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sarcasmandships · 3 years

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how to save a life part 2︱spencer reid

word count: 8.7k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective

angst + hurt/comfort with a n eventual happy ending

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story

warnings: spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, descriptions of surgery

read part one here!

Veronica readjusted her dress for what felt like the 100th time that evening. The green, silk bodice was too restrictive; her feet ached from the stiletto heels April had picked out for her. She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"That is for the guests!" April hissed, smacking her arm with her tiny clutch bag.

"And the hostages," Veronica said, raising her glass to an imaginary toast.

"Amen to that," Cristina agreed, taking a long sip of champagne from her own glass.

"You two are hopeless," April said, shaking her head before storming off.

"I like angry Kepner," Cristina chuckled.

"God, I can't breathe in this thing," Veronica gasped, pulling at the top of her dress again, "I think I've got a tension pneumothorax."

"Unfortunately, if I had a needle big enough to help you, I'd have stabbed myself in the eye hours ago," Cristina said, deadpan.

Veronica gave her a shaky laugh.

"Ooo, is that Kevin Gibbs?" Cristina said, suddenly filled with a burst of newfound energy as she spied a man at the next table, "oh, he is rich rich, I'm so getting a donation from him," she grinned before dashing off to take Kevin Gibbs' arm.

Veronica rolled her eyes as she watched Cristina twirl her hair and flutter her eyelashes; she was far too good at this. Veronica was left alone at the table, tired of pretending she was interested in anything these rich, old men had to say; she pulled her phone out to scroll through Twitter.

However, as she unlocked it, Spencer's name popped up on her screen, and her shrill ringtone cut through the low-level chatter and ambient music in the room. She hastily switched the phone to silent after receiving a few pointed glares but continued to stare blankly at the screen as it rang.

She did not want to speak to him.

But she had told him to keep in touch.

Via text, not a phone call.

But what if something was wrong.

Eventually, she clicked 'accept'.

"Spencer, I told you-"

"Hi, Veronica," the voice on the other end cracked, "it's Derek Morgan. We met earlier today..."

Veronica's blood ran cold as Derek spoke to her through the phone. She could hear the piercing wail of the sirens; it harmonised with Cristina's shrill laughter as she flirted with Kevin at the next table.

Blood was pounding in her ears. Her entire body was in free fall like she was being hurled down the drop of a rollercoaster that seemed to never end.

"... they're taking him to Stafford Grace Mercy West Hospital, meet us there when you can - I gotta go."

Derek hung up the phone.

Veronica stood frozen, her body trembling and mind spinning.

"Veronica!" Jackson snapped as he strutted towards her, "you're supposed to be getting donations, not standing in a corner drinking all the champagne…."

Veronica was staring straight at Jackson's face as he ranted, but she couldn't focus her eyes enough to see his furrowed brows or flared nostrils. Her mind was spinning at hyper speed, but everything around her moved in slow motion; she gripped onto the edge of the table.

"…are you even listening to me?" he snapped his fingers in front of Veronica's glazed eyes.

"Spencer was shot. In the chest, he's on the way to the hospital now," she said in a monotone, "I have to...I have to go...I..." Veronica clutched her head in her hands; the room would not stop spinning.

"Oh my god," Jackson gulped, "of course, go, go. Do you want me to come?"

Veronica stumbled away from him and towards the door. Why was the floor moving like that?

"No," she called back to him, "this is your event you can't leave, I just- I need to go," she turned on her heel and dashed out of the door.

The hospital was just up the street. Jackson had picked a venue close by so the doctors who didn't have the day off could get there quickly after work. Veronica pushed people out of the way as she staggered up the street; her feet didn't hurt anymore. Her whole body was just pins and needles.

She burst through the doors of the ER, in her floor-length, green dress and dazzling emerald necklace, with tears streaming down her face. Sections of her neatly pinned hair had broken free; she clutched her chest as she gasped for air. It was only a matter of time before someone called for a psychiatric consult.

With most of the other attendings at the gala, the interns and residents had swarmed like locusts to get their hands on a surgical case. Veronica pushed through the sea people, looking for someone she knew – why did all the residents look the same?

Veronica scanned the trauma rooms, hoping to catch sight of his messy hair. They were full of bloodied and beaten-up people, but none of them were Spencer. She had just stumbled through the double doors to the waiting area when she heard someone call her name.

"Veronica?"

She whipped her head around to see Derek Morgan standing in front of her. Several steps behind him, she noticed Penelope Garcia, who she recognised from this morning, and several other anxious FBI agents.

"Derek," she gasped, gripping onto his outreached hands, allowing herself to stabilise slightly, "w-what happened?"

"We were chasing down the unsub and Reid...he fell and just when he was getting back up, he got hit. It was bad luck. It caught him just above his vest."

"And he's in surgery now? I didn't see him in any of the trauma rooms?"

"They just took him up; come with us. You need to sit down," he said kindly, and Veronica allowed him to guide her over to the seats.

"Hi again," Garcia squeaked, but Veronica stared straight ahead and didn't answer her.

The others tried to introduce themselves, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. They were names she knew well from Spencer's last night rants about work, but she couldn't bring herself to look at any of them long enough to put a face to the name. Derek was trying to reassure her when Veronica caught sight of a familiar resident walking past with a tablet in her hand.

"Murphy!" she barked, "get over here."

Murphy's head snapped up, and she looked around rapidly to see where the voice had come from; when her eyes finally landed on Veronica, she looked at her quizzically but shuffled over.

"Dr Grey, I thought you were at the gala-"

"I need you to look up a patient for me, Spencer Reid - came in with a GSW to the chest and should be in surgery now."

"Dr Grey, what's going on?" Murphy said slowly, her eyes darting between Veronica and the team of agents behind her.

"Just do it, Murphy!" she ordered, and Spencer's teammates looked slightly taken aback.

"Okay, okay!" she said, typing rapidly on her tablet, "he's in surgery with Dr Hunt and Dr Altman for an exploratory thoracotomy...chest x-ray showed a GSW to the chest with the bullet lodged near the thoracic aorta...he was tachycardic and hypotensive when he came in, with substantial blood loss-"

Bile bubbled up in her throat, "what OR are they in?"

"Dr Grey, I can't-"

"What O.R, Murphy?" she snapped; she gripped the edge of the plastic chair to prevent herself from strangling the resident.

"OR one!"

"Okay... OR one. OR one has a gallery," Veronica mumbled to herself, she tapped her foot against the floor and her stiletto clacked against the linoleum.

"Dr Grey, you know you can't go up there when you aren't working-"

"Murphy, do you want a medical career?"

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"Then you'll get out of my way before I have the AMA strip your medical license," Veronica snapped; she stood up and gathered up the skirt of her dress as she began to power walk towards the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going?" Derek called after her.

"Spencer's in OR one, that OR has a viewing gallery... I'm going to watch his surgery," she said flatly before turning away and continuing along the hallway.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator and ready to push the OR floor button that she realised that Spencer's team was directly behind her.

"What are you guys doing?" she sighed as they piled into the elevator after her.

"He's one of us. We aren't gonna hang around a waiting room if we can be there with him," the blonde woman that Veronica thought was called Jennifer, retorted.

She was ready to argue. To protest that they weren't allowed in the gallery, that surgery wasn't for the faint-hearted. But then she looked at all their faces, desperate and distressed; they looked how she felt.

So, she closed her mouth and jabbed the button for the fifth floor.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the fifth floor. It stopped on three, and a huddle of surgical interns tried to cram in, but Veronica snapped at them before they had the chance.

"No. You get the next one," she glowered at them, and they could only give her nervous stammers and shaky head nods in response.

Veronica rolled her eyes at them as the doors crept shut again, with her arms folded tightly across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor.

"You seem to have a lot of authority here," Hotch commented.

"I'm an attending," she said bluntly, "they're interns - bottom of the surgical food chain, their only job is to stay out of our way and try not to kill anyone."

"That seems...harsh," Garcia whispered to Derek.

Veronica whipped her head around, "a hospital like this doesn't work without a hierarchy; it's how we learn. If we don't treat them that way, then they get too confident. Would you rather have an intern perform Spencer's exploratory thoracotomy or two surgeons with years of experience who are chiefs of their respective departments?"

Garcia gaped at her, but the elevator doors creaked open, saving her from trying to respond to Veronica's scathing comment.

"The gallery is this way," Veronica grunted under her breath as she exited the elevator and crept up a short flight of stairs.

"That wasn't very nice; Garcia was only making an observation," JJ whispered to Emily as they followed Veronica.

"Who is this woman?" Emily responded, equally as confused as to why they were following this random woman around a hospital.

Derek turned round to face them, "she's Spencer's girlfriend-"

"Girlfriend!" Emily gasped, "did he ever mention a girlfriend to any of you?" she asked, looking between JJ and Derek.

"No, not once…." JJ frowned.

"He didn't tell me as much as he was forced to, that's why he's been acting so off recently, but I couldn't really get many details from him about her, so don't ask me anything - she's just worried about him like we are, she's on edge too."

Veronica burst into the gallery, which was thankfully empty. She pressed her forehead up against the viewing window and saw Spencer lying on the table. The glass was cool against her forehead, which seemed to somewhat soothe her pounding headache.

Spencer's face was draped, she couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his half of his rib cage. That unsettled her; she wasn't supposed to be able to see into her boyfriend's chest cavity. Veronica clung to the glass as she staggered to the intercom on the wall; she pushed the button that allowed them to hear what was being said in the OR.

"... there's a lot of bleeding here, more suction!" Dr Altman demanded.

"Right away, doctor."

Veronica flicked the switch that allowed her to be heard in the OR, "Owen," she said slowly, and he looked up at her in shock, "I need you to save him."

"Veronica, you're supposed to be at the fundraiser. What are you doing here?"

"Owen, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "I need you to save him."

"Well, of course, I'm gonna try and save him, Veronica I don't understand-"

"Oh god," Dr Altman said as she suddenly realised what was happening, "Spencer Reid... he's your Spencer. I met him at Owen and Cristina's wedding; we talked so much about the Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction I thought he was a surgeon too…."

Veronica nodded silently.

Her Spencer.

She couldn't control the sob that wracked her body. She was vaguely aware of Garcia placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, so I need you to save him," she sniffed, "because if he dies, I will literally go out of my fucking mind, and I won't be much of a neurosurgeon from the psych floor."

"Veronica, you should be up here," Owen said as he forced another clamp into Spencer's chest, "how did you even know where he was?"

"Murphy told me," she said, "but it wasn't her fault, so don't go and yell at her; I told her I'd have her medical licence taken away."

Owen paused, "you can't do that, though."

"She doesn't know that! Please just save him. I need you to save him."

"I-" Dr Altman hesitated, "we'll do everything we can, V, I promise you."

"Thank you, Teddy," she whispered through her tears; she flicked the button off again so they wouldn't be distracted by her sobs.

Veronica collapsed into a chair in the middle of the front row and kicked her heels off. Spencer's team had shuffled into the rows behind her and sat, whispering quietly among themselves and clutching onto each other.

"V-veronica," Garcia finally spoke after around an hour of near silence, "I know you're a different kind of doctor, but what are they doing? I don't understand any of these medical terms. Can you explain it?"

Veronica twisted slowly in her seat to face her, revealing her mascara coated cheeks and puffy eyes. She nodded slowly.

"They're doing a surgery called an exploratory thoracotomy; they're trying to remove all the bullet fragments from his chest cavity. Their main concern is that the bullet hit very close to the thoracic aorta, which is a major vessel that carries blood from the heart to the rest of the body."

"B-but it didn't hit his aorta, so that's good, right?"

"Right, cos' if it had, then he'd have bled out seconds after he was hit," Veronica paused to swallow the vomit creeping up her throat as she imagined Spencer's bloodless body lying in the morgue, "but the impact of the bullet creates shock waves when it enters the body. Considering the proximity to the thoracic aorta, it could weaken it and cause an aortic dissection."

"And that's bad?"

Veronica nodded gravely, "they're almost always fatal, the blood loss becomes too uncontrollable, and even the best surgeons, like Dr Altman and Dr Hunt, can't do anything," she turned back around to face the OR as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill over.

"Oh," was all Garcia could muster up.

"Those doctors, are they really the best?" Emily asked.

Veronica nodded, "Owen, Dr Hunt is head of trauma surgery, and Teddy, Dr Altman, is head of cardiothoracic surgery. They served together in Iraq; they've put soldiers half blown apart by bombs back together, if anyone can save Spencer - it's them," she reassured.

"Good to know..." Emily said in uncertainty, wrapping a comforting arm around JJ, who was silently sobbing into a tissue.

"What you need to understand is that every GSW is different, which is what makes them so difficult to fix, and when a bullet enters the body, it not only tears through structures, but the transfer of kinetic energy can cause damage to nearby tissues, like what I was saying about his thoracic aorta," she explained slowly, "that's why GSWs are so dangerous because the damaged area can ripple out around the entry wound."

"But you think he'll be okay, right?" JJ sniffed.

Veronica hesitated; she glanced back at Spencer's motionless body on the table. Her eyes scanning the monitors he was hooked up to, the constant stream of O neg he was being replenished with, the rip spreaders and clamps in his chest…

She felt sick again and had to turn away.

"I don't know. He hasn't been in surgery very long… it's just too early to say."

"There isn't anything more we can do for him now," Hotch spoke gravely, "he's in the hands of the people who are best trained to help him; we just need to trust that they are doing everything they can to save him."

Hotch's words had a sense of finality, and the room fell close to silent again with only Veronica, Garcia and JJ's sniffles and sobs echoing around the dimly lit room. Derek help Garcia's hand tightly in his own, JJ rested her head on Emily's shoulder, Hotch and Rossi sat next to each other, their faces stoic and stony. Veronica sat alone, tugging at the restrictive bodice of her dress every few seconds.

They sat like that for at least another two hours.

Suddenly, the monitors attached to Spencer began beeping rapidly, Veronica's heart seized, and she jumped to her feet to get a better view.

"What's happening to him?" Garcia whimpered; she clung onto Derek's arm as he also stood up and strained his neck to see.

"He's in DIC!" Teddy's voice echoed through the intercom, "push heparin," she ordered.

"Veronica, what's going on?" Derek asked; he tried to keep his voice steady, but it wavered slightly.

"He's in DIC, disseminated intravascular coagulation - it means that proteins in the blood that cause clotting go into overdrive, which actually causes excessive bleeding. If they don't control the blood loss, it's fatal."

"Lap pads! And more suction! I can't see a thing," Owen demanded as he packed Spencer's chest cavity to absorb the excess blood.

"And hang another unit of O neg, he's losing too much blood," Teddy added, "there was nothing in his medical history that indicated he was at risk of DIC...Veronica! Is he on blood thinners?"

Veronica dragged herself over to the intercom and pushed in on the button, "n-no, nothing like that, he takes zolpidem sometimes, but that wouldn't cause DIC..." she muttered.

Something clicked in her brain, and she spun round to face Derek, "you said he fell before he got shot."

Derek nodded, "that's right, the woman the unsub had abducted pushed past him to escape, and he fell down the full flight of stairs. That distracted me long enough for the unsub to get a shot in at him...."

"Teddy! He fell before he was shot, he fell down a flight of stairs, he could have a splenic injury or a laceration on the portal vein or hepatic artery- it wouldn't have been picked up on a chest x-ray. You have to do an ex-lap!"

"Veronica, we've already cracked his chest-" Owen began to protest.

"Pressures dropping, doctor!"

Veronica banged on the glass, "he'd rather be alive with two incisions than dead with one."

"Dr Hunt, you're the trauma surgeon this your call," Teddy said calmly, "but we need to do something and fast."

"We don't even know if he has a splenic injury! We can't take medical suggestions from our patient's hysterical girlfriend; that isn't how it works-"

"He's dying," Veronica wailed, "and he's going to die if you don't do something. If it were Cristina on my table, you would be begging me to do whatever it takes to save her. Teddy – you promised me you would do everything you could, and you're not doing anything! He's bleeding to death, and you aren't helping him," she sobbed against the glass.

Teddy and Owen exchanged a look.

"10 blade," Owen grimaced, and Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, "you better be right about this Grey – convert drapes for an ex-lap!"

"Oh God, I can't watch this," JJ said; she flopped back into her seat as Owen made a deep incision into Spencer's abdomen.

Despite dealing with horrific crime scenes daily, everyone else in the team had to follow JJ's lead as floods of blood gushed from the incision site. Garcia, who had screwed her eyes shut the minute the monitors started beeping, was rocking herself back and forth and mumbling under her breath.

"Okay, I need more suction! I'm seeing some damage to the hepatic artery," Teddy said, "can you ligate it from your side?"

"Yeah, I think so, clamp!"

Veronica wished she could be like Spencer's team. She wished she didn't have a medical degree; she wished she didn't know every possible thing that could go wrong from this point forward. She wished she could close her eyes or at least tear them away from the scene that would plague her nightmares for years to come.

She could hardly believe it when his pressure finally stabilised; she embraced the smile that crept onto her face as she watched the readings on the monitor slowly begin to climb up.

"You can open your eyes now; they ligated the artery and stopped the bleeding, combined with the heparin that should be enough to keep him stable for now."

"For now?" JJ questioned.

"He's doing well; that injury could've been fatal, but he pulled through, and that's good; it's just that I don't want to tell you he's out of the woods when he's far from it."

"It's been hours," JJ said, "how much longer before we know if he'll be okay?"

Veronica shrugged, "probably a couple more hours; they need to make sure the wall of the thoracic aorta is strong enough before they close and remove all the bullet fragments; they need to take their time."

"You'll have to forgive us, Dr Grey," Hotch spoke quietly, "we don't have the patience for this kind of thing like you do."

"It's okay, and you can call me Veronica," she smiled nervously and picked at her nails.

This was what she'd wanted all along, to meet Spencer's team. But now, she was standing in front of them and couldn't think of a single thing to say. She had imagined this moment every night for months, but never in her wildest dreams did it go like this.

"Veronica then," he said stiffly, "so you said you're a neurosurgeon?"

"Yeah," she said, tearing her eyes away from the surgery in front of her to face him, "that's how Spencer and I met; he came to a lecture I gave on the Endoscopic Fenestration of Arachnoid Cysts Through Lateral Pontomesencephalic Membranotomy, cos' that's just the kind of things he does for fun," she snorted.

"Sounds like him," Hotch said, smiling fondly.

"I just can't believe he never told us about you," Emily commented, "and I can't believe we never figured it out; I mean, come on, guys, we're meant to be profilers."

Veronica gritted her teeth, "Yeah, me neither..."

"Veronica!" Jackson said, bursting through the door to the gallery, "I just got away from the gala; how's he doing?" he asked, rushing over to embrace her in a tight hug.

"He's stable for now; his temp has come up a lot since he got here, but he did go into DIC, and they had to convert to an ex-lap..."

"Owen and Teddy will be doing everything they can; he'll be okay."

She nodded, "I know...I just want it to be over; even if he was in the CCU, I could handle it, but he's lying open on an operating table, and I can't help him."

He rubbed circles on her back soothingly, "it'll be over soon. Can I get you anything?"

"Something to change into. I don't think I have any clothes in my locker, but just grab me some scrubs... I'd take a patient gown if it meant I could get out of this dress," she said, tugging again at the restrictive top.

"You got it," he said, breaking away from their hug, "April wanted to come and be with you, but Harriett's with the sitter and she had to-"

"Don't worry about it, just get me something to wear. I can't breathe in this thing."

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "Cristina's on her way; she'll be here soon."

Jackson shuffled out of the gallery, giving a nod and a tight-lipped smile to the others as he passed them. Veronica retook a seat.

"That was Jackson," Veronica explained, noting the confused faces of the BAU team members, "Dr Jackson Avery, he works here too, but he was stuck at the gala - we were having this fundraiser for this hospital...stupid...."

"V! I just heard; why didn't you tell me?" Cristina burst into the gallery in a similar fashion to Jackson, "I had to hear from freaking Avery that your sexy FBI boyfriend got shot?" she berated as she sat down next to Veronica.

Veronica shrugged, "Jackson was there when I got the call. You were busy turning up the charm for that rich old sleaze."

Cristina shoved her lightly, "I'll have you know that rich old sleaze donated 1.5 million dollars to this hospital," she said smugly.

"Show off," Veronica grunted, folding her arms over her chest.

Cristina stood up to peer through the glass, "supervisory sexy agent, has Owen and Teddy working on him? You need to calm down and stop chewing your nails; he'll be fine."

Veronica rolled her eyes, "you need to stop calling my boyfriend supervisory sexy agent, or you'll be the one on the table."

"Aw, come on, I'm kidding! My husband is right down there...oh my god, my husband saves your boyfriend from a GSW? That'll be such a good story for me to tell your kids."

"Can we wait to see if he makes it off the table before we start discussing our hypothetical children?"

"Boring."

Jackson returned at that moment, "sorry, I didn't know your scrub size, so I just guessed. And you didn't have any shoes in your locker, so I stole some sneakers from April, you're the same size, and she won't mind - I also brought you some of her makeup wipes," he rambled, handing her the pile of clothes.

"Stealing shoes from your ex-wife now?" Cristina teased as Jackson sat down on the other side of Veronica, "I thought pretty boy Avery was rich enough to buy his own," she cooed.

Veronica stood up and slid the scrub pants on under her dress, and pulled the scrub top over the top. Cristina unzipped her dress, and she let out a deep breath as the pressure on her rib cage was released; she shimmied the dress off and threw it over an empty chair.

"Shut up, Yang," Jackson grunted.

"Children, behave," Veronica said warningly as she slipped on the socks and shoes she was borrowing from April.

Veronica sat back down and finished wiping off the makeup that hadn't been flushed away by her tears. Jackson gripped her hand tight in his, and she smiled appreciatively at him; Cristina gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Guys, what if he dies?" she whispered as they watched Teddy and Owen work away on Spencer.

"He won't," Jackson protested, "he didn't code in the field, and the majority of GSW victims without penetrating vascular injuries survive if they get to a hospital on time."

"There is a bullet in his chest cavity! That is a penetrating injury," she blubbered.

"But it didn't directly damage his heart or any major arteries; yes, they could be weakened by force, but he's been in surgery for hours, and nothing has ruptured – plus after they close him up, we'll monitor him closely, and he will be okay," he said with a squeeze of her hand.

"Avery's right. It's far more likely he'll be a vegetable or something," Cristina shrugged.

"Yang! His best friends are right behind you," Jackson hissed.

"They are?" Cristina said, whipping her head around, "oh, hi."

Cristina gave them a wave, and they stared back dumbfounded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Emily hissed.

"I don't know, but they seem to think that Spence is gonna be okay, and that's all that matters to me," JJ answered.

"He could still die; people die from GSWs all the time. There could be complications, he could get an infection-"

"Look, Veronica, if the worst happens, then we can cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? And you know we'll all be here for you, no matter what," Jackson said, and Veronica smiled appreciatively at him.

"Thank you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Y'know, you should've married him when you had the chance - cos' if he dies and you were his wife, you'd get that life insurance. If he dies now, you'll just be poor and sad."

"Cristina!"

"No, it's okay," Veronica said with a slight smile, "it helps."

"God, talk about a dark sense of humour...."

"I think I'm just still drunk," Cristina shrugged.

"I think I'm hungover already; my head is killing me," Veronica groaned, massaging her temples.

"Want me to get you a banana bag?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, why not."

Jackson stood up and made his way across the gallery and to the door; he turned back to face the BAU team members, "can I get anything for you guys? Coffee, water…I wouldn't recommend the food, but we got vending machines."

"No, thank you," Hotch answered politely, "anyone else?"

The rest of the team shook their heads or mumbled no thank-yous in response. Jackson gave them a sympathetic smile before leaving; JJ's stare was still firmly fixed on Veronica.

"What did she mean? You should've married him when you had the chance?" she asked.

"It means that supervisory sexy agent-"

"Cristina!"

"Fine, Spencer, asked V to marry him, and she said no cos' she can't let herself be happy."

"That isn't why I said no, and you know it."

"Well, no. But your real reason is stupid, so I'm gonna say it's your self-destructive tendencies instead. Do you know what I've give to never have to interact with Owen's dumb work friends? You're getting the best of both worlds here."

"You work in the same hospital! Owen's dumb work friends are your colleagues."

"Ugh, whatever."

"You turned Reid down because of us?" Rossi questioned, speaking for the first time since they had entered the gallery.

"It's a bit more complicated than that-"

"What's wrong with us? You didn't even meet us until today?" JJ snapped.

Veronica sighed and picked at her nails; her first interaction with Spencer's friends already wasn't going very well, and now she had to tread lightly as to not offend anyone.

"That's the problem; it took Spencer getting shot in the chest for us to meet because he refused to tell you about me; how could I marry someone when I'd never even met his friends? It's what we argue about more than anything else. We argued about it this morning actually...."

The blood drained away from Veronica's face as the events of the day flashed through her mind.

She turned to face Cristina, "oh God, we were arguing this morning about it, and again when I dropped his phone off at work - the last conversation we ever had was about that stupid argument. What if he dies thinking that I'm pissed off at him? I didn't even tell him I loved him before I stormed off," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, he's a profiler, right? Even if you didn't say it, he would be able to tell...."

"He's a genius, not a psychic, Cristina."

"She's right," Derek interjected, "before he lost consciousness, he told me to call you and tried to say something else; he kept saying tell her... he never got to finish, but I'm sure it was just that he loved you."

"He really said that?"

Derek nodded, and a weight was lifted from Veronica's shoulders, although she quickly felt uneasy again when Jackson returned, IV kit and banana bag in hand.

"Okay, I know you don't like needles, but it'll make you feel better, so give me your arm," he demanded.

Veronica huffed and begrudgingly gave him her arm; she winced as he pushed the needle through her skin, "ow! I thought plastic surgeons were supposed to have a gentle touch."

"Plastics is barely even a real speciality; Avery gives boob jobs on the daily – we do real surgeries and save lives."

"Hey! I'm also a qualified ENT, and I practically run the burn unit-"

"Guys," Veronica groaned, "can you have your little dick-measuring-contest another time? Maybe like when my boyfriend isn't lying open on an operating table?" she said, gently massaging the tender skin around her IV.

"You said you liked my dark humour!"

"Only when it's funny," she sat down again and massaged her temples "hey, I think they're nearly done," Veronica cheered.

She dashed over to the intercom, "Are you guys closing him up?"

Teddy nodded, "yeah, and then we'll be taking him up to the CCU. You should get some rest before he wakes up," she advised.

"He's going to be okay, Veronica," Owen said; she couldn't see his face under his mask, but she could tell he was smiling.

Veronica couldn't fight the grin spreading across her own face; Spencer was going to live. He was going to make it off the table. Now all she had to do was pray that he woke up because Veronica didn't know how she would cope if she never saw his eyes again.

"He's really going to be okay?" JJ whispered; she held her hands up to her lips in a prayer formation as fresh tears spilt over onto her cheeks.

Emily pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair, "Hey, don't cry. The doctor said he's going to be okay."

She nodded against Emily's chest, "I know, these are happy tears – it's just I've been sitting here for the past four hours wondering what I would tell Henry if his Uncle Spence died and now, he's going to be okay, and I'm crying more than when I thought he was going to die…stupid," she mumbled.

"It's not stupid," Veronica offered kindly, "your body has been in panic mode and how that you're finally able to relax a bit, you get an emotional outburst that makes you cry – it's totally normal," she said, tentatively reaching out her hand to take JJ's.

She nodded and gave Veronica's hand a squeeze, smiling at her for the first time since they had met. The mood in the room had shifted as the BAU members slowly began to accept that their teammate was going to live, and the nervous tension began to dissipate.

"Teddy's going to close him up and then wheel him up to the CCU, Cristina are you staying or coming home?" Owen's voice echoed through the intercom.

"I'm staying obviously!" she said indignantly.

Veronica shook her head, "no, it's okay, you go home."

"V, I can't leave you here-"

"It's fine, Cristina. You're working in the morning, and you'll need to be here for rounds at 6am, and you won't be any use to anyone if you're sleep-deprived. So, go home. Besides, I've got Avery to keep me company."

Cristina gave her an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand one last time before she left the room. A wave of jealousy surged in Veronica's chest as Cristina disappeared from her line of sight; it wasn't her fault that she was going home with her husband whilst Spencer was being stitched back together. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm so sorry, V," Jackson said, holding up his phone, "it's one of my burn patients, she's got an infection, and I think I'm the only sober attending after the gala…I can send a resident-"

"No, no, it's okay," she smiled sadly, "go and help your patient; she needs you more than I do."

"Page me if you need anything," he said, kissing her forehead gently before leaving her alone with the BAU team.

She was in a room with seven other people, but she had never felt more alone. They were clutching onto each other, whispering amongst themselves and smiling; Veronica didn't have anyone.

She shuffled away from the displays of affection and picked up her dress and shoes, "I'm going to put this stuff in the attending's lounge, there's coffee in there if you want anything – and on-call room seven is always empty if any of you need to sleep. He won't be awake for a while; you should get some rest," she said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you, Veronica," Derek said; he nodded over Garcia's head as he held her in his arms, "I don't think any of us will get much sleep until pretty boy wakes up, though."

Veronica laughed, "pretty boy, I always thought he was exaggerating when he said you called him that. If you don't want to sleep, that's fine, but you can't stay in here – the interns like to hang out in here before pre-rounds, and they'll be here soon," she said before gripping onto her IV pole and swiftly exiting the gallery.

Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way to the attending's lounge, grabbing a replacement banana bag from the nurse's station on her way; Spencer was going to be okay. He was going to wake up and have his team to comfort him, fetch him jello, keep him company through the recovery and bring homemade meals to his apartment. What else could she do for him that they couldn't?

She burst into the attending's lounge and slammed the door shut behind her. She let out a heart-wrenching sob as she shoved the dress into her locker, growing frustrated and kicking it when the poufy, underlayers of the skirt wouldn't fit.

Maybe that's why he had never introduced her to the team because he already had seven people who loved him unconditionally and could give him all the love he needed. And Spencer didn't want her to know that; what could she do for him that they couldn't?

Veronica darted into the bathroom and held her own hair bag as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Maybe she was just a fuck to Spencer, an outlet to release his frustrations after a hard day. Assuming he wasn't fucking any of his teammates, that was the only thing she was good for that they couldn't give.

Derek said that his last words before he passed out were about her; he asked him to call her. He tried to give her a message – why did Veronica not share Derek's confidence that the message was I love you?

She flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out with water from the tap. Her headache was beginning to subside, but she still switched out her banana bag before she limped out of the bathroom, using the IV pole as a support.

Veronica threw herself onto the couch. She wanted to scream, or kick something else or rip her own hair out, but she simply didn't have the energy to do anything except shut her eyes and drift off to sleep. The image of Spencer's open chest cavity and the knowledge that his team were everything she was and more burned into her brain.

***

Spencer's brain was awake before his body was. He was acutely aware of people moving around his room, but their voices were muffled, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to see who they were.

There was a tight sensation in his throat, and suddenly, Spencer started gagging violently.

"He's fighting the intubation!" a voice called out, "page Dr Altman."

Dr Altman. He knew that name, he thought to himself. But his brain was still too hazy from the anaesthesia to think straight. Dr Altman…something to do with cardiothoracic surgery – probably one of his doctors. But where had they met before?

He felt hands all over him, grabbing at his neck and face; there was a horrible scraping sensation in his throat, and then he could breathe freely again. He's fighting the intubation, the voice had said. That was good; that meant he was breathing on his own.

However, he couldn't appreciate the joy of knowing he wouldn't be hooked to a ventilator for the rest of his life whilst his throat ached like that. The tube had been removed, but he still felt his gag reflex at the threshold of triggering.

He really needed to get Veronica more credit for that.

His limbs were heavy, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but they wouldn't move. The muffled voices which echoed around him were beginning to become clearer; he could make out what sounded to be JJ's voice by his head.

Finally, his brain allowed his eyes to flicker open. But he immediately wanted to screw them shut again when the blinding fluorescent glare of the ceiling lights shone down on him.

"Oh my god," JJ gasped, "he's awake!"

He couldn't move his head to see her, but her worried face quickly appeared in front of his, "Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?" she asked frantically.

"Ow," he mumbled in response.

"Thank God you're okay," she said, stroking his hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You gave us a scare, pretty boy."

Spencer strained his eyes enough to see Derek standing in the corner; he leant against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest, but Spencer could clearly see the grin he was fighting.

"What happened?" he groaned, trying to readjust his body into a more comfortable position.

"Hey, don't try and move," JJ scolded lightly, "the nurse said that you'll be groggy from the anaesthesia for a while," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

"Did we get him? The unsub?"

"Yeah, don't you worry about him, kid, he's going away for a long time," Derek reassured, "he got a shot in at you before we could take him down… I'm so sorry, kid, you fell, and it distracted me long enough for him to shot you before I could shoot him."

"Hey, it's not your fault," JJ said, "it could've happened to any of us."

Spencer nodded in agreement but didn't try and speak again; his head was throbbing, and he closed her eyes again, the darkness providing some brief relief from the brilliant light above his head. But with every passing second, Spencer became increasingly aware of the dull aches in his chest and abdomen, the pain growing sharper with each intake of breath.

"How many times did I get shot?" he groaned, "I can't remember anything…but my whole body hurts."

JJ bit her lip as she continued to stroke his hair, "just once, Spence, but you fell down the stairs just before you got him and it injured…something, I don't know what – I can't remember what she said," JJ looked over to Derek for a prompt, but he shook his head in response.

"Hey, don't look at me; I didn't understand a single word any of those doctors said," Derek shrugged, "Dr Altman is coming to check on you, though, kid. I'm sure she'll explain it all to you."

Dr Teddy Altman!

They met at Cristina and Owen's wedding; Spencer could tell she was in love with the groom and distracted her with a rant on Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction. She was Veronica's friend.

Oh god, Veronica. She must be so worried – if Derek had even called her that was, she might be oblivious to his condition. Spencer was ready to open his mouth to as about her, but JJ was already speaking again before he had the chance.

"…and our resident genius will definitely be able to understand better than us," she said, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, "I've never been so nervous as when we were sitting in that gallery, thank god those doctors fixed you up."

"Wait, what gallery?" Spencer asked, opening his eyes to squint at her, her words distracting him long enough to forget to ask about Veronica.

JJ paused and exchanged a look with Derek, "we hoped you wouldn't mind – we were in the OR gallery during your surgery, but we didn't actually see anything," she reassured, "none of us could actually bring ourselves to watch, but we just wanted to be there, in case anything happened to you."

"Not that we'd have been much help," Derek chuckled, "but I got you to the hospital in one piece. I wasn't about to let you out of my sight until you were stable."

Spencer nodded slowly, "how did you even get in there?" he mumbled.

"Veronica," Derek said, "you asked me to call her, and she came straight over, but she wasn't about to sit around in any waiting room, so she found out where you were…we just followed her up there."

Spencer tugged on his blanket, "so…you met her then?"

JJ nodded stiffly, "we did."

"Oh. Suppose I did ask you to call her, I don't know what I expected…."

"We didn't get a chance to talk much," Derek said carefully, "you were touch-and-go a bit in surgery, so it was a bit too tense for small talk."

JJ moved away from him and sat back in the chair next to his bed; she picked at her nails, "I don't get why you never told us about her, Spence?"

Spencer didn't answer her. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go; in fact, he was hoping he'd never have to have this conversation at all. The rational part of his brain knew that was unrealistic, but the rational part of his brain didn't seem to exist when it came to protecting Veronica.

He shrugged, "I didn't think you guys needed to know."

Derek unfolded his arms and moved out of the corner, coming to rest at the end of Spencer's bed, "didn't need to know? You've been making excuses about this to me all day, kid. And I'm not buying the - you wanted to have something to yourself - bullshit anymore-"

"You asked her to marry you," JJ said, her voice cracking slightly, "you wanted her to be your wife, but you didn't even tell us about her? Were you just going to get married without any of us there?"

"She told you that?"

Spencer had the strength to ball one of his fists; this was going horribly. The tension he had created in his hand spread up his arm and along to his chest. He grimaced as another sharp stab of pain rippled across his body.

JJ shook her head, "no, her friend mentioned it, and we overheard. I don't get it, Spence, we're supposed to be like family, and she…we didn't get to talk, but she seems nice. And she's a doctor – she's smart like you, and she obviously loves you. Did you think we wouldn't like her?"

"No, and she said no to me anyway, so it doesn't matter…."

"She only said no because you wouldn't introduce her to us," Derek stated bluntly, "that's what she said when we asked her about it and considering I didn't even know she existed till this morning, I can't say that I blame her."

"Guys, I will explain later, I promise," Spencer began as he tried to sit up in the bed, "but I need to talk to Veronica. Right now – where is she?"

"She is in a patient room down the hall," Dr Altman said as she waltzed into the room and picked up Spencer's chart from the end of his bed, "nice to see you awake, Dr Reid."

"A patient room – i-is she okay?" Spencer stammered.

Teddy peered over the chart to look at his concerned face, "she'll be fine, she's just dehydrated and a bit hungover – we've got her on an IV. Besides, the couch in the attending's lounge is not the place you want to sleep unless you want to give yourself scoliosis."

Spencer tried to move one of his legs, "I need to go see her, I need to explain everything, I-"

"You need to lay back down," Teddy said as she moved over to his bedside and pressed her stethoscope against his chest, "I need to listen to your chest, take a deep breath for me-"

Spencer begrudgingly breathed in.

"-breath sounds are clear and equal, that's a good sign," Teddy said, hanging the stethoscope back around her neck, "and your latest round of labs are all within normal limits. Dr Hunt and I were able to remove all the bullet fragments during surgery, we were concerned that the impact could've weakened the wall of your thoracic aorta, but it seems unaffected."

Spencer nodded, "okay."

“We had to convert to an exploratory laparotomy mid-surgery; you had some bleeding in your abdomen which we needed to repair; that's why you have two incision sites. They will likely leave scars, I'm afraid, but the abdominal bleeding triggered a condition called DIC and would have been fatal had we not caught the bleeders."

Spencer's brain was spinning. He knew he had been in bad shape, but he really nearly died. He needed to talk to Veronica, and fast.

"…it was actually Veronica who made the connection between your fall and the bleeding. She wasn't even operating, and she saved your life," Teddy smiled at him, "I just need to take a peek at your incision sites, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Spencer winced as she lifted up his bandages to take a closer look.

"Okay, they look all good and no signs of infection. You will need at least another day for observation; I'll get the nurse to administer your post-op antibiotics, so let her know if there's anything else you need."

"He won't admit it, but he's in pain. Can he get any more morphine or something?" JJ asked, biting her nail.

"What? No, I'm fine. I don't need any more painkillers; I'm all good!"

Teddy raised an eyebrow at him, "you just had major surgery, but you don't want more pain meds?" she asked sceptically, "you aren't maxed out on anything; I can order more-"

"No," Spencer snapped, "I mean…no thank you, Dr Altman. They make me too disoriented, and I need to be clear-headed when I talk to Veronica," he said, adjusting his tone.

Teddy gave him one last suspicious look before she moved back towards the door, "okay, no more pain meds. I'll let Veronica know you're awake," she said before exiting the room, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

Spencer let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed back into his pillows slightly. Even the brief conversation with Dr Altman had left him exhausted, so he wasn't sure how he would manage when the rest of the team flocked to his bedside to question him about his condition and Veronica.

Veronica.

That was going to be a long conversation.

JJ and Derek stayed by his side as the nurse came in to administer his antibiotics, just as Dr Altman had said.

"Hotch and Rossi had to go sort some things out with the arrest," Derek had informed him, "they said they'll stop by later when they can."

"And Emily and Garcia are in the cafeteria, we've let them know you're awake, but we didn't want to overwhelm you with too many visitors at once," JJ explained, "and Garcia really needed some sugar. She's been freaking out, Emily's trying to get her to eat something," she chuckled.

"I feel bad I caused all this stress…." Spencer mumbled.

"Course we're worried about you, Spence; we're a family. But you didn't cause us stress; it's not your fault," JJ reassured; she leaned closer to Spencer to grip his hand in hers.

"Exactly, it's the unsub's fault. You didn't choose to get shot," Derek added; he shuffled over to the bed from his corner and took hold of Spencer's other hand.

The three of them sat in comfortable and heartfelt silence for a few moments with their hands intertwined until they were interrupted by a hesitant voice in the doorway.

"Uh, sorry, I did mean to interrupt. I'll come back later…."

part 3 coming soon

sorry there’s not too much spencer in this part, i promise there will be more in part 3 when veronica and spencer have their confrontation

if you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment as it really keeps me motivated, and reblogging! i really appreciate likes but on the tumblr reblogs are the only way to get my work out there x

tagging anyone who commented on part 1, message me/ comment if you want to be tagged for part 3:

@dilaurantisbitch

masterlist

i also take imagine requests!

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #soencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #hurt and comfort #angst #derek morgan #greys anatomy #cristina yang #jackson avery #april kepner

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

Whump. Very minimal, hardly there Hotchniss.

Jack is a big kid now and he’s still not forgotten the mortality of the adults around him-- not that they give a chance to

Jack puts up his best defense-- avoidance. Walking into the hospital, he holds his head high. He’d inherited his father’s height and in moments like these, it’s incredibly helpful. No one so much as blinks as he walks to the front desk. Looking more like a man than a seventeen-year-old, it’s not hard to garner some attention from the desk.

“What can I do for you, sugar?”

Jack clears his throat, counting fingers his fingers so that he doesn’t exhibit all of the stress tells he knows he has. “I’m looking for my--” he looks to the side for a moment. He’s looking for Hotch and Emily but he needs to establish a relationship to get anywhere near them. “The agents?” He asks, eyebrow raised. “The agents that came in, they’re my-- my parents.” He brings his hands together to rub nervously at his palms. “Agent Hotchner and Prentiss?”

The woman nods her head, not even giving his stuttering or hesitation a second thought. She’s seen plenty of kids and parents come in through those doors. Most of which, aren’t in the best state of mind. Rather one tracked with their goals in mind. Not that she can blame them.

“Alright,” she says, pulling up both files. “Well,” she clicks her tongue. “Agent Hotchner is, currently, signing himself out AMA on the third floor.” She looks up at him. “You can get to him through that hallway straight back,” she turns and shows him. “Agent Prentiss is in surgery so I can’t do much for you there.”

Without taking his eyes off of the door she pointed out, Jack nods. “Okay, thank you.” Suddenly, he’s lost his nerve.

“On through there,” the nurse repeats, her kind smile still in place.

Jack nods, “right.” Right.

Stepping into the hall he falters to put on some hand sanitizer-- which is always a good idea but it’s just a diversion. To keep as much space between him and all of this. Whatever has happened.

When he sees them, he pulls in a full breathe and straightens his back again. “You guys suck,” he announces to the room. Their heads shoot up and he gets a few forced smiles in response. “A family reunion without me?”

Dave forces himself up out of one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the wall. “How are you holding up, my boy?” Jack closes his eyes as he’s pulled into Dave’s arms. He stands just a little taller than him now but that doesn’t stop him from pushing his face into his Pop’s shoulder.

Jack has to fight back the tears Dave is attempting to wrangle out of him. “Me?” he asks, voice stiff with the emotions bursting in his chest. “Dandy,” he replies. “How are dumb and dumber?”

Dave chuckles and the sentiment is shared with the others. Jack can see Derek shaking his head, JJ even smiling and rolling her eyes. Good, he thinks. They need to laugh more.

Dave releases him with one final squeeze. “Emily,” he says, “is back in surgery. She was holding on pretty strong there until the end.” His face pinches as he fails to decide just how much of the truth he’s willing to divulge and how much of it Jack can handle. Placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder he smiles sadly, “she gave us quite the scare.”

Jack takes the news as he has to-- without flinching. He nods his head and digs his nails into his palms to keep his voice steady. “And Dad?”

No sooner than Dave can even process the question, Hotch steps out of a room. He’s leaning to the left, using his dominant hand to keep him balanced as he slowly shuffles the two steps through the doorway. “Jack?” His white dress shirt is pulled open and his hair is pushed in every direction by thick white gauze wrapped around his head.

JJ is the first to move. Before anything can be said, she’s moving to stand in front of Hotch. She starts to button his shirt, ignoring just how far off Hotch looks when he just stands and watches her deftly manipulate the tiny buttons into the equally tiny holes. Covering up his exposed chest because if he were in a better state of mind he wouldn’t want any of them seeing the scars littering his chest.

“You need to sit down,” JJ says, taking his elbow and gently turning him back towards the room. Hotch grunts but doesn’t go with her. She reaches up and cups his cheek, waiting for his cloudy brown eyes to find her. “Come with me, Hotch. Jack can come too.”

It makes Jack feel immensely guilty but he has no desire to be anywhere near his father right now. The sight of him so vulnerable-- his blood is still soaked into his shirt, confusion twisted into his pained expression, and the emotion in his eyes-- is too much. Of course, Jack understands everyone is mortal. His father will die. Maybe not today but eventually.

But he’s still a seventeen-year-old kid who can’t wrap his head around what he’s seeing right now.

“Don’t…” Hotch grunts again this time pinned between Morgan and JJ and losing any say he has in the matter. “I’m not gonna sit in that bed,” he mumbles, shuffling where he’s guided.

Morgan shakes his head, “it’s the bed or the wheelchair, Hotch.”

Jack scowls at the ground. As they’re all funneling into the room, Dave makes Jack go next right after Morgan, JJ, and his father. He’d much prefer being in the back. Away from all of this.

Settled into the wheelchair and grumply allowing Garcia to tuck a blanket around him, Hotch looks a little better. The blanket covers his bloodied t-shirt and the bulk of where the bandages sit on his chest. “How’s Emily?”

Jack keeps his eyes on the floor even when he’s certain his father is looking up at him. He just glares at the floor and wills his tears away. He does glance up as someone-- Dave-- steps into the room. But he’s looking at the ground again before he catches anyone’s eye.

“I just talked to the doctor,” Dave says. He comes into the room and Jack can feel Dave looking at him. “She’s doing well. They’ve put her in a room and she’s already responding to them.”

Jack makes the mistake of looking up and when he catches his father’s eye he feels a heat across his face. Hotch looks away first.

Dave clears his throat, “they’re gonna let Aaron back to see her--”

Jack looks up, torn between anger and ease that he doesn’t have to go too.

“So the rest of you can head on home,” Dave says. “Come back in the morning, well rested, and they’ll let us all back. But for now it’s just Jack and Aaron.”

Fuck.

They share awkward half-hugs which are really just bad because neither Hotch nor Jack do much more than limply allow the hugs they’re being pulled into. Hotch won’t actually look at any of them, not that Jack does much more than mirror Morgan’s chuckle and lean into Garcia’s hug.

“Come on, boys.”

Sooner than they’re ready for, it’s just Jack, Dave, and Hotch. The later of which is losing his fight against the drugs he was given upon being admitted into the hospital.

Jack down right looks pissed when he realizes Dave standing at the door means he’s being left to push his father’s wheelchair. Once again, he loves the man. Hotch has been an amazing father. He’s kind and loving and Jack’s never felt anything but safe and loved but… he’s uncomfortable.

Without a word, Jack moves behind Hotch and heaves all his weight forward. They go no where.

Hotch glances back at him with a shake of his head, silent judgement. “Brakes, genius,” he rasps.

Jack puffs out an impatient sound and moves to the side, shooting Hotch a frown as he unlocks the brakes. “I’ll run you into a wall,” Jack threatens. This time, when he moves behind the wheelchair, they move when he pushes. “Lay off the brownies, old man.” It’s hard to take turns but he successfully makes it down two halls and an elevator without running them into anything. Not that Hotch certainly acts like he’s being reckless.

They take an elevator to the next floor up.

“Jack?”

He gets really, really hot. Glancing at Dave out of the corner of his eyes, he realizes that bastard has left him completely on his own. “Mhm.” He pulls his hands from the wheelchair he rubs at them nervously.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack turns his head away from Dave and Hotch, thankful the elevator stop just then.

He doesn’t say anything.

Hotch has been sorry for stupid crap like this Jack’s entire life. While he doubts whatever happened occurred without fault of some kind on his father, he also knows he can’t change his dad.

Hotch is a hero and Jack knows what happens to heroes.

His entire life he’s looked up to heroes. Equating his father with the likes of Captain America or… Ironman. Jack had seen how that ended. He’d gone to see the last Avengers movie with his friends, Henry amongst them. And when Ironman snapped, dying a slow painful death, and leaving behind his kids and wife… Jack had excused himself to the bathroom.

Because he knows that he’s more than likely going to loose his father in the same way.

Except, men like Aaron Hotchner don’t get memorilized. They turn into ghost and lessons.

Jack pushes Hotch right up to Emily’s side, never once looking at either. He settles himself into a chair on the opposite side of Emily, away from Hotch. He looks up at his father once, catching his eye. He has to look away.

He’s lost a mother, already. He remembers what that was like. To hug his mother for the last time while his father cried on the other end of the line. A serial killer standing in their living room and being told to go hide and just hope… what would have happened if Hotch wasn’t a little quicker? If he’d died that day or both of them?

Glancing up at Hotch once more time…

Jack knows his father wishes he’d died that day. That Haley were still here and Foyet had killed him.

Jack can’t imagine life going any other way than how it did. Would his mother take him out to the park every Saturday like he and Hotch had? Would his mother have stayed in touch with the team? Would he view his father like he now views his mother?

What he does know, is that he’s scared by the way his mother died but he’s glad his father is still around. He loves and appreciates Hotch fighting the way he did that day and everyday sense and one day, Jack will learn how to say that.

But for now he’s got to worry about Emily. Who is not only awake but reading his tension like an open book.

Jack fiddles with his thumbs, unwilling, or unable to look at Emily.

She doesn’t say anything about it. In the low light of the room, silent while Hotch sleeps peacefully, she’s content. Slowly, she keeps drawing her fingers through Hotch’s hair. His back is going to ache and his ribs will give him hell but for now, he’s bent over the side of the bed with his head on her hip. Snoring softly. Sleeping, as he should be.

“Do you want to talk about it,” she asks, keeping her eyes on the steady rise and fall of Hotch’s back.

Jack shakes his head, clutching his hands tighter and willing them to steady. “No, ma’am.”

Ma’am. That makes her snort a little. There’s nothing that really says Hotchner like manners popping up out of nowhere. Well, was she not the Queen of pettily calling Hotch sir just to piss him off? Maybe it’s just them thing. The three of them.

“I’m mad at you,” he whispers. He tries so hard to keep that humorous undertone but it falls sort of flat. Not that she doesn’t get he’s being slightly funny. “Always out running around like reckless kids.” He leaves out that if they die they’re leaving behind a kid. Him. And at seventeen it wouldn’t be a big deal having to deal with foster-care or even adoption.

They know Dave would take care of him. That’s just not the point.

“Baby,” she whispers, her own tears pooling over as one runs down Jack’s face.

He wipes it away angrily. “I’m fine,” he grumbles.

Her smile saddens. She reaches out to him, hand palm up on the bed. He takes it without really thinking. “You’re too much like your father,” she chides, softly. “You’ve got to get out of that head of yours and tell me what’s wrong.” Squeezing his hand, a hot tear runs down her cheek.

Jack sucks in a choked breath and he stands, not even asking when Emily opens her arms up and he buries his face in her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, holding him closer. “I promise, Jack.”

And, God, what he would give to believe her.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #jack hotchner #aaron hotchner #hotch whump #whumptowninwhumptober #hotchniss #but it's minimal #and you might not even really notice

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itisannak · 5 years

Text

Birthday Twins (Calum Hood Fluff)

Summary: Upon meeting her boyfriend’s family, (Y/N) discovers that his sister and her share more than she could imagine. (Request) (Words: 2k)

"They are going to hate me." I state, mind fixed on the worst-case scenario no matter how hard my roommate is trying to assure me otherwise. "They are not going to hate you. You are the most lovable person ever. Plus, their son seems to be the happiest ever since you got together, so they are going to adore you, like everyone else who has met you. "Ok, but what if they do? I can't go... I'll tell Calum I got sick." I panic and she sighs. "Ok, I know for sure that you are not going to make a good impression if you don't show up. And I know for sure that Calum won't buy it. He stayed here last night until 4 in the morning, when exactly did you get sick?" She asks, looking at me with irony. "In the morning. I really can't go. I will die of anxiety there." I sigh, flopping on the bed. "You will be just fine. His parents aren't monsters, they are normal people. And I think that Calum has already talked to them about how great you are, you beautiful and smart and so fucking talented it hurts." She rolls her eyes at me. "If I didn't know you are with Kaia, I would of think you are having a crush on me based on what you've just said." I joke, punching her shoulder softly. "Well, those were Calum's words. That one time you were both drunk and I had to take care of both of you. He kept on mumbling about you while I helped him to bed. He has already charmed them on your behalf, you just have to go and give them a visual of all the things they've heard. So, please, go. I will have my phone on and ready to calm you through texts... Only in the case of an emergency. Leave, or you'll be late." She pulls me up, shoving me out of the room. She hands me my phone and purse, looking at me with arched eyebrows so I know she is being serious. "Fine. If this goes horrible, it is on you." I threaten her and she chuckles. "But if it goes well, I call dibs on being your firstborn's godmother." She replies, tilting her head to the side. "Oh, we are rushing I see." I raise my hands in surrender. "I said I call dibs." She repeats, opening the door for me.

I park my car on the driveway, taking a moment to calm myself down before I enter the house. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to reverse all the what-ifs in my head; what if they love me, what if they think I am the greatest, what if they think of me as their son does... I feel my body relax, heart slowing down to normal rates. I got this... I think...

I walk through the little gate in the backyard, knowing that I will find them there; it is such a nice day for Calum to stay in. I am greeted by Duke who runs happily to me, whimpering so I will pet him. Following right behind, Calum smiles brightly, cheeks popping and dimples making their appearances a few inches from his mouth. "You came." He cheers, opening his arms and embracing me to his body. "Almost didn't. Mia convinced me to..." I sigh, wrapping my arms around his body. "Are you nervous?" He asks me, pulling a little back and bringing his thumbs to stroke my cheeks. His cologne still lingers, tickling my nostrils and making me feel at ease. "Shouldn't I?" I ask and he shakes his head in denial. "You really shouldn't. They already adore the air you breathe... They see that you make me happy and I have honestly talked their ears off telling them all about you. Plus, you look so cute in your little floral dress. You will have them wrapped around your finger at hello." He assures me, leaning in for a kiss.

"That must be the infamous (Y/N). It is so good to finally put a face on the legend." Mali cheers, walking towards us. I was expecting my heart to be jumping out of my chest, but she is so calm and soft that I find her aura calming. "That must be me. It is so nice to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you." I am in literal awe of her, Calum talks so greatly of her that I have developed a worship-like admiration for her. "Nice things, I hope." She turns to Calum, eyeing him a little. "All great things, I assure you." I giggle at how Calum tenses back as she scans him. She lets out a chuckle as she walks to me, hugging me softly. "Wanna go meet the rest of the gang? We were all waiting for you..." Mali says, pointing to the table where their parents are sitting; I can see his father craning his neck towards us, waiting for the moment we will walk over. "Sure..." I mumble, breathing in and fixing my posture. Calum gives me a soft smile, taking my hand in his; he tangles our fingers together, squeezing my hand to let me know he is there for me. Instinctively, my head falls to his shoulder, resting there as we walk to the table, both of his parents standing up to greet me the moment we reach it.

"Ah, the lovely (Y/N). We have heard so much about you." Calum's mom is the first to talk. I extend my hand to shake hers, leaving Calum's free. "I have heard so much about you as well. I have to admit, I am so nervous now that I am meeting you in real life." I chatter nervously, making Joy smile sweetly at me. "No reason, love. We don't eat people, do we now?" David asks me, giggling softly. Calum smirks at me, shrugging his shoulders as he tilts his head to the side. "I have been telling you, love." He pulls my chair out for me, prompting me to sit down. "To be honest, he did tell me that... I have just heard so much about you, and I have been admiring you for raising such an amazing man for so long that I really feel like I am meeting legends right now." I explain, fixing my posture. "This is so lovely for you to say. We raised amazing kids, they've turned out amazing." Joy reaches to stroke Mali's hand, bringing a wholesome smile on my face. "Calum has told us you are a musician as well." David turns to me, looking excitedly. "I am a singer, yeah." I smile as Calum serves some food. "Like our Mali." Joy cheers and I nod. "Yes, actually. I also do more indie songs and write my own lyrics, and to be honest, Mali is my number one inspiration." I explain, earning a coo from Mali. "I joke all the time that she is dating me just to meet Mali. I can't even count all the times we've listened to Sorry while in the car." Calum laughs softly; I gasp and turn to him, glaring with my eyes wide open. "Don't out me like that... But yes, I went through huge fangirl phases when Sorry was released." I look at Mali who smiles brightly. "I am so glad you loved it. And to be transparent with you, I've looked you up and I have to admit, you sound like an angel. You are mesmerizing." Mali compliments me, causing my heart to speed up and heat rise to my face.

"How did you two meet?" Joy asks Calum and me, making me smirk and let him do the talking. "I went for a drink at one of the bars she was singing at. I wasn't even paying attention to the stage until I heard her sing and I felt like I was in heaven. And that was it, I just had to go meet her after her set..." "So, imagine my surprise when one of the most iconic bassists and singers of my generation, if not of all time, walked in the backroom to compliment me for my singing. I think I literally gawk at him for a good minute." I complete, placing my hand on top of his. He smiles at me, leaning in to place a kiss on my forehead. "Did you ask her out that night?" David asks him. I giggle, knowing the answer to the question. "No, I chickened out. I didn't even ask her name that night. I walked out of the room and got back to the bar and I remembered I knew nothing about her, other than the fact that her voice sounds like an angel. I went back to ask more about her but she was gone. So I begged the bartender to tell me her name and then found her on Instagram and saw when she was having a show. I went there, 3 hours before the show and saw her during soundcheck. And waited until the minute she got off stage to go talk to her." "I didn't even take 2 steps off the stage when he asked me if I wanted to go grab a bite with him. And obviously, I said yes, and the rest is history." I sigh, smiling at the reminiscence of our early days. "Uh, so lovely. Like a movie." Joy chuckles and I feel my cheeks turn red. "Yeah, mom, you think it is like a movie... I was giving off real creeper vibes." He giggles and I bite my lip, laughing at the remark. "You were the least creepy of all the creepy dudes that had hit on me after a show." I state, stroking my fingers through his locks. "If that isn't true romance, I don't know what it is." Mali teases us. "I forgot to ask you, love. How old are you?" Joy asks. "Mom!" Calum protests. "It's alright, hon. She didn't ask me anything bad." I smile at him, placing my hand on his soothingly. "I am turning 23 in May." I reply. "Oh, we share the same birthday month. When in May?" Mali asks excitedly, pushing Calum back so she can look at me. "On the 19th. When is yours?" I ask, sharing the same excitement as her. "On the 19th as well. Oh God, we are like birthday twins." Mali says cheerfully, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Why didn't you tell me we share birthday with your sister?" I ask Calum who looks just a tiny bit frightened by our reaction. "I didn't make the connection, jeez." He mumbles, making everyone burst out in laughter. "Well, we will have to celebrate our birthday together this year." Mali suggests and I squeal. "Absolutely yes. I don't even mind flying to London for that party." I giggle, clapping my hands excitedly.

(Calum's POV) "It was a lovely meal. Thank you, son." My dad states as we finish off our food. "You are welcome, dad. Anyone want coffee?" I ask, everyone nodding at me. "Let me help." My dad offers, getting up from his chair.

We walk inside the kitchen, leaving the girls to their conversation. I start the coffee maker, taking in the aroma as I stare outside the window, watching the 3 women laugh at something. I smile, relieved that my family seems to adore (Y/N) and seeing her for the amazing person she is. "She is the one, huh?" My father asks, patting my shoulder. "What?" I ask, altering my attention to him. "I asked, she is the one, huh?" He asks again, chuckling at me. "I really think so, dad." I state, scratching the back of my head as I look at my mom, sister, and girlfriend talk, with not a trace of awkwardness. "She is a good woman, son. I know one when I see one." He joins me in staring at the ladies while waiting for the coffee to brew.

My Masterlist

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polygamyff · 4 years

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35. Part 3

Bringing my phone into my eye-view, ok it’s six in the morning, I have a meeting at nine so I need to get out of bed, placing my phone down at the side of me. Looking down at Robyn snuggled up against me, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It’s a good feeling, to wake up to the woman you love in bed with you, I feel wholesome. I hate waking up to an empty bed, it’s just horrible. There is no love there at all, but it makes it hard to leave. This is literally my hardest goodbye, my Bonita holding onto me for dear life, her head on my chest. I soon shut her up though, honestly last night she did annoy me so much, I was on the verge of going for a walk. First of all she saying the men at that job are cute, I am old, she is young. Acting like she going to leave me for a man that is younger and shit but my dick soon shut her up, I did miss it. I missed her P a lot, now I can have her all to myself all naked and shit. Wrapping my arms around her, lightly stroking her back “I love you” pressing kisses to the top of Robyn’ head and then moving my arms away, I need to get out of bed. I need to slide out, I know her ass is knocked out because all that hugging and kissing she would have woken up. Holding my breath as I slid out of bed, placing my hand on the ground as I snaked myself out from her grip. Falling onto the floor slowly and then breathed out, poking my head up and seeing Robyn is asleep still “yes” I said under my breath, I did it. Standing up quickly and I hissed out in pain, feeling a dull stabbing pain in my leg “ah” I winced, looking down at my leg before leaning down and grabbing my boxers, I think Reign is awake. She is gurgling to herself, I know she is awake. I know my daughter’ breathing, it’s weird but I do. Pulling up my boxers as I jogged over to the crib, I gasped looking down, she is awake “you’re awake crazy” fixing my dick in my boxers “I need to pee, just wait for me” I need to pee first, walking off towards the bathroom. I can hear the build-up happening, then it happened. Reign’ cry, she cried like I hurt her so I had to go back “woah, who hurt you and also. Sshhh, momma is asleep” picking her out of the crib “it’s ok Mi Amor, Por qué estás llorando. Don’t cry” placing her over my shoulder, I will just have to take her with me to pee. Reign calmed her little self-down “you just wanted me didn’t you, you was ok at first but then you saw me. My Mi Hermosa” she gives the best hugs.

Reign has been watching me get dressed, she has been my partner in crime “so we left this note for momma, she knows where we are. You are coming with me, meetings with daddy” picking her up, I left her baby grow on, I got behind with everything. I wanted to make sure she was fed so I didn’t have time to change her but she looks cute still, it’s Burberry, how can you go wrong with that. Placing Reign’ baby bag over my shoulder “we about to have so much fun together” pressing the elevator button “let me put you this way” turning Reign away from me so she can look around, she is nosey and with going out she will like to see things. I think besides Robyn, the best thing to happen to me is Reign, I mean look at her. How precious she is, how content, how much love she gives me. I get it, I get the love my dad has for me because I got it for Reign. I don’t really say it to Robyn but I miss her so much, I want her here and I want Robyn here so when she said it I was ready to cry, so much emotion. The elevator doors opened, stepping inside and turning to the keypad “we are going down to the offices” tapping the button and then turning to the mirror, Reign’ eyes went all wide eyed “daddy” pointing to myself “daughter” pointing to Reign “daddy and daughter” she is so intrigued staring at herself, walking closer to the mirror “aahhhh, boo” I moved back before I got too close and Reign smiled, her pacifier falling out of her mouth “Yo soy papi y tu eres hija, papa te ama” moving closer to the mirror again “Mi Amor, aahhh boo” and moved back quickly from the mirror, Reign let out a giggle “aww you done pulled at my heartstrings with that” she is so damn cute, leaning down and picking up her pacifier before I forget.

Walking into the office, the room is waiting for me but we are finishing off from yesterday. My dad is not here today so he will miss out today “sorry, my daughter needed feeding. Don’t mind the baby grow” Ally laughed “you didn’t even do her hair, negro” Reign will forgive me, placing the bag down “did I miss anything?” pulling the chair back “so this is Reign, for the two men that didn’t meet her. She is the next heir to this. She is sitting in with us” sitting down in my chair, Reign is just looking around. She is not doing much but staring “she is beautiful” smiling at him “thank you but also, thank you Koki and Hayato for coming from Tokyo for me. You came last minute, and we have had a lot of information, but I would like to say, I am still aiming for Tokyo. I love the place but from what the ladies have said, they don’t think it would be logical to have that plot you both mentioned” I really don’t want to waste time, I want a quick turnaround on this “yes, we heard but Maurice. That space, that plot is perfect for your business. Lots of money to be made, you could go somewhere else and it may not make lot of money. Yes the place needs a lot of work but you can do it” Koki said “from a tourism perspective in Tokyo that is the best spot, not lying to you. It closed down and lost a lot of business, people need convenience” looking over at Ally “what you thinking? With all of the notes, from what they both said?” Reign is trying to eat my fingers, fat baby “I think I understand what they mean, but also the other side. It won’t be a quick turn around will it?” shaking my head “but then I think if it will make money then why not? Why not just wait but I didn’t want to wait but we have other things to do, do we not?” she nodded her head.

My office door is a revolving door right now, it is just my accountant here anyways. Just need to go over the monthly finance but before that I had staff coming in and out “so you telling me they all claimed against the company for this Dubai venture?” getting up from the chair “hey momma, you are really out here grabbing anything right now. You strong” turning her to me “yes you being a pain, grabbing paperwork and shit” Reign tried to grab my face “yes they did” my accountant said, I grinned at Reign as she yelped out “snuggled from my momma” resting Reign’ face at the side of mine “Reign, what we saying. We need to cut it off don’t we? I swear I hate them, anyways fuck them. I need to buy a home here, I need to claim too. My business so I can do that” I can do it, my dad said I can “Robyn is here” Ally said, Robyn sheepishly walked in “come in” I smiled, Reign is still resting against my face “this is my accountant, Reign just been out here doing meetings” Robyn looks so shy “oh hi, erm. I was confused on where she was, when did she wake up?” she asked “six, but she ain’t tired. We don’t sleep on work do we?” I can’t even see her, she is still in the same position “I can tell she is ok, she is froze just against your face. Sorry, I am interrupting” Robyn moved to the side “a home? Didn’t you get one in Cali?” he asked “that is Robyn’ not mine, I need one here. So the paperwork will come through soon, look Patrick, this is my company. This whole family shit will change, I get it ok? I just need it to come into my hands, you get me?” he nodded his head “your dad is soft, or didn’t want the trouble, I mean it doesn’t mean you are going broke but it’s taking advantage, also you want me to decline any future usage of the jets? So when the bill comes to us we redirect?” nodding my head “Reign said we selling all four of them, we only need two, one for me, and one for my parents. Fuck them, we don’t fuck with them like that do we” it’s about me and mines “what if I wanted a jet?” Robyn asked, looking behind me “then we are getting rid of three, you can have a jet baby. I don’t mind” Robyn waved me off “I am joking, I don’t want it” Robyn is funny, I feel like she was doing that on purpose because she was looking at Ally, she is doing the most.

Robyn wants to do tourist things, I mean that is boring for me but I don’t mind it, she is not happy that I didn’t dress Reign properly but I was in rush “look, this is the back of her head. You think it is getting better” pulling a face “to me, it doesn’t look better. Little badly” Robyn slapped my hand away “excuse me, stop it” I chuckled “that is my baby too, I think it will get better. It don’t look so bad, it will get better trust me. She is beautiful anyways, she is really knocked out asleep for a nap, you out here moving her around and she ain’t moving” swinging myself around in the chair, I am bored waiting “you don’t seem amused that I want to do tourist things” I shrugged stopping myself from swinging too much “it’s ok, I mean my hotel is an attraction and you on the top floor, are you not? You already an attraction, why do we need to leave?” look at me having to be a tourist in my city “me and Reign have not done real tourist things, if you do not want to go then it’s fine. I can go alone, forget you” Robyn is being all annoyed with me “I am coming, of course I am. It’s only down the road, we can go to Father Duffy square, it’s around the block. The famous red steps” I rather be up all under Robyn, that will be far more entertaining.

I know I am bored because I always see this shit, but Robyn is being a real ass tourist “it’s so busy around here, don’t you have Lenny and Jay?” Robyn asked “for what reason, it’s for you. I don’t need it Bonita, I don’t care for it. Go and sit on the step and I will take a picture?” I said pointing “no, I will look weird on my own, can’t you come with me” look at Robyn being difficult “I know, one second” looking around us “excuse me” I asked, the guy turned around “Benny?” I know him “Maurice! Oh shit, what are you doing here” he hugged me “my old boss nigga, I swear down I didn’t think you would be out here with the public!” I chuckled “I got a family now, settled down. I am a good, this is my fiancé Robyn, Robyn this is Benny. When I started working in New York under my dad, testing me out, he was the first guy I had to look after” I laughed “and this nigga stressed me out, we ended up smoking weed every time, I am sorry. I had to fire you. I really liked you too” patting his arm “you was a cool ass boss, nice to meet you. You’re pretty, better than him” how weird is this “so you’re in a suit, who the hell hired you?” he is dumb as fuck “what you know about me!? I am working in Wall Street; I am dumb but not that dumb. But yeah, I am doing well now and I see you! Famous ass, all on newspaper. I was working on the day your shares fell, then I see it hit that you was playing but I see why, she good” nodding my head “She is worth it, also I got a daughter now” his eyes widened “a girl? How did he feel? Your dad scared me, remember when I walked into his office and I goes I’m a boy, you don’t fire boys and then he got angry with you because you told me” I laughed out “that was funny but he is getting old, she is very much spoilt. He adores her and she is the heir, I am proud” I am very proud “happy for you Maurice, what is up anyways? You wanted me, you are cutting into my eating time too” I chuckled “take a picture of me and my family near these, she wants to be a tourist. Cali girl and all that” waving Robyn off “oh wow, ok. Welcome to New York, for sure bro” passing him my phone, Robyn is so quiet and shy at times. Obviously, we got to have the stroller with us, Reign is asleep. Placing my arm around Robyn “ready!” he shouted, smiling wide because I want it to be a cute picture for her “all done, we need to catch up. Drop me the number, actually I got something for you” taking my phone from him “for you” he passed me his business card “look at you Benny the boy!” hugging him “good seeing you and I will call you” he is a good guy, we just split.

Robyn thinks I went to toilet, she is just feeding Reign in the café around the corner, I am not creative but I saw it while walking and I am sure she will like it “hi sir, how can I help?” stepping to the ticket booth “I just want the best ticket to whatever” she stared at me with a blank expression “is this for yourself?” she asked “my partner, just whatever but I want the best seats” she laughed, I don’t know why she is “it’s sweet how you want the best, what does she like?” I shrugged “anything really, which is the best one to watch?” I asked “I would recommend Moulin Rouge, maybe not your thing but she will love it, I did. I can get you front row for eight pm?” nodding my head “I will take them” digging into my pocket “here, on this card” I can pretend to Robyn that I put lots of thought into this but it was last minute, I can get Shawn to babysit, he will be ok “that is two hundred and ninety nine dollars, put your card into the machine thanks” this lady is finding me funny, I just ask for the best and that is it. Feeling the throbbing pain in my leg again, I don’t know why I get this feeling in my leg every time.

Robyn mean mugged me “toilet? What the hell? Where did you go?” she is not amused “I got you this, it’s a Broadway show for the Moulin Rouge, us two” Robyn’ face softened “aww really? But Reign?” placing the tickets on the table “Shawn likes to be called uncle, so he can prove it. You want to see New York and stuff, we can have some time together. A date, I am taking you out” Robyn cooed out “pootie, aww baby. This makes me so happy; I love you” she wrapped her arm around my neck “it’s ok, I love you too. I am happy you’re here” I think I am going to be so sad when she does go home, she said a few days only “so can we do more tourist things now?” rubbing the back of my leg “uh yeah, we can do some more tourist things. What would you like to do?” I think all these sex position got my leg cramping, I am blaming Robyn “stare at you, I don’t mind. We can just slowly walk back to the hotel, and also I like this café. I get to people watch that way” I chuckled “ok then, I will go and get a latte. Be back” getting up from the chair “put the tickets away for me too” I need to have some painkillers to shake off this feeling, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water and then walking over to the counter “hi” the server said “is this all?” shaking my head “uhm, can I have a uhm, caramel latte. Large please” patting my pockets “sure, you want anything else? Cakes? You seem like a guy that likes cake” I chuckled “I do? How do you sense that now, ok which do you think I would like, seeing as you know such a thing” opening my wallet, let me use cash for this “I would say a cheesecake type?” poking my lips out before grinning “mhmmm, but which type? Get it right and I will buy it?” she giggled “erm, Strawberry. You got to be” nodding my head “I am impressed, go on then. I will take a piece, you’re good at your job” she smirked at me “thank you, I just saw your smile and then the dimple, I was like he is a sweet guy” touching the side of my face “mhmmm, nobody mentions my dimple, I hate it” shaking my head “oh and if this don’t taste nice, where do I complain too? I would need your name too?” she placed the plate in front of me with the cheesecake “Ana, and you can take that complaint to my boss, but I would need your name also to give you his name” holding the money out “I will give you a B for effort, keep the change Ana, and my table is just there” I pointed “oh, uh yeah. I will bring it over” she is funny.

Sitting down “what was so funny down there? Why was she smiling?” Robyn asked “just that I was undecided on what cake to get, and I kind of just said something and she just found me funny” Robyn pointed at me “liar, no woman laughs that way for that” I had to laugh “Robyn, I honestly didn’t do anything wrong. You’re clearly sat here” looking at Reign in Robyn’ arms “you want papa, you want to come to papa. He is way more fun, come” getting my arms out “please don’t be like that with me or give me that look because it’s not like that, I am with you” actually let me have some painkillers, digging into my pockets and getting some painkillers out, I always carry them around because you never know “I am glad I am giving you a headache” Robyn spat, little does she know it’s not even that “sure” I mumbled, placing the tablets in my mouth and opening the water bottle, Robyn is very angry with me when I barely did anything, I had a laugh with her and that was it “that is it, papa is better” taking Reign from Robyn “papa? Please, it’s dad or daddy. Papa, who the hell you think you are” she is such a hater, wrapping my arms around Reign “I love you so much” she is the best gift on earth “your latte” looking up at the server and moved back a little “thank you” I grinned at her “no problem” she moved away, Robyn is still annoyed at nothing when I am with her and her only.

Robyn and this constant walking, I am just not doing well and she is walking everywhere. I get it is the fast way because New York is busy but I am glad to be back at my hotel “can you get the stroller” I said to the doorman, I can’t do it because my leg is really killing me right now “and you can’t do it” Robyn said, I did ignore her and winced as I made my way up the steps. I could do with my dad’ walking stick at this moment in time “I am just leaving now, you have an appointment with Wade. I did the paperwork for the Hilton changeover, also Maurice. Please be on time for Wade, you have the estate in New Jersey to visit. Nine sharp, you need to update your Will” Ally rushed by me “yeah, sure” I am tired, so another early morning for me. I did kind of want to sleep in but I can do that and then have that theatre thing with Robyn. Walking into the lobby slowly “uncle” here is my freeloader uncle “nephew” he got his arms open to me as he walked over “hey” he hugged me “I heard from your father, you are officially going to be the owner of a billion dollar company, must be a big weight on you” I had to laugh, a big weight he says. I feel I have aged a few years “it’s a lot, but it is what it is. I will get on with it, nice seeing you. I need to go now” I need sleep, rest my leg because I feel I have done something to it. I think it was that stupid move I did in the morning, my fault “see you soon nephew” soon he says, walking behind Robyn.

I groaned out as I got in bed, I just want to sleep because honestly, I am tired “hope you ain’t thinking of sleeping just yet?” Robyn said “why?” I mumbled “why? I have been missing out on dick, I want sex and you in that bed acting like you about to sleep?” she is something else “I am though, I have been awake since six. I just, for one night let me sleep” I hope she understands “so you denying me of sex?” rolling my eyes “I am saying” turning onto my side “let me sleep, just put Reign to sleep. I will see you in the morning” closing my eyes, Robyn is a sex addict. I think she is, I mean so am I guess but I am just not feeling myself right now and I think it’s me, I am stressing myself out with things and the lack of sleep because I don’t sleep as much, Robyn doesn’t see that and if I had the strength I would have sex but I need sleep.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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clownsgobeepbeep · 5 years

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Mean and Green

@grotesquegabby

Of course, this takes place in the possible future-future where we see more of a certain baby who isn’t too fond of everybody he meets X3 Nothing personal though, he just be that way

It was no doubt a complete worry when Friday the 13th came around and the day proved to be of bad luck to a certain couple. However, those worries were thankfully overcome, and it was almost like a miracle. Nobody knew how their problem had been immediately solved, but it didn’t really matter anymore, for all that mattered was that the baby in the situation was perfectly safe and healthy.

So, the D’Vitt family decided to host a small get-together to both celebrate and welcome the new baby.

This get-together was the very reason why said baby was strapped into a stroller, a pair of small shades over his eyes on what was a nice and sunny day. Typically, he would have enjoyed said days but this time, he was no doubt upset.

His little claws dug into what was a great white shark plush while he angrily sucked on his pacifier, eyebrows furrowed deeper than usual as he looked at the path up ahead. The stroller he was on was being pushed by a rather old man with horns on his head, one who was apparently his grandpa’s dad.

However, this little baby absolutely did not trust this man.

He had met him some time after having been brought into the world, the aforementioned get-together being where they had met.

“Alright, alright, leave Basil alone already.” came a woman’s voice, everybody who currently surrounded the high chair where the baby sat turned to the side to see his mother. “Don’t overwhelm him.”

“But Ulaaaa!”

“He looks like a little orange flower!”

“I know.” Basil’s mother carefully took Basil out of the high chair before he snuggled into her chest, a much softer expression now present on his features while his eyes were glued onto her. “That’s why he’s my little pumpkin. Aren’t you, Basil?”

The baby placed a hand on his mother’s chest, burying his face into her as best as he could considering how he wore a mask over his mouth and gloves over his hands.

“Where are you taking him? I need to take a picture!”

“Phoebe, enough with the pictures.” Ula gave her cousin a look before the moth girl gave a giggle.

“He’s picture perfect, what do you expect?”

“For my baby to be left alone.” Ula stuck her tongue out before her best friend approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re so overprotective Ula.~” Ama chuckled before Ula stuck her tongue out at her as well.

“Whatever. I’m gonna go with grandpa if you need me.” Ula stated before walking away, her cousins and others laughing among themselves as her motherly instinct was clearly taking over.

Basil looked up at his mother with loving eyes as she made her way through guests that smiled and sometimes even fawned over him, right until Ua stopped walking and a gasp was heard. The baby turned his head before a glare returned to his expression as he looked into eyes that were...almost like his own. One green, one blue. Weird.

Basil nuzzled into his mother again before the man gave a hearty laugh, gently stroking Basil’s hair which made Basil whip around to glare at him.

“He sure is a mama’s boy, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Can I hold the little fella?” the man asked before Basil turned to his mother, looking almost offended as he attempted to signal that he did not want this.

“Sure! You’re his great grandpa after all.” Basil’s mother nodded with a grin before handing the baby over to the man, Basil feeling lare hands hold him under the arms.

“Hey there little guy! I’m your great grandpa Cecilio!” the man happily exclaimed while leaning close to the baby who gave a low growl. “Why’s he wearing the mask? And...gloves, are they?”

“Would you like your face ripped off or your hands viciously bitten off?”

“I, um, no.”

“Then you have your answer.” Ula nodded before Cecilio turned back to Basil with a big grin, bringing him closer to nuzzle his nose with his mask, but he was then immediately stopped.

Cecilio was confused once he felt Basil’s gloves on his mouth as well as his tiny feet pushing on Cecilio’s chest. At the same time, the man could now hear a growl emit from Basil’s mask as the baby gave him an intense glare, clearly not wanting this sort of treatment.

“I don’t think he likes me.” Cecilio sadly claimed while handing the baby back to his mother, Basil now nuzzling into his mother’s chest again.

“Aw, don’t say that. He’s like this with everybody.” Ula pet Basil’s head with an apologetic look. “Don’t worry, he’ll eventually like you. I just know it.”

“Basil.~”

The baby now snapped out of his thoughts before looking up to the front again, extending his arms out at the sound of the melodic voice he adored so much.

“Pumpkin.~”

Basil felt as his shark push was moved out of the way before dainty hands unbuckled his straps, then grabbing and pulling him out so that he was against his mother’s chest again. He looked around before a hand came to his hair, and he didn’t mind it, as much at least, for he recognized it as being his father’s.

“Basil, mommy and daddy are gonna go ride the rollercoaster now, okay?” Ula nuzzled her nose with Basil’s which made him affectionately hold her cheeks. “Since your aunties Cordie and Ama, and uncle Davey are in line right now, you’re going to stay with great-grandpa.”

At this, Basil’s eyes shot open in shock before turning to see the horned man again. Cecilio gave a small wave to the baby who made grabby hands at his mother before clutching onto her sweater while burying his face in her chest which made her give a flustered laugh.

“Basil!”

“Okay, come on bud.” Schrader took hold of Basil, being careful to take his claws out of Ula’s sweater before finally taking him off. “Don’t gotta act that way.”

Basil wiggled around while in his father’s grasp, right until he was grabbed by Cecilio who gave a bit of a laugh.

“Don’t worry little fella, I ain’t gonna hurt ya!” Cecilio reassured Basil who turned to his parents, both chuckling to themselves.

“It’s okay Basil, you’ll be fine.” Ula stroked his hair before turning to Cecilio. “You don’t have to feed him since he already ate earlier, and I wouldn’t want to come back to you with missing fingers.”

“Oh don’t worry about me!” Cecilio chuckled to himself before immediately retrieving a hand to avoid a chomp from Basil’s jaws. “We’ll both be fine!”

_____________

“Here comes the airplane!”

Cecilio held a small spoon in his hand, one that held onto a chunk of meat he brought close towards Basil’s mouth, the baby only having his arms crossed as he glared at the man.

“Come on now, open wide!” Cecilio grinned before lightly poking Basil’s lips with the meat, Basil not even flinching a bit. “You know you want it.~”

Basil finally opened is mouth, but to Cecilio’s surprise, he bit down on the spoon as his teeth were right in front of Cecilio’s fingers.

Once Cecilio looked down at the spoon, he saw that the other end was no more and in fact gone in Basil’s mouth as he chewed on it.

“Well, okay. No food then yet, huh?” Cecilio nervously chuckled as he threw the remainder of the spoon into a nearby trash can, then putting everything away into Basil’s backpack. “Do you wanna play a game?”

Basil now tilted his head at the sound of this phrase, recognizing as something he had heard from one of those movies with screaming people and a lot of red.

“A game it is!” Cecilio extended an arm, right before reaching into his sleeve as a plethora of cards were pulled out and shuffled a few times in the air. “A card game perhaps?”

Instantly, Basil gave a bored look before he grabbed his shark plush and hugged it tightly, laying against it with the intention of sleeping. Cecilio took notice of this as all his cards fell to the ground, neverminding them as he tapped his chin while looking at the baby who had already shut his eyes.

“Well, guess we can’t go to the haunted house then, huh?”

Basil’s eyes shot open as he lifted his head in a hurry, eyes wide as he looked around the area.

“Okay, I tell you right now that there are no promises since you’re a baby, but I’m willing to take you to the haunted house.” Cecilio fixed Basil in his stroller before going behind it to push it. “And I don’t know if your mom let’s you do this stuff, so let’s keep it between us, ey?”

Though Cecilio couldn’t see Basil, he could tell that he gave an eager nod as they made their way to the haunted house. Thankful for them, there wasn’t any line so to the front they went.

“What’s with the baby?” the employee at the front pointed to Basil before Cecilio gave a tiny shrug.

“You don’t mind if I take him inside, do ya?”

“Personally, I don’t care.” the employee shrugged before opening the door for Cecilio. “Just leave the stroller out.”

Cecilio did as he was told and left the stroller on a spot where nobody would find it, then walking inside the haunted house with Basil in his arms. Thankfully, the baby was too excited and focused on the surroundings to even remember his current “disliking” towards Cecilio.

They went down a dark hallway where somebody jumped out, neither one flinching as Cecilio only gave a chuckle. As they continued on their way, a loud buzzing like sound was heard before Basil brought his hands up to his ears, covering them before Cecilio realized that he didn’t like loud sounds.

“Oh, I’m sorry Basil, I didn’t know.” Cecilio pat his back while the baby buried his face into his shoulder, even making sure to cover him to lessen the pain. “Just like your mama.”

Cecilio continued walking so that they would get away from the sounds and once they did, they came into a hall of mirrors before Basil looked up again.

“Oh no, looks like we’re stuck here.” Cecilio made a goofy face into one of the mirrors, this reflecting on the rest which surprised Basil as he did not understand how such magic was performed. Maybe the horned man was little interesting.

“Which way shall we go?” Cecilio asked before Basil pointed to the left, the looking at his own hand in amazement which he saw hundreds of times. The man went that way while feeling his way to make sure he didn’t crash into any mirrors, then coming across one which lit up to reveal a clown inside.

“Oh no!” Cecilio exclaimed as he made confetti pop into the air with a laugh. “You got me!”

He then heard as Basil’s tiny hands gave little claps, making Cecilio beam with pride as he felt he was finally getting to this kid. Basil then pointed to another side, Cecilio going that way, and that was how they spent the rest of the time in the mirrors before reaching the end, this impressing Cecilio as there had been not a single mistake with Basil’s choice of direction.

They now entered a new room that seemed almost jungle like, a screech heard but not enough to startle Basil and Cecilio. Or at least, that was until a buzzing sound was heard, almost like...a bee’s…

Cecilio stopped walking for a moment as he continue listening, then turning to the side where an animatronic popped up, making him jump back while holding onto Basil tighter. It was a monstrous bug, such a terrible looking one that made Cecilio go sick in the stomach. Then another screech was heard and he jumped back again as another animatronic of similar appearance popped up.

“We should get out of here, huh?” Cecilio gave a nervous laugh as he began walking again, this time a little bit faster until he stopped in his tracks due to another insect appearing, this time from above. He slowly stepped back, Basil clearly noticing this before looking back at the bug that gave a loud buzz.

“Basil, wait!” Cecilio shouted as the baby now leapt from his arms, somehow pouncing high enough to land on top of the giant insect before digging his claws into it.

Out of instinct, Basil reached down and sank his teeth into the insect that gave an awful screech due to it now malfunctioning. Cecilio didn’t know what to do but hold his head in a panic, feeling overwhelmed at the sight of these horrible insects, but also clearly worried for Basil who now found a way to dig inside the animatronic before it dropped to the ground.

“Basil!” Cecilio shouted again, hesitantly rushing towards the animatronic that now oozed with liquids and even gave off a few sparks. “Basil!?”

Cecilio gave a bit of a gasp as something popped out from inside the now completely ruined animatronic, lights turning on as things no longer looked scary.

“Oh my god.” Cecilio now reached down as he grabbed what had popped out, this being Basil who had somehow gotten his pacifier again and shoved it into his mouth. However, what really shocked Cecilio...was Basil’s hair.

“Your hair!” Cecilio gave a bit of a laugh as he smoothed out the hair that had no doubt been shocked by the mechanics and such. “It looks like mine!”

Basil reached his hands out as Cecilio who gave him a hug, feeling as the baby hugged him back.

“Now, let’s get out of here before anybody sees us.” Cecilio chuckled as he stepped over the destroyed animatronic with Basil still hugging him. “And once again, let’s keep this between us, yeah?”

#i tried X3 #I hope you like it heheh #heck i hope it's good

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feelingsdusk · 7 years

Text

With Mars Bars, Snickers and Skittles

Happy birthday @mysenia. I’m so sorry I’m late but I’m in the middle of a writer’s block and just couldn’t write. It’s taken me forever to finish, sorry! It’s nearly 5am here so maybe it’s not too late??? Hopefully you’ll like this and it will be worth the wait T.T

—

Peter officially wakes up exactly on his birthday.

On that 27th of October, dark clouds greet him when he painstakingly turns his head and everything indicates that it’s one of those rare cold days in California. On that 27th of October his doctor nearly drops the chart she was holding and her little entourage of interns flutter around excitedly because it’s a… miracle.

(Peter has a feeling that he will come to hate that word pretty fast.)

They make him go through a battery of tests a mile long that leaves him even more exhausted than he already felt. By the end of it all, he finds himself in a new room, in a new bed, with a tray with soup and a strawberry jello that the nurse has plated and placed a candle on. Peter doesn’t know how to feel about it but he has always loved sweet things, so he thanks the nurse, blows the candle and eats it anyway.

He regrets it later. Not because he gets sick or anything, but because he doesn’t and that’s a miracle too.

(It’s been less than a day and he hates the word already so he was right about that. Shocking.)

He asks. He knows who’s dead, of course. He became the alpha the moment Talia died, so the bonds transferred to him instantly and he felt most of those snap before he could even reach home. But three of those were still active after he tore the unsuspecting Kate and Gerard Argent’s throats apart and forced his way inside the house. None of those were in there, all the ones he found were already dead, and he lost consciousness just after managing to crawl his way out. Those three bonds are still active right now, so what happened?

The nurse tells him that Laura is on her way, that they had tried to reach her the moment he woke up but were unable to. She should be here any moment now, she says. However, it’s not her who makes it first but a sweaty and winded Cora.

Peter has never been a family man. Ever. He was more likely to skip the once a year family reunion than to actually attend it. However, he has to admit that he has always had a soft spot for Talia’s brats. He used to call Cora his tough crybaby because she would power through whatever was upsetting her like a seasoned warrior and then go to Peter’s downtown office to vent. If Peter was in a meeting she would patiently wait outside until it was over. Then she would unceremoniously enter, grab her pastel and sparkly stuffed unicorn (that he kept in plain view just for the entertainment it provided via his client’s reactions) and bawl her eyes out. Peter would let her vent and not intervene until she either sat on one of the chairs he had in front of his desk or on his lap. He then would give her a Mars bar that he kept in his first drawer just for her (Snickers for Derek, Skittles for Laura) and they would talk (she normally wanted revenge, Derek just a good vent and sometimes advice, and Laura could go both ways) until she felt better. If this happened at home, he more often than not would find himself with a squatter in his bed.

Peter fell into a coma in January and has woken up nearly in November, but of the next year, so it’s been nearly two years and Cora is fourteen already. She has gone from slightly chubby to spindly and Peter frowns inwardly, because he doesn’t like what it implies. She waits until the nurse excuses herself to walk towards the bed and try to muster a smile. Peter sighs and draws her in. She lands with a grunt on the bed and holds herself stiffly for a few seconds before she collapses and he starts to feel something wet where she has hidden her face on the crook of his neck.

Laura and Derek arrive shortly after but Cora doesn’t emerge from her hiding place. They both look startlingly thin and worn out, but Laura especially so. She tears up the moment she sees him awake and comes to hug him almost immediately. Derek remains by the door, looking miserable.

“I’m sorry,” Laura babbles. “My boss is an asshole and I couldn’t give him an excuse to fire me and-”

“Shush,” Peter croaks simply and she quiets and collapses just like Cora beside him.

Derek is still by the door.

Just before her death, Kate Argent was bragging about the methods she had used to get what she needed. Peter knows. Derek is sixteen years old right now, so he was fourteen then. He was a kid and even if some part of Peter wishes he had been fully an adult so he could blame him, rage and let his own anger out, he can’t. If anyone is to blame here apart from the obvious, it’s Peter and Talia and Mathew. They were the adults, they should have noticed something. Peter should have noticed something amiss.

And so, he does the most difficult thing he has done in his life and says, fully believing it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek. Come here.”

And Derek shudders, swallows thickly and unravels before his eyes. Cora starts crying again, Laura shakes even harder. The nurse has enough tact to not say anything when she finds all of them in a pile.

—

How Laura managed to keep Derek and Cora’s guardianship, Peter doesn’t know, but he suspects strongly that the Tribunal moved things along to facilitate it to make up for what happened. Their “kindness” and “helpfulness” ended right there, though, because Laura has been running herself to an early grave with three jobs to keep up with the hospital and their livelihood expenses. She should have received the life insurance dues but the company contested them and in the end she ended up with more expenses (from the lawyer’s fees) than what she started on, so she had to let it go because she couldn’t afford the risk of not being able to pay for the little flat where they live at the worst part of town. She never even started college in UCLA like she was supposed to.

She has been arguing a lot with Derek because he wants to leave his studies to work full time to relieve her of some of the pressure and she won’t have it. Cora is still in mandatory schooling but she helps sometimes at Derek’s workplace before going to school and around the neighbourhood for a pittance after it.

They are tired, worn down, stressed and downright miserable.

This situation is unacceptable.

The first thing he does is contact the Tribunal. If it was only about Peter, he’d prefer to make it on his own without having to depend on them, but this is about Laura not looking a step from keeling over, about Derek not feeling guilty about continuing his studies, about Cora not looking like a strong wind will blow her away, so he will swallow his pride. He may not be able to get what he wants from the insurance company, but he can strong arm the Tribunal into doing that for him.

On another front, Peter finds out that he has just missed the chance to take the bar exam again and the next examination period is in February, so he can’t do anything about that. The thing, though, is that his clients chose him mainly for his deviousness and his smarts, and those are more than fine even if he just woke up. He can try to reach out and offer his services as an external consultant until he has his license again. He doesn’t lose anything by trying and even if it doesn’t work, he will have let them know for when he goes back full time on February. If it does work, he’ll get another source of income that will give them a reprieve.

He even knows with whom to start.

“Peter, love, I have missed you so much!” one of his favourite clients gushes when he offers his services as a consultant and briefly demonstrates that he’s still as capable as ever. This particular client likes very hung Latinos that always turn to be golddiggers that want to steal his fortune. “My new lawyer is just no good! Dear Pablo got a veritable fortune out of me when he left me and that’s no good. I thought it would happen again with Roberto but here you are again to save me from a cruel fate!” He sighs dramatically. “He was so cute when we married, love, and he worshipped me so much…”

“You mean your cock,” Peter points out dryly, like many times before.

“Well, that too,” he giggles. “He did this thing with his tongue that… Let me tell you, I’m going to have trouble finding someone who knows how to do that, love, and I’m already mourning because it was fantastic.”

“You always say that, Anthony,” Peter says amused.

“It’s your fault, darling,” the man pouts. “You know you are my one true love. We would be so good together! Ah, but no use crying over what will never be.” He sighs again. “I’ll have my assistant send you all the necessary documents to your temporary address. Get back to me as soon as possible, yes?”

And so, by the time Peter finally gets fed up and leaves the hospital AMA, the insurance company has paid up everything it should have and he has a somewhat steady and hefty source of income.

—

There are a lot of changes in that first month. Among other small things, they move to a bigger flat while Peter sorts out the Hale land issue, Derek stops talking about leaving his studies and only works at the weekends (because apparently his work is not that bad, which in his case is as good as a singing endorsement), Cora stops helping around the neighbourhood (she just gives a hand at Derek’s workplace because she likes it too) and Laura is currently unemployed because Peter flat out ordered her to leave all her works when she couldn’t bring herself to make the decision even though she really wanted to. Peter also enforced the rule of having as many meals together as they can and has watched satisfied as they gain weight steadily.

All in all, he’s satisfied with the progress even though he knows they need to address what happened. He knows better than to push it, though, because even if the kids are as different from each other as day and night, they do share a common feature between them and with Peter. None of them do well when pushed to talk, they need to make up their minds by themselves first, so Peter just waits while they do. Peter is ready for when they feel like it.

And as he expected, Laura is the first to crack. Ever since she found herself with as much free time as she could ever want, she hasn’t known what to do with herself. Oh, the first few days (a week if he’s being generous) she enjoyed it. She slept in, watched series, went out and so on, but it got old pretty quickly and she started feeling antsy.

He’s working late in his office (the fancy way to call the kitchen until he actually gets himself a real one) when she slips in silently. She makes a show of looking inside the fridge but Peter already knows. Just like when this happened before the fire, though, he lets her be. After a couple of minutes, she sits in front of him with a mug of hot milk that he knows she probably won’t even touch and that Peter himself will end up drinking.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says finally. “I just… don’t know?” She rubs her mouth and then her forehead frustrated. “I used to and now I just… don’t?”

“So what?” Peter replies when it looks like she has run out of things to say.

“I-what?” she stutters bewildered.

“So what if you don’t know what to do?” Peter elaborates. “What’s the problem with that? What’s the rush?”

“I’m already twenty! I should-” she cuts herself before continuing desperately. “I can’t just stay doing nothing!”

Peter understands what she doesn’t say. She has devoted every second of the last two years to make sure the family stays afloat and now that she has nothing threatening to weight her down, she finds herself adrift.

“Then do something,” Peter says simply and she gapes. “You don’t know what to do with the rest of your life? Ok, fine, then decide what to do for the next day, week, month. Whatever you feel most comfortable with. Work, treat yourself, learn to do something new. You said yesterday that you wished you knew how to bake, right? Then find a course and learn. No? That’s no good? Then what else? Knitting? Martial Arts? Languages? If there’s anything that sparks your interest, even if it’s just a vague one, then go for it until you find your own way. And when you find it, you found it.”

“But-”

“Laura, you’ve more than earned the right to be unsure and try your way around. Your parents would have been proud of who you have become.” Peter reaches into his bag and gets a little bag of Skittles out to hand it to her. “I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Laura laughs and laughs as she catches the bag, then cries and cries, then she laughs again and then cries.

“Sorry,” she hiccups when she finally can get a hold of herself, just like she used to I’m the rare occasions that she cried this hard when she was younger. “I’m a mess.”

“Tell me something new,” Peter answers dryly, also like he used to.

That startles another laugh out of her and she throws a Skittle at him, again like she used to. Peter grabs it before it can impact on his eye (the little shit has always had deadly accuracy and one Skittle to the eye in his lifetime is all that Peter will tolerate) and then eats it. He makes a gagging face right afterwards, because he likes sweets but not the mass produced and just plain sugar kind. She laughs again when he steals her now lukewarm milk.

“You can come in, squirt,” she says after a few seconds, prompting a disgruntled Derek to come in.

Even as kids they had the rule to not intrude when one of them needed Peter, and he has always found that endearing and amusing in equal parts. He doesn’t let it show, of course, even if he shares an entertained look with Laura when Derek’s back is to them.

“You finished the milk,” he grumbles put upon and Peter nearly snickers.

“Here,” he says instead, handing him the mostly untouched mug of milk and Derek nods gratefully.

It looks as if he just came for something warm but he stops before leaving to fidget at the door. “Stiles is looking for a helper,” he finally lets out after a lot of hesitation. For moment Peter is a little confused but then he remembers that Stiles is the nickname one Mieczyslaw Stilinski prefers. The boss that always sends Derek home with a wagon of homemade sweets (that Peter secretly steals part of) because he pays him a ridiculously high extra every month to have him as a taste tester that gives him a brutally honest opinion about his creations. Peter doesn’t want to tell him that it’s most likely because both of Stiles’ parents also died before he was an adult and he wants to help him out. “He loves teaching people and he pays well.”

“I’ll look into it,” Laura answers warmly and the tips of Derek’s ears go red. “Thanks, squirt.”

“Not a squirt,” he grumbles before leaving.

—

Laura does apply for a job at R&R (one day Peter will actually remember to ask what that stands for) and gets it. She comes back looking mystified and Derek and Cora keep smirking. She keeps coming back happy and relaxed, though, so Peter, who is up to his ears with work, sees no reason to investigate further for now.

—

Cora seeks him out a week later. Just like she did before the fire, she unceremoniously walks into his office (still the glorified kitchen but hey, coffee and snacks right at hand) and then sits in a corner with the stuffed unicorn that Peter was so fond of. She isn’t crying this time but he knows better than to let that lure him into a false sense of safety.

When she finally turns to face him, her opening is certainly not what he was expecting.

“A boy called me a bitch today because I refused to go out with him,” she states completely serious and Peter is a bit thrown because she doesn’t exactly look affected by it. He waits for the other shoe to drop. “He said that if I had a mom I would be more of a lady… or something along those lines.” Ah. “You may get a call about that, by the way, because I think I broke his nose.”

Peter blinks, then he holds a hand for her to high-five (which does the trick to relax her from her tense posture) and then speaks. “Love, I know she was your mom and you thought her the perfect saint, but… well, no use on sugar coating things. Your mother was the most perfect bitch I’ve ever met and let me tell you, your father downright adored that part of her. In fact, he got all misty eyed and it stunk all around because of it. It was disgusting.”

“Uncle Peter! I don’t want to hear about mom and dad-” she groans revolted and can’t even bring herself finish the sentence. Peter hears Derek and Laura groaning too at the sitting room and he inwardly claps himself in the back.

“Yes, exactly! That was exactly my face,” he continues outwardly unfazed but deeply amused by her reaction. “I didn’t want to hear my sister doing the nasty either.”

“Uncle Peter!” they chorus from everywhere.

“Okay, okay. You’re such an overdramatic child…” He sighs as if put upon. “But back to your mother being a bitch and that being a fantastic thing.”

“Yes, please.”

“Your mother nearly broke the pack apart once.”

“What?!”

“What you just heard,” Peter nods. “A bit of back story for you first so you can understand what happened better. Before your mother was made the alpha, the Hales were a very traditional matriarchal family. Children were always had at least in groups of three and power would be always passed to the oldest daughter. If the main family didn’t manage to spawn one, they would lose the right of leadership and it would shift to the line that had the currently oldest daughter. As you can guess, that was the ground of very entertaining familial situations,” he adds dryly.

“Why always at least three?”

“The oldest daughter for the alpha and of the two remaining, the oldest would be the right hand and the youngest the left hand.” At her incredulous look he nods. “Yeah, I know. In your case, Laura would have been the alpha, Derek the right hand and you the left hand.”

“That’s just-”

“I know,” he nods chagrined. “Not only that didn’t let anyone choose what they wanted to be, but it also disregarded that one person may be completely unsuitable for the job.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Also, to put it bluntly, being the left hand was the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Invariably, they got pushed to the fringes of the pack and had to do all the dirty work behind the scenes and at the same time endure being looked down for it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “They had a system where the current holder of each position would teach the next one and in their eyes, that was more than enough. In reality it only served to drive the next generation apart just as much as the current one was.” Peter sighs remembering. “To make a story short, your uncle Daniel was too hot tempered and impulsive to be the right hand, your mother was too self-centred to be the alpha and I was too bitter and drawn to be the left hand by the end of the training period. None of us wanted to be any of those either. Do you know what your grandparents said?” She shakes her head in answer. “That she might be too soft to be the alpha.”

“Mom?!”

“Your mother was many things back then, love, but soft wasn’t one of them. In any case, she did a complete turn over into becoming the perfect daughter and alpha candidate. One neither Daniel nor I liked one bit.” Peter swallows remembering. “And if I didn’t want to become the left hand of the Talia from before, you can bet that I wanted to become that to that Talia even less. By then the rest of the family had caught wind of what was happening and demanded a trial period of a month before she was approved and Talia agreed to it.” Peter remembers that very night clearly even after so much time has gone by. He remembers her sneaking into his room at night and reaching to scent him with a softly whispered trust me, please. “It was one of the worst times I’ve ever had but I endured it and so did Daniel.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it have been better if some one else got the job? None of you wanted it, right?”

“Believe me, if you’d had more contact with your granduncles you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Peter says plainly. “Needless to say, she became the alpha in the end. But here comes the good stuff. By tradition, she should have chosen Daniel and I right then, but she didn’t. She chose your father instead, the most level headed and calm person I’ve ever met. It couldn’t be a more perfect choice even if she tried.” Peter grins remembering the mayhem. “Then she refused to choose a left hand and your grandmother and your granduncle Joshua very nearly had an apoplexy just then. It was glorious. Your uncle Daniel and your granduncle Estephan couldn’t stop cackling and let me tell you, I never saw him even smile when he was training me.” Peter smiles sadly rememberring the so brilliant and so tired man. “But, wait, it got even better. They all tried to stage a mutiny just then and she roared them into submission with so much ease it was ridiculous. When one of our cousins tried to push it and called her everything under the sun, she punched him and sent him rolling a few feet. Her bitch please face was a thing of beauty and I chose right then to be her left hand.”

“After all her troubles!”

“It was never a matter of capacity in my case love, but of willingness,” he corrects her simply. “But anyways, to wrap this up, your mother chose to be a bitch, to stand for what she believed on and not feel sorry about it. You can bet your ass that she would have high-fived you too today if she could have.”

“Really?”

“Really. But Cora, dear, the left hand still left in me is cringing at the execution. Next time be more subtle and don’t get caught.”

“I knew he’d never admit a girl punched him, though. He’s one of those macho guys.”

“Ok, I’ll admit that then,” Peter hums handing her a Mars bar. She grins happily. “But those types do crumble under the right pressure, you know. One push from their mothers and they’ll sing.”

“True. What do you suggest then?”

—

Peter does get called because of that punch. He talks his way out of trouble and not only Cora doesn’t get punished, but he gets the boy suspended for a week for harassment, with his own parents fully endorsing the punishment.

(Yes, Peter is that good.)

(He may have inadvertently created a monster, though.)

—

Unsurprisingly, Derek waits to seek him out until the house is empty because Laura is working and, as if sensing something was up, Cora has made herself scarce. He’s not crying, but he smells miserable, tired and sad. He hovers on the doorway for some time before making his way in. He has Cora’s unicorn clutched tightly between his arms when he finally takes a seat, which proves completely she knew something was up. He keeps silent for so long that, for a moment, Peter is sure this is one of those times when Derek doesn’t actually want to talk and just needs the company.

“If I hadn’t- If I-”

“It would still have happened. She would have tried Cora next and, if that had failed she would have found another way.”

“But it was me. I was so stupid! How could I not notice!”

“Hmm,” Peter hums, outwardly calm in the face of the storm even though he wants to find a way to revive both of those psychos so he can torture them back to death. “So if right now something about a child being abused appeared on the news you’d think them weak? And if it was of a child being raped?”

“I- No!”

“Then what is it that makes you different?”

“I wasn’t a child!”

“Weren’t you? So you think fourteen year olds aren’t children? So if you heard news of a teacher being arrested for having sex or a relationship with a fourteen year old you would think what happened is their fault? For being gullible? Or would you think that the teacher is to blame?”

“I- It’s not- It’s not the same!”

“Why? What makes you different? Being a werewolf? You think being a werewolf changes much hormonally or neurologically speaking?”

“I should have known,” Derek whispers quietly.

“She was really good, Derek, and you weren’t the first she did this to. There were other kids before. Do you think they are to blame?”

Derek doesn’t answer. He just swallows and then cries silently.

—

Slowly, very slowly, Derek begins to open up. So slowly, in fact, that for a while Peter thinks that he flubbed up with his approach when they talked. But, after a while, he starts noticing little changes here and there and he can finally breathe easier.

Time passes. Despite some hiccups, the kids look healthier, happier and more motivated. Laura loves baking and is talking about enrolling into a school to get a title; Derek has been thinking about studying psychology to become a counsellor; Cora’s grades have shot up and she’s thinking about trying different clubs to see what she likes.

On one rare alone night, Peter gets out a bottle of fine whisky and silently toasts Talia, who in her final moments chose to issue another big fuck you to the stupid Hale traditions and shot the matriarchal system to hell. Then he forces himself to remember both the good and the bad of those gone and then to let go.

—

At a month to make a year after he woke up, the kids stage an intervention against Peter.

“I didn’t stop working so that you could work yourself to an early grave, uncle Peter,” Laura scolds him frowning. She looks so much like Talia that for a second Peter expects her to take both of her shoes off to practice her accuracy with his head. Since unlike her mother Laura does have a good aim, this could only end badly for him.

“I could up my hours again?” Derek adds softly, which is arguably worse that Laura’s promise of physical violence and Peter inwardly cringes. “I’m sure Stiles would appreciate it? Cake Wars is coming up, after all.”

“Cake Wars?” Peter asks, confused. He now knows the meaning of R&R -Rebel’s Respite, in a homage to Star Wars, but because of copyright reasons he used that acronym in the registration form. Apparently he continuously makes a pun about how by doing that he’s rebelling against the copyright Imperium. Peter hasn’t met the man yet, even after all this time, but he doesn’t really need to to know he’s a complete dork- courtesy of Laura, but this is a term he has never heard before.

“No no no no no,” Laura intervenes hastily before the distraction can work. “No changing the topic.”

“Nice try, though, uncle Peter,” Cora says smirking.

Peter narrows his eyes at her with a clear a don’t you dare sass me, young lady, I taught you everything you know and she smirks even more. Ah damn, he did create a monster, after all.

He sighs resignedly.

—

Over the next week, Peter reduces his hours drastically. He’s been trying to save enough money to make a good savings account for each of the kids for any emergency or situation that may arise, but he figures that he has managed to put in a good enough amount by now and that he can take it easy for now.

He lets himself be convinced to go to Disneyland the last two weeks of summer vacation. It’s simultaneously one of the worst and the best things he has done in a while.

—

Cake Wars (again, the name is a bad Star Wars pun, why is Peter not surprised?) is a benefit contest that Stiles organizes every year ever since he opened his shop. Peter learns all about it while Laura pushes him towards the entrance. As they pass by, Peter notices a line that goes around the building and then extends until the street ends. Even the police is there, keeping an eye on the proceedings, and Peter vaguely wonders how Stiles feels about his late dad’s department’s presence.

Whatever he was expecting about the man, it doesn’t even get close to what he actually finds. Lean framed, with tousled brown hair and almond shaped amber eyes, Stiles is a ball of energy that never stops moving. He’s wearing a black chef uniform with an apron with a Darth Baker emblazoned on it. He’s also waving around what Peter knows to be lightsaber salt and sugar shakers and he hasn’t stopped grining even for a second since they got here.

When he spots them, he solemnly passes the lightsabers to a kid that looks scared shitless (Liam, Peter’s mind provides) and then leaves him to the wolves in favour of approaching them.

(Oh, if Peter didn’t like him already because of how much he helps his kids, he would now.)

“Laura! Mrs. Whittemore says she wants to challenge your pistachio panacotta, can you believe that?”

“Whaaaat???” she exclaims before becoming a woman on in a mission and abandoning Peter behind.

“I don’t think Mrs. Whittemore is actually here for the benefit,” he confides in Derek, who just rolls his eyes in unison with Cora, prompting a wider smile from Stiles. “I think she still hasn’t gotten over her crushing defeat last year so she’s trying a weaker” he makes quotation marks with his hands, “opponent. Your sister is gonna eat her alive,” he laughs, prompting another round of snickers out of them.

“Where do you need us, Stiles?” Derek finally asks looking at the chaos around.

“Unless you prefer to go to help Kira and Mason at the counter, go to the back with Erica and Boyd, will you?” Peter spots immediately how his nephew relaxes at not having to face the crowd dead-on. He’s pretty sure that Stiles offered him an out on purpose. “And you, awesome ninja knight,” he says turning towards a preening Cora and nodding towards Liam, “go help the damsel in distress before he gets eaten by the dragons, ok? Oh, and if you spot Scott along the way, try to put a leash on him and get him to the counter again. I swear, he’s like a puppy, he gets distracted with everything and suddenly I don’t even know where he is.”

“I heard that!” someone shouts from behind, prompting a snicker out of Derek and a smirk out of Cora.

“You were supposed to!” Stiles shouts back without even turning. “Don’t think I didn’t see you filching those lemon bars!”

“Lies and slander!”

“You still have the crumbs all over your face, you pig!”

“Oops!” a man eeps as he passes them by in the direction of the counter and Stiles rolls his eyes fondly.

“You must be the elusive Peter Hale,” he greets turning towards him and reaching for a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Same here,” Peter answers warmly.

“So, I heard that you’re a really good lawyer?”

“Yes?”

“Good, because Laura looks about ten seconds away from murdering Mrs. Whittemore and about just five from castrating her son, and since Mr. Whittemore is the district attorney she’s gonna need a really good one.”

“That’s insulting, you know?” Peter answers very seriously, with both eyebrows sky high. “As if my children would be stupid enough to get caught. I taught them better than that.”

For a moment, Stiles looks surprised. Then his whole face lights up and he grins delighted. “Ohhh, I like you. I hope you know that I’m never letting you go now,” he exclaims happily.

“FYI: the Stiles package includes a very high content of sweets, wit, sarcasm and dorkiness seasoned with a generous amount of clumsiness and nerdery. Also, when he says he’s not letting you go, he means it,” a teen pipes as he passes them and Stiles flips him the finger as the tips of his ears go red.

Peter can’t help himself and laughs, utterly charmed.

#my fanfiction #teen wolf #steter #mysenia

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myfuturescratchbook · 6 years

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Just like always - Chapter 4

Characters: Dean, Sam, John (mentioned: Caleb and Bobby)

Summary: For the first time in years, Dean lets his hopes go high for an actual birthday. But things never go very well with Winchesters, especially if they are supposed to go as planned.

Word Count: 2213

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean opened his eyes to a dark room. Well, it wasn’t all dark. Small rays of orange filled the room, either the morning or the evening sun. The light wasn’t enough to brighten the white walls, white bed, white everything.

Dean sighed. A hospital.

Judging by his heavy limbs and aching head, he’d been the one getting hurt. Again. Beats sitting next to Dad or Sam in the hospital bed, though. Dad. Sam.

They were on a hunt, Dean was in the hospital. What if they had called while he was here? What if something happened? What if they hadn’t called?

He only realized he had troubles breathing when he started coughing, and it turned to a fit. Damn, his throat felt like dry paper, scrubbing with every breath. He struggled for air, and his back arched, trying to escape the pain from the inside. He tried control his breathing, return to an even, human pattern without pulverizing his airways, but it didn’t work, and serious panic started to take hold of his mind.

Suddenly he noticed a hand on his shoulders, gently pushing him down on to the bed. “Calm down, son. You’re in the hospital. Calm down.”

“Dad?” asked Dean, turning to the man he hadn’t noticed in the room. Or rather, he tried to ask, but the only thing escaping his mouth was another cough. Next second his father was pushing a glass against Dean’s lips. “Calm down, Dean. Drink some water.”

Dean didn’t know if it was because of the order, or the calm and steadiness in Dad’s familiar voice, but he finally felt the senses and control return. Dad seemed to control the amount of oxygen in the air, too. He parted his lips, and Dad helped him get some of the cool water through his throat without Dean moving much. “Thanks, Dad,” he croaked. His voice was still damn weak, but at least it was audible this time. He was about to ask why he woke up in a hospital, but Dad was faster.

“How are you feeling, son?”

“I’m okay,” he answered, almost in instinct. At Dad’s inquiring and persistent frown, he made a mental check-up. His head hurt, but it wasn’t that bad. His throat still felt sore, though the water had helped. Even during his little cough crisis there hadn’t been any other pain, just a general weight on every limb. So, nothing important. “I’m okay, Dad.”

“That’s good.” Dad leaned back in his chair, relaxing his shoulders. He was squinting, and dark shadows encircled his eyes.

“What happened, Dad?”

A small smile appeared on Dad’s face. “You got sick.”

Sick? Dean took his eyes from his father’s exhausted features and looked at the opposite wall. He remembered having fever. But he had taken the medicine… Hadn’t he? Something else was strange – he’d been alone.

He turned back to his father. “You were on a hunt, what happened? Are you two okay? Where’s Sam?” He tried to sit up, leaning on his elbows, trying to see the bed behind Dad. “Are you okay?” Breathing was getting harder again, like something was stringing around his neck, cutting his airways once again.

“Dean, calm down, everything’s okay-”

“Dad, where’s Sam? Bring me-”

“I said, he’s okay, Dean!” At Dad’s raised voice Dean stopped his struggle to sit up and gave in to his father’s hands pinning him down. “He’s fine,” his father repeated much softer, and suddenly something behind him moved.

“Dean?” Sammy’s drowsy voice filled the sudden quiet of the hospital room.

Before Dean could answer, Sam had already stumbled to his side, staring at him next to their father’s seat with wide eyes. “You’re awake! Finally!” With that, a pile of little brother was in his arms. Dean gave him a minute, and put an arm around his back, enjoying the presence he’d missed the last few days. He gave him long enough to see Dad’s soft, rare smile before he drew back. “Sam… your chick is showing, dude.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam shot back, without leaving his position, tightening his grip around Dean if anything, squeezing Dean’s chest and everything inside.

“I can’t breathe, Sam.”

“Sam, why don’t you go find the doctor and tell him your brother’s awake,” Dad intervened with a chuckle, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam drew back with excitement and a wide grin. “Yessir,” he chirped, and run off after throwing another smile like an excited puppy at Dean. “I’ll be right back!”

“Don’t run over any granny, bitch!”

Sam’s ‘jerk!’ echoed through the halls, along with an apology and a hushing voice.

“This boy is too excited for his own good,” Dean laughed. He made another attempt to sit up, and Dad helped him to adjust the pillow. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he was leaning to the back of the bed instead of lying flat.

“He did wait all night for you to wake up, after all,” Dad said, with a chuckle himself.

All night? How long – “Dad, what day is it?”

Dad’s eyes hardened again, and Dean knew his reaction would be analysed and interpreted in a way only his father could. “

It’s Thursday.”

Dean blinked before he made sure. “Thursday?”

Dad nodded.

“Son of a -” Dean tried to remember. On Monday he’d realized he was gonna be real sick, he’d had taken the first medicine. He’d woken up next morning, his head had felt like it was going to explode, like something had drained all the blood in his veins. At some point he’d tried to make soup, and he’d fallen asleep at the table… the soup had burned on the stove. But all of this… they were hazy memories, like a dream he was about to forget… memories of Tuesday morning, early morning.

Next thing he knew was the hospital. He’d been knocked out for two days. By a fever. A stupid cold!

“When… when did you two…�� His voice trailed off, but Dad knew what he was asking.

“We brought you here yesterday.”

Dean tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he didn’t remember two days of his life, one of which had been his birthday. “What happened to the hunt?”

“I called it off.”

Dean wasn’t even sure if there was accusation in Dad’s voice, but he felt awful. Dad had cancelled a hunt because Dean had caught a cold.

“I’m sorry, Dad. On the hunt this weekend I’ll-” But Dean didn’t get to say what he’d do.

“I called that one off, too.”

Dean couldn’t believe the indifference in Dad’s voice. He’d cancelled a hunt he’d been preparing for weeks. This couldn’t be about Dean being sick. There had to be something else. Dad wouldn’t bail on a hunt because Dean had a little fever and headache. Right? “Why?”

“Doc said you have to stay for at least five more days.”

Five days? “Since when do we care what the doctors say, Dad? I’m fine!” Or he would be, until the hunt.

“We care this time.”

Dean didn’t understand, this was against everything they’d done this far. Nothing is important enough to cancel a hunt. No party, no friend, no school play, no match. And certainly not a stupid cold. “Dad, come on. The hunt is important, we can’t just leave the people to die. I’m fine, I can check out AMA, or climb out of the window -”

“Enough.” Dad’s sharp words cut his sentence like a silver knife. “I said we’re staying, and that’s it. I’m still the one calling the shots. Do I make myself clear?”

A shiver run through Dean’s back at the stone-cold voice. There was no point in arguing anymore. But that wasn’t what made Dean shudder to his bones. Behind the icy expression there was hot anger, fury, directed at Dean, and if they hadn’t been in a hospital room, Dad surely would have full out yelled at him. But Dean couldn’t understand. The hunt was important, Dean knew it was, and he wasn’t the one calling it off – he tried not to be in the way, even with the sickness, not to be a burden, so why was Dad angry? What was Dean supposed to do, to say?

Probably the same as always. “Yessir.”

Something in his voice seemed to make Dad waver, but Dean couldn’t place it. It seemed like he wasn’t doing anything right these days, anyways.

“Dean -”

The nurses chose that moment to pop in and Dad stepped back without finishing his words.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“It’s Dean,” he corrected, looking away from the door, the nurses, and Dad.

“Okay, Dean, then. We would like to make a small check-up, so if you could give us a minute…” The last part was directed at John and Sam, who’d just entered the room. “Don’t worry, it’ll only take a couple minutes, then you can have him back.” She smiled, probably hoping to lighten up the mood.

“Take your time.” Dean replied. He didn’t really feel like looking after Dad when he left the room.

Dean sighed in relief as the nurses finally left the room. This could have been so much more pleasant if the hot one, who seemed to be the only to be too young to be his grandmother, hadn’t been a clumsy newbie who’d actually poked him with the wrong needle over and over and painted a dotted pattern on his arm until the granny took over and had therefore ruined every chance for a little fun.

Her loss, Dean thought as they closed the doors behind them.

He shifted to a more comfortable position. They’d given him some pills to take the weight of his limbs, but it still took an unusual amount of force to move. After finally sitting in a vertical position (the granny nurse had helped him to set the bed), his eyes fell on the empty bed and chair next to his own. He wondered if Dad and Sam had already left. Probably not, as Sam wouldn’t have gone anywhere without seeing him again. But sooner or later he would be alone in the hospital. For a long time, if he really had to stay for five days. If Dean had his way, he would’ve been out that night, no question.

He blew out another breath. Five days, and no TV.

Suddenly the door flew open, and Sam was grinning at him. “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, nerd.” Dean rolled his eyes at the good mood of his brother. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’ll be on my feet on only five days.”

The grin instantly fell, and a worry filled frown appeared on Sam’s face. “You seemed like you weren’t in pain, and the doctors and Dad said -”

“I’m fine, Sam. Just not in the mood for hospital entertainment.”

“Then stop complaining, you idiot.” He pulled the chair until it was as close to Dean’s bed as possible and sat down, his knees touching the metal of the bed. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but since you’re whining like you’re two, I guess I should.”

He made a dramatic pause, and Dean knew he had to show curiosity to make Sam continue. “Please, my little, kind brother, tell me what you have prepared for me.” He made sure to put enough irony in his voice, which Sam still ignored with grace.

“If you insist,” Sam rolled his eyes theatrically, acting like he actually considered his next words, “I asked the nurse, and she said you take your meds, you could eat pie tomorrow!”

Dean could see how happy Sam was to bring these “good” news, but all he could hear was the fact that he was too weak to eat pie, just like he was too weak to leave the hospital, too weak to hunt, too weak to help Dad.

Still, he tried a smile for his little brother. “Sounds great.”

But Sam realized it hadn’t worked. Of course, he did, he was his brother after all. Once again, his smile faltered, and he turned to the little five-year-old with the slouched shoulders after breaking his brother’s toy.

“Tell me about your trip,” Dean said, ending the silence before it became too uncomfortable.

“It was okay,” Sam breathed out, looking at his hands.

Dean raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

Sam chuckled. “Well, not really.” And he fell into his usual pattern of complaints. How it had been boring, how oblivious every person in town had been about the supernatural, how it had been a creature Sam had never heard of. Dean listened with one ear as he observed birds and bugs from the window on the other side.

“… And Dad gave me five more books to read and that thing wasn’t even mentioned anywhere.”

“Good thing you got a break, then.” Dean muttered, more to himself than for Sam.

Sam froze. “What?”

Dean sighed. “Good thing you have a distraction now, then.” He tried to soften his previous words, he didn’t want to destroy Sam’s mood, but he just couldn’t act like he was okay with being chained to the hospital and making them miss a hunt. Because of a stupid fever.

He didn’t look at Sam, even at the lack of response. But, after a few seconds, he heard Sam sniffle, and his head snapped to his little brother on reflex. “Sam?”

Sam was staring at a random spot on the bed, glaring holes in it. Dean could see how he fought back his tears, something Sam had never been really good at.

“Sam, I’m sorry, man, what’s wrong?”

But Sam bit his lips, swallowed, sniffed his nose once more.

“Sammy, come on, don’t cry…” Dean’s voice trailed off. After all this years he’d been there for Sam, he still lost it when Sam cried. He wanted to make it stop, but he had no idea how. Why was he even crying? “Sam, dude, it’s -”

Finally, Sam snapped. “You’re an idiot!” He jumped up, rubbing his eyes with fury, which could’ve been funny if this was on TV and Sam was a toddler.

But he wasn’t, and this was real. And Sam broke off into his rant. “Don’t you dare say it’s okay, or stupid or unnecessary! You are a stupid idiot!”

Dean didn’t even try to defend himself, there was no way Sam would let him speak, even if he still had no idea what this was about.

“You think it was a nice distraction? Maybe that I was happy to find you like that?”

“Sam, I -”

“I was worried sick, Dean! I was already worried when you wouldn’t talk on the phone, only answer with texts. You did it because I could’ve told you were sick, right? You didn’t want me to know.”

“I -” didn’t want you to worry. Well, look how that turned out.

“Suddenly there was radio silence, no answer, no call, no text. I couldn’t bring Dad to call you, I made Bobby call, and there was nothing. And I try to not worry, I try to figure out the damn hunt, I try to believe Dad.” He mimicked Dad in a ridiculous way. “’He’s old enough, he knows what to do, he will be okay. What could even happen.’ He thought I wanted to bail, just like you did.”

Something started to click in Dean’s head. He could see why Sam was enraged, offended even.

“But you know what was worse?” The fire of rage in Sam’s eyes faded, and tears came up once again. He continued with a shaky voice, chin wobbling. “Dad called, and I was so sure, I hoped you would answer, that you were just angry, or had been in a fight, or don’t know, forget your keys and phone in the motel room. But you didn’t answer. And Dad… He stopped saying you’d be alright, he stopped telling me to focus on the hunt.

“And after two hours we drove back, and something had burnt in the motel. And I found you, in your bed…” He looked Dean in the eye, and all traces of voice left Dean. He tried not to think about how he would’ve felt if the roles were reversed.

“You weren’t moving. I jumped on you, and you didn’t wake up… And Dad realized what was wrong… He said you were burning up…” He was still looking at Dean, but Dean didn’t think he was seeing him, he seemed lost in what he remembered, shaking his head slightly. “Dad was so worried, Dean… He was scared… he didn’t want to show it, he didn’t say anything. But the way he drove, he yelled at the doctors, the nurses, he didn’t want to leave your side.”

Dean couldn’t think of Dad like that, but if his condition really was that bad…

“You were in coma for hours. You just lay there, and you didn’t move, nothing. And the doctors couldn’t say anything. I thought… I thought… Two hours later, and it would’ve been too late, Dean.” Sam’s face crumpled up in tears again and he tried to hide it by rubbing his eyes, but Dean had seen enough.

He raised one arm, and Sam took the gesture for what it was. He sat down next to Dean and embraced him. Usually, Dean would make fun of him, tell him he was too old and big for cuddling, but he felt the shivering of his little brother. And he took it. He took what Sam had to give. Because Sam had never been good at bottling things up.

He’d really given Sam a good scare… That was what was happening here. Seeing Dad worried always panicked the boys, because it was one of the rarest things in the world. And if Dad had been really that worried, that scared… And Dean didn’t doubt it. If there was anything to scare Dad, it was Sam or Dean, even if he usually didn’t show it. Sam had seen that, and there had been no one to comfort him… No matter how awesome Dad was, he didn’t handle the comfort part well. Especially not Sam’s. Dean had really scared the crap out of both.

Another thought his brain was fighting against occurred. Not moving. Didn’t wake up. Coma.

Dean hadn’t thought about the fact that he could’ve died. Actually died. He woke up that morning, but he didn’t have to. Burnt soup could’ve been his last thought. He could’ve never seen his brother and father again.

He closed his eyes with a deep breath. Now that he knew what happened in the two days he was out, he understood. He understood Sam’s over-happy mood at his brother being in the hospital. He understood that he had to stay for five more days. He understood Dad’s reaction earlier.

What he didn’t understand, though… He raised his hand on Sam’s back, giving him room and signal to move back. Sam looked up. “It wasn’t just a cold, was it?”

Sam’s eyes flickered, and he settled on Dean’s chest again. “It was some bacteria in your head. You must’ve caught it somewhere. Nothing to do with the weather.”

Dean put his hand on Sammy’s head, pressing him back to his chest. Suddenly, happiness overwhelmed every fibre in him. Yeah, he was stuck in a hospital bed, so what? He was alive, he had a little brother, whom you could call cute and adorable it you were the chick-flick-type, he had an awesome dad who did everything he could to protect his sons, even if he wasn’t around much. He was glad he’d woken up this morning.

And he felt awful for making his family go through that. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“What for?” Sam asked with a muffled voice.

“For getting sick.”

“You’re still an idiot.”

Dean scoffed. “Let me apologize in peace, brat. It’s not gonna happen twice.”

Sam squinted Dean’s side without moving. “Don’t be sorry for getting sick. Be sorry for not telling me or Dad, for not getting help. For not taking care of yourself.”

Dean smiled. He had such an emotion-filled, dramatic brother. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

A few seconds they just laid there, treasuring the moment. Until Dean remembered something that had bugged him earlier. “Sam?”

Finally, Sam sat up, sensing this was an important question.

Dean squinted his eyes. “Did you really think I might’ve not answered your texts because I locked myself out?”

Sam averted his eyes, and Dean thought he saw his brother’s cheek redden in embarrassment. “I was worried!” he mumbled.

“Dude!” He made sure he showed how much this thought offended him, pressing down a grin with difficulties. “I’ve been picking locks before I picked up the pen! Even for you upstanding citizen a crappy motel door isn’t a problem.”

“I know,” Sam said, uncomfortable with the accusation of pointless theories.

“Hell, we broke into the mansion of the millionaire together, the one with the poltergeist -”

“I know, Dean!”

Dean laughed. Sammy, always easy to upset when criticized of not thinking things through.

“You’re the biggest idiot, you know that?” A punch landed on Dean’s arm, not hard enough to leave a bruise, but definitely making itself noticed.

“Good thing I have such a smartass little brother, then.”

#supernatural #spn fic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #gen fic #john winchester #just like always #chapter 4

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sassysillysavvy · 7 years

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Post Arc 4. Flint has been in Ikhaya for a couple of weeks now, still trying to work out a deal with the country’s new king: Zwelakhe (zway-lock-eh). He and trusted friend Amahle (ah-mah-and then basically pronounce ‘slay’ as if you have braces lol literally no other way to explain that through text) talk about him. A bit of a character study, along with a look at how outsiders view Flint now after his actions during the Normal War. Almost 4K words of a random scene I thought up and decided to write over the course of like, a week. Dear lord help me.

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Zwelakhe’s study was a comfortable space to Amahle; large, yet not unreasonably so, but filled with enough bookshelves, seating areas, and personal items to make it feel cozy and homely. That was always Zwelakhe’s taste - never one to flaunt riches or want more than he already had. That was what made him such a good ruler, and why Amahle knew his reign would be long and prosperous.

The windows were open, letting in the cool night air. Even during the midst of winter, it still remained a pleasantly chilly temperature. Just enough for a few loose layers, but nothing like the stories of white snow and frigid ice like she heard from Terret, Nova’s capitol. It was a refreshing type of coolness, and the distant murmur of crashing waves soothed Amahle further into her seat. She would never grow tired of that sound.

The room was lit with orange, glowing candles. They flickered when a soft breeze would occasionally pass through the windows, making shadows dance on the wall. She felt nothing but safe in that room however, having been there countless times even before it belonged to Zwelakhe. She and his father had shared many conversations there. It was a familiar space and the couch was just as plush and warm as it always was, leaving her relaxed and content.

At the center table, Zwelakhe poured two glasses of wine. She sent him a smile as he passed one to her, taking it with thanks. He held his own as he sat down across from her, slumping just a bit too far in his chair in a show of comfort and security. He wasn’t the king of Ikhaya right now; he was a man spending time with a childhood friend, a caretaker, an older sister figure. He had a lazy smile on his face as he gave her a look. “So, how is it going?” he asked simply and vaguely, taking a sip of his drink.

Amahle grinned back, knowingly. “The city?” she hummed, “Or… the Ambassador?”

He chuckled. “The Ambassador, of course.”

Ah… The Ambassador of Nova. Flint Liang. He was an interesting one, full of stories and rumors both good and bad. Once a golden child, then a traitor to his people. Apparently it had all been an act, though? She heard both sides, all of it too inconsistent to pick her own answer from the bunch. Arrogant, she had heard, Arrogant, liar, manipulator, murderer. Yet words like genius and respectful, passionate, loyal, were also amongst the chaos. Flint Liang had a long history over in his home country, despite his young age of twenty. Knowing that, Amahle had watched him close from the second she met him.

And what she realized was-

“He is… fine.”

Her answer was as nonchalant as the shrug of her shoulders. Amahle should’ve known, from her own experience with the old king and his sons, that people liked to talk. Stories were twisted from ear to ear, and many were untruthful or blown out of proportion. Flint Liang was spoken up to be this carefully suave man, but instead, he was… sort of clumsy, if she were to be honest. Humanly clumsy, with stutters on his lips and eyes that just wouldn’t stay in one spot.

“He has his secrets,” she admitted, “As we all do.” Rumors had to start from somewhere. “And his behavior is slightly… off.” Or perhaps everyone in Nova jittered as much as he did? She wouldn’t know. “But… he tries.” She took a sip of her wine. It was smooth on her tongue. “Albeit quite hard-” It was amusing at times. “But he tries. And that is all that matters, is it not?”

Zwelakhe was watching her with that look in his green eyes, the one he used when he thought he knew something she didn’t. Keyword: thought. She faced it, something smug in her smile this time. She helped raise him. There was nothing Zwelakhe knew that she didn’t. “I wouldn’t say he is untrustworthy,” she continued, and Zwelakhe nodded his head in satisfaction from her answer. She watched him drink, his free hand drumming quietly on the armrest of his chair. “He seems genuinely good.”

His little smiles, how she noticed him actively trying to give everyone equal, full attention when they spoke. Her mind flashed back to the day they were on that boat, and when she so stupidly fell out, dragging him in with her into freezing water, all he did was laugh. He laughed, helped her back in the boat, and made jokes as they rung the water out of their clothes.

(“I am so sorry,” she repeated sheepishly, twisting the fabric of her soaked skirt between her hands.

“It’s all right.” He hadn’t lost that smile yet. “I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to go swimming today but… Hey. Why not.”)

He didn’t hold eye contact very well, that she had noticed, but she didn’t think it was because he had something to hide. It seemed natural to him instead of a nervous tick, and his careful words in front of Zwelakhe were more from desperation to be accepted than from attempts at manipulation. Nothing at all like she had heard about him. “He is just trying to do the right thing.” Earn back his rulers’ trust. Save his country. “I sense no malicious intent.”

She took another drink after her speech, watching as Zwelakhe nodded again. It felt more like he was nodding with her than at her. His position hadn’t changed at all, remaining relaxed as he hummed over the lip of his glass. “I figured you would say that.”

Ah. So that’s why he didn’t seem surprised by her answer.

Amahle smiled into her own wine, interest in her eyes as she listened.

“You two seem at ease around each other. Comfortable,” he explained. “I see no tension.” Zwelakhe met her gaze from across the small space between them, amusement matching her interest. “In fact… I would even say that you enjoy his presence.”

She looked away, smile brightening. Perhaps little Zwe was more observant than she thought. Although… she wasn’t exactly hiding anything. “Why ask me about it then?”

Zwelakhe just laughed. She almost thought he wasn’t going to reply, until he playfully wagged his finger at her. “You did not deny my claims,” he teased.

And she just shrugged back, as nonchalant as last time. “No.” Another sip. It tasted delicious. “I did not.”

That brought out another bark of laughter from Zwe, his head shaking in disbelief. She felt her ears burning hot in the chill of the room, but there was no shame. She did say that Flint Liang was… interesting. She thought back to the way he glanced at her during dinner, his rigid shoulders seeming to unwind just at the look of her, at the reminder that she was there: a warmth in the midst of a foreign table, all eyes cautious and distant on him. She remembered the pride that welled in her chest at that realization, that she was making him feel comfortable in a tense atmosphere; that he looked to her when he felt helpless.

Maybe it was just because she had grown to be a familiar face to him. Or perhaps… it was something else.

She really shouldn’t be getting her hopes up like that.

Zwelakhe leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs. That smile remained on his face but he grew serious, bringing their conversation back around. “I trust your word, Ama. You know I do.” Eight years of close friendship will do that. “I trust you with my life.” Which was why she was one of his advisors, his eyes in the city, his teacher - still to that day. It warmed her heart that they had remained so close. “That is why I asked you to watch Nova’s Ambassador for me. After what happened during their war…”

Zwelakhe knew Flint. They had been friends when Flint lived in Ikhaya at thirteen, but a lot can change in seven years. Personalities, positions, titles… Goals. Ambitions. Desires. And after hearing about Flint’s treachery during Nova’s war, it was only logical that Zwelakhe was skeptical.

“I trust you… but you are a woman.”

Amahle felt she should probably be offended, but she knew Zwe. She just rose her brow and waited.

“A very beautiful woman, at that.” He chuckled at her look as he leaned back in his seat. “I’m just wondering how the Ambassador would react around someone… not quite so beautiful.”

She snorted. So that was what he was worried about. “You think he is being nice to me because of my looks?”

“I think he is being nice to you because he likes you.”

Hearing those words caused a warmth it really shouldn’t have, but Amahle took the moment to remove herself personally from the equation and think about it. It made sense. From the way Flint looked at her, she wouldn’t be surprised. Or maybe she was just hoping she wouldn’t be surprised. Either way, she laughed into her wine as she finished off the glass. “I certainly wouldn’t deny that possibility.”

“Exactly.” Zwelakhe scratched at his beard, and she felt his eyes on her as she set her now empty glass on the table. “So you wouldn’t mind if I got a second opinion?”

“No. I agree with you.” She didn’t think she was being biased with her job. It was to protect Zwelakhe and his brothers, and nothing came in between her and their protection. She honestly believed Flint had a good heart, but it wouldn’t hurt having someone else observe the Ambassador for a bit.

Especially if Mister Liang was giving her special treatment from certain feelings towards her.

That didn’t stop her from sending Zwe another little smirk though, as she crossed her legs at the ankle. She looked out the window, nothing but the pale glow of moonlight in the distance with the sound of ocean waves. “You will not get a different answer than the one you have already received, though.” Zwelahke could have as many people as he wanted observe the Ambassador, but Amahle was confident they would all come to the same conclusion.

He must’ve thought her unwavering certainty was amusing from the sound of his snickering. He didn’t challenge her though, just finished off his own drink as they sat in comfortable silence. It was late. She should probably head to bed soon.

She was about to stand and call it a night, until Zwelakhe stopped her.

“Ama,” he called for her, using that nickname he had given her back when they met. She looked at him, her smile falling a bit from his sudden, serious expression. His entire focus was on her. “What is the one thing that stands out to you the most about him?”

It was such an open ended question. And perhaps that was what he had intended, wanting to know specifically how she would answer it.

There were many ways she could answer it.

His eyes, deep and royal purple, usually caught attention first. She could say his smile. It was small and hesitant and unseen at times, yet a playful smirk at others. His pride - dangerous, she knew, but it also reminded her of herself. Amahle knew what she was capable of and found herself often reminding people of it. His was more on the blunt side of the spectrum, but…

The way he spoke of his family. Gently, affectionately, yet with guilt and shame from - what she can only imagine - he had done during their war. She could tell that he cared about them. He really cared, despite what had been said about him, and what he had done. His careful yet strong and bold hands. His intelligence. His courage - or outright stupidity, she hadn’t decided yet which one - for sailing to the one place where anyone could kill him and nothing could stop it. He wasn’t on his home land anymore… His rules no longer applied.

She could talk about the way she’d feel his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking, but when she did, he’d turn away. About his laugh, his subtle jokes, his desperation to ease everyone around him and fit in yet stand out all at the same time. His contradictions. His ability to move mountains without even speaking a word, while also possessing the same skill to make himself seem as invisible as possible in a crowded room.

There was a list forming in her head… but Amahle had a feeling it wasn’t what Zwelakhe wanted. Or maybe, what he shouldn’t hear. It was probably best just to keep that list for her own benefit.

She’d put it to good use.

In the meantime, Amahle concentrated on looking at Zwelakhe’s question from a different perspective: a professional one. She found her answer simply and easily.

“His cautiousness,” she hummed, looking back towards the window. She idly played with the fabric of her skirt as she spoke, feeling Zwelakhe watching her with focus. “He is incredibly careful with what he says and does… but I doubt it’s from a fear of exposure or deceptive motives. He is not trying to trick us, he’s…-”

(Amahle observed him with confusion. The Ambassador of Nova. Healer Flint Liang. Savior. Proud man. Arrogant, she had heard; he stood tall and shameless with his head held high.

…He stood awkward and shy with his head held down, actually. Fiddling hands. Shifting eyes. He reminded her of a new kid being introduced to an already tight-knit group of friends. Was this the same Flint Liang she had heard so much about?)

“He’s trying to get us to like him.”

It sounded so silly when she put it that way, like he really was the new kid trying to be accepted. But was it not true? His attempts to find even ground with Zwelakhe, similarities and likes and dislikes that matched together like the way they did when Flint was thirteen and Zwe was fifteen. His steps that were just slightly behind hers when they walked, giving her control over their interactions. He would shift straight into Zulu without hesitation, give everyone a smile even when he really didn’t want to, and he kept his head down to compensate for his height that usually stood over most.

He was exactly that new kid that was trying to be accepted into the group.

“He understands the weight that is riding on his shoulders right now. He’ll do anything at this point to gain back the trust of his rulers, to gain your trust… Probably even his own.”

At first glance, Flint didn’t seem like the type to doubt or regret his own decisions. But Amahle discovered throughout her life that people were not how they always seemed, and she had learned quite a bit about Flint during her time with him. If there was one thing Amahle knew, for sure, it was that Flint understood his position. He knew it, and he immensely regretted it. They hadn’t spoken in detail about what happened in Nova but she could feel it.

He was desperate to fix his mistakes. He craved to prove the rumors wrong, to prove his loyalty again and win back the hearts of the people. And because of that, because of his sincerity and want to save his country, to help theirs, she knew, despite what was said of him, she knew-

“He won’t betray you, Zwe, no matter what happened during their war.”

Zwelakhe looked skeptical. She didn’t entirely blame him. Amahle didn’t keep up too much with Nova’s world, but she was positive no one had expected Flint to turn his back on them. Granted, it was an act… but a convincing one, from what she had heard. Flint Liang was their golden child, their prodigy. He was as close to the Novian rulers as close could be, yet he still carried out a complicated and complex plan alone, without their knowledge, that could’ve very well gotten him killed without anyone finding out the truth. That didn’t seem like the type of person to trust. It didn’t sound wise to rely on someone like that, who reacted in such an unexpected and unpredictable way to a serious situation. Someone who separated himself, who turned away from his rulers to take everything into his own hands like he alone could stop an all out war.

But there was something continuously nagging at her about the whole ordeal - something she couldn’t ignore.

It had been an unexpected move for a reason.

Never before had there been word of Flint Liang acting out so boldly. He had his reputation of good, talented, respectful. A bit prideful at times, but Flint was not known for going against his rulers’ choices. What he had done shocked everyone from how out of the blue it had been, how uncharacteristic, which told Amahle it was not a normal occurrence and one he wouldn’t have resorted to if they hadn’t been in such a desperate situation.

Well… she assumed it was desperate, but that was just the thing. They didn’t know how desperate the situation actually was.

Zwelakhe’s father was ill during Nova’s issues. They, in Ikhaya, were aware of some of it - the news about strange new weapons and a rebellion - but only the bare minimum. They didn’t need to, not when they had no desire to join in on the bloodbath. They tried to stay out of it, even pulling back their ships when the trade route between Ikhaya and Nova had been attacked. With Ikhaya’s king sick, and Zwelakhe only standing in as a substitute at the time, they couldn’t afford to waste men or supplies.

Especially when those rebels had been more than happy to leave them alone.

They weren’t aware of the extent of Nova’s war with the Normals. Even then, after all that time, they didn’t have the details. All they knew at that point was that the rebels had fallen, the war was over, but Nova had suffered and they were in need of supplies and wanted their trade route running again. Without all of the information, inconsistencies kept popping up between stories and it left gapping holes in Amahle’s knowledge of the crisis. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. Flint Liang was one of those pieces.

“I… have a feeling we’re not getting the whole picture,” she tried to explain to Zwelakhe, tried to make him understand just why she was defending the Ambassador. “Things are not quite how they seem.”

A war big enough to affect a power as strong as Nova and knock them down to a crawling point. Flint Liang, golden child, turned sudden backstabber with words like murderer trailing behind his shadow. The king and queen defending him, despite admitting they knew nothing of his true intentions during his time as, what they had said was, a spy. And then that same “murderer” turned up at their shores, presenting an offer with a fancy piece of paper covered with the king and queen’s signatures.

Why, not only protect Flint after his rumored betrayal, but send him to Ikhaya for such a careful and fragile discussion confused her endlessly. There was something she was missing there. Something huge. Something that she knew would explain everything.

Zwelakhe seemed to be in deep thought, his brow furrowed in concentration as they sat in silence. She figured he was probably trying to piece it together too, but was coming up empty handed just like her. She ran back through the last couple of weeks in her mind in an attempt to catch something, anything, now that she was fully aware of it. Flint’s interactions with her, Zwelakhe and his brothers, with anyone in general. Anything to possibly explain why such ugly words followed at Liang’s heels, yet why his rulers still trusted him so deeply with such an important task. What he had preformed was treason, despite it all being an act at the end.

…Was it really an act, though? Or was it just what his rulers told everyone to keep him safe?

They didn’t know the real truth, just what they had been fed. Amahle felt uneasy thinking Nova’s intentions for their cries of help were so devious however. They just got out of a war, why would they get right back into one? Flint didn’t seem like much of a threat either, and his actions spoke of genuine honesty as far as she was concerned. People who were trying to hide something usually weren’t so open about their guilt, and people who were guilty usually tried to make themselves seem innocent.

None of it made sense, and that was when she realized-

“Notice how he hasn’t tried to defend himself yet?” She looked over towards Zwelakhe, catching his gaze as he raised his head. He was scratching at his beard again, a sparkle of intrigue in his eyes. She got him thinking. “Despite all of the accusations thrown at him, he hasn’t tried to tell us his side of the story.”

That was what caught her attention. Flint had easily accepted the rumors without a fighting word. He was trying to change their thoughts about him, yes, and prove the rumors wrong, but he wasn’t a begging man. He responded with action - subtle, harmless action - not with words.

His eyes passed through her mind again. Slightly distant, but not guarded. No walls, because he had nothing to hide. Amahle had been apart of many trials. She had watched countless people declared innocent or guilty before her king, and there was always a constant, repeating pattern for the ones at fault.

“Guilty men always try to tell you their side of the story.”

Zwelakhe huffed out a laugh in agreement, and she couldn’t help her smile. No wonder she had trusted Flint so easily. He hadn’t made himself threatening or suspicious at all since he got there, easing her and unconsciously erasing the doubt that had previously been in her mind. Even Zwelakhe wanted to trust him, asking her to watch him so he, as the new king, wouldn’t accidentally make a mistake from following his gut.

After a moment, Zwelakhe settled back in his seat. He remained just as relaxed as when they first sat down, his fingers folding together in his lap as he pulled a curious grin. “Well,” he chuckled, prompting Amahle’s own smile to brighten. She recognized that tone of his voice, the one that slipped out when he was planning something. She knew it all too well. “Let us hear his side of the story then.”

She liked that thing they had; that easy communication. That ability to play around with each other yet be serious at the same time. They never felt self-conscious around one another, or worried about what they did or said. Sharing a glass of wine with her friend/once-kid-she-helped-raised/now-king was a comfortable time she was able to spend with him, and coming to agreements was never a challenge.

Not even over the enigma that was Novian Ambassador and Healer, Flint Liang.

“I will bring him in tomorrow.”

And with that, it was decided.

#flightless writes #wow how long has it been since i posted any writing?#i usually just send it to bee lol #but aw man i adore ama and zwe's relationship they're great #this was fun #ocs

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