaps a hand over her own mouth before the rest of the word can slip out. She looks at Yuri, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. Yuri considers messing with her some more, but decides to have some pity.
“Relax. I already knew Flynn was gay. I’m just screwing around.”
“Oh, good,” Estelle breathes, slumping back in her seat.
“Anyway, speaking of your phone, maybe we should figure out a plan to rescue some of your shit.”
Estelle wrings her hands. “...I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a good way to get into my old home without having to talk to...”
“ Don’t you worry,” Yuri says, cheerfully. He was just trying to find a way to divert the conversation away from Flynn, but he’s quickly warming to the idea. He doesn’t have bartending too late tonight. “I’ll take care of that. Just wait and see. You didn’t have any plans for tonight, did you?”
“This is illegal!” Estelle hisses. Yuri, halfway through the action of pulling himself over a brick wall, gives her an incredulous look. She’s been trying to dissuade him since they came within a few blocks of the property. Apparently Estelle is willing to stand up when people try to steamroll past her. She just picks her battles.
“How? I’m pretty sure you technically still live here, legally.”
“It’s still breaking and entering! And theft! ”
“Oh, wah wah wah. It’s not like we’re really stealing. It’s all your stuff.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works!”
Yuri snorts and pulls himself the rest of the way up, perched on the top. “Are you coming, or do you want to wait here?”
“I—I don’t want to start my new life with a criminal record!”
“So wait.”
“Yuri!”
“Relax, I’ve got this under control. Which floor is your room on?”
Estelle makes a high-pitched sound of aggravation and tries to scramble up the wall after him. She almost topples back down halfway up, and Yuri has to reach down to haul her up by the collar of Hanks’s jacket. The jitters probably aren’t doing her coordination any favors.
“What happened to not wanting a criminal record?”
“If I come with you so you know where to go, everything will be faster, and we can be done and leave sooner.”
“You can tell me where to go from here, you don’t have to be involved.”
Estelle gives him a sulky, anxious look. “I don’t want to—to just wait alone in the dark. What if someone comes by?”
“Hide in a bush.”
“Flynn and Hanks were right, you are a troublemaker.”
“I can’t tell you how flattered and alarmed I am that it’s taken you like a week and a half to figure that out.”
Yuri did sort of count on Estelle staying behind, although he gets why she doesn’t want to now that she mentions it. There’s no car in the driveway right now. What if her guardian comes back while Yuri is inside? Still, now he has to factor her into his entry and exit strategy. Damn. He should have just made her give him an address, left her at home and winged it from there.
“Okay,” Yuri mutters. He swings his legs over the other side of the wall and starts his descent. “Just... do what I do, alright? I’ll try not to do anything too crazy. Lemme know if you can’t keep up and I’ll figure something else out.”
“A-alright.” Estelle tentatively lowers her leg over the edge of the wall, searching for the uneven bricks Yuri used to get down. Yuri hops down the last few feet and gets under her, spotting her in case of a fall. It seems to help with the mental side of things, at least. Estelle stops trembling so much and plants her feet more confidently. Yuri whisks her off the wall when she gets as far down as he jumped from.
“I don’t suppose you know whether there’s any security cameras?”
“Ah—yes, but—but we’ll be able to see them, there’s a little light when they’re on.”
“You sure they’re not motion-activated?”
“Y...yes?”
Well, there’s only one way to figure out for sure.
They creep around the perimeter of the property. Estelle murmurs directions and notes about the layout of the property. Here’s the garden; there’s the shed, but that definitely has a security camera, so don’t go that way. The greenhouse doesn’t have a camera, but it’s locked. Estelle thinks it will be, anyway, and Yuri’s not going to stick his fingerprints on every random surface just for funsies. Back door to the kitchen is a no go, too. There’s a chance the housekeeper might be around. Obviously they’re not going through the front door.
“I...” Estelle looks at him sideways, wringing her hands. They’re crouched in the shadows of the small orchard on the far side of the house. “I never locked my balcony door? But it’s on the second floor. There’s a tree, but no branches until higher up—I don’t know if it’s...”
“Oh, princess,” Yuri says. “Have some faith. I will make it climbable.”
“M-maybe for you!”
