#i squint and look at it from far and my myopic ass only makes out the eyes

[chiclet-go-boom]

point of impact 3

Later he tells himself it’s because he was exhausted. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen to him, he’s better than that. Outside of some really spectacular stunts, Varric Tethras simply doesn’t lose his footing for any reason short of something collapsing out underneath him - and even then it’s a dice roll he often wins.

And hadn’t he dodged every attack that Blight be damned giant had thrown? Every single one, including the first that none of them had even seen coming because he’s just that good. He’d rolled, unhooked, loaded Bianca, shot a complete salvo and all of it from zero to a dead run while the clearing they’d stepped into was rapidly being made wider with each swipe from a club the size of a tree because it was a tree. How the hell they’d managed to stumble over something that big without hearing it first defied comprehension.

And not once had he tripped on anything. Not roots, not rocks, nothing. Even with the ground quakes as the thing had tried to squash either the Seeker or the Herald the easy way, peering myopically at the quick moving targets under its feet, he hadn’t missed a beat. He’d been particularly proud of the tight cluster of bolts he’d managed to plant in the monster’s knee that had brought it to down to, if not eye level, at least less mountain-versus-completely-startled-ants.

So losing his balance backwards as a rock had shifted under his foot while climbing the bank of the shallow river ford, working their painful way back to last evening’s campsite was completely uncalled for. He’d windmilled but hadn’t been able to save himself.

And worse yet, the Inquisitor had burst out laughing.

He’d sat up spluttering and cursing, three quarters of the way to being actually angry only to be greeted by the sight of the Herald of Andraste nearly doubled over and clutching a spindling tree that was in no way equipped to deal with it. And the water was cold, damn it, up over his waist as he’d sprawled there on his ass glaring at her and the Herald was still laughing as if it was the funniest thing she’d seen since Maker knows when. Higher up the bank the Seeker was staring down at both of them with a faintly disapproving look, her shield arm pressed her to belly to keep it stable while they walked, her dark braid trailing miserably over her shoulder just like a snake trying to find a spot of warmth to curl up in and suddenly he was laughing too because the whole damned day was just that flavor of absurd.

The sound of Dorian sloshing up behind him muttering “If you people are quite done,” hadn’t helped either.

-----------------------

He tells himself it’s because he has to clean Bianca thoroughly that he’s taking his time stripping her apart. And it’s true, he’s not lying. Between the water and the mud and the hours that have passed since she took her bath, he needs to make sure everything is in good working order so he’s in no hurry to finish, peeling her down methodically, automatically.

Across the campfire, he’s watching the Inquisitor help the Seeker with her hair. It’s damn near domestic.

Wide legged on the sagging tree trunk that probably fell sometime during the last Age, the Inquisitor has the other warrior wedged below her, Cassandra’s back against the support as she gets the debris calmly picked out of her hair. Down to her padded tunic and leggings with her shield arm poulticed and bandaged to help with the bruises and strain, the Seeker might almost look relaxed if it wasn’t for the scowl still compressed between her eyebrows.

“Careful, Seeker,” he throws out. “Don’t want it to freeze that way.”

“If I want your opinion, Varric,” is the reply after a moment, “I will give it to you.”

The Inquisitor snorts before he can, pale fingers moving delicately through the black tufts. Catch, release. Catch, release. Varric puts another set of interlocked gears to the side and squints into the chambered groove left behind. He reaches without looking for the rag he has set aside.

He knows the Seeker is discomfited that she can’t do it herself, can’t lift her arm that far until the potion and the salve do their work and yet it’s still somewhat endearing to watch. The Herald is as blond as the Seeker is dark and the contrast is interesting in the twilight that will very quickly be true darkness. Everyone is tired and he can see it on their faces, drowsy with heat and the last remnants of ebbing fear. Dorian has already retired to a tent after having eaten his portion of stew, saying something about last watch, but they’d all seen his hands trembling. Nobody had been stupid enough to mention it. The mage had pulled a crap ton of fire out of seemingly nowhere in those first desperate seconds.

Cassandra sighs and tilts her head to the side, a small sound as the Herald starts to unwind her braid finally, dragging her fingers through it to remove the snags. A piece of wood chooses that moment to snap sharply.

“Maker, but that feels good,” she says. “Thank you for this.”

“It’s no problem. I spent a couple of weeks once with enough sand in my hair to build a small castle with.” The warrior’s voice is amused. “I would have tossed Dorian to the blood mages if somebody had promised me a comb and a bath.” The Inquisitor’s voice is low enough but Varric still looks over at the tents. There’s no answering rebuttal however so Dorian is probably already asleep.

“I know how you feel,” says Cassandra. “I keep my hair short for that reason but it is still a nuisance.”

“I gotta ask, Seeker,” he says without considering it first, his fingers busy along with, apparently, his mouth. “Why do you keep any of it long at all?” He waves at hand at nothing in particular, the rag suspended in it. “This has got to happen a bunch to you.”

The sound the Seeker makes isn’t exactly a growl but it’s hard to classify what it is, really, other than condescending. “It is functional.”

The Herald’s fingers have the braid half apart, fingers splitting the long length of it from tip to scalp. The dark trail reaches nearly to Cassandra’s breast with the kinked waves picking up the firelight in patches. Varric looks down at his crossbow and tries to remember where he was with it. Cassandra’s hair looks surprisingly tactile, it’s almost as if he can feel it running over his fingers instead. He wipes down the stock of the wood to push the sensation away.

“I have to say, I don’t see how,” he replies. Surprisingly it’s the Herald that answers.

“Padding.” She picks out a few more twigs, a small leaf, eyeing them critically before flicking them into the fire. “Helmets never fit right unless they’re specifically hammered to you - and even then they don’t fit right. Doesn’t matter what they’re lined with, or what you stuff ‘em with either, there’s always something that presses in the wrong spot. Wearing braids gives some extra cushion, distributes the weight around.”

“Huh,” he says. “Never thought of that.”

“Most don’t,” says Cassandra, “which is unfortunate since a bad fitting helmet is a trial. Braids should be more in fashion than they are.”

“Well,” Varric says, “we can always slip a note to the Orlesians for next season, there’s still time. Start a trend. Maybe rake in some royalties and pay off Big Nasty into an early retirement.”

A frown for his levity flashes across Cassandra’s face but the Herald simply laughs. “Ponytails are good too if they’re long enough to wind up top, if a bit more slippy. Or you know, you can just skip the helmet thing altogether and hope you’re fast.” She winks at Varric even as her rough fingers start to rebraid Cassandra’s hair, pulling gently.

Varric quells a flash of odd disappointment. With her hair down, the Seeker had looked different somehow, just that little bit less severe and he was kind of liking it. It doesn’t help that her temple is now resting on the Herald’s knee with her eyes half closed, exposing the long line of her neck.

“Also,” says Cassandra unexpectedly, “it is personal.”

Varric blinks. “Oh?”

The Seeker shifts, as if already regretting her words but her voice is measured across the fire. “When I was a little girl, my hair was entirely braids. It is - was - very Nevarran. I do not know if it is still in vogue. They were down to my waist and very heavy and I did not enjoy them. When I joined the Seekers I cut them all off as soon as I could. It was very freeing.”

And damn him, he can almost see it. Little Lady Cassandra rises in his mind’s eye, black glossy braids down her back, ribbons in them maybe. Red maybe, or sapphire - no, definitely cobalt blue, and probably satin. Did somebody ever pull her by them? He imagines a hand tugging on her hair, burying itself in the dark mass of it and he swallows dryly for no reason he can name.

But the Seeker thankfully isn’t privvy to what’s in his head, her own nose wrinkling softly at what is obviously a distant memory. “Yet I found that as I grew older, I thought of myself sometimes as I was then, when I was not always a Seeker or so deeply involved in Chantry politics or carrying out the will of Most Holy. So I grew out enough hair for a braid, to remind me of times when the worst I had to fear was being scolded for a muddy dress. It is...a comfort to remember that the world can still have those moments.”

“So functionally personal.” He clears his throat, staring down without really seeing anything, fingers lifting out another piece without his mind having to be involved in the process. “I gotta say Seeker, that’s very you.”

“It is, I suppose,” she agrees without discernible inflection. The fire pops again, settling and the Herald continues, bent over her fingers as the plait continues weaving itself.

It is the work of moments and the braid is finished and coiled on the Seeker’s head, back in its accustomed place and the Seeker is just the Seeker again, a woman with a scarred face and a weary expression.

“And on that note, I’m to bed,” says the Herald, groaning as she stands. She offers a forearm to Cassandra who accepts awkwardly on her good side, suffering herself to be hauled to her feet. “Cassandra?”

“I, also, if that is okay. Varric, you are good with first watch?”

He waves a broad hand. “Sleep well, ladies. I’ll keep the bears and giants and various bugs entertained awhile longer.”

He watches as they disappear into the tent they share, the flap falling behind them. He looks down at Bianca, cradled in his arms, half undressed as she is, her pieces gleaming.

“Just you and me now, sweetheart.” He bends to his work and tries really hard not to think about anything at all except where caked mud might still be wedged.

#cassarric #fanfiction #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #dragon age inquisition

[ddaengjo]

love me like you do ┊ hwang hyunjin

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst

pairing: reader x hyunjin

warnings: cursing, drinking, infinity war spoilers

summary: you had been best friends with hwang hyunjin since grade school. you both knew each other like the back of your hand, and you shared everything with one another. in fact, all your friends joked that you’d eventually get married, settle down, and have five kids. of course, the both of you just saw that as funny, since you were both currently dating other people. but that was before everything became a complete mess.

author’s note: this is my first fic! i hope you all like it, because i definitely enjoyed writing it. (p.s. ― i use all lowercase when not writing formally, but in all my writing pieces i make sure to capitalize and use proper grammar!)

You're the light, you’re the night You’re the color of my blood You’re the cure, you’re the pain You’re the only thing I wanna touch Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

It was the sound of your phone buzzing loudly that woke you up at 2:30 a.m., groggy and angry and ready to fight the world. You groped around your bedside table, trusting your fingers rather than your sleep-blurred eyesight ― considering you were already myopic to the point that you could barely see something three feet away without your glasses on, you could trade eyesight with a bat and still be better off at this early hour. After a long while of uncomfortable straining,  you finally sighed in victorious relief, your fingers closing around the smooth case of your phone. Dropping it onto your pillow beside you, you squinted at the bright screen, trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light in the dark room. You swiped your finger across the screen, unlocking it, and opened your texts to find new messages from your best friend, Hyunjin.

[2:30 a.m.]  Y/N Y/N Y/N

You groaned, rolling your eyes and falling back against the pillows, debating on whether to answer his text or just leave him on read. Your innate sense of compassion (Hyunjin always swore that you were nothing but Satan, while everyone else who WASN’T your best friend since grade school and DIDN’T clown you for a living always called you a sweetheart) won the battle, and you ended up answering. But that didn’t mean you were going to play nice.

[2:33 a.m.]  hwang hyunjin you better have a good reason for this because if i weren’t so fucking tired i’d punch you in your perfect teeth.

[2:38 a.m.]  aw good morning to you too 💖💖💖 i’ve been up all night trying to make a head or tail of this history project and it just makes NO SENSE UGH Y/N I NEED YOUR GENIUS INTELLECT RIGHT NOW AND RIGHT HERE

[2:42 a.m.]  i absolutely hate you and your procrastinating ass.

[2:43 a.m.]  says the queen of procrastinating herself 💀💀

[2:45 a.m.]  YOU WOKE ME UP AT 2:30 AM YOU ASSHOLE SO STOP CLOWNING ME OR I’M MUTING YOUR NOTIFS AND LEAVING YOU ON READ 💀💀

[2:47 a.m.]  FINE FINE JUST COME HELP ME

[2:48 a.m.]  i’m too lazy to get out of bed so i’m just gonna skype you. but dw, you’ll still feel the salt coming off me when i talk 😘😘

[2:50 a.m.]  y/n you beautiful wonderful human being i love you so much i’d throw myself under a truck for you.

[2:53 a.m.]  lmao don’t let minjoo hear you say that unless you want her to actually throw ME under a truck buddy 😉

You couldn’t help smiling; it was impossible for you to stay angry at someone as goofy and vibrant as Hyunjin, especially because you knew him so well and for so long. You didn’t really care that you were wearing just a strap-sleeved tank top and shorts, or that you had a bedhead; Hyunjin had seen you in far worse states, like when you were in the fourth grade and had the stomach flu for a month. That was bad. You closed your texts, opening Skype instead, and clicked the very first contact, waiting for Hyunjin to pick up your video call. He picked up right on the second ring, grinning ear to ear; he was wearing his  “I ❤️ NY” shirt, his favorite gray hoodie, and khaki shorts, not to mention the goofy smile he always wore when talking to you.

“How’s Satan doing today?” he joked immediately, his face lighting up at the sight of you. His eyes twinkled with mischief as you rolled your eyes.

“Just fine, thanks,” you grumbled. “As great as one could be at almost 3 o’clock in the morning, when even the BIRDS aren’t awake.”

“For all it counts, I think your hair seems to be doing great at almost 3 o’clock in the morning,” Hyunjin said sagely, nodding his head. “I mean, it’s hiding your devil’s horns really well, and it also doesn’t look like a mama bat had a mental breakdown while making her nest!”

“I hate you.”

Hyunjin pretended to clutch his heart, wounded, despite the grin still playing on his lips. “Aww, Y/N, now you’re just being cruel. You know you don’t mean that.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew he was right. And he knew, too, judging by his little smirk. Had you been sitting next to him in person, you’d have thrown a pillow at him by this time.

“All right, what is it you don’t understand?” you asked, rolling your eyes yet again.

“Everything!”

You swallowed the urge to groan loudly. This was going to be one long, long night.

You're the fear, I don't care 'Cause I've never been so high Follow me to the dark Let me take you past our satellites You can see the world you brought to life, to life

You managed to get three hours of sleep that night, thanks to your dumbass of a best friend. He owed you big-time, you thought, sipping your coffee through pursed lips while glaring balefully out the window as you waited for him to show up at your house. You both had walked to school together since you were eight and he was nine; you weren’t planning on stopping that even when you were in college, since you were both hoping to major in some form of art ― he in photography, you in writing ― and attend the same university.

It was 7:30 a.m. when Hyunjin came jogging breathlessly up your driveway and let himself in using the spare key you’d given him. You had half an hour to kill before your bus arrived, so you’d not only made yourself coffee, you’d set a mug on the table for Hyunjin as well. He took it gratefully, crossing the kitchen in a few large strides ― he was a literal ten inches taller than you, with his 5’10” towering over your 5’0” ― to join you by the counter, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. To anyone else, it seemed as if you were both dating, but it to you both, it was merely just a gesture of affection between two old friends.

“So, Bigfoot, you took your sweet time getting here,” you commented dryly, looking him up and down with a wry little smirk. Your smile fading, you sipped your slowly cooling coffee and added, “All jokes aside, though, you look God-awful.”

“Thanks.”

“Your dark circles make it look as if you got punched in the eyes by an angry jack-in-the-box, and you’re looking pretty pale in the face,” you said bluntly, shaking your head. “Hyunjinnie, you’re driving yourself crazy. When you’re not staying up late for music lessons and photography projects, you’re staying up late doing your homework. You have to get more sleep.”

“Yeah, about that…” He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck absently as his eyes met yours. He guided you over to the couch, sinking into the seat next to you as he continued. “I’m sorry about last night. I know you didn't get much sleep because of me. So, to make it up to you, I called Minjoo and Yongwoon up, and we’re doing a movie night double date at my place. My treat.”

Hyunjin was so considerate. That was one thing that made you love him so much ― he didn’t just throw some fake apology at you and forget about it; he tried to make it up to you in full. He was like that with you, with his girlfriend, with your boyfriend, everyone.

As soon as the wall clock read that it was 8:00, you grabbed Hyunjin’s hand, practically hauling him out of the house as he chuckled, trying to keep pace with you. “Relax, Y/N, the bus is never early!”

“I know, but Yongwoon is!” you panted, skidding to a halt at your bus stop, where your boyfriend was waiting as usual, one hand in his tousled black hair. “Hey, Yong!”

“Y/N! You’re early!” He exclaimed; you caught sight of the odd expression that flitted across his face and realized that you were still holding Hyunjin’s hand. You let go of your best friend’s hand, seeing his girlfriend, Minjoo, standing a little distance away; Hyunjin fist-bumped you as he passed you, greeting his girlfriend with a brief peck on the lips. You turned to your own significant other, who pressed his lips to yours for a moment before asking, a little edgily, “Why were you holding Hyunjin’s hand? Y/N… do you like him?”

There was a long breath of silence after his words. Finally, you began to laugh ― not at him, but because you found his question funny. “Sorry ― sorry, Yong, that was just really funny. Babe, Hyunjin and I are just really good friends. We’ve known each other since our sandbox days! Things like holding hands and hanging out a lot are just… things we’ve been doing for a really, really long time. But it doesn’t change anything for us. We’ve been doing this for over a year, and I love you just the same, see?” You kissed him again, and this time he had no complaints.

As soon as the bus arrived, you scrambled to reserve the back row for yourself, Yongwoon, Hyunjin, and Minjoo; you’d all sat there as a group since freshman year. As usual, you slid into your window seat, with Hyunjin dropping into the one next to yours, as Minjoo and Yongwoon dropped into the seat across the aisle. You didn’t see the look that passed between his girlfriend and your boyfriend because you were too busy looking over Hyunjin’s paper and making small revisions, which were mainly just grammatical errors, since the majority of your cramming session had been last night.

“I think this is good,” you said finally, as the school came into view. The smile Hyunjin gave you was definitely worth all the grumblings and lost sleep; you loved the way his eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way his dimples deepened, and it had been your personal goal since day one of your friendship, when he’d fallen in the sandbox and you’d helped him up, to never let him lose that smile. You were the one who was a year younger than him, but you were also the more protective one in the friendship. It was something people often teased you about, calling you a mother hen, but you wore the title proudly. You were indeed a mother hen when it came to your best friend.

Your first class was history, which you and Hyunjin had together; Yongwoon had psychology, while Minjoo had English, so you waved goodbye, promising to save them seats at lunch. Hyunjin blew an exaggerated kiss at Minjoo, who giggled as you punched him in the shoulder, pretending to gag. “Ugh, look who decided to become Romeo all of a sudden! Come on, lover boy, or we’re gonna be late for class, and I’ll get my first detention because of you.”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in purgatory, if you please, ma’am, so on we go,” Hyunjin said very seriously, earning himself another punch from you. “Ow! You’re short, but you punch like a sumo wrestler! What, did you absorb the soul of a wrestler you reaped, Satan?”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” you grumbled, sinking into your seat at the back table, across from Hyunjin, right as the bell rang. “I’ll reap your soul if you don’t shut up.”

Even as the lesson went on, you spent the class passing notes and doodling all over each other’s papers, sometimes laughing so hard your teacher, a well-dressed brunette in her early thirties, had to frown in your direction, her finger pressed against her lips in a signal of silence.

That was how every day was, with you both ― it was just you and him. You were the planets; everyone else was just a satellite. You were a technicolor movie; they were just the audience. You and Hyunjin were the world; they were just outer space.

So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

It was on the bus home that you succumbed to the sleep that had been haunting your eyelids since the morning’s coffee had worn off mid-math class. One minute you were arguing with Hyunjin over whether milk or cereal came first (you argued milk, having gotten that habit from your parents, while Hyunjin argued that it was cereal), the next you had nodded off, your petite head on his broad shoulder.

When you came to, it was in a familiar room with soft blue walls and GOT7 posters all over the wall. You sat up, squinting slightly at the pale, watery orange sunlight streaming through the window; the translucent chartreuse curtains were slightly open, showing a rapidly darkening sunset sky in the prettiest pastel shades of blue, pink, and purple. You yawned, stretching your arms, and glanced down; you were still wearing your school clothes, which were now a bit rumpled because you’d slept in them.

“Sleep well, Sleeping Beauty?” You turned your head to see Hyunjin smiling at you from where he sat working at his desk, which was a sea of scattered papers. His glasses reflected a bit of the screen of his laptop and a bit of the sunset, which didn’t seem like a beautiful combination, but somehow, he made it work. He only wore his glasses at home unless he was out of contacts to use, in which case you’d see him wear his glasses to school for about a week before going back to wearing contacts; you stuck with your glasses at all times, mainly because for one, you were terrified of putting something in your eye, and for two, you had awful bags under your eyes, which your glasses did a good job hiding ― or at least keeping anyone from noticing.

You stretched again, comfortable after a few hours of rest. “You bet I did. Like a baby, in fact. How long was I out?”

“It’s 6:05 ― you can do the math.” You could hear the smile in his voice as you took a moment to decipher his words. Then your eyes widened. “I SLEPT FOR THREE HOURS?”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed movie night,” Hyunjin promised. “We still have an hour till Minjoo and Yongwoon are supposed to arrive. Do you want to get changed? Maybe take a shower to freshen up?”

“Yeah ― yeah, sounds great,” you said, stretching one last time before swinging your legs out from under the covers, so that you were now sitting on the edge of his bed. “All my stuff is next door, though.”

“You can grab some clothes from my closet,” he offered, smiling in your direction. “Just like when we were kids and your parents were out.”

You got up, shaking out your legs to get some feeling back into them, and opened his closet, choosing a purple tie-dye t-shirt. “I’m wearing shorts under my skirt, anyway, so I’ll just wear this over those,” you explained, and Hyunjin nodded.

The warm water felt like a liquid hug; you spent twenty minutes under the shower before deciding you didn’t want to turn into a living prune. You found, upon wearing it, that Hyunjin’s shirt went to your knees, but what did it matter? It was cozy. You blow-dried your hair, which took another twenty minutes, before pulling it into a loose bun and glancing at the time in your watch ― 6:50 p.m., which meant Minjoo and Yongwoon would be here soon. You noticed that the light in Hyunjin’s room was now off; he must be downstairs, you realized, so you descended the stairs, knowing from the rising aroma of hot chocolate that you’d find him in the kitchen. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps, his face lighting up with a smile as his eyes fell on you. “You look adorable. Purple is definitely your color.”

“And you look suspicious. Who are you and what have you done with Hwang Hyunjin?” you snorted, amused. “I was expecting you to clown me for how big this shirt looks on me.”

He chuckled, turning back to the stove for a moment before placing a snowflake-printed mug on the counter in front of you. “Hot cocoa?”

“Thanks!” You took the mug gratefully, blowing on the steaming liquid for a few minutes before taking a sip, appreciating the feeling of the chocolatey, sugary sweetness, mixed with a hint of cinnamon and the creaminess of whipped cream, sliding down your throat. You had just taken another sip when the doorbell rang, prompting you to move towards the door, the hot cocoa mug still in your hand. You opened it to find Yongwoon, holding a bouquet of red roses.

“Hey! You’re…” You glanced at your watch, which read that it was 6:55 p.m. “...Five minutes early! Oh my gosh, are those for me?”

“Yes, they are!” He handed you the bouquet, grinning ear to ear, until his eyes took in what you were wearing. His smile faded slightly as he added, “Is that one of Hyunjin’s, Y/N?”

“Wha ― oh, yeah ― yeah, it is,” you said, a little surprised by the question.

“She fell asleep on the bus,” Hyunjin explained, “and since she lost sleep because of me, I felt bad waking her up. So I just carried her here and let her rest up in my room while I did my homework. When she woke up, she wanted to shower, and we realized she didn’t have a change of clothes, so I let her borrow one of my shirts.”

“I see.” Yongwoon’s lips had tightened considerably at this, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t say anything till Minjoo arrived, about fifteen minutes after him; it was just you and Hyunjin chattering away over your hot cocoa until that time.

By the time she’d arrived, Hyunjin had gotten a huge bucket of buttered popcorn ready. He had four cushions ready on the ground for everyone, but you didn’t need your cushion; you just sat down in front of Hyunjin, your head in his lap, as you grabbed a handful of popcorn, munching contentedly as your boyfriend and his girlfriend came to join you on either side. Yongwoon imitated you, grabbing his own handful of the buttery, salty popcorn, while Minjoo was more refined, choosing to take the occasional two pieces of popcorn from time to time.

“What do you guys want to watch?” Hyunjin asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he leaned back, propping himself up with one elbow.

“American Horror Story,” Yongwoon volunteered immediately, earning himself identical protests from you, Hyunjin, and Minjoo. He conceded defeat, grumbling to himself before falling silent and waiting for one of you to make a choice.

“Titanic?” Minjoo suggested, earning herself a loud yawn from Yongwoon and an identical groan of rejection from yourself and Hyunjin. Her expression became a sulky one, which made all three of you laugh.

“Avengers: Infinity War?” you suggested. Hyunjin nodded enthusiastically; you two were pretty much the biggest Marvel nerds around.

“Are you sure you’re not going to soak my sleeve in tears again?” Hyunjin asked teasingly. “Remember last time, when you were bawling so hard I was afraid I’d have to pull a Noah and ark my way outta there?”

You turned and sat up to glare at him, indignant. “You were crying, too!”

He blushed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Okay, okay, fair point. Any objections?”

Minjoo was too sulky to say anything, while Yongwoon was just too whipped for you to say a word against your wishes.

“All right! Infinity War it is,” Hyunjin declared, pulling you more closely into his lap before positioning himself comfortably, half sitting and half lying against his cushion as he tossed some more popcorn into his mouth, searching through Amazon Prime Video till he found it. Then he hit play, wrapped one arm around you, and sat back to enjoy the movie.

Fading in, fading out On the edge of paradise Every inch of your skin is a holy gray I've got to find Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire Yeah, I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

Two hours and forty minutes later, you and Hyunjin were clinging to each other and sobbing your eyes out, your shoulders a mess of each other’s tears, snot, and drool. It would have been disgusting if this weren’t your usual movie-watching ritual ― you two were the sensitive ones, and if anything remotely sad were to happen in a movie, the room would be flooded within the next five minutes as you clung to each other and wept as if your hearts would break.

“I thought you said you’d be okay this time,” Hyunjin sobbed, wiping his eyes on the hem of his sleeve as he crushed you in a hug.

“I’m never emotionally prepared enough for that movie,” you sobbed back, mimicking him and wiping your eyes on the edge of your sleeve ― or at least trying to as best you could through his bone-crushingly tight embrace.

On your left, Minjoo was just staring blankly at the screen as if not sure of what to do in terms of a reaction, while Yongwoon, on your right, had his lips pursed and his fists clenched. “Damned Marvel,” he growled, shaking his fist. “Killing off Black Panther like that… that’s not fair.”

“Groot had such a bright future ahead of him,” Hyunjin hiccuped miserably, reaching for the popcorn, which was running dangerously low.

“I agree,” you sniffled. “Man, Bucky never deserves the shit he gets. He was captured by the Nazis, fell off a mountain, lost an arm, got frozen and experimented on by HYDRA, became their brainwashed puppet, killed a bunch of people, accidentally tore apart the Avengers, got frozen over again, and then right when he was spending a peaceful time in Wakanda he got drawn into the fighting and then h-he just goes ‘Steve…’ and fades away and just...” You broke down again, prompting a wince from Yongwoon and an eye roll from Minjoo.

“I know,” Hyunjin lamented, patting your back reassuringly. “Well… that was fun, right?”

“Right,” Yongwoon said unconvincingly, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Hyunjin’s strong arms drawing you more tightly into an embrace. You two had been nothing but skinship since the beginning of the evening ― or, if you counted the hand-holding in the morning, since the beginning of the day ― and he was beginning to feel a bit threatened by the boy you called your closest friend. He felt threatened, jealous, every time your fingers tangled together, every time your eyes met, every time you laughed at something he said, every time you gazed at him as if he was the only boy in the world. It was getting harder and harder for him to believe you every time you declared yourself and Hyunjin “just friends”.

He didn’t like it at all.

Minjoo smiled thinly, her smile not quite meeting her movie-star eyes with their perfectly done makeup. “It was lovely.”

She, too, felt a surge of wicked jealousy every time you and Hyunjin were together. It hadn’t bothered her as much at first, but now, it was almost all she thought about. The way he smiled at you, as if there was nothing and no one more important. The way he always jumped to choose you anytime anything ― a game, a project, anything at all ― involved a partner. The way he didn’t seem to care when you saw him in his glasses, but almost always avoided wearing them around her. The way he always chose yours whenever he needed a shoulder to cry into.

The way he felt so distant from her, even if he was next to her, and yet so close to you, even when you were apart.

And she hated it.

As Yongwoon left, he turned to press his lips against yours for a long moment, the intensity almost double that of any normal kiss of yours. He stole a glance at Hyunjin, who simply smiled a bright smile at him before brushing Minjoo’s lips with his and waving goodbye as she left. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, stepping out into the night.

“Hey, Y/N, want to stay over for the night?” Hyunjin asked. You smiled apologetically. “Nah, I wish I could, but Mom and Dad are going to video call to check in with me in about half an hour. I have to make dinner before getting started on my homework.”

“I could join you,” Hyunjin offered, his eyes lighting up. “And, to make up for last night, I can help you with homework today!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you legend, you’re so amazing that I could 10/10 kiss you,” you declared.

He laughed, rumpling your hair gently. “You already did once, remember? Spin the bottle, seventh grade. You were my first kiss, Y/N!”

“Oh, yeah! That girl from the classroom next door, the one who kept ogling at you, looked like she was ready to pee herself!” you snickered, choking on your own laughter and erupting in a fit of coughing that left tears in your eyes; Hyunjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hoping to ease the coughs. Once he deemed it safe to leave your side, he hurried back into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, which you took and gulped down gratefully. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie.”

“Don’t worry about it. And be more careful,” he scolded, earning an amused eye roll from you.

“See you tomorrow? Noon at that bubble tea place down the block?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good night, Hyunjinnie.”

As you left, he watched you, his fingers tingling where yours had been resting against them just a moment earlier, realizing how much you’d grown up… and wondering how he’d grown lucky enough to have you by his side during all these years.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

He didn’t fail to meet you the next day ― in fact, he was early, waiting for you at an outdoor table as you arrived, wearing a mint-green hoodie and black yoga pants, your hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

“Hey, Sasquatch,” you called jokingly, and his glance snapped up from his phone to you, his eyes brightening and the corners of his full, rich coral-pink lips tugging themselves upwards into a bright grin.

“Y/N! Nice hoodie, the color suits you,” he exclaimed, tilting his head slightly to the side as he added, “is it new? I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“Yeah, I bought it last week,” you said, feeling a rush of warmth rise in your chest at the fact that he’d noticed that small detail. He really did pay attention to everything.

“I love the color. Does it come in men’s?”

“Not sure. I’ll check, though ― we can go together, sometime tonight or tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan!” he declared, then glanced at the menu card in front of him. “I’m guessing you want your usual coconut milk tea, Y/N?”

“Yep, that’s me. Boring and predictable, like the old granny I am at heart,” you quipped, earning yourself another laugh from your companion.

“Predictable, maybe, since I’ve known you for so long,” Hyunjin agreed. “But boring? No way. You could never be boring, Y/N, no matter how long I’ve known you.”

You felt the color rising in your cheeks as you flushed pleasurably at your best friend’s compliment, which meant a lot more to you than he could imagine. “You’re sweet.”

His grin melted your heart as you grabbed the menu. “Let me guess ― you want the watermelon bubble tea. Again.”

“Why, Y/N,” Hyunjin gasped mockingly, his eyes widening, “however did you know?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” you said sarcastically, shrugging. “Maybe because you decided to even dress like a freaking watermelon for Halloween? And because you completely weeded that bag of Dum-Dums ― the one you were supposed to be handing out to the trick-or-treaters ― of watermelon lollipops? I could hear the kids complaining all the way down the street!”

“Okay, okay, Y/N,” he admitted, going red in the face. “You… kind of have a point there.”

You sat back with a triumphant smirk, which earned a grin from Hyunjin; within the minute, you both had begun to laugh hopelessly, till tears of mirth gathered themselves in both of your eyes and your sides ached with laughter.

After you’d both gotten your bubble teas, you sat for a while in silence. But it wasn’t the awkward silence that needed an ice-breaker; it was a comfortable silence, where neither of you needed to say anything to enjoy the moment spent in the other’s company.

You were the one who finally broke the silence. “Hey, Hyunjinnie, do you want to try a sip of my bubble tea? I realize, in all the times we’ve come here, you’ve never tried the coconut milk tea, while I’ve never tried the watermelon tea.”

“Sounds fun!” Hyunjin unhesitatingly leaned over, his cheek brushing against yours, as he took a sip from your straw, letting the new flavor soak onto his tongue for a moment before nodding his approval, his eyes lighting up. “Holy moly ― this is good! You have good taste, Y/N!”

You smirked at him before leaning across the table to take a sip of his drink, the watermelon flavor coating your tongue and cooling your throat as you swallowed. “Heck, I could say the same for you, Hyunjin! You might just have passed your obsession with all things watermelon on to me!”

It was a perfect moment, just you and him, peacefully enjoying each other’s company… till the sound of soft sobbing drew your attention away from Hyunjin. Your eyes scanned the bubble tea café till they found the source of the sound.

Minjoo.

And judging by the tears pouring down her face, she’d seen everything.

The color drained from Hyunjin’s face as he jumped up, practically knocking the umbrella off the table as he tried to make his way towards Minjoo, who heaved a sob and took a step back.

“Minjoo!” he yelled. “Minjoo, wait!”

“Minjoo!” You joined him, calling your friend’s name. “Minjoo, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Shit,” Hyunjin muttered. “I’ll… I’ll be back. I’m sorry to cut our outing short, Y/N, but...”

“Go,” you said grimly, your heart hammering with dread as you watched your best friend take off after his girlfriend, only hoping that things would turn out okay.

I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

This time, when you woke up at 3:00 a.m., it wasn’t because of your phone, which had remained painfully silent all evening, save for a single text from your boyfriend, asking if you were free for a date that night. You’d declined his offer, sick with worry for your best friend’s predicament. He and Minjoo didn’t ever quarrel, and yet, the last you’d seen them, Minjoo was shouting at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, while he pleaded for her understanding.

Icy fear bubbled in your stomach as you lay awake against the pillows; the room felt uncharacteristically cold. You sighed, finally deciding there was no way you could get to sleep with so much worry gnawing at your mind ― maybe a midnight snack would help. You slid out from under the bedcovers, shivering as the cold air touched your bare legs ― you were just wearing shorts and a t-shirt ― and went downstairs into the kitchen, where you rummaged through the refrigerator and pantry, finding absolutely nothing that fit your cravings. You stretched, going to change clothes into a pink hoodie and black leggings, pulling your hair into a messy ponytail before grabbing your purse, pulling your car keys from them as you went outside into the driveway, opening the door and getting into your car. You started up the engine, waiting for a few moments as the heater warmed the inside, before reversing out of the driveway and beginning the fifteen-minute drive to the local Lotte.

The classical music playing over the stereo did nothing to ease your nagging worry, and all the way there, nausea roiled in your stomach like a vat of acid. You arrived in the parking lot of the supermarket, locking your car before entering the store and going straight to the dairy aisle, grabbing yourself five small bottles of your favorite brand of strawberry milk and paying for them quickly before hurrying outside again, the cover on your arm. You got back into your car, slamming the door shut, and left the parking lot, embarking on your return journey. About five minutes had passed when you suddenly screeched to a halt, pulling over abruptly, the color draining from your face.

A tall figure was staggering around on the curb, a bottle in hand. A very familiar tall figure. Your blood turned to ice as you recognized Hyunjin.

You’d never seen him drunk like this. Come to mention it, you’d never even seen him touch any remotely alcoholic beverage. You got out of your car, your heart pounding more wildly than it had ever pounded in your life, running to meet the boy with a tight hug.

“Hyunjin!” you cried, mingled pain and relief in your tone as you crushed him in a hug, aware that you were shaking from head to toe ― whether it was with anger or fear, you weren’t sure. Probably a mix of both, to be honest.

“Hey… hey, Y/N,” Hyunjin slurred unsteadily, staggering and practically half collapsing on you, leaving you struggling for a minute with the task of supporting his larger weight. He smiled an unfocused smile down at you, wiping the wetness from his eyes. “Whatcha doin’ awake at this late hour, Y/N?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said anxiously, your pulse thrumming with worry. “What happened to you? I’ve never seen you drink before, and suddenly you’re holding a beer bottle and rambling around, punch-drunk, on the streets at…” You glanced at your watch. “...3:15 a.m. Hyunjin, what the fuck is going on here? Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Minjoo broke up with me.” The boy’s voice was slurred with drinking, his balance completely off-kilter; he sank against you, his tears wetting the collar of your hoodie. “She left me, Y/N. She said she was done, that we were over.”

You were aware that you, too, were crying: crying for the horrible state you’d found your best friend in, for the blame you were allotting to yourself ― crying, mostly, because Hyunjin was crying, and his tears hurt worse than anything.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, sinking to your knees and letting the male sag against you, his head nestling into your shoulder as he hiccuped and cried as if his heart would break ― which it already had, that night. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly as he cried it all out, till he had no tears left in him to cry, numb at last.

“Come on,” you murmured, guiding an unprotesting Hyunjin into your car, helping him buckle himself into the passenger seat as you drove home, the quiet classical music and the feeling of your sleeping best friend’s head on your shoulder giving you an odd tingling feeling.

Once you got home, you gently shook Hyunjin awake, letting him use you as a support for his terrible balance. He didn’t shake you off, letting you guide him upstairs and into your room, where you let him grab a change of clothes (you left the room while he changed, coming back in as soon as he gave you the thumbs-up) before collapsing onto your bed. You would have let him use the guest room, but, truth be told, you wanted to keep your eye on him, too scared that he’d do something stupid again. So you went into the bathroom, changing into your typical t-shirt and shorts, before collapsing on the bed beside him, exhausted from the day’s events.

“Y/N?” You couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down your cheek at the sound of Hyunjin’s tired voice, which sounded less slurred and more… him. He scooted towards you, gently tugging your shoulder so you were now facing him, and brushed the tear from your lashes, wiping away the glittering trail the tear had left on your skin.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around you, an embrace you returned with just as much fervor. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you choked out, the guilt overpowering you. “It’s my fault Minjoo broke up with you. She didn’t like how much time we spent together.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “No, Y/N, this is not your fault. I should have been clearer with her, and anyway...” He hesitated, continuing, “...Maybe it’s not all bad.”

Your eyes widened with surprise. “What?”

Hyunjin flushed slightly. “This might just be the alcohol talking, Y/N… I don’t know anymore. But when you were holding me on the curb, I could feel you shaking. I could hear you crying. And I was getting my snot and drool and tears all over you, and by that time, you probably reeked of alcohol as much as I did. But you still held me. Minjoo… probably wouldn’t have.”

“Come on, I’m sure she―”

“No, Y/N,” Hyunjin interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. “The one time when you were on that family trip in France and I caught the flu, Minjoo came over. She took care of me, but… but I could see the disgust in her eyes every time she saw me throw up or cough up mucus. The one time I cried into her shoulder, she immediately went to change clothes. She’s only there in my highs, Y/N, but you’ve been there all the time. She only knows the happy Hyunjin, but you know the real Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin...” Your voice trailed off for a long moment before you managed, “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Hyunjin took your hands in his larger ones, hesitating for a while before answering, “I mean… or, at least, I think I mean… that in a way, it’s always been you. This was just the universe’s way of showing me. I know I make zero sense, but...”

“No,” you said slowly, his words taking a moment to register. “No, I… I kind of get what you mean.”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Why Hyunjin and your kiss, all those years ago, had seemed better and more full of life than any that you’d shared with your boyfriend.

Why the first person you called up whenever you found yourself free ― or needed to spill some news ― was Hyunjin, not your own boyfriend.

Why, even if you were spending the entire day out with your boyfriend, you had to steal into the bathrooms at least once to hear Hyunjin’s voice on the phone for at least five minutes.

Why skinship with Hyunjin felt so much natural and easier than skinship with Yongwoon.

Why everyone naturally assumed you two were a couple.

Maybe it was because deep down, that was what you were ― the only difference was that you’d both labeled the feeling as the wrong one, assuming that you were just best friends and remaining oblivious not only to the other’s feelings, but to your own.

“Hyunjin… I’ve spent so many days wondering why none of the kisses I’ve shared with Yongwoon have even come close to matching the one we shared in the seventh grade,” you admitted. “I guess it’s because they were missing the one key ingredient: spark. I won’t deny that I really like Yongwