#he even took all his meds and ate a full bowl of food without any trouble

[healingheartdogs]

All of my planning and worrying didn't matter because he went on his own last night at home and it was traumatic as fuck for me and Selene both.

#dont read the tags if you dont want any details #he didnt seem that bad yesterday #he was swollen but he was still up and moving around on his own #he even took all his meds and ate a full bowl of food without any trouble #we called the vet to ask them to call us back to discuss options yesterday around 4 #vet called us back around 7 to discuss new meds to keep him comfortable while we got home euth set up for him #and we agreed ro go in today to pick them up for him and then got off the phone #and like five minutes later Banana suddenly started panting hard #so me and Selene sat on the floor with him trying to figure out what was wrong #and he started having a seizure which we're used to so we were keeping him company waiting for it to pass like normal #only it didnt #he suddenly died in my arms instead while I cried and screamed and tried to get him to start breathing again #selene call d the vet and told them we were bringing him in for an emergency visit and i was just sitting on the floor numb #cuz i knew the vet was too far away to be any help and even if they werent it wouldn't matter #he was already gone #he was gone so fast and I wasnt ready #it was so fucking horrible #im never going to be able to get the way he looked before he collapsed out of my head #my poor old man #that was not how it was supposed to go im so sorry

[uponrightful]

Second Chance Ch.2

Read Chapter One Here

Warnings: Mentions of Death, a Little Angst, Mild Cursing?, my Bad Editing Skills.

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part. I have quite a lot planned for this, with a lot of the details fleshed out. If you want to be tagged in Ch.3 let me know. 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was so easy to take a life.

He’d seen it happen so many times that it was second nature but when he found a second to sit down and pause, the revelation was always brand new to him. The only thing that saved him from death was luck… and the occasional intervention of Grogu who’s gift still confounded the Mandalorian. Never had he imagined just how powerful the child could have been. But for

Mando’s life was no different than many other man’s… easily taken just as it was given.

Mandalorian teaching deified war, and how power was given to the warriors of Mandalore, and the war. But what he could remember was that they never mentioned how man was supposed to take this god-like power, and not be ripped apart by it. Power wasn’t meant for only one army, let alone a singular man. No matter how much strength a man possessed, the authority of a man drunk on power almost always killed him.  

Death followed Mando like the cape the hung from his pauldrons; gliding across the ground and floating behind his back like a shadow that never went away. But he could always feel death around him, even in the shadows reminding him of the command that it held not just for others… but for him as well. Mando seemed to think that death has found a place with him, lingering long enough to wreak havoc before Mando could stop the destruction. That idea only subsided once he took Grogu as his foundling.

After the child came into his life, the reasoning for his choices became simple. There wasn’t a binding contract that had been passed along by men who desired control by use of bounty hunters. The reason was founded on the protection of the child, who Mando knew didn’t deserve to be plunged into a world that dark, and filled with men obsessed with power… no matter the means.

Mando groaned in his chair, feeling the stiffness of bruises forming on his ribs and the stiffness in his neck from his fight with the man on Hoth. Every breath stretched his ribs creating a dull thud of pain. Even his helmet felt heavy as he tried to roll his head and manipulate the muscles that kept threatening to contract and send him into a spasm. Even his fingers couldn’t drive away the ache either, but with the girl in the hull, taking a shower wasn’t an option either. Frustrated, he leaned his head back trying to relax and re-think the events on Hoth.

The fight with Vir had been one of many that Mando had won, but it wasn’t the first time that he had felt like death was standing there watching to see if he could prevail over his opponent. That shadowy figure grinning as the air in Mando’s lungs had became short and hearing that evil sound of laughter thumping in his ears… mocking him. Demanding for him to give up, and let go of the foolish idea that he was going to get out alive.

The new bruises, and old scars that covered Mando’s entire body told the story of his wars… something another Mandalorian would look at with reverence. With a respect for Mando and his battles won against those who chose not to do good. “This is The Way,” they would say bowing their head to him. Not a single doubt in their oath for a creed that distanced people from one another. But for Mando it was hardly a success to carry his wounds proudly… the one thing he had -his foundling- was gone. But now that his creed was broken, the pieces of it were hard to pick up without inspecting them for flaws.

Tatooine was a full day away at least, and until then the two of them would be stuck on the ship. Even hyperspace had its drawbacks. Yes, you could get across the galaxy in a fraction of the time, but when it was this silent and there was so much unknown between them he wished that space could bend just a little further. No doubt the men they left of Hoth’s snowy surface were chasing after them, or trying to figure out where they could be headed. Mando knew his only saving grace was that no one knew where he was going.

The only one who could’ve been a help, was dead now.

His chest tightened at the memory, thinking of any way that he could have saved the old woman. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the girl, maybe he would have heard the heavy footsteps approaching them. Mando had left himself lose control over the situation, it cost the old woman her life… and the girl her own life, in a whole other way.

He couldn’t hear her below, but that didn’t keep her presence from being obvious to him. The small puddles of water on the floor were still there from where her boots had stood. The warmth from her sitting in the chair had lingered long enough for him to feel it when he took her place. Even the sound of the Slave’s mechanics sounded better now that she had tweaked… something, he  couldn’t remember what she had said.

Only the sound of her voice.

In the silence her was able to really hear it again clearly, for all it was. Her tone was deep, and sultry but she carried it with such an innocent expression that it graced over his ears like those thin, silky scarves he had seen on women on Naboo. He had been on Naboo maybe twice, but those pieces of fabric always caught his attention. They reminded him of liquid metal in the way they caught sunlight and glittered, hiding the faces of the women who wore them. It was always surprising that they never floated away from their owner, so easily being fluttered around by the smallest breezes that were uniquely known to always pass through in the city.

Her voice sounded just like he imagined those silken scarves feel.

As much as he tried to keep himself in the cockpit the thought that she might be hungry kept pushing him to return back down. The little food he had left wasn’t the greatest, but maybe in the bag he had grabbed from the cantina there was something a little better to offer.

He found the bag thrown in a corner of the hull, its contents spilling out on the floor from where it had tumbled over during their hasty take-off. A few med kits laid on top of a jar of what looked like some type of home-made soup. Something the girl might like having.

He didn’t have any real way of heating it up, but how why would he? Fresh food wasn’t a luxury he took liberty of, so he hoped that it wasn’t bad room temperature.  

He looked in her room, and found her pulling off a few of her shirts and tossing them unceremoniously on top of the boots she had taken off. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to cough to catch her attention and gain his voice back.

“I brought you something to eat.” he said holding out the soup that he had transferred into a cup.

She tilted her head, looking at the metal cup and nodded after seeing how insistent he was on her taking it from him. His fingers wrapped around the entire cup, and as she reached to take it, her fingers gently brushed his. For a small second his wished that he didn’t wear the heavy leather so he could have felt that moment without any barriers.

“Thank you.” She gave him the smallest smile retreating back onto the bed and crossed her legs to cradle the cup between them. “You know, my grandmother loved to do this.” She looked down at the soup, dipping a finger into the broth and bringing it back to her lips. Her eyes closed at the taste, and her smile widened a little.

Satisfied that he had at least given her something to eat he decided it was time for him to leave her in peace to do so.

“Um, you can stay if you want.” She voiced, stopping him from walking out of the room.

He took a second to look around, and found a crate to sit on across from her. She tipped the cup up and take a drink before settling her eyes back on him again.

“Do you want some?” she offered the cup back out to him, her eyes softening in his direction. “I’m being quite selfish considering you gave me a room to stay in.” she said taking another glance around the dimly lit room.

“No, thank you.” He replied raising his hand up, declining her offer. He tried very hard to think of something to say, but many of his question focused on what had happened, and from the swollen look of her eyes he decided against asking any of them.

“This is made from tauntaun broth… and a little bit of meat here and there. If you’re lucky to get a good bowl.” She murmured taking another sip.

Her small comment wasn’t necessarily a happy memory as far as Mando could tell. Hoth wasn’t forgiving, and food although they had it wasn’t the greatest quality or in get supply for every meal. That’s why seeing her grandmother had been so surprising, he had never heard of anyone living to such an old age on the harsh planet. Even more surprising was how well fed the girl looked after living on the ice rock.

She had discarded everything but a baggy long sleeved shirt, so thin that in the direction of the light he could see right through it. The deep curve at her waist flared back out into her hips that disappeared behind her arms that she held in her lap. From what he could tell her legs were shapely, and muscled underneath of the thick duraweave pants she wore.  

“I ate earlier.” He bluffed, trying make her feel better for eating alone. “What was her name?” he asked quietly, hoping that it wouldn’t upset her.

“Eidara.” She replied with a small hiccup interrupting her speech. “She wasn’t from Hoth, but I never knew much about her past.” Her voice lowered, almost regretfully.

“She didn’t tell me her name, I-”

“I understand, she seemed to really like you.” She interrupted, another tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips. He wished he could see her really smile.

She took another drink, and again reached it out to him. Her expression mirroring that of Eidara when he declined something to drink from her. This time her took in a heavy breath and rested his vambraces on his thighs.

“I do not remove my helmet.” He explained, watching as her brows knitted together in confusion. She seemed to search his helmet, and upper body looking at his armor and trying to find some reason why he couldn’t take it off.

“Are you… human?” she asked very hesitantly.

“Yes. My creed does not allow any Mandalorian to show their face once they take the oath.” He explained watching a wave of relief crash over her entire body. Her shoulders slumped back down, and the small wrinkle on her forehead melted away.

“For a second I got nervous.” She commented before tilting the cup all the way back and emptying it.

He wasn’t sure what to think of that. All it took for her to trust him was for him to say he was human? The smallest tinge of amusement bubbled in his stomach as he pictured her face again when he explained that it had nothing to do with his body. She didn’t ask any more about his creed, or even seem to mind that she couldn’t see his face.

“Where are we going?” she asked, taking a second to lean over and sit the empty soup cup on the floor.

“I’m not sure. I was supposed to have a meeting in Mos Eisley, but I don’t want another encounter with those men back on Hoth…” he trailed, again trying to find a way to get the bounties back to Tatooine without any inconveniency.

“Did they follow us? I thought that I put out a false comms transmission before we jumped.” She questioned fidgeting in her seat.

“I didn’t know you did that.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck feeling a little better about their situation. Her anxiousness faded just at it appeared, as she glanced up towards the cockpit.

“I did. I’m not sure if anyone on Hoth will receive it… not many people have ships like yours. It’s a little old. But if they do get it, they would be headed in the opposite direction we’re going.” She took to chewing on her lip again.

“Well then, we’re headed to Tatooine. And it’ll take the rest of the night.” He added, thinking about the days on Hoth, trying to give her a good idea of how long they would be on the ship. Hyperspace was tricky, all planets had different lengths on days and even though Mando was good at remembering it wasn’t easy to gauge hyperspace time.

“You need rest.” They said in unison.

A light awkwardness took over the room, and Mando was the first to move. He slowly stood up from the crate and reached to take the empty cup from the floor, making his way to the door resting his hand over the control switch for the room. His silent question got to her, and she nodded, pulling the blankets down from the head of the bed and slipping her legs underneath them. She looked at him with expectant eyes, waiting for the light to turn off.

His finger switched off the light. “If you need something, let me know.” He repeated himself from earlier, taking one last glance at her in the now darkened room.

“Sleep well.” She murmured back.

He took a couple steps and pushed the door a little further closed so the lights in the hull didn’t shine into her room, making sure that a small gap was left so in case she wanted to leave she didn’t have to search for the handle. He heard her shifting around in the bed, letting out a heavy sigh before all sound quieted behind the heavy steel door.

Mando pressed his forehead to the steel making a small clinking sound. It was all he could do to assure himself that the false transmission had mislead the men, and they would be safe in flying. Without more credits, he wouldn’t be able to keep the ship in the air. It seemed to be their only chance to play offense in this game.

He was suddenly reminded of the card game Sabacc with its stakes so high it could make an expert pilot’s nose bleed. Mando hated the game and always tried to avoid playing. It wasn’t because he couldn’t win in reality he couldn’t remember the last time he lost a game. What he didn’t like was the pressure in playing, and right now he was feeling that stress. Only this time credits weren’t at stake, it was the her life.

He blew out a rough breath for what felt like the hundredth time today, pressing his palms to the door and quietly whispered;

“Goodnight little one, I promise you’ll be safe with me.”

***

He spent the morning cleaning his blasters, and taking a better look at the weapons that had been left behind by Boba Fett. Most of the blasters were older than his own, but now that he only had his two blasters and the beskar spear he couldn’t find it in himself to ignore the firepower that sat hanging on the walls of the weapons closet. Everything was covered in a heavy layer of dust and needed cleaned before anything could be used. So he took his time pulling every gun off its rack, and thoroughly cleaning them inside and out.

He was halfway finished when he heard the water in the ‘fresher running. It sounded like the sink, but he wasn’t sure. The steady stream of water was interrupted, splashing every so often on the metal bowl. She didn’t leave the water on long and came out of the door with a freshly washed face and the roots of her hair were damp. The can of compressed air he had been using to blow the sand out from the small cracks dropped out of his hand and clattered onto the bench, drawing her attention to him.

She wiped off her face with the shirt one more time, trying to catch a few remaining water droplets that clung to her hairline before tucking her hands behind her back;

“Good morning.” She smiled, taking a glance at the blaster sitting on the worktable in front of him.

He gave a curt nod, and tried to focus back on the blaster in question. It was in rough shape with all of the dirt collecting in the necessary contact points making it impossible to Mando to reload it, or use it for that matter. She seemed just as interested in it, and took a few steps forward to pick up the canister that had clattered to the floor. She reached out and sat in back down on the table.

“You have a lot of blaster power here.” She took a look all around her at the walls, every inch of them covered in some type of blaster or explosive device.

“It’s necessary.” He replied, taking a small brush and scrubbing at a tight corner on the pistol that sand has packed itself into.

“The only ships I’ve ever seen like this belong to…” she sucked in a breath, “bounty hunters.”

He turned slowly to look at her, seeing a pink blush creeping up her neck and settling on her cheekbones. Damn it, that looked gorgeous. He pushed the thought from his mind, and took his own glance around the closet. None of what she was looking at was his really, it all belonged to Fett. That didn’t mean at one point he didn’t have this much on the Razor Crest, all of that had been his, truly.

“What does that tell you about me?” he asked, tilting his visor back down to her.

“If you are a bounty hunter -which I think you are- I believe that all of this looks a little excessive.” A teasing smile played on her lips. “But if you aren’t, I honestly don’t have a clue as to why anyone would need all this.” She gestured to the room, lifting her arms out to her sides and letting them drop with a small smack against her thighs.

“What makes you think I’m a bounty hunter?” his voice dropped lower. He turned the rest of his body to face her, teasing her in his own way. He could see that she was a little nervous by the way she rocked side to side and he began biting her lip again. Mando bit his own lip, mimicking her so he could feel what it felt like.

“The carbonite locker, and the men that are in it.” she answered, nodding in the direction of the machine. “I saw them when I first came on the ship. I knew immediately that you were a bounty hunter.” She added, looking up at Mando underneath of long eyelashes.

“Are you scared of me?” he almost whispered, not meaning to let his tone get so far away from him. He flexed his jaw, waiting for her to say ‘yes, I’m scared of you’, waiting for her to nod her head, and leave him to stand amongst the tools of his trade.

“No. Why would I be?” she sounded truly confused at his question. “What makes your job any of my business? After all, I should still be thanking you.”

“What for?” he pressed, still not backing away from her.

“You got me away from… him. Now he can’t find me.” It was a simple answer.

It hit him. She didn’t know that he had killed Vir. He mentally scolded himself for not realizing it until now. In her mind, she was away from him… but he was still alive. Of course in all of the upheaval, there wasn’t any time to communicate what had happened, but in the back of his mind he assumed that she knew he had done it. Mando assumed that she would think simply because he was a bounty hunter that he had caused all of it to happen.

Only now, he knew better.

“I don’t think he’ll find you.” He stated, making sure to correct her.

“Him or those followers.” He shook his head, she still wasn’t getting it. He cleared his throat, and tried to rephrase;

“Vir Fearbe is dead. I shot him yesterday when he broke into Eidara’s cantina.” He carefully chose to leave out the part where the old woman had asked him to.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in her shock. Tears started welling up in her eyes and a small choking sound came up in her throat. Her eyes searched Mando’s helmet for a few seconds and the shirt she had been holding dropped to the ground with a wet smack. She hadn’t uttered a word for what felt like minutes, when she finally spoke again;

“He’s gone?” the disbelief in her voice was evident.

Mando nodded, and watched as her head dropped and her shoulder started shaking. She took another step forward, increasingly close to him. He was just about to take a step back when her arms wrapped around his lower back, and her head rested against the bottom of his curiass. He could feel the heat of her hands radiating through his tunic, and the uneven pace of her breathing lightly racking against his stomach.

He couldn’t move feeling the weight of her body pressed against his, like she didn’t want to stand without his support. Her crying grew louder, and her hands fisted into his shirt and her nails scratched into his back, sending waves of tremors up and down his spine. It took a few seconds for him to come back to his senses and place a hand gently on her head.

She wailed out louder, feeling the weight of his small reciprocation. Mando gripped her head a little tighter, holding her head close but not letting the edge of his chest plate dig into her forehead.

“Shhh, I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his best to calm her down. “Everything’s okay.” He cooed, feeling like he was getting nowhere.

“Y-you.” She gapsed, her voice muffled against his stomach unable to get the words out.

He rubbed his free hand up and down her back soothingly, continuing his soft appeals for her to calm down. She didn’t seem ready to listen to anything he had to say. Seeing no other option, he slowly began lowering himself, and the girl down to the floor. He wrapped his arm around her waist keeping her tight to his chest even after he got sat down. She curled herself into a ball, her tears sliding off the beskar and soaking into his shirt. He bent his knees and squeezed them close to her, hoping that the pressure would help subside her awful sobs.

He didn’t mean to hurt her, he really thought that by telling her she was gone she might feel better.

“Please, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He purred, stroking the top of her head. “I- I’m sorry.”

She nuzzled closer to him, further tightening her grip around his waist. “Th- than-” She struggled to speak without hiccups interrupting her. He tried his best to hear her over the tears.

“Yo-u s-saved m-me.” She sputtered out, letting out a broken moan.

His hand running through her hair paused, momentarily as he finally heard her speak something other than broken attempts at saying something. She thanked him. He could still feel her nails in his back, desperately wanting more contact with him. Mando slowly rocked himself side to side, feeling her begin to slowly calm down.

You’re safe little one. Mando thought to himself, still rocking her back and forth.

After a few more long minutes, she lifted her head from the safety in his chest and looked up into the visor that was already looking back at her.

“You saved my life.” She repeated, almost like she was not understanding herself.

There were many things he wanted to say to her in the hopes that it would keep her from crying like that again. He wished that he wasn’t so terrible with words, and that he could say something that would resolve this issue. They sat on the floor, his eyes scanning the room through the limited visibility that was allowed through his helmet. Damn it, Sometimes this helmet does nothing but get in the way. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of searching for a way to ease the emotional turmoil that was going through the fragile girl that that was still sobbing slightly despite his best efforts, his eyes alighted on the container that held the remainder of the soup that seemed to comfort her the night before.

He repositioned his hands lifting her up close to his chest and standing up. Mando counted the doors, as he walked down the hall, careful not to bump her feet into the wall. He nudged her door open with his foot, and laid her down gently, seeing the tears still pooling in the corner of her red eyes.

“I’ll be back.”

He returned back with another cup of soup in hand, this time handing it to her making sure her shaking hands had a good grip before he let go. He kneeled down next to the bed letting the bite of the metal press hard into his knees. He watched her trace the rim of the cup, staring down at the soup inside. She dipped a finger down into it like she had done last night, but this time she let her finger stir through the broth.

“You shouldn’t play with your food.” He murmured absentmindedly, watching as she brought the finger up to her lips.

“I’m sorry… for all of this.” Her lip wobbled again, and small tears dropped off her nose smattering onto the sleeves of her shirt.

He stayed quiet, watching as she brought the cup up and took a sip. Her eyes closed, and the corners of her lips turned up. It helped. Her apology didn’t fall on deaf ears but he definitely didn’t accept it. There was no reason for her to not feel this way… and he wasn’t the man to misunderstand her desire for a moment of sadness.

Mando stayed right by her side, patiently waiting until the cup was empty.  Tears had dried to her cheeks, but he was content to see that she wasn’t crying any more, and that she had finished another full cup of soup. She gave him a heavy lidded gaze, and slowly leaned her head against the pillow. If it wasn’t for the distant sound of the alarms in the cockpit he would’ve stayed longer. They were ready to land on Tatooine, and his contact on Mos Eisley would be waiting for him. She mumbled a small ‘thank you’ to which he nodded and exited her room.

He took control of the ship, and guided it down to the busy landing pads covered in pit droids and other pilots landing, or getting ready to take off. The stale air of Eisley filtered through the cockpit, and a small sense of unpreparedness filled Mando’s gut. There would be someone picking up the bounties while he received his credits… but the girl was still on the ship. There wasn’t a chance that he was going to bring her into town with him, but the idea of leaving her alone was just as unpalatable. The Slave Two shuddered as it’s landing gear made contact with the ground, and Mando kicked off the engines letting the whines of the mechanics sound all around him.  

If he shut the doors to all the rooms in the hull, the possible temptation of the retrieval crew wouldn’t be as high and if he kept conversations short, he would be back in less than thirty minutes. More than enough time to refill his water supply and top off any fuel that he spent getting from Hoth. He took a second to do just that, locking all the doors with the buttons on his vambrace and double checking that the door to the girls room was unable to open, unless from the inside. He hoped that she slept through the entire visit.

He set the ground security and gave the last of his credits to one of the pit droids who began screaming orders to another group of them that were busy on the ship next to the Slave. Even though the little robots seemed quite serious about their work, he couldn’t help but wish that a person was tending to the ship. He just couldn’t believe that a droid could do a humans job.

When he stepped foot into the dusty cantina, shadows of men seemed to slink further back into the dark edges of the room. Loud conversations became hushed whispers, and the energetic tone he had walked into became deathly still. It felt like the entire population inside the dirty bar was holding its breath, waiting for him to announce the name of his next target. Even inside the heat was stifling, and Mando could feel his hair dampening with sweat by the second.

After scanning the room, trying to find someone that looked familiar he found himself recognizing a woman, who sat in a corner booth with a hood draped lowly over her face. She took a quick glance at him before shying away again. He couldn’t place where he had seen her before, but decided that the Hutt’s methods of anonymity could’ve been more… interesting than he had imagined.

He took a seat across from her, and sat patiently for her to acknowledge him.

“You are the Mandalorian.” She finally said, her voice sounding somewhat familiar. She removed the hood from her head, and he was finally able remember.

“Aren’t you…” he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud. She was one of the Hutt’s pleasure slaves that had been chained to his chair when he first arrived. However she looked a lot different now, with a decent amount of clothes on and her face clean without any paint.

“Yes.” she frowned, reaching slowly into her cloak and discreetly presented a sack of credits to him. He took it from her, and stuffed it into one of the bigger pouches on his belt. “However he has grown tired of me, and I am being sent back.” She answered, pulling at a metallic collar that had been shielded by the cloak. A small red light blinked, lighting up the skin on her neck. “I was asked to also give you these…”

She placed four new pucks on the table, along with matching tracking fobs that had already been activated before their meeting. “You have five weeks to complete the contracts.” She stated like reading from a script;

“Also, consider the incident on Hoth to be your one warning, and that any further displays of unnecessary interaction will terminate your position.” Her robotic tone ended with a long gasp of breath.

Mando took a glance over his shoulder, checking to see the incoming patrons who found themselves a seat at the bar. “Is that all?” he pushed, leaning up to reach for the hardware on the table.

She woman shook her head silently, and reached up to scratch her neck underneath of the heavy collar. “No, one last thing. You have been reimbursed for your fuel and water supplies that you paid for upon your arrival. The service droids will be waiting to refund your credits.”

Mando tucked away the pucks and the fobs, before nodding a quick goodbye and making a quick path back to the landing yard. Upon his arrival, the filling tubes were being unhooked from the Slave’s access panels on the belly of the ship, and the droid he had given his credits to  quickly approached with a beaten up metal box in his hand of sorts. The credits inside jingled around at the jerky movements of the jittery robot until Mando reached in the tin box to retrieve them.

The pit droid shook the box gently, and assured himself that the credits had been taken. Letting out a few beeps and buzzing sounds it energetically hinted at Mando to follow him. Hesitantly he walked behind the bucket of rust as it led him to the side of the ship, to show that the panels had been secured at that the tanks had been filled accordingly. Mando let out a defeated sigh, and handed two credits back to the droid.

“Keep it, maybe you can use it to keep from rusting into sand.” He said looking down at the constantly moving metallic being. The droid made a few whistling sounds before speeding off towards his companions who were at the moment repairing some nasty blaster holes that were riddled over the side of a ship across the tarmac.

Punching in the commands on his wrist, the hatch opened and he jumped up on the slope ready to get back into space as quickly as possible. He checked the carbonite locker making sure it was empty, before checking around the corner to see if any of the doors had been disturbed. He scanned down the long hallway, seeing nothing out of order.

Nothing had been opened, including her door.

A he let out a sigh, and silently got them back into space. He took a moment, and adjusted the same lever that she had, hearing a small release in the engines lowering the dull thrum that had been present when he first took off. He shook his head, wondering just what the lever did. He’d have to ask her later… But for now, finding coordinates for a new quarry was the best thing to do.

Mando took the pucks out from his belt, and one by one displayed the content, trying to find last known sightings closest to his position. Although it wasn’t technically close one of the quarry’s had been seen on Coruscant, and was believe to be using the extensive undercity regions to hide amongst other criminals. The twi’lek was contracted for unknown reasons, described by the hologram, but it wasn’t unusual for buyers to leave their reasons private.

This didn’t matter though, Mando had heard of the man while working under the Guild. He was a known smuggler, loved to gamble despite being having no credits and terrible luck. If Mando had to take a guess, the bounty was raised because of debts owed to a group of people, interested in getting their money back. He hated to admit it, but the quarry was being somewhat smart. Coruscant was heavily populated making it easy for him to blend in just about anywhere.

For Mando, getting there wasn’t going to be hard. Even finding the quarry without drawing attention wouldn’t be much of an issue, but getting the quarry back to his ship would be most difficult. He wasn’t unprepared for the possibility that the twi’lek had hired guards, or help to keep him from being apprehended but it was like walking into a dark room without his helmet. He had no real way of knowing what he was up against without some more information as to what was happening in the dark streets of the underground.

Hyperspace for another few days. He thought setting the coordinates, and turning off the lights in the cockpit.

He could feel the dampness of the padding in his helmet, along with sweaty strands of hair clinging to his forehead and temples. Even his skin felt wet with the exertion of the last three days, and it clung to him like the thick dust that he had been cleaning from the blasters in the closet. A visit to the ‘fresher sounded like a great idea, and the promise of a clean undershirt and pants sounded better.  

He only kept a couple spares of his clothes, and in his own cabin inside a small metal box under his cot. When the Crest was destroyed, it erased everything but his spear, and the small metal ball that Grogu had taken an interest in. Any clothes he had, were incinerated and upon getting the Slave, he had taken the opportunity to replace the old, and threadbare flight suit that he had been left with.  

The water sprayed out of the nozzle that poked out from the ceiling, blasting out cold water. He carefully removed his armor, sitting in in a small pile on the floor and placing his helmet down on top of a small vent that blew fresh air up from the circulation unit that sat in the belly of the craft. He made sure to crack the door just enough so that the steam could be pulled from the room to allow the vent to dry the thick lining and padding in his helmet while he showered.  

When the hot water met his skin he shuddered at the sensation. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the salty texture of his sweat rinse off down the drain. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a shower, and took a second to decide that he would stay in the water for as long as he could. The purple and blue bruises on his side seemed to finally relax a little so he lean over and stretch his sore ribs. The heat felt deliciously good on his muscles too, working away at the constant pinches of tightness in his shoulders and neck.

A large -mostly untouched- bar of Trillium soap sat on the singular ledge in the shower stall which Mando grabbed and began lathering in his hands. It was one of the only smells that Mando had come to think of as familiar, simply for the fact that it was one of the only scents he had the opportunity to experience. He couldn’t describe it, other than that it smelled cleaner than he did. The thick lather could wash off anything, and it was one of the only things he actually looked for when resupplying. If it worked for Wookies, then it could work for him.

With the soap covering his entire body, and a decent foam in his hair he felt good enough to rinse and get out.

As much as he wanted to stay for longer, he reminded him that it wasn’t just himself on the ship, and the tank on the Slave was the only water supply on board. They needed it for everything from drinking to anything else that might be necessary. That included washing his old flight suit in the sink basin.

He toweled off, redressed and picked up his helmet to check if the inside was dry enough before jamming in back down on his head. He would let the dirty shirt and pants sit in the sink for a little while longer, so the soap he had just washed with could try and life out some of the dirt that had attached itself to the heavily interwoven fabric.

He turned his boots upside down, letting a small accumulation of sand collect on the floor before shoving his newly socked feet back into them. Ignoring the three utility belts that hung on the wall outside of the door, he took a moment to inhale. It might smell sweet. He thought, trying to place the scent in accordance with something else from his memory, nevertheless he still wasn’t sure.

***

The girl slept through the entire night, and halfway into the next day before waking up. She quietly joined Mando in the cockpit, saying a quiet ‘hello’.

She refrained from wearing any shoes again, but Mando couldn’t blame her; If he thought that taking his own boots off would feel more comfortable he might’ve tried it. That being said, he knew in the back of his mind it would be… and the thought of that kept him from entertaining the idea. He felt the same way about his helmet. He didn’t look forward to taking it off, even when he was alone. Because there was always going to be a time where he had to put it back on.

Despite the protection and enhanced features that allowed him to work more efficiently, there was so much that he missed when his head was covered. Smells… like his soap were experiences that happened few and far between. Colors were also not the same. Yes, he could see them but taking his helmet off almost exclusively happened on the ship, so the world he saw without the helmet was mostly greyscale and metal. Sounds were also distorted slightly through the microphones that surrounded the helm. There were distinctions between voices, but for the most part there was always a somewhat mechanical ambiance that weaved itself into speech.

That was what made her voice so intriguing to him. He wasn’t sure how… maybe it was her tone, or the low inflection that caused his helmet to almost completely forgo the automated toning formats, and allow her voice to come through almost naturally. That’s what had stopped him when they first spoke on Hoth; He had been momentarily preoccupied with the idea that his helmet was malfunctioning. But the more she talked, he realized that it wasn’t a technical issue, it was just that her voice didn’t seem to effect the auditory mechanics.

“What time is it?” she asked, pulling her feet up in the chair. She hugged her thighs to her chest, resting her head on her knees.  

“I don’t know,” he admitted, trying to think what time it would be on Hoth… or possibly on Coruscant. “Hyperspace is difficult in that way. All planets don’t have equal planetary rotations, so time is just relative when you’re not traveling sub-light.”

She nodded. “Did we already stop on…”

“Tatooine? Yes, you fell asleep right before we landed.” She hummed in response to him, a small sense of disappointment catching his attention. “Why do you ask?”

“Never mind, it wasn’t anything important.”

He readjusted in his chair, taking the opportunity to admire how she looked in the bright hyperspace lights. It lit up her eyes making them look like they were glittering. Even her hair seemed to shine against the tints of blue that warped around them. She looks beautiful like this. Her hair was quite messy, and the deep wrinkles in her shirt gave a undone appearance, but Mando couldn’t help but think that she couldn’t look any better.

“What was it?” he asked, letting his head fall back against the chair.

“I guess I wanted to see what it looked like. All the sand, I mean. I’ve never been anywhere but Hoth, and the idea of a planet looking any different seemed… interesting.”

It hadn’t crossed his mind that she would want to see Tatooine. He’d been there so often that all the sand was no different than anything else in the galaxy. Snow was the only thing she knew. Now that he thought about it, she had seemed interested in where they were headed but he hadn’t been smart enough to guess why. He closed his eyes, feeling her soft gaze  burning into the side of his helm.

“I thought you wanted to sleep…” he replied, trying to keep his frustrated tone soft.

The frustration was at himself being so focused on getting them on and off the planet quickly, that he overlooked her excitement about being somewhere foreign to her. “We’re on our way to Coruscant. I have a bounty to find, but we’ll be meeting someone. While I find the quarry, you’ll be staying with them.”

“A friend?” her head lifted from her legs.

“No. An associate of sorts, but someone that can be trusted.” Mando wasn’t sure if it would work.

He had caught Boba Fett saying that he would be on the planet when they first made their flight to Tatooine. He expected that Fett didn’t catch the slip of information, seeing as Mando wasn’t in the cockpit when he communicated it… but without making contact, it would be difficult to know if he was still there. Mando was making a big gamble on it, and he hoped that Fett wouldn’t be too opposed to the idea he was going to propose.

“So we’ll be staying with your associate.” She tried correcting herself.

“Just you. I have to go somewhere that isn’t suitable for you to be.”

She didn’t respond after that. Instead she curled herself further into a ball and watched out ahead of her. They sat like that for hours seemingly comfortable by just being in the same space, not seeing conversation as a necessity to make time pass. Mando began hearing the smallest growls, and immediately checked to see if it was her stomach that made the low rumbles.

“Are you hungry?” his modulator crackling to life after the extended silence. She gave no response. He let out an amused huff, seeing that she had fallen back to sleep in what looked like the most uncomfortable position he had ever seen. Her head was resting on the heard edge of the armrest, her entire body bunched up in the seat, with her feet pressed tight up against the other armrest to keep from falling out of the chair altogether.

Unbelievable. He thought, wondering how she had managed to fold herself up to fit in such a small space. It hadn’t been that long ago that he had glanced over and saw her still awake, and playing with the hem of her shirt and as always, holding her bottom lip between her teeth. Well, the least he could do was let her keep sleeping. They wouldn’t be anywhere near Coruscant for at least a couple estimated days.

In the meantime, he could try to get a hold of Boba Fett and see if he was going to be of any help. The communicator in the ship most likely still had some connection to Fett’s other ship, or maybe -if he was lucky- Fett’s similar vambrace communicator. He examined one of the screens on the dash, and found only two available options… he picked the first one. A blue holocall screen jutted up from the control dash, small digital waves rippling across the monitor as he waited for an answer.

Come on Fett… answer.

The blue lights disappeared, ending the transmission. He tried the other option bouncing his knee in anticipation for an answer. A small flicker of motion distorted the display before he heard a familiar gruff tone.

“Mandalorian.” Fett barked. “How the hell did you do that?” he interrogated, as Mando saw his helmet come into view.

“The ship. It had your communicator link still the in the system.” He explained, watching as Boba shook his head.

“I expect you aren’t calling to play ‘catch-up’…” he chuckled, “What do you want?” his tone flattened.

“You said you were going to be on Coruscant?”

“Maybe. If I was, why would it matter to you?”

Mando leaned forward, dropping his visor toward the floor. “I need you to do something.”

He heard Fett sigh, full irritation setting in. “Damn it Mandalorian, spit it out. I have somewhere to be.”

“I have a bounty, on Coruscant. But I also have… a girl.” He glanced over at her, still fast asleep.

Fett burst into laughter. “I leave you alone for a month… leave it to you to get yourself some company. I have to say I’m surprised.”

“It’s not like that.” He defended. “Can you keep her safe while I catch this quarry?” he asked, his own irritation tinting his tone.

Fett didn’t speak for a long time, only a grainy sound of women laughing in the background. Mando rolled his eyes, leave it to Fett to talk about company, he couldn’t go anywhere without at least one woman trailing not too far behind.

“I suppose you’ll be landing in Galactic City… and spend most of your time down under am I correct?” he surmised Mando’s outlined plan without trouble.

“Yes. Can you take care of her, or not?” he asked looking back up at Fett’s mirrored image of his own face.

“I’ll meet you when you land. From there, I take her where she’ll be safe.” He paused. “Then I’ll be joining you.” He added, a feminine squeal sounding somewhere in the background behind him.

“No wa-”

“It’s the only way you get my help.” He interjected. “I’ve been craving a little game of chase… think of it as a trade.” his low rumbling chuckle echoed in the cockpit.

“You can promise she’ll be taken care of.” Mando growled.

“She’ll be returned better than when she left. You have my word.” He assured, a quick nod jolting his helmet.

The call went black, and the blue tint disappeared from view.

As much as he wanted to trust Fett, a small bit of him didn’t like the idea of him tagging along, or sending the girl somewhere without him having full knowledge of where exactly she was being taken. Mando relaxed back against his seat, and turned his head to watch her sleep.

She looked peaceful, despite that awful way she was laying. He felt slightly jealous how easy it was for her to fall asleep, but after everything that she’s been dealing with, it wasn’t surprising how much time she spent asleep. What surprised him was her trust in him. She slept without any fear of him despite his constant stalking around the ship, and silently hiding himself away in the cockpit. He wasn’t the ideal companion in any situation, but spending days on end in hyperspace with him couldn’t be preferable. He could barely stand himself after a week on the ship, let alone someone else who had just watched her only family die, and an entire crew of men chase after her.

Maybe she could stay on Coruscant? In the right district, she would be perfectly safe.

That was, unless those men knew where they were already. His lack of knowledge about what exactly they wanted her for was maddening. They had to know he was the one who killed Vir, but that didn’t explain the desire for her, instead of himself. Not only that, but he had no idea what they were capable of, or who Vir and his followers were connected to. Every planet they visited could be a possible trap, and with four weeks to fulfill his contracts he hardly had time to tip-toe around a planet that was harboring one of his quarry.

At least now he would have someone on the inside once they landed. Despite Fett’s penchant for having multiple women at his disposal, Mando didn’t really have any reason not to trust him. Fett had helped them rescue his foundling and didn’t kill him on Tython, and ultimately gave him a ship… that was enough for him to trust the man.

All that was left to do was wait.

The girl stirred in her chair, but didn’t wake up. She wrapped her arms around herself, and tucked her feet in closer, most likely she was cold. He didn’t want to wake her up, or  leave to go take any of the blankets off her bed either. He reached up to his neck, and unbound his cape from around his pauldrons. Mando reached over and draped the heavy cloak over her, watching her pull the edge up towards her chin. The material draped over the entire chair, swallowing her underneath it.

Mando didn’t mean to fall asleep.

For the first time in years he dreamt. They carried vivid recollections of her, his imagination picturing what she would’ve looked like on the sand flats. She had the biggest smile on her face, and her eyes shut letting the sunlight shine on her. She picked up handfuls of sand, and let in fall through her fingers with a little laugh, enjoying the sensation of the fine grit falling back down to the ground. He could see that she had neglected her shoes like she had stepped out of them after realizing that she could feel it under her feet.

The bright white shirt he pictured her in contrasted against the rust-colored sky, and deep red sands that stretched behind her. It felt like a memory, even though he knew better. He could hear her calling out to him begging for him to join her, only he didn’t. He could only watch from a distance as she spun around, holding her arms out like she was embracing the heat around her. Mando tried desperately to get closer, just to walk towards her and ask if she was enjoying the sun. But his feet felt like they had been buried beneath the same sand she danced on.

In another scene she sat by a small stream, letting the hem of her thin white dress fall into the water. She was focused on him, with a sweet look on her face. A small giggle echoing dreamily towards him. Vibrantly green grass came up around her shoulders, and tickled at her neck causing her light laughter. Again she beckoned for him, dipping her hands down in the water and splashing it up towards him.

She looked ethereal in all of the dreams that he had. Every time, taking the image of an angelic spirit that seemed happy to see him, always begging for him to join her. He desperately wanted to reach for her, to get near enough to hear her laugh with his own ears. Just one chance at breaking his feet free from the ground that held him tightly in place. She never seemed to notice his fight to break free from his invisible binds, instead patiently waiting for him to come closer.

She’s my second chance…

She’s my second chance…

He repeated it to himself unaware that in the silence of the cockpit his strained whispers could be heard whispering out in his unconscious struggles. Gripping the armrests with white knuckles and flexing his legs, he fought against his subconscious to get just one step closer to the girl that slept peacefully in the seat right next to him.

Taglist: @spacedaddydinn​ @absurdthirst​ @crazybirb​ @hornystarwarsbisexual​ @roxypeanut​ 

#the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian #mando #secondchance

[spicysoftsweet]

A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself. 

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug. 

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem. 

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship. 

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them. 

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap. 

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately,  yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.” 

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool. 

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look. 

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill. 

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them. 

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out. 

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.

#hisoillu #hisoka #illumi #bungee gum #hunter x hunter #serious business #serious writing #crack fic? #remember to eat a balanced diet

[lockedstuck]

and time goes quicker between the two of us

You’ve never met anyone on earth who takes such earnest joy in living as Ray, smiling beatifically as she drinks her tea, eats her snack of a toasted tennis roll, and sways along to the music coming from her headphones. She puts on another pot of tea, then stretches her arms toward the ceiling. 

You wish you looked forward to life as much as she does, but you don’t. Life is kind of like laundry, a minor inconvenience you have to engage in because the alternative is worse. Thanks to both Aradia and the ECT, you’ve reached a point where you no longer want to die, but you’re not the most keen on living.

You drink your morning tea and take your medication. She washes out her coffee cup in the sink, still singing, and dries it out. You go into the fridge and take inventory, intent on making some kind of edible breakfast food. On the lowest shelf, there’s a chicken you started marinating yesterday, but that’s definitely too much work for you to cook right now.

“Ray, what do you wanna eat?” you ask. She keeps jamming.

 You pull one of the earbuds out of her ear. She turns to face you.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want for breakfast? Besides that roll?”

“I don’t know. What’s around?”

You shrug. “I’m indecisive. Pick something.”

“Spinach and cheese omelette?” she asks. 

Yeah, you’re not super awake, but you can do that much.

Alone, you can’t be bothered to fix something more complicated for each meal than a cup of Cafe Bustelo and a bowl of Doritos. But since Aradia still eats your cooking like the novelty of someone preparing her meals for her daily - other than her mom, at least - hasn’t worn off yet, you kind of make it a point to cook when she’s around.

She told you that she used to invite herself over to your dorm room so often back in college because getting you to make food ffor her was a surefire way to make sure you ate something nutritious. At first, you were slightly affronted. Were you really so subpar at caring for yourself that she had to resort to that? Then you realized that the answer was “Yes” and got over it.

“Okay,” you say. “Sounds good.”

You pull the gruyere, the baby spinach, and the eggs out of the fridge. Aradia jumps off the counter with a little shimmy that makes her nightgown ride up, and you nod appreciatively, earning a smirk from her. She takes the cutting board off the rack, and the ingredients from you, cutting them up without a word. You turn the stove on.

“How fine do you want the cheese and spinach?”

“They’re eggs. Who cares?”

This is how meals go in the Megido apartment. Whoever doesn’t cook does meal prep, another tradition dating back to your college days, where Aradia would opine that she felt awkward doing nothing in your kitchen. You’d point out that she reminded you to take your meds and make your appointments, along with occasionally acting as your therapist when you couldn’t afford one. Therefore, you two were even. 

Then she’d roll her eyes at you and insist on being handed something to work on.

Once she’s done, you melt butter in the frying pan and then put in the eggs. While you keep an eye on the pan, she starts to tell you about something one of her students did.

“He asked me if we could watch this meme video in class? And I was like… I have a lecture schedule to keep to, but maybe? I don’t know?”

“Which video?”

“The entire history of the world. It’s by Bill Wurtz. It made me laugh.”

You snort. You’re familiar with the video. She comes up and hugs you from behind while you  shake your head, and flip the eggs over, happy when they don’t stick to the pan. She puts her headphones back in and starts jamming out once more.

You, you, you’re thinking of the code you have to review and probably rewrite for this job. It’s pretty basic shit, below your pay-grade, but the pay is decent, so here you are. 

She told you yesterday that Geek Squad for the Best Buy in Astoria is hiring. May you’ll go apply there, see if you can land another regular nine to five like the one you had right after you left undergrad. You don’t know if it’ll work, but there aren’t many desirable positions for a guy like you. Most of the good shit relies on you actually having completed bachelor’s degree in computer engineering.

Ray actually offered to pay your tuition for your final semester at CCNY with some of the money her father left her in his will, but something stops you. Other than the fact that you don’t want to get stuck paying her back. She probably wouldn’t even mind if you didn’t, and that, in and of itself, rankles you. 

Besides. You won’t admit that to anyone, even her, but what if you’re not as smart as you used to be? When you were an undergraduate, you took a full scholarship and made your classes your bitch. You had a 3.83 GPA. It’s been a couple years since 2017, though. What if you’ve forgotten all you’ve learned? What if - even with her footing the bill - you can’t finish? You’d probably jump off her roof or something.

You think she may have caught onto the reason you won’t take her up on her offer, but she refrains from giving you any shit about it.

You flip the eggs again, pile them onto a plate and put out two forks.

While she eats, you dig your laptop out of its little alcove and start it up. You open your text editor software, and take a fresh look at this hell of repetitive code. Whoever wrote this needs to be shot, resurrected, and shot again.

She deposits the plate in front of you, after she’s finished eating her half of the omelet. “Food first, then work.”

Yes, okay, fine. You eat your food - the gruyere’s fucking delicious with the spinach. You stretch, then decide to go for a walk around the block, and have a cigarette while you’re at it. You’re outta smokes, so you go digging through Ray’s pack, pulling a Newport 100 out of it and putting it into your mouth.

She waves at you as you slip out the front door.

Her apartment building is nice enough that she has a doorman, a balding Trinidadian dude who nods at you when you pass his desk. He asks you how your girlfriend’s doing. Ray’s not your girlfriend, not even close, and you think he knows her mostly because she brings him guava candy and tennis rolls every so often. A taste of home.

You jog around the block, lit cigarette burning between your fingertips, mentally rewriting that fuckawful code as you go. You hand a five dollar bill to the tamale lady at the end of the block with her little pushcart, coming away with three tamales that you’ll eat over the next few hours, as you redo things. You bite into one; it tastes heavenly. 

Since Ray has to teach today, you’ll work either in her bedroom or in the Starbucks a couple avenues away. She’ll need to use the living room slash office to teach her three classes.

You should probably go home today, take the 7 train to Main Street and see how your dad’s doing. You spoke to him last night, and he seemed alright, if a little tired. He always seems alright, if a little tired. You wonder if his new prescription for Metformin is in yet, if he’ll want you to pick it up from Duane Reade on your way over. 

When you get back, Ray looks a little out of sorts, her dark, curly hair framing her face like a great load of cotton candy. 

“What happened?” you ask.

“Your mom called. She left a callback number. She says she’s in the hospital.”

Something sinks to the pit of your stomach, something akin to lead.

“Shit,” you reply. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You call the number, ask for Jun Captor, and someone on the other side of the line goes to get her. 

A minute passes.

“Sollux,” she finally says, matter of factly.

You feel as if you’ve travelled in a complete circle sometimes. Your earliest memory is of talking to your mother on the phone, while your dad cooks breakfast, during one of her twenty-one hospitalizations over the course of your lifetime. 

Is this so different?

“Mom?” you ask.

“You have to help sign me out of here. They picked me up last night.”

“Why? What happened?” you want to know. 

Ray takes your hand, squeezes it, and lets it drop, her chin on your shoulder as you sit in her kitchen, anxious and relieved both.

“The CIA is following me around,” she says. “Their agents were in the grocery store again. I tried to fight one of them, they called 911 on me, and now I’m here. Your dad knows, but he won’t sign me out.”

You sigh. Your mom’s damn lucky that whatever innocent and random person she decided to fight got her hospitalized instead of dragged to the 109th precinct on assault charges. 

“I’ll do what I can do, and bring you a couple changes of clothes, but - no offense, mom - I think you’re where you need to be for the moment,” you reply. 

She starts crying, curses you out, and hangs up on you. You can feel the concern emanating off Ray in waves as she gazes at you.

“Something on my face?” you half snap. She envelops you in one of her tight hugs, her hair tickling the area between your neck and clavicle.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. You sigh.

“I gotta go home and get some of my mom’s clothes together. She’s in trouble.” You can hear your heart hammering in your ears. “The timing on this is fucking annoying. I have shitty code to fix, and she’s in the fucking hospital. Again.”

“Do whatever you have to,” she replies. She glances at the bag in your arms. “Are those tamales?”

“Yep. Knock yourself out.” You toss the bag to her.

Even despite everything you have to do, you mentally quiet down sitting beside her, munching away on a tamale and listening to the birds sitting on her fire escape.

[arabellaflynn]

For anyone who didn't catch it on other social media, I have finally moved out of the "temporary" apartment I was stuck in for 7 months, thanks to a lot of emotional and logistical support from friends, and a generous amount of financial support from the folks who gave to my GoFundMe. I am endlessly grateful to all of you, and if I weren't so goddamn tired right now I'd be more eloquent in saying so.

I've spent the past few weeks of unpacking and working out the bus routes around my new place trying to figure out how to explain what was so terrible about the last one. Most attempts devolved into page upon page of rage, which is not really what I want to be doing here. On the other hand, I also don't want to downplay how bad it was. 

Spoiler: The temp apartment was Very Very Bad.

The tl;dr is that I was offered someone's spare room on the condition that I help out a little extra with household chores and caring for their rats, because the pet owning roommate had recently had back surgery and was still mobility-impaired. What actually happened is that as soon as they realized I had any basic life skills whatsofuckingever, I was cornered into becoming the 24/7 on-call House Adult. I would have gone on strike, but the other two people in the apartment were so terrible at coping with absolutely any aspect of being alive that if I had, one or both of them would probably be dead now.

That is not hyperbole. I sat back at one point and realized that I had talked to 911 dispatch five times in the preceding four months. None of those calls were for me. To be clear, I ain't mad about other people having medical problems. All five of those calls were appropriate and necessary uses of emergency services. I just resent the hell out of being the default option for handling all of it, even though none of the medical emergency problems were mine, and there were other people in the house. Literally, Short Roommate had a catastrophic asthma attack one night, and when she was wheezing too hard to talk she passed the phone to Tall Roommate -- who immediately ran to the other end of the apartment, banged on my door, and handed the phone to me. It got to the point where I just told the operator what was up, went downstairs to unlock the door for EMS, stood in the corner answering the occasional question until they hauled someone off to the hospital, and then went right back to bed, because none of this was my problem. And that's just the 911 calls, not even counting the number of times I had to talk her down out of a dissociative episode, or any of the other shit I was not warned about and did not volunteer to do. They wore me down until my only response to "a fellow human can't breathe" is "fuck's sake, why am I even involved here".

They both needed a lot more, and a lot more professional, help than they could possibly have gotten out of a random civilian roommate. They both fought tooth and nail against actually getting any of it. Every time Short Roommate was dragged to the hospital, her discharge papers included a big fat packet full of social services, resources, and business cards for actual physical people to phone. I know this because whenever I cleaned the apartment, I found them on the fucking floor, whereupon I placed them on her fucking keyboard, and told her point-blank to call these people. As far as I know, she never did.

I am neither qualified nor equipped to be a live-in caregiver for anybody. There is a fucking reason I have never wanted children. I keep critters because if you give them food, water, toys, and boxes to sleep in, you can leave them to entertain themselves for hours while you work or sleep, and no one will arrest you.

There was a bunch of other stuff. Tall Roommate rarely if ever cleaned anything, including herself, unless directly ordered to do so and given a detailed list of instructions of what you meant by "clean". I only ever got her to wash her own damn dishes once, and I did it by messaging her from the other room 'I just found a mouse in the sink eating snacks off your dirty plates GO DO YOUR DISHES'. She had a laundry list of problems, but the relevant one here is that she was high-support-needs autistic with no support and zero inclination to find any. 

[Did I mention the mice? We had mice. All over. The rats murdered two of them when they got into the cages, looking for the free-feed bowl.]

Short Roommate clearly loved her rats but didn't actually do any of the rat care beyond petting and playing. One of them was tremendously sick at one point and needed meds q6h. She was supposed to be helping with that and didn't, which meant that I went several weeks on a maximum of six hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. I tore the fuck into her for that one, pointing out in exactly so many words that some of these meds were painkillers and if the rat didn't get them on time HE SUFFERS. Not doing any of the grunt work, Short Roommate evidently thought rats were so easy she should just keep getting more of them! She rescued two, one of whom was preggo, kept several of the babies, and started talking about waiting for one of the girls to grow up so she could breed him with one of her younger boys. 

Gentle Reader, I promise you the only reason I did not strangle her in her sleep that very night was that I knew, deep in my heart, that I could not move the body down two flights of stairs by myself, and if I left it up to Tall Roommate, the corpse would still be in the apartment today.

If I were inclined to any sympathy, it would have died when Short Roommate moved out to shack up with New Boyfriend and New Boyfriend's Mother. She initially took all the rats with her, which made them officially not my problem anymore, but I woke up one morning to a message that said something like "[New Boyfriend's Mother] says that if I show up to our new place with the rats she's not going to let me in, [Tall Roommate] is coming back with all the rats and everything they own". I found out later that this was because their new place was in section 8 housing, where you are not allowed to have pets that aren't service or support animals. Which Short Roommate had known the entire time, and just... made no plans for. At all. Unless "ignore everything until bitchslapped by reality, then panic and make unreasonable demands of other people" counts, I guess.

Eight rats. She dumped eight rats on me. Eight. I wound up taking care of them all without help; Tall Roommate was incapable of keeping anything in her habitat clean, including herself, and I wasn't willing to let her neglect animals. I was actually down to one rat of my own, having lost my two venerable old men, and was looking for a new friend or two for Tseng. Which I had to stop doing, because nine fucking rats is a lot of rats, and I couldn't in good conscience bring Rats nos. 10 & 11 into this shitshow. Naturally, none of the rats got along; two pairs of boys had to be kept apart, and both of them tried to pick fights with poor Tseng, and four of them were girls that had to be kept away from all of the boys for obvious reasons. It was exhausting and a catastrophe.

Once I had the rats she apparently made no further effort to re-home them, although she did keep telling Tall Roommate to come knock on my door and take pictures of them. (I put a stop to this. Tall Roommate did it because Short Roommate had broken up with her to shack up with New Boyfriend, and Tall Roommate had literally no way to cope with this other than try desperately to get her back.) I bugged her to do something about this until, predictably, I had to contact the local rat rescue people to find fosters less than a week before my moving crew was scheduled. When I told her, she replied "oh, I was just about to submit that". Sure you were. And while you're here, I have this nice bridge to sell you.

[The four girls and two youngest boys went to Mainely Rat Rescue. It looks like the boys have already found a home, but the girls are up for adoption. I kept the two old men, who both have special care needs; Garion has breathing problems that involve his own asthma inhaler and a steady diet of NSAIDs, and Errand has attitude problems that involve picking fights with any rat who isn't Garion. They're both just shy of three(!) and unlikely to find homes through a foster program, plus I'm already their third caretaker, so I couldn't send them off with a stranger. They are currently sulking because I wouldn't supplement their dinner with all of my dinner -- which is to say, they're fine.]

The point is, my brain just about died off. The only time in that apartment that I didn't spend cleaning up after three grown adults, two of whom weren't even me, were the weeks after Short Roommate moved out to shack up with New Boyfriend, which she had broken up with Tall Roommate to do, and Tall Roommate took it so badly she ended up inpatient before she ate a bottle of Tylenol. (I called 911 when I overheard her plans. It was about 50% "a fellow human is in need of help" and 50% "argh jesus fuck THIS IS NOT MY JOB please go talk to someone who is actually paid to deal with this".) I am slowly clawing my way back to the surface, so if you'll just bear with me, I'll be back on Twitch this Sunday 3-7 Eastern, and type out more things that have been on hold while I tried to retain at least some of my marbles.

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#IFTTT #Blogger #Unsolicited Advice

[justliketherifle]

Trouble Always Finds Me Chapter 7

You woke up in Mac's arms on his bed. It was dark outside. Your stomach was hurting. You saw a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the bedside table. You tried to reach them, but it hurt too much. You gasped and Mac woke up.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just trying to get my pain meds.”

“Oh, here.” He reached an arm across you and snagged the bottle, popping it open and handing you two pills. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot doing something stupid.”

“That move you pulled was pretty cool, actually.”

“Yeah? Learned it from Miss Congeniality.”

“Seriously?”

You rolled onto your back and nodded at him after taking the pills.

“Okay, once you're healed up, I want you to get some real hand-to-hand training.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I only know how to get out of most situations without hurting people. Physical Intervention Alternatives. They taught us that where I used to work.”

“That reminds me.” He grabbed his phone off his table and showed you a picture. “Your people are safe and they miss you.”

You teared up. “Thank you, Mac. I miss them too. What did you tell them?”

“Witness Protection. And that you have a new boyfriend. Sharon loved that.”

“I’ll bet she did. Can we stay in bed for a while?”

“Of course. Matty gave me a mandatory week off to stay with you.”

“That seems generous for her. I'll be sure to thank her later.”

“It is. She said to enjoy the honeymoon.”

You covered your face and laughed. “Of course she did.”

“Everyone sends their love. Your dad is coming by in the morning. Said to prepare for a Bruce Willis marathon.”

“Nice! We better have popcorn! Die Hard is my fave!”

Mac shook his head. “You really are your father's daughter.”

He leaned over and kissed you hungrily.

You pulled away, concerned. “Mac?”

He looked away. “When Murdoc shot you…I thought I was gonna lose you. It scared me to death.”

You took his face in your hands. “I’m right here. I'm okay.”

“I’ve never felt so much for someone so fast. It's a little intimidating.”

“The great Angus MacGyver is intimidated by me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well when you say it like that…”

You kissed him, long and slow. “I was scared too. But I knew you'd save me. I’ve never felt like this before either. But after what happened, I know we can get through anything.” You laced your fingers with his and pressed your foreheads together.

“God, you're incredible.”

“Nah. I'm just me.”

You fell asleep like that, breathing each other in, comforted in knowing the other was safe and sound in your arms.

You were woken up rudely by your dad.

“Seriously? It's been two days!”

“Mac, I tried to stop him,” you heard Bozer say.

You both blinked the sleep out of your eyes.

“What time is it?” you groaned.

“11. And time for you two to explain this cozy little love nest.”

“Dad, we just fell asleep. Mac wanted to protect me. And he did. I'm fine.”

“Okay, all right. Just take it easy. Nothing strenuous.”

You put your hands over your face and groaned again. “Dad! Get out!”

You threw your pillow at him as Mac and Bozer laughed. They both left and you turned to your gorgeous boyfriend. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I am so sorry, babe,” you told him apologetically.

“It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into. And you're worth it.”

You smiled at him. “You’re the best.”

“I try. You stay here, I'll get Bozer to whip you something up for breakfast.” He leaned down and kissed you.

“Mmm, breakfast in bed. How can I say no?”

He held your hand until he walked away, smile on his lips. You smiled and sighed happily before slowly stretching out your arms and legs.

Mac came back and helped you sit up. “Hope you like Belgian waffles.”

“I love them!”

“Good.” He kissed you again. “Don’t think I'll ever get tired of that.”

“Me either, hot stuff.”

“Glad to hear it, beautiful.”

You absolutely melted. You gave him another sweet peck on the lips.

He sat down next to you and took your hand, giving it a kiss.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m really racking up the bullet holes lately.”

“Please don't joke about that.”

“Okay. I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just…I don't even want to think about it.”

“I get that. Lucky for me, I've got a knight in shining skinny jeans.”

He huffed out a laugh. “How do you stay so positive?”

“I try to focus on what I have instead of what I don't.”

“That’s pretty amazing.”

You shrugged. “I just do what my mom taught me. Life sucks. But you still gotta live.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have given you a stern talk about not breaking my heart. Then hugged you and forced you to eat something because 'you are way too skinny, kid'.”

You both laughed.

“Well, she sounds like a great lady.”

“She was. She would have loved you. She always wanted me with someone who could keep me safe.”

“I take that part of my job very seriously.”

“I’ve noticed. My dad would probably kill you if you hurt me.”

“Which is funny, because he's said I’m like a son to him.”

You shut your eyes. “Ew. More like son-in-law now.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Jack came in with your food on a wooden tray. “Breakfast time! And then you and me are doing some good old fashioned father-daughter bonding. Mac and Boze can join, I guess.”

“Thanks, Dad. This looks great.”

He presented you with two giant waffles smothered in strawberries.

“Ugh, yes. Tell Bozer he's a god.”

“I will not,” Jack said.

“Bozer, you're a god!” you shouted with your mouth full.

“I aim to please!” he yelled back.

You stuffed your face like you hadn't eaten in days.

“Slow down, it's not going anywhere,” Mac said playfully.

“Shush, you. Why don't you two go eat? I'll be out in a minute.”

Mac looked unsure. “I'm not really comfortable with leaving you alone right now.”

“Same here, baby girl,” Jack added.

“Well then go get food and eat in here with me.”

They nodded and left to get their own plates. They returned with Bozer in tow. Mac sat on the bed beside you and Jack and Bozer brought over chairs.

You all ate in silence for a while, giving Bozer appreciative looks.

You sighed and put your fork down.

“That was delicious. Thank you, Bozer.”

“You are so welcome. There's more where that came from.”

“Well I can’t wait. Now tell me we have popcorn. Because I don't watch Willis storm Nakatomi Plaza without popcorn.”

Jack smiled at you. “That’s my girl!”

You gave him a fist bump and he carried you out to the couch. You settled in and waited for the others.

Sitting up was not doing you any favors however. You squirmed in your seat before Jack sighed and sat down, pulling you so you were laying down, head on his lap.

“I feel like such a baby,” you complained.

“It’s okay, you're allowed to let us take care of you,” Jack told you.

Mac and Bozer came into the living room, smiling at you.

You lifted your legs. “There’s room for you, Mac.”

He took a seat and laid your legs across his lap. Bozer popped in the first DVD and went to make popcorn.

“’Welcome to the party, pal,'” you said in your best Bruce Willis voice.

“’Just a fly in the ointment, Hans. The monkey in the wrench. The pain in the ass,'” said Jack.

You giggled at his impression.

Mac shook his head. “Hey Bozer, there's officially two of them!” he yelled.

You and your dad high fived as Bozer returned with two bowls of popcorn and started the movie. The four of you spent the whole time laughing loudly, throwing around quotes and pieces of popcorn.

You were halfway through Die Hard 2 when you drifted off, the voices of your family making you smile as you did.

You woke with a start, tears already staining your face. You'd had the same old dream, watching all your friends die.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” you dad asked, looking down at you.

“No. But when am I ever?” You sighed, swiping the tears away angrily.

“You get a lot of nightmares?”

“Too many. All the same. Blood, gunshots, death.” You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, groaning.

“Take it easy there.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You looked over and saw Bozer asleep in his chair and Mac passed out next to you. You smiled at the sight.

“You really like that boy, don't you?” Jack asked.

“I really, really do.”

“Two reallys. Wow. Well. Like I said on the heli, if it had to be someone, there's no one else I'd trust.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.”

“I’m serious about killing him, though. You just say the word, honey.”

You smacked his chest. “Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend though? Seriously? Already?” he said weakly.

“Yes. So deal with it.”

“All right, all right. At least I feel like I didn't really miss out on those crazy teen years.”

“Oh man, you and teenage me? You would've lost your mind.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I said, drugs, booze, sneaking out, slamming doors. The whole nine.”

“On second thought, I'm good with missing those.”

“I thought so.”

“Real talk, though, baby girl. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. You know I would have been if I'd known.”

“I know, Dad. But I can tell you all about it if you want.”

He smiled. “I would love that.”

You stayed up all night, telling Jack everything you could think of about your childhood. Your elementary school best friends, Cayla and Kayla, learning to ride a bike without training wheels at 7 because a neighbor boy called you a baby. Your dad said he'd would've had a serious talk with that kid. You laughed.

You talked about trips to Colorado and the Mall of America with your mom and the mini adventures you'd take. You hadn't talked about her much since she died. It was nice.

The both of you wound up falling asleep that way until a sharp pain in your side woke you up. You gasped and cried out, waking all three of the men.

“(Y/N)?” Mac said, rubbing his eyes.

“Hurts,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I'll go get your pills. Jack, you should lay her down.”

Jack set you down and stroked your hair. Mac returned with a glass of water and two more pills.

“I guess it could be worse. I've seen sucking wounds before. Emphasis on the suck,” you said, downing the pills.

“Yeah, I’ve dealt with those. They’re not pretty,” Mac added.

“Guess I’ve still got a chance if Murdoc escapes again.”

“Matty’s gonna do everything she can to keep that lunatic behind bars,” Bozer promised.

“Thank you. I'd like to thank all of you, actually. You've done so much for me. I don't know if I can ever repay you.”

“No repayment needed. You're Jack’s kid, Mac's girl, and my friend. I got your back.”

You stood up and gave Bozer a hug. Jack and Mac joined you, squishing you in a big group hug.

Just then, Mac's phone went off.

He answered it. “Hey Matty, what's up? Wait, what? Already? Crap, okay. We'll get her out of here.” He hung up and looked at you.

“I jinxed us, didn’t I?” you said warily.

“Murdoc just escaped.”

#macgyver/reader #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver fanfic #macgyver #Trouble Always Finds Me

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 51

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 18. Go to previous. Go to next. Handies, hands, and handedness. TWs: surveillance, addiction discussion.

____________________________

Ghoul limbs wrapped around Melancholy. A smile bubbled up on his face as he pressed himself back against Sticks, who reciprocated in kind and pulled the hospital blanket up over both of them to spite the clammy, gauzy chill of twilight.

“Do we have to get up,” ‘Choly mumbled.

“I’m not averse to staying... just like this... as long as time allows.” Sticks sighed, not quite lucid. “I like this dream.”

“I’m glad it’s not one.”

Just as ‘Choly began to drift off again, the alarm bleated on his Pip-Boy on the nightstand. The two of them grunted. Sticks rolled over to reach for the device, but ‘Choly had already stood and circled the bed to retrieve it. The room returned to quiet as he held the disarmed Pip-Boy, undecided at first whether to put it back on. For a moment, the regret throttled him that he’d left it off the whole night. Had it been a military-issue Pip-Boy, the negligence in the company of non-military personnel would have been unforgivable. He swallowed despite a dry mouth, and put it back on. Surely, the ghoul hadn’t done anything to it in the night, or looked through its data. Sticks looked up at him with bated attentiveness from where he still lay, putting his left hand back on. Impatiently, ‘Choly tossed the covers off him and retied his robe. 'Choly didn’t even wait for him to get any clothes before ushering the two of them downstairs.

The rich, petrichoresque aroma of fresh coffee drifted up the stairwell. ‘Choly wondered whether Angel had been distancing itself on purpose, but said nothing seeing the Mister Handy already busied itself downstairs.

Sticks boiled some water in order to reconstitute some dried noodles he’d brought. As it steeped, he gave ‘Choly a glance in offering to share, but the chemist glanced dully over the edge of his Billerica Golf Course mug with the exhaustion of the impending day already weighing on him. The ghoul fetched a Melancholia from the fridge and set it on the table, then finished preparing his breakfast, stirring in some jerky shreds and a fistful of something ‘Choly only speculated might be trail mix or dried vegetables. Whatever Sticks had added made the entire kitchen smell savory. Pouring himself a teacup of coffee, he sat at the table with it and ate straight from his pan with a pair of metal chopsticks.

After a few sips of the minty meal replacement drink, which they’d re-bottled the night before, ‘Choly’s face screwed up a bit. He switched to the hot black coffee, only to sour and return to the Melancholia.

“Not so great second day?”

“More that there’s a dozen reasons mint mouthwash is probably the worst flavor to make it with.” He rubbed his tongue on the roof of his mouth a bit. “Haven’t had a chilled one since... before. ...Maybe chocolate would at least bridge the flavor with the coffee.”

“Would it be dangerous to figure out how to make that stuff chocolate flavored?” He swallowed and grinned at the chemist. “Or coffee flavored?”

‘Choly’s chuckle faded as he watched Sticks eat.

“...Forgive me if it’s coarse of me to ask, but you’re... eating with the left hand? Are you. Were you left handed? I barely have the dexterity for chopsticks with my good hand, and yet-- No, forget I said anything.”

The ghoul’s raised-brow gaze sank into his meal for a few bites, while he took the observation as a compliment on his dexterity.

“It’s something the General threw together. Mix of stuff from the RobCo building. I think the tech’s called something like... Nostradamus?”

‘Choly’s face drooped in recognition, and watched more intently.

“She reverse-engineered the Nostrus glove to fashion intuitive prosthesis.” He finished off the Melancholia, so he could focus on his coffee. “I understand now, why you said it doesn’t fake sensory input. It’s basically a glorified typewriter.”

“Nah, doesn’t even typewrite. It’s got precision, but that’s about it.”

It struck him, that Sticks leaving his glove on the nightstand likely held an even greater severity than his leaving his Pip-Boy beside it, and he soured over the fact he’d distrusted the ghoul for even a moment.

“...You got it from Olivia. I can’t tell whether that must have cost a fortune.”

“Cost more than it did to lose the hand in the first place, that’s for sure.”

Angel included itself finally, pretending to scrutinize the state of the cabinetry before taking its time washing the blender pitcher and measuring cups that had been left in the sink.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I would ask if you slept well, but we all know neither of you were asleep for some time. I see you’ve succeeded in a batch of Melancholia, Mister Carey. I trust that you didn’t add any... Med-X to the recipe as you promised, mm?”

He jolted upright, choking on his coffee. Angel offered him the dish rag to wipe his nose and chin, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort of the temperature of the beverage. Sticks had scooted back away from the table to hold the pan in his lap with his left hand to finish eating with his right, watching wide-eyed from a distance.

“I... I don’t think I should have to announce every single time I use a chem,” the chemist asserted, shaking. “Sticks was acting in my best interest, just as much as you do. He knew how much pain I was in yesterday, and he offered me the Med-X dose. One. Dose. Which went into me directly, not my food stock.”

Once it could retrieve the dish rag, it set the inverted pitcher on it spread out on the counter.

“Well, you could have declined the offer.”

“--Now you see here.” Sticks shoved his mostly-broth pan onto the table to glare meaningfully at the robot. “Would you turn down something that makes it easier to function?”

“You’re asking about a chem, not a replacement part or upgrade! Pretending there’s nothing wrong can only stand to make a problem worse!!” Exasperated, Angel started toward the back patio before a full argument could break out. Before it shut the door behind itself, it tearfully cried out, “You promised me you’d make use of Rad-X the next time, Sir!”

The pair finished their food and drink in lethargic, sullen silence.

‘Choly tossed his mug into the sink.

“Unlike you, I’ll have to take my shower in the barracks. If you could, go ahead and get dressed, so you can follow Angel and me over.”

“Are you mad at me?” Sticks asked while he finished rinsing out his pan to set it beside the pitcher.

“I’m mad at myself.”

“...For?”

“Making promises I knew I couldn’t keep.” He took to the first step, and motioned his head at Sticks. “It’s no matter. Get on with it. Get dressed so I can get dressed. So we can go check on Liv.”

Upstairs, Sticks was putting back on his bowling ensemble, and he asked him, “How did Angel know? What you had and hadn’t been putting in your body? ...Who you’d been putting in your body?”

Flushing in the face, ‘Choly didn’t look to him, gathering together his uniform, combat boots, clean undergarments, binding, and other effects he’d require to dress fresh out of the shower.

“In case you couldn’t tell from all the different colored parts it’s made of now, I upgraded Angel before we came to Lowell. Replaced parts that had gotten damaged from raider attacks. It’s got the sensory array of a Mister Gutsy now, as well as the minigun of one.” He snorted, shaking his head of his mentality. “I thought if I watched what I said aloud-- It was a mistake to give a DIA Handy a sensory update. Once a bug, always a bug.”

“It’s coming from a place of concern and care.” Sticks put his right hand on ‘Choly’s shoulder. “And you were, too. Upgrading it and repairing it like that. I don’t think it’s just hurt that it thinks you went back on some promises. I think it’s getting jealous I’m back in your life, ‘Choly.”

“If the three of us could live together in peace in 2077, the three of us can make peace in 2284.”

Angel carried ‘Choly’s things and accepted his Pip-Boy once he disrobed. It supervised Sticks all the while, who sat in the changing room of the showers poorly hiding a pout that he had to get stuck alone with the robot. ‘Choly got lost in the steam and his head space, recalling truthfully that laying with Sticks had in fact irradiated him. He’d meant it when he’d promised that he’d try the Melancholia without painkillers, but he could tell he hadn’t even come close to a genuine promise that he’d do what he could to prevent his own radiation poisoning. By the time he turned the water off, he stood dumb overhearing that Angel and Sticks were yelling--and that neither cared whether ‘Choly could overhear it.

“--How could you give him a painkiller like that!” Angel spat. “He’s a lifelong history of opioid addiction! He’s clean right now, Mister Hawthorne. You will not ruin that for him!”

“He’s a grown man, Mister Handy. You forcing him to abstain from all chems means you’re keeping him from learning how to make that choice himself. Don’t you trust him? D--”

“--I don’t trust you.”

Cut off, the ghoul snarled.

“Don’t you trust him to make his own choices! And you don’t seem to understand the scope of pain he experiences! In just the past three days, I have seen how bad off he is from what Vault-Tec did to him. Not just physically, but emotionally. He deserves some respite from that pain, even if it’s implausible to turn it off completely. Or did General Atomics not program you with any compassion!”

The Handy sputtered, incredulous.

“Of course he has free will! We have an arrangement!” It brought ‘Choly his towel and robe, continuing to speak to Sticks from the showers. Excluded from an argument about him, ‘Choly frowned and dried his hair. “I have all the chems in my storage. If Mister Carey needs a chem, he can ask me to dispense it! I’m not stopping him from doing a thing. I’ve simply required that it be a conscious choice on his part if he seeks chemical alterations.”

“--And you don’t think forcing a request for every dose shames someone in constant pain for asking for pain relief!?”

“Get... out, you two,” ‘Choly sneered, snatching his things from the robot and stamping a bare wet foot at them both. “Out! Get out...! Let me dress!!”

They complied.

The only sound for a while was the dripping shower head. He sat in clean briefs, and dropped the robe and towel to work himself into the surgical corset. Despite how much of it he’d overheard, he couldn’t make his mind up whether either of them had been wrong or right. The canvas clung to his body in a way that prevented facility of stringing into it, and he sniveled feeling like having two companions at odds with one another had divorced both of them from him. It really came down to him causing trouble, didn’t it?

“Can I... help you with that?” Sticks knocked at the open doorway, but didn’t enter. “Not that I don’t think you could do it yourself, but I imagine it’s much easier with two sets of hands.”

‘Choly picked up his long face and sat up from lacing up his ankle braces over his socks, the corset still hanging loose off his shoulders.

“--I.” He punctuated a breath, noticing the ghoul had returned inside independent of the robot. “I haven’t had somebody help me with it before.”

“Can I--”

“--Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“All good.”

The ghoul slipped behind ‘Choly and ran his bare fingers over the laces of the corset, to scrutinize its construction. At first ‘Choly could only imagine the offer had been made out of self-indulgence, but he permitted it regardless. Then Sticks began a precise and attentive adjustment one pair of eyelets at a time, from the top and bottom inward, cementing some manner of altruism in ‘Choly’s mind. They exchanged only murmurs of affirmation or doubt as to proper fit, and before ‘Choly knew it Sticks had him strung into it like it came second nature to the ghoul. ‘Choly felt his front, and down his sides, brows raised at the perceived difference it had made to have someone else do it for him. He couldn’t tell if it really did fit better adjusted by someone else, or if it just felt that way on account of whom had helped him.

Before he could thank him, Sticks had already stepped back outside to wait.

He dressed in uniform, but put his hair in a messy french twist so that a good front third of it hung loose. If asked, he’d say it was so it would dry faster, but he’d really done it so the vague curls could frame his heart-shaped face.

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#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #sole survivor #ghoul #mister handy #lowell #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #sticks #angel

[summerbreezeyy]

Love, Huh? - Chapter 4

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.

You woke up feeling refreshed. Must be the alcohol from last night. It has been a long time since you’ve had any. And you gotta admit, Sehun’s bed was extremely comfortable, with lots of pillows and thick comforter, you remembered he used to have nightmares since he was young and needed to hug someone or something to help him sleep easily and nightmare-less. Chanyeol must’ve brought you here, since you fell asleep on his lap last night.

You checked your phone to find that it’s 11 am. There was a note at the bedside table with the messy almost-unreadable handwriting that you know by heart.

‘Hey, we’re gonna work for the day. These are some numbers for deliveries. Don’t forget to take your med. Call us if you need anything.

-S’

You smiled reading the note. You recalled last night before he went to sleep he informed that you were going to be alone for today because they needed to do some finishing touches to the album. You almost laughed remembering Sehun’s frown when telling you all of this, clearly not liking how he had to leave you alone.

After shower and changed into your own clothes you walked out of the room and had some water. The apartment they lived in was very modern and expensive looking. It was also, surprisingly, very neat, considering 3 young guys lived here. But then again, you recalled how Kyungsoo would become very active with his words (and sometimes hands) every time the others would trash around. And they’ve been living together since their debut in 2012, so it made sense they would pick up each other’s habits. Even his neatness rubbed off on you after the constant sleepovers you’ve had until a year ago. Remembering how your ex basically forced you to stop hanging out with them made you mad at yourself. They were all that you’ve had, and you threw them away for someone who didn’t even treat you as good as they do.

Not wanting to think about him first thing in the morning, you decided to clean up the apartment. After finding the tools you needed, you vacuumed the living room. Feeling a bit bored, you borrowed whoever’s headphones on the couch and used it to listen to some music.

When Kyungsoo got home, his brows immediately furrowed together. Someone’s vacuuming, but their scheduled cleaner shouldn’t be here for another 2 days. Following the sound, he found you inside Sehun’s room, singing and dancing along to the music you were listening to with the vacuum in your hand. He couldn’t stop the corners of his lips going up, forming an amused smile.

“OH shit,” you cursed, completely shocked by the additional person in the house when you turned around.

He chuckled and took the vacuum from your hand, putting it away in the living room. “Someone cleans the house every week, you don’t need to do any.” And not waiting for your response, he went to his room to put down all of his stuff before coming out again. “You need help with unpacking?” he asked noticing your suitcase opened earlier.

A smile replaced your pout, and you nodded enthusiastically, knowing he would color coordinate your clothes. He regularly does that to his friends’ closets, destressing he would say. It even surprised you a bit knowing they have someone cleaning their place with his love of making his house spotless, but then again, they are very busy people.

Both of you went back to Sehun and your room. Sehun has emptied out (more like moving some of his clothes to the unused closet in their studio) one of the closet in his room for you to store your clothes. Kyungsoo went straight to work and started to fold your clothes neatly. You on the other hand unpacked your other stuff.

Silence consumed the room, but neither felt uncomfortable. It’s always the same with Kyungsoo. Quiet and peaceful. You’ve always loved how he makes silence so enjoyable. It’s also one of the reason all three of them work, they balance each other out. With the other two being really noisy and loud while the shortest and you when you were around, would keep things peaceful, especially when their competitive ass played games against each other.

But today, you missed him too much to not talk to him. “So how did Sehun get the master bedroom?” you started the conversation as you put away your underwear.

Organizing your hung clothes to color coordinate them, he answered, “We played rock, paper, scissors for it.”

“Shouldn’t the oldest get the biggest room? Or at least you as the leader?”

“We have no leader.”

“Okay, unofficial leader.”

“I still wouldn’t say leader. The most likely not to make fool of themself?”

You snickered, “Yea sure. So how did it happen? Did he convince you both to play for it?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

“That’s Sehun’s maknae power for you,” he simply said while finishing up.

You almost clapped at his work, but decided to just gave him thumbs up. He moved to the sink, tidying up the products you put earlier while also cleaning after Sehun’s mess. You grabbed your money box from the suitcase and tried to put it at the most top shelf of your newly owned closet. But as you reached up, you felt a sting on your ribs and shrieked out of pain while dropping the box in the process.

Kyungsoo noticed the noise and found you crouching down clutching yourself. “Hey are you okay? It’s your rib isn’t it?”

If there’s one thing everyone loves about him is how good he is at reading the atmosphere and people. Without even explaining anything to him, his face changed to express something between worry and annoyed, understanding that you haven’t took your meds yet. He took a deep breath and gestured you to follow him once the pain subdued. Without saying anything he pulled out some side dishes from the fridge and also a bowl of rice. Again without any words he gestured you to eat once he set everything down in front of you on the dining table.

Taking the first bite, your eyes widen and mouth open, surprised at how good the food you were eating, “Wow, this is so much better than last year,” you moaned out. Seeing your expressions a smile replaced the frown on his face. It was not the first time someone complimented him on his cooking, but he did miss your over reactions towards his food.

When you ate the kimchi, a familiarity hit you, “It’s Sehun’s mom’s kimchi isn’t it?” He only nodded. You slowed down your chewing, thinking of the right words to ask.

“No, we didn’t tell her. Do you really think she would let you stay with her super busy son and not take you home with her?” See? People reader.

“Thanks.”

It’s weird, Kyungsoo thought, that he could never took his eyes off of you. The way your eyes would lit up when eating was his favorite thing to see. So for the 2 weeks you were in the hospital when you looked so weak, his heart broke. He loves your laugh and smile, he wished you would always have those on your face. What is this feeling, he would ask himself for years. Romantic feelings? Love? Obsession? He didn’t dare to explore the forbidden area. He still remembered the day Sehun found out Chanyeol had feelings for you. He was furious, for reasons he never asked, afraid of the answers he’s gonna get. He was thankful tho his friends are not as good at reading people as he does. Or is it just because he hides his feelings better?

He thought last year, when you found happiness in your boyfriend, he thought maybe, he could finally stop his . When you moved in with him, he thought, it’s time to forget. When you failed to pick up his and Chanyeol’s calls, he thought, okay you’re happy now. When you didn’t hang out with them anymore, he thought, maybe it’s God’s way of helping him to move on. And when he saw you opened your eyes, he thought, fuck, he can’t move on. So he’s just gonna do what he does best, hide his feelings.

“Oppa,” you called, looking up to him finding his eyes never left you, “Is.. Sehun okay? He was kind of different these last few days.”

He took a deep breath, wondering what to tell you. “Honestly, no.”

“What should I do then?”

His brows furrowed, looking deep in thought. “I think what we can do is to show that he’s not to blame, and let time heals him. And everyone,” he explained softly. Seeing how deflated you were, he reached forward grasping your hand, “Just act like you normally would. And don’t tuck away your feelings. Show it. Tell him. Tell us. Let us help, it will help us heal too.”

Then he released your hand and brought the dirty dishes for him to wash. Ignoring your wish to clean after yourself, he asked you what food you wanted to have for dinner.

You lit up at the thought of eating more good food, he noticed this and his mouth curved into a smile. “You know, I miss every food you’ve ever made. But I think what we need tonight is samgyeopsal and soju, don’t you think?” You cocked your head to get a better glimpse at his face from beside him.

He finished washing up and turned his body to face you, “Sure. But we have to buy it first.”

“Hmm, I also need to buy some stuff. Imma change then.” You replied with a huge smile plastered on your face.

.

When you got home, something caught your eyes. More like their hair color. Sehun with his orange hair and Chanyeol with pink permed hair with both sprawled in the sofa. You paused going to the kitchen, turning to face the guy with his thick glasses behind you with both your hands full with groceries, “You were at the salon today? How come your hair is still black?”

He walked pass you, “Don’t wanna have our fans blind with too much bright color.”

Looking up from their phones, Chanyeol immediately rushed towards you giving you a huge smile that you mirrored before tackled the bags you had and noisily went to the kitchen asking what are they eating for dinner, almost earning a hit from Kyungsoo for his unnecessarily loud voice. Sehun slowly approached and patted your head, “Feeling better?”

Still smiling you just nodded. “How you are not bald yet is beyond me,” as you proceeded to ruffle his hair, which was still soft despite all the bleachings.

He copied your expression and then went to the kitchen, Chanyeol’s loud voice caught your attentions. Then there he was, dancing around the kitchen while cheering, “Samgyeopsal, samgyeopsal,” over and over again before Kyungsoo finally hit the back of his head, sharply said, “Help or shut up, idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot and you love me,” Chanyeol sticked his tongue out to his chingu before laughing loudly and ran off outside the kitchen seeing Kyungsoo was picking up the chopping board to hit him. You and Sehun just took the scene in front of you and laughed along.

“I swear I will hurt him someday,” Kyungsoo said, fixing his glasses and put the board down to cut some vegetables.

You walked towards him, touching his shoulder lightly, “No you wouldn’t. You love him,” you tease and replaced to help him chop things before he got the other things ready.

Kyungsoo cutely (never tell him that he is tho, he hates it) pouted, before continued doing his things in his way, quietly.

While you were doing that, Sehun took out the meat you bought earlier, and put them in a bowl before putting away the other groceries. He might seem normal, but you knew this was him not being himself, around you at least. He’s always soft towards you, treating you like a baby, but not all the time. You would act like cat and mouse sometimes, fight occasionally, but lately he’s been on his toes, being very careful. With his words and touches. Heck, he wouldn’t even care about what happens in the kitchen before being the one who everyone babies all the time, but now he even helped. This earned a confused look from Kyungsoo as well. But maybe your longest friend was confused as well, frustrated even, not knowing how to act around you. And maybe Kyungsoo was right, time was needed to heal everyone. Still, you needed to talk to your friend, this you knew.

.

“Can you guys stop? I can pick them up myself,” you tried to stifle a giggle after the continuous putting-meat-on-your-plate for the last 30 minutes. You hardly saw Kyungsoo next to you who did all the grilling eat. This caused Chanyeol to unstretch his arm from across Kyungsoo. He looked back at you, with his big puppy eyes, trying to look as rejected as possible. So for the last time, with a smile you told them and yourself, you opened your mouth to receive his meat (grilled meat, get your head out of the gutter).

Then the dinner continued as normal, except for when you choked on your water did the three pairs of eyes (two sets with exceptionally big size) looked at you with concern. This time you laughed. “Guys, I know what happened made you worried about me. I know even some of you,” you focused your eyes on the guys across you, “are still blaming yourself. And let me say this again, none of what happened is any of your fault. I love all of you, and I can’t thank you guys enough for everything that you’ve done to me. But please, trust in me, that I can be okay again, that I am going to be alright.”

Not decent, Kyungsoo reminded himself, to blush when you said ‘love’. He knew you meant it differently than what he wanted, but what you needed at the moment is a friend, and that’s what he was going to be.

When everyone finished eating, Sehun left to pick up a call from his manager while the rest of you stayed to clean up. You caught his hyungs saying things like “It’s probably just an excuse to not clean”. But again, everyone, including yourself has a soft spot for the youngest, so you just continue to clean, before, another phone rang and it’s Chanyeol’s turn to pick up his phone. He started his phone call with a very sweet, “Hello? Oh hi, I’m sorry I forgot to call you.”

“So he’s dating someone?” you asked Kyungsoo as he washed the dishes and you wiped them dry.

Kyungsoo just scoffed, “It is rare to see him not,” he said mindlessly as he passed you a plate.

You continued doing that, again in silence, just like how both of you prefer it. Somehow the quietness amongst the chaos in shape of a Park Chanyeol and Oh Sehun made both of you felt warm and found solace in it.

The guy next to you kept convincing himself that the tingling feeling on his stomach and warmth in his heart whenever you would accidentally touched his arms were probably due to the fact you haven’t been around each other for a year and he just missed you a lot. He ignored the sound of his heart beating harder than it should be, trying to make himself believe it was just the soju affecting him. He pushed away his thoughts and wishes of hugging and kissing your cheeks when you smiled ever so brightly at him when you finished. He prayed to all the gods out there that what he felt now, was going to fade, and then disappear.

Another reason why he refused to drink more when all of you were gathered at the coffee table again, other than the fact he’s not as heavyweight as the rest of you.

“So, who’s the lucky one?” your eyebrows waggled at Chanyeol.

“What?”

“The one you’re dating.”

“Ah,” he paused to chugged down a shot, “Why don’t you guess? But for every wrong answers you gotta do a shot,” he challenged, “I miss your drunk state.”

“Okay. Wait do you all know who?” you asked towards the other guys who just shook their heads. “Let’s play together then!”

“Nope, not interested,” Kyungsoo backed down to the sofa behind him.

“Sure,” Sehun said from across Kyungsoo.

“But I need clues,” you replaced your soju with a glass of water instead, not wanting to be drunk obviously. “If I could guess, that means they’re famous right?” Chanyeol just nodded. “Okay, female or male?”

“Guess, and if you’re wrong you could always drink,” he grinned.

You pouted but played along anyway, “Male?”

Chanyeol’s grin just got bigger and you scowled. “Wrong. Drink up.”

“Okay. She’s an idol,” you guessed after finished your shot.

He nodded. This time Sehun tried out, “I’ve seen her?”

Again Chanyeol nodded. “She’s in a group?” you asked.

“Yup.”

“A noona?”

“Another shot, lady.”

It continued like that for a while, with you asking more questions than Sehun of course. You’ve felt the alcohol kicking in, but not for nothing. You’ve concluded that the girl would be from JYP Entertainment.

“Is it Suzy?” you hesitantly asked.

Chanyeol just smirked while shaking his head. “She changed agency last year.”

You sighed in defeat and took another shot. “I’m using internet.” You informed no one in particular and moved back to lean on the sofa next to the guy who was silent the whole time. Kyungsoo noticed you moving and stretched his arm out so you can put your head there. And you did. After finding the comfy position, which was Kyungsoo’s chest (with him silently hoping no one noticed his breath hitched when you moved closer to him), you googled female idols under JYPE.

“Oppa, I swear to God if it’s ITZY’s maknae Yuna I’m gonna punch you hard.”

This caused all the guys to crack up. “Why?” Chanyeol asked in the middle of his laugh.

“She’s a minor, you pedophile.”

“Well thank God she’s not the one then,” he replied still laughing.

“Okay she’s a member of Twice then,” Sehun chimed in.

“You’re getting closer.”

So you googled Chanyeol and Twice but found nothing too helpful other than he collaborated with Nayeon and Jihyo, and MC-ed with Dahyun. He also was in a show with Sana. But being trained how to act in front of the camera, you couldn’t really tell anything different from the photos and videos you saw.

Before you could guess any other name, your phone rang and showed Yixing’s name as the caller. So you sat up straight, leaving Kyungsoo’s embrace, something he hates, and picked up the phone.

“Oppa,” you said to the phone when the other one didn’t say anything. Three heads snapped towards you with the word you said. “Oppa, it’s me,” you said once again not getting any reply.

You could hear a relieved sigh from the other side before he talked. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were gone.”

You broke into a smile before answering, “It’s gonna take more effort for that I’m afraid.” You excused yourself from them before heading to the kitchen.

Three sets of eyes kept following your movements in the kitchen, how you kept smiling and laughing to the phone. They also didn’t leave your figure until you were seated back next to Kyungsoo.

“Hmm, just text me the address. We’ll talk later, kay? Bye,” you said to Yixing after catching up with him.

Those eyes were still pointed at you, obviously curious who’s the caller. You gave them “What?” look when you noticed their staring.

“’Oppa’?” Chanyeol prompted.

Their protective natures brought a smile to your face. “He’s a friend. A good one.”

They looked like they have more questions but sensing how you didn’t feel like talking about it, Sehun changed the subject. “Don’t tell me it’s Nayeon.”

“You really think she wants to date me? She only has eyes for our little friend right here,” he pointed his eyes at Kyungsoo which earned him laughs from you and Sehun and also a glare from behind the glasses.

Feeling a bit drowsy, you knew you had to go to bed soon, so after settling back to Kyungsoo’s arms you guessed for the last time, “Okay, last guess, cause I don’t wanna be drunk. It’s Sana.”

“Bravo,” Chanyeol clapped.

“Yes!” you cheered and yawned, feeling the sleepiness the alcohol caused.

The man you were leaning on just smiled fondly at you and shook your shoulders, “Go to bed.”

You hummed but didn’t budge an inch. Kyungsoo was too warm and comfy. Instead you closed your eyes.

When you opened it again, you were already on your bed. For two days straight someone had to put you to bed, and you loved it. You noticed it wasn’t morning yet when Sehun came out of the bedroom with his sheet mask on and plopped down beside you. “Care to tell me who your friend is?”

You moved closer to him, missing the warmth of Kyungsoo’s body and needed someone else to replace it. He welcomed you and hugged around your shoulders, hugging you tight. He wasn’t as tired as last night, since he could nap at the salon earlier, so he wanted to spend as much time as possible with you. “He’s the club owner I told you about. Turned out he has a café and we decided to meet up there.”

“When?”

“I don’t know either. Tomorrow maybe? The sooner the better?”

“Hmm, I was thinking of having dinner at my parents’ tomorrow, my mom said it’s been so long since we had a family dinner,” he informed.

“Ohh, with me too?”

He took off his mask and put it on the nightstand, “You are family, idiot,” and kissed your temple.

“Fine, dinner with the Oh’s it is.”

[it-refused]

Prompt:  Sans x Gaster (no family relationship), one of them having a really bad day and the other one doing anything to comfort them. 

Thank you for the prompt, @rag--tag, and no worries about sending me this ship.  This Gaster’s a completely different dude with the same name than the other Gaster I’ve written.

Rating: G

Characters: Gaster (non-skeleton), Sans

Summary: Gaster is struggling with a problem at work, and comes home in a bad mood.  I also wrote a little about them getting together, just to try and set in my head what their relationship would be like before I got to the h/c.  

Sans was, in Gaster's opinion: 1. a slightly above average physicist, 2. drastically below average height for an adult skeleton, and 3. someone who was embarrassingly good at reading faces.  

When his unimportant but increasingly distracting crush on Sans had become apparent to his friends, they encouraged him to subtly flirt and ascertain Sans' feelings from his reaction.  

Gaster had approached the experiment with caution, took his time with his planning and mental preparation, and then just blurted out that he liked the shape of Sans' hands right in the middle of a conversation about something entirely different.  

Gaster had taken part in experiments that had physically injured him that had left him in less pain than that single embarrassing comment had managed.

Most other monsters would have shrugged it off as the doctor being strange, as he sometimes was.  Sans had taken one look at Gaster's face and known exactly what he was trying to get across.  He would say later that Gaster was "not as subtle as he thought he was," but Gaster was certain most other monsters would have read the situation incorrectly.  

"wow.  you know i'm a popular guy, but i don't think i've gotten that one before," he said.  He scratched the back of his skull.  "uh.  thanks."

Gaster had tried to think of something to say, but his hands stayed still and silent, refusing to translate thought into words.  

"heh.  you've really got, uh..."

Gaster had never seen Sans embarrassed before.  He decided that it was important to remember that skeletons could blush.  

It made sense that he could, considering what he was made of.  Their deceptively different shapes hid that they were made of the same basic raw materials.  Gaster was not a skeleton, but he could also blush.  He could, and had actively been doing so, since before the conversation started.

Gaster attempted to move the topic back to the previous one, but trailed off mid sentence.  Sans was staring at him.

Sans cleared his throat.  "can't say you're bad at it when you can kind of guess i need to, uh, bone up on my skills in this, uh, area, too."  

Bone-up.  Because he was a skeleton, and was made of magic that was shaped like bones.  He was saying that he needed to study to improve his skills. It was possibly also a pun on the term "man up," but Gaster was less sure of that.  Gaster laughed, his mood lightening considerably.  Whether he was about to be accepted or rejected, he enjoyed Sans' wordplay.  When he noticed it.

"you want to get coffee or something?" Sans had asked.  Gaster wasn't sure why he thought he needed to "bone up" on anything.  He was not sure there was any simpler or more skilled way to get across his meaning.

--

Sans' talent at reading faces was impressive enough that Gaster did not return home in a bad mood under any illusion that Sans would not read his bad day off of him as soon as he saw him.  

He tried to avoid that moment.  Sans' methods for cheering him up were not always comfortable or pleasant.  For some reason it usually involved oddly placed whoopee cushions.  

Gaster spent more time than average in the kitchen making himself dinner.  It didn't bother him that his experiments had gone poorly.  Bad results sometimes said more than good ones.  Why was the substance not reacting the way he expected it to?  That was an interesting question.

He was more worried about the overheating problem in the Core.  So far all the solutions required power, which they couldn't guarantee access to.  The slightest power blip would cause a break in the cooling process and then there would start to be fluctuations that exacerbated the problem.  

All his other experiments had to be set aside, no matter how interesting, when the Core acted up.  No one was getting to the surface if they all died because of an explosion.  

"hey, doc. that's some complicated sandwich you're making," Sans said, behind him.  

"[THE PROCESS IS DELICATE,]" Gaster said.

"after an hour in here this better be the sandwich to beat all sandwiches."

Gaster looked down at his plate.  He had just slapped some items in between bread. Whatever he found.  It was a chips, ketchup, crab-apple, and more-bread sandwich.  It didn't matter what was in it, really.

"if you didn't have a headache already, eating that would give you one," Sans said.  "a bread-ache.  heh."  

Now that Sans mentioned it, his head was hurting a little.  Maybe eating would solve that problem.  

Papyrus had complained, once, that they both still ate like bachelors even though they were married, but Gaster wasn't sure how they were supposed to eat.  Sans made quiche sometimes, when he wasn't tired.  So.  Very rarely.  

"aw.  not even a smile?  i thought that one was pretty good.  i've got more sandwich jokes, you know.  call me sanswich from now on."  

His name did fit very nicely into the word sandwich, even if the joke did not make much sense.  Gaster laughed, which reverberated inside his ceramic head and made it ache.  

"ouch.  i'll keep these great jokes to a minimum, i guess."  

"[THAT JOKE WOULD WORK BETTER.  IF.  IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WORD.]"

"man.  you're right.  but you don't know what i'm doing until around the middle, right?"

"[IN THAT SENSE, I SUPPOSE IT WORKS.]"  

"hey.  you laughed."

"[I NEVER SAID IT WASN'T FUNNY.]"

Sans came over and nudged him.  "you like 'em more when they don't work."  

Was that true?  He tried to puzzle out if Sans was making another joke, but if he was, it was over his head.  

The sandwich crunched when he bit in to it.  It tasted interesting, and he felt his headache ebb slightly with the extra energy, but it was otherwise a failure.  The apple and ketchup clashed.

Sans noticed his distaste and took the plate away from him.  He tried Gaster's dinner.   "hey.  not bad."  Sans was fine with anything, so long as it involved chips or condiments.  "go sit down.  i'll make you something, since i had the whole day off and you have a look like the core spit in your eye."  

"[...]" Gaster didn't sit down.  He suddenly wanted to complain.  "[ITS TEMPERATURE AT KEY LOCATIONS CONTINUES TO RAISE A FULL 2 DEGREES ABOVE THE ACCEPTABLE MAXIMUM EVERY FEW HOURS.  WE IMPLEMENTED ONE OF THE EMERGENCY MEASURES AND IT DROPPED BACK DOWN.  AS SOON AS WE TURN THAT OFF, IT GOES BACK UP AGAIN.  WE NEED TO FIND A SOLUTION THAT EXISTS OUTSIDE THAT SYSTEM OR THERE WILL ALWAYS BE A RISK OF A CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE THAT PUTS THE ENTIRE UNDERGROUND AT RISK.]" He sighed.  "[THE HEAT WILL RISE.  AND RISE.  AND CONSUME US.]"

"darn.  but if your solution ends up being the one where a guy lobs ice into the core, i'm going to grow an ass i can laugh off," Sans said.

"[THAT SOLUTION IS.  ASININE.]"

"asinine." Sans snickered.  "welp.  i'd say leave a note for the fire monsters when we're dead, but it'd probably just burn up."

"[WHAT WOULD IT SAY?]"

"i don't know. 'whoops?'"  

"[THEY MIGHT GUESS THAT SENTIMENT.  WITHOUT A NOTE.]"  

"true."

"[PERHAPS.  AN APOLOGY?]"

"nah.  hey, maybe the whole mountain'll go, and the humans will have to look at the survivors behind the barrier all the time.  we can set up a rotation to flip 'em off."

Gaster enjoyed imagining this.

"there we go." Sans went over to the fridge and pulled out a milk carton.  It was for Papyrus, but Sans' brother never minded when Sans used it.  On the rare occasions Sans did, Papyrus would usually pick up a carton for Sans to use, and then end up drinking it himself.  "i don't get why you have to make this so complicated.  if you're too lazy to make food..." Sans opened up a cupboard and got out a box of cereal.  

"[I MAY NOT HAVE BEEN.  PAYING ATTENTION.]"  

"got it."

"[MY HEAD HURTS.]"

"ouch.  all right, fine.  if you sit down, i'll grab you your meds.  and then i'm sitting down too and taking a break after all this running around."

"[YOU ARE TOO KIND.]"

"sure."  

Gaster sat down in the living room with his bowl of cereal.  Sans had left the TV on and the tape he had in was paused.  A cartoon robot was staring at the screen, static partially covering them.  Gaster had seen this show before, and knew that pretty soon the cartoon robot would start kissing another cartoon robot, and Sans would fast forward through that to get to the parts he liked.  Gaster hit play and let the scene play out naturally.  

"ugh.  really?" Sans sat down next to him and handed him a small vial of purple, glowing liquid.  

"[WHEN YOU SKIP IT.  YOU MISS CRUCIAL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.]"

"or you're a sap."  

Gaster made a face and downed his medicine.  His head stopped throbbing almost immediately, but the taste was awful and he could feel himself start to sweat.  

Sans yawned and stretched out, like he was going to slip his arm around Gaster's shoulders.  Like they were teenagers in a movie theater.  At the last minute, he changed positions entirely, laying so his head was on Gaster's lap.  "i guess i can nap through it."

Gaster dropped the empty vial on the floor and set the bowl of cereal on Sans' chest. It rose and fell as Sans unconsciously mimicked breathing.  

"you're a guy who likes to live dangerously.  if i roll over, there's milk everywhere."

"[STAY VERY STILL.]"

"ok."  He yawned again, and stretched, and the bowl almost fell.  

"[THAT IS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I SAID TO DO.]"

"doctor's orders, huh."

"[I CONTINUE TO NOT BE THAT KIND OF DOCTOR.]"

"you sure?  i got a rash i need someone to look at."

Sans was trying to distract him.  It was working well enough.

Sans pulled up his sleeve and waved his arm in Gaster's face.  The bowl somehow managed to stay on his chest.  

Gaster grabbed his arm and peered at the strangely colored mark on the bone there. After a minute, he dropped it so he could have an easier time signing.  "[...]"  

"fatal, right?"

"[I CAN DIAGNOSE THAT.]"

"you missed your calling."

"[YOU SPILLED JELLY OF SOME KIND ON YOUR ARM.  THE LAST TIME I RECALL YOU EATING JELLY WAS YESTERDAY, AT BREAKFAST.  MY CONCLUSION IS THAT YOU HAVE NOT WASHED FOOD OFF YOUR ARM SINCE YESTERDAY.  MY DIAGNOSIS IS THAT YOU ARE DISGUSTING.]"  

"fair enough. when's the last time you had a bath, there, g?"  

Gaster considered. He had a very good memory, but he was struggling to recall when it was.  It had been very busy, at work.

"bro's right about us."

"[YES.]"  He had to also diagnose himself as being disgusting.  He looked down at Sans.  "[I AM VERY FORGETFUL.  YOU SHOULD RUN A BATH FOR ME SO I DON'T FORGET TO TAKE ONE AGAIN.]"

Sans snorted.  "now you're just seeing how much you can get away with.  that's what i get for being a little nice."

"[YES.]"   It was true.  "[YOU SHOULD TAKE ONE TONIGHT, TOO.  IF IT IS AT THE SAME TIME, WE WILL SAVE ON WATER.]"  

"that always sounds nice in theory, but then i end up with an elbow in my ribs and you're not the only one suffering."

"[THE WATER WILL HELP MY HEADACHE.]"

Sans laughed. "c'mon.  you don't even have one anymore.  you're trying to pull one over on me."

"[IS IT WORKING?]"

"i guess.  eat the delicious meal i slaved over to provide for you, and then we'll go scrape some grime off."  

Gaster nodded.  He tugged Sans' sleeve back down for him, and took the bowl of cereal off his ribs.

"i can tell you think i'm a sucker."

"[YOU ARE VERY TALENTED AT READING PEOPLE,]" Gaster said.

"wow.  thanks."

Gaster leaned down to kiss him.  There was a clank as bone gently tapped against ceramic.  Sans' bones were always a little bit warm.  He took Sans' hand and kissed his fingers.  

Gaster kept his phone on and nearby so that if someone called him to tell him that the Core was about to explode, he would know in advance.  He didn't get any calls, so the day certainly could have been worse.  

#sanster #my fic #fanfic #prompts #rag--tag