But she still helps guide Yuri back around the house and points out the window. It’s dark, which isn’t surprising. Estelle hasn’t been in her room for at least a week and a half. They’re too close to the ground floor windows now to risk talking, even whispering, so Yuri just pats her on the back and hoists himself up on the nearest decorative garden statue. From the top, he leaps to grab a tree branch hanging ten feet off the ground. It’s a solid jump, there’s no getting around it. Estelle’s wide eyes gleam in the moonlight as she clambers up the statue after him. Yuri hastily climbs up to straddle the branch. If she gets a bad grip, he’s going to want to be stable enough to catch her.
She wobbles at the top of the statue and casts a fretful look at Yuri. Yuri’s not feeling so hot about this himself, really, but at this point all he can do is flash her a thumbs-up and lean forward, body pressed to the branch to extend his reach below it.
She jumps.
The tree shu dders violently. Estelle gasps. Yuri hisses through his teeth, straining to keep his grip on Estelle’s free hand. She managed to get one hand onto the branch, at least, but she’s scrabbling not to lose her hold. The longer this goes on, the less likely someone inside will be willing to write it off as a bird or a raccoon or something—honestly, though, with her fingertips sliding over bark, it seems more likely that she’ll plummet to the ground and break something.
But right as Yuri starts to seriously consider freaking out, she grits her teeth, stretches up with Yuri’s help to get a second hand on the branch, and somehow, somehow works her way up to sit beside him. It’s fucking impressive. Yuri didn’t know she had that kind of arm strength. She really is a determined little monster when she puts her mind to it.
From there, it’s not easy, but it’s easier. The tree is good for climbing once you’re on it. Estelle shadows Yuri’s footwork, even with her second-hand sneakers slipping where the traction has worn down. Yuri helps her swing out of the branches and onto the balcony. He reaches for the door. Estelle catches his wrist, shaking her head, and opens it herself.
Of course. Estelle leaving fingerprints won’t alarm anybody if someone investigates the break-in. Yuri should have thought of that.
Estelle’s room is cast in odd angles of shadow, but Yuri can still tell that it’s exactly as frilly as he expected. Gauzy pink drapes surround the bed. The sheets gleam like satin. The moonlight makes the carpet look snow-white. It’s horrifyingly clean, too. Yuri has never seen a carpet that looked less walked-upon than this one. For fuck’s sake, did they steam-press her carpet the second she left the house, or does it always look like this?
He glances at Estelle. She stares at the room like she’s never seen it before.
No, wait. She doesn’t look like she’s seeing it at all. Shit. Yuri didn’t think this through. He should have been ready for the chance that coming back here would make Estelle dissociate.
“Estelle,” Yuri hisses, as quietly as he possibly can. It’s rough. He’s not built for low volumes. He touches her elbow. “Estelle, stick with me.”
Estelle looks down at his hand, blinking sightlessly. Yuri jostles her a bit. That snaps her out of it. She shakes herself out, jaw clenching. Yuri passes her one of the drawstring backpacks he brought with him.
“What do I grab?” she whispers.
“Whatever you want.”
“But...”
“Irreplaceable family shit. Books. Any clothes you really like.” He holds up the other bag. “Just point me to what you want and I’ll grab it for you.”
Estelle’s face falls. “I can’t fit all of my books.”
“That’s what the library is for, princess.”
“I don’t have a library card.”
“I have some great news for you about public libraries, but we’ll save that for later. Come on, let’s hurry up.”
Estelle’s wardrobe is baffling to Yuri. Almost everything in it is nicer than the value of all of his clothes put together. To get to the clothes she wants, she has to shove aside a whole row of hangers with fancy dresses on them. Thank God she doesn’t seem to want to take those ones with her. She points him to her bookshelf, whispering, “As many as possible!” and tiptoes off toward an ensuite bathroom. The floor doesn’t creak a peep. Yuri’s not sure he’s ever been in a room where it was possible to move this quietly.
He gives Estelle’s personal library his full consideration, which is to say he stares at each title for about two seconds and tries to picture it in the Lower Quarter’s public library. If he can’t, he grabs it. Most of the fiction gets left behind this way, but he figures Estelle will forgive him once they get her a library card. It’s gonna be awkward if she’s no longer interested in hardcover nonfiction novels about the history of European mythology or what the fuck ever, though.
Estelle emerges from the bathroom again, clutching her bag to her chest. On her way back to Yuri, she stoops to retrieve a pair of sneakers from under the bed. They’re fucking pristine. Yuri has seen shoes in shoe commercials that looked more used. She peers at what’s left on the bookshelf. Yuri allows her to double-check his work with as much patience as he can muster, but it’s not long before he nudges her insistently again. She huffs but obliges, crossing over to her desk. She retrieves several notebooks, then hesitates. Yuri peeks around her. Her hand hovers over her phone.
“It’s your call,” he says. “But I wouldn’t put money on that not being tracked.”
“I know,” Estelle says, miserably. She reaches down to turn it on and Yuri winces away from the sudden illumination of the screen. “Oh, no... I knew everyone might worry, but this is...”
“Maybe they’ll figure it out when the posters go down.” Or they’ll think she was found dead in a ditch, but Yuri probably shouldn’t say that to Estelle. Oh, hell, maybe Flynn thinks she’s dead in a ditch. Yuri is intimately acquainted with how badly Flynn copes with grief. Maybe they should be looking into secret, safe venues of contact. It won’t be from Estelle’s old phone, though, because she gives it one last wistful caress and leaves it on the desk.
Somehow, Yuri gets them both back out the window, down the tree and off the property without making too much of a ruckus. They sprint back to the edge of campus where Yuri left his car. For a few minutes, Estelle is too busy wheezing to say anything, and Yuri is more than happy to drive them through quiet streets bathed in yellow lamplight in silence. He likes the cover of night. It feels safe. He appreciates that, after the luxuriousness of Estelle’s house up close showed him that he was in way, way deeper than he’d thought.
“Oh, drat,” Estelle says, abruptly. Yuri side-eyes her.
“What now?”
“I ought to have at least gotten my contacts out of my old phone. I wanted to get Flynn’s number for you.”
“Christ’s sake, Estelle. Don’t do that to me. I thought we needed to go back for something important.”
“No! No. That was—this is enough. More than enough. You shouldn’t have—and I mean you really, actually shouldn’t have. I can’t believe you made me into a criminal!”
“I don’t see how it’s breaking and entering and stealing if I escort a lady back into her old house to pick up her own shit,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes. He does, in a clean-cut legal way, but it’s a stupid case to make in the first place. Everything they took was Estelle’s. Honestly, none of it seems to be worth much by itself. With a little luck, Estelle’s guardian or whoever won’t even notice that anything is missing until it’s way too late.
“It was extremely illegal!”
Yuri drops his voice several octaves to drone, blandly, “Your honor, the defendant is responsible for the theft of her own fucking notebooks, which have absolutely no commercial value and are basically useless to literally anyone else.”
Estelle laughs, once, sharp like she can’t help herself. She pushes at Yuri’s shoulder with almost no real force. “You’re awful.”
“Hey, no hitting the driver.”
“You didn’t even flinch!”
“I let you hit me, someday you’ll do it while Ted’s watching, suddenly Ted thinks he’s allowed to hit me and then we’ll all die in a fiery car crash.”
“You’re absurd.”
Yuri snorts. “You sound like Flynn.”
“I probably sound like everybody who knows you!”
“Absurd? Nah, that one’s all Flynn. Most people stick with ‘dumbass.’”
“Well,” Estelle says, primly, “I can’t imagine why.”
“Ouch,” Yuri laughs. He pulls into his apartment’s parking lot. “Right in the heart. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”
They’re still sniping at each other when they exit the car and head inside. The banter keeps up all the way to Yuri’s door, but Estelle is definitely sagging before they’re halfway up the stairs. She drags her feet on her way across the threshold, dropping her bag of rescued possessions on the couch before she collapses in a pile on the floor, next to Repede. Repede lifts his head enough to sniff at her suspiciously. When she offers her hand, he licks it, then unexpectedly leans over to lick her on the nose. Estelle half-laughs, half-yelps.
“Yuck! Repede!”
“Aw,” Yuri says. He kicks off his shoes and leaves the bag of Estelle’s books with her other shit before throwing himself down next to her and Repede. Repede quickly turns to plop his head into Yuri’s lap, tail wagging. Yuri strokes his back. “You’re getting used to her, aren’t you, bud?”
“He’s a good boy,” Estelle says. She pats Repede’s belly. He huffs a little, but allows it. “Repede, Yuri told me all about what a brave puppy you were today.”
She traces her fingers across his muzzle to touch the scarred side of his face. He doesn’t react much—he never has, not since it finished healing.
“I wish I was as brave as you,” Estelle whispers.
“I told you,” Yuri says, uncomfortably. “Cinematic parallels. You pulled through, just like him. I didn’t even have to force-feed you your antibiotics.” To Repede, he adds, dryly, “Unlike someone.”
Repede, who is a dog and has no clue Yuri is shit-talking him, yawns widely.
“I wish I could be strong,” Estelle mumbles. Her eyelids are drooping. Her whole body is drooping, actually. She wobbles unsteadily, even sitting down. “I wish I could... could go back and talk to my friends and not be so scared. That I could just knock on the door and ask to pick up my things. I’m such a baby.”
“Estelle,” Yuri says, around the lump in his throat. He reaches out and catches her by the shoulders as she sways forward, then eases her down so her head rests on Repede’s side. She sniffles a bit. “Being afraid of an abuser doesn’t make you a baby. Sometimes running away is the brave thing to do.”
“It’s not like he hit me that often.” Her fingers curl into Repede’s fur. He whuffles anxiously. Yuri strokes his head, trying to give Repede the comfort he wishes he knew how to give Estelle. “I should have stayed. I overreacted. I’m so stupid. And now I’m causing you trouble, and...”
“Estelle, c’mon.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No,” Yuri says. He rubs her back. “It’s not. But it’s not your fault.”
“I should have...”
“You should get some sleep is what you should do,” Yuri says. He heaves himself to his feet, then crouches again to scoop Estelle into his arms. She buries her face against his shoulder as he lifts her. Shit, she’s heavier than she looks. He grunts with the effort. “Okay, princess? Let’s get you to bed. In the morning we’ll eat a good breakfast and go talk to Hanks, and you’ll feel better. It’s gonna be alright.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah. I promise.”
He carries her to the bedroom and dumps her on the bed. She clings to his shirt when he tries to pull away.
“I d-don’t want to be alone—”
“Okay,” Yuri says. “Then let’s get you into some pajamas, and I can sleep on the floor in here for tonight.”
“I’m s-sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I took you someplace that was shitty for you tonight. Of course you’re upset.”
Estelle changes while he brushes his teeth. Once he’s got on his own soft sleep shirt and old shorts, he flops down in a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. Repede curls up behind his knees.
“Thank you, Yuri,” Estelle mumbles, from under the comforter.
“It’s no problem. Wake me up if you need anything, alright? Anything at all.”
“...Okay.”
Yuri wakes up to smoke.
“The fuck?” he croaks. Repede sticks his head in through the open bedroom door, whining quietly. Yuri kicks his way out of the blanket cocoon he’s tangled in and staggers into the kitchen.
Ah. Estelle.
“I’m sorry,” she starts, wide-eyed and near to tears in front of a blackened skillet of what possibly used to be eggs. “I just wanted to—“
“Windows first, apologies later,” Yuri says. He yanks open the living room window, then grabs a magazine off the coffee table to wave uselessly through the smoke. Estelle coughs. “Damn. I forgot to change the batteries in the smoke detector.”
“A-are we going to—?”
“It’s fine, we’re fine. Go open the window in the bedroom, will you?”
Estelle hurries to obey while Yuri opens the kitchen window. The smoke isn’t as bad as it could be, given the apparent death of the detector. Seems like it’s already clearing out a bit. He picks up the spatula Estelle abandoned to prod at the lump of charcoal in his skillet.
“I wanted to make breakfast,” Estelle says, miserably, from somewhere behind him. “To thank you. But I messed it up.”
“Of course you did,” Yuri says. He scrapes at the skillet a little. It spreads charcoal around. “You haven’t ever cooked before, have you?”
“No...”
“You should have gotten me up. I could teach you.”
“But it wouldn’t be thanking you if I made you work more!”
“Yet here we are,” Yuri says. “Besides, I don’t need to be thanked, Christ. Open the trash for me.”
Estelle dutifully opens the cupboard the trash bin is stashed inside. Yuri pushes the less stubborn bits of charcoal into the bin, kicks the cupboard closed, then dumps the pan into the sink to soak.
“You do need to be thanked,” Estelle says. Yuri gives her an exasperated look over his shoulder; when he opens his mouth, she adds, hurriedly, “I want to thank you.”
“Well stop it,” Yuri grumbles. He goes into the cupboard for a new pan. At least the smoke is clearing out relatively fast. “Are there still eggs?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Alright. We’re going to give the smoke another minute to disperse, and in the meantime you can get a small bowl down for me and take the eggs back out.”
Yuri fucks off to find batteries. When he returns to the kitchen, Estelle is waiting anxiously with a small bowl and the egg carton. The air is only faintly smokey. Yuri grabs a chair and shoves it under the smoke detector.
“Crack the eggs into the bowl,” he says, as he clicks the cover off. “I’ll watch from here.”
“How many eggs?”
“Four.”
“You eat four eggs at once?”
“What are you going to have for breakfast?”
Estelle gives him a baffled look, like it hadn’t even occurred to her that she could make her own breakfast too. “I—I guess eggs?”
“If we have four eggs left, do four. If we don’t, I’ll just split whatever we have with you. We’ve got bread. We can have toast or something too.” Yuri sighs as he slides the new batteries into place. “I guess we need to go to the store. Shit.”
“I only used two eggs before,” Estelle blurts out. “We’ve still got five eggs.”
“Yeah, but I was gonna make shakshuka tomorrow.” Yuri puts the cover back on the smoke detector. Estelle finally, hesitantly removes an egg from the carton. She taps it lightly against the side of the bowl.
“Harder than that.”
“I’ll get egg everywhere!”
“You won’t.” Yuri climbs down from the chair. “You need a clean break to pull it apart, or you’ll get bits of shell in everything. Here, I’ll show you one.”
Yuri dumps the dead batteries into the garbage along with the still-faintly-smoking wreckage of the burnt eggs, then washes his hands. Estelle watches raptly as he plucks an egg out of the carton and snaps it against the edge of the bowl before pulling it cleanly apart.
“Like that. Now you—yeah, okay, that was a lot better. Now the next two.”
Estelle furrows her brow and does as instructed. She still gets a piece of eggshell in the mix, but nothing Yuri can’t fish out with his fingers. “Why are we using a bowl? Can’t it just go straight in the pan?”
“It can if you know what you’re doing.” Yuri shrugs, leaning his hip against the counter as he monitors Estelle’s dismemberment of the final egg. “For a beginner, though, it’s easier to make sure all of the eggs will go in the pan at the same time. Are we doing sunny-side up, or scrambled?”
“Uh—scrambled?”
“Okay. Let’s both wash the raw egg off our hands, then you’re gonna get the milk out.” Yuri towels off his own hands as Estelle opens the fridge, then reaches into the silverware drawer for a fork. “Just dump in a little bit.”
“How much?”
“A little bit. Like I said.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“Well, I just eyeball it. Here, I’ll do it the first time so you can see. Just—this much, about. A glug.”
“A glug,” Estelle echoes, side-eyeing him dubiously.
“A very precise measurement,” Yuri says. He flashes her a grin and hands the milk back. “Put this away.”
Salt and pepper to taste and whisking the yolks into the whites, at least, Estelle seems comfortable with. While she does that, he dumps some cooking oil into the new pan and turns on the heat.
“You’re a good teacher,” Estelle tells him, as she carefully pours the beaten eggs into the skillet. “You should teach classes.”
Yuri snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don’t have the patience for teaching as a job.”
“But you do!”
“I’ve taught stuff for the community center occasionally. I know I’m not cut out to do it full-time. You’re an angel of a student compared to most people, princess.”
Estelle tries not to visibly preen at the praise and mostly fails. Yuri laughs. “Here, grab the spatula. What you want to do now is—“
“You could’ve gotten her in a lot of trouble.”
“I told her she could stay behind.”
“Yuri.”
Yuri sighs. Estelle is on the other side of the community center, helping some of the kids with their homework. Yuri has to leave for the bar in ten minutes, and he was starting to think he might escape without the lecture, but no such luck. “Hanks.”
“Boy, what am I going to do with you?” Hanks sighs too, leaning back in his chair. “I thought you would have grown out of this by now.”
“Sorry,” Yuri says, snippy and insincere. “Really shitty of me to want her to have some of her own stuff that she likes again.”
“You know that’s not what the issue is, son.” Hanks rubs his temples. “You’re too impulsive. What if you had been caught? Forget Estellise. What do you think would have happened if someone had caught you?”
Yuri shrugs. “Nothing good.”
“And you still did it?”
“It was a calculated risk.”
“Your damn calculations are off.” Hanks scrubs a hand through his beard and fixes Yuri with a tired look. “I wish your old coach was still here. You were always better behaved for him.”
Yuri’s stomach drops. Hanks seems to realize his mistake as soon as he makes it, hastily opening his mouth again, but it’s too late for that now. Yuri is already shoving his chair back, the legs screeching on the floor. Estelle looks up from the other side of the room; Yuri sees her in his periphery before he turns to the door.
“Yuri?”
“I’m going to work,” Yuri gets out, through gritted teeth.
“Yuri, come on—“ Hanks tries. Yuri strides away without looking back. He shoves his way out the community center’s doors. There’s a quick patter of footsteps behind him, but it’s not Hanks’s gait, so Yuri forces himself not to lash out when someone catches him by the arm before he can get in his car. Estelle blinks up at him with her big green eyes.
“I thought you had a few more minutes.”
“I’m leaving early.”
She chews on her lower lip. A little guiltily, she admits, “I told the children you would do a knife trick for them if they finished their homework.”
Against all odds, that punches a short bark of laughter out of Yuri. He feels a little of the tension go with it, but the damn ache in his chest doesn’t go anywhere. “They’ll have to do their homework tomorrow, too, then. Tell them I’ll do two knife tricks to make up for it.”
Estelle beams at him. Her hand is still resting gently on his arm.
“Are you...” The smile slides off her face. “Are you upset? When you left, it seemed like...”
“It has nothing to do with you,” Yuri says, too sharply. Estelle’s face falls further. God dammit. Estelle is the last person who deserves Yuri’s ire. Trying to speak more softly, he adds, “Hanks chewed me out and I got mad because I’m secretly twelve. That’s all.”
“It didn’t look like you were mad about being lectured,” Estelle presses. Yuri swallows down a bitter sigh. He doesn’t want to talk about Coach in the middle of the community center’s parking lot when he has to drive to work in five minutes. He doesn’t want to talk about Coach at all, really. Estelle has enough baggage of her own without trying to unpack Yuri’s.
“I don’t really want to get into it right now.”
Estelle still looks a little hurt, but she nods. Her hand drops from Yuri’s arm as she steps back.
“Hang on.” Yuri digs into his pocket and fiddles with his keyring, then holds a fist out to Estelle. “Here. Gimme your hand.”
Estelle complies, her wounded expression melting into curiosity. Yuri presses a set of keys into her open palm.
“Take these. You can just go straight back to the apartment instead of having to wait for me to finish up at the bar.”
Estelle stands up a little straighter, with her mouth a little o of shock. “Are you sure? Is that really okay?”
“Sure. What’re you gonna do, rob me?”
“Well, I—I could! Hypothetically!”
Yuri rolls his eyes. “Right. Just take Repede for a long walk in the evening before you steal all of my shit, then. And I’m gonna need you to let me in or leave the door unlocked when I get home.”
“Okay!” Before Yuri can do much except fight down the reflex to throw her across the parking lot, Estelle launches herself forward to wrap Yuri in a hug. Yuri grunts in surprise, arms trapped. “Thank you so much!”
“It’s your apartment too, for now,” Yuri says. He manages to wriggle a hand free to pat her on the head. “We’ll get a second key tomorrow or something. I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you!”
Yuri waves as he drives off. It’s—an odd feeling, almost distracting enough that he stops feeling so nauseated. He’s taken on down-on-their-luck guests before, but he’s never given them his fucking keys.
Well. That’s the power of Estelle, he guesses.
#fluri#Estellise Sidos Heurassein#yuri lowell#tales of vesperia#long post#Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In#still no flynn just yuri Pining
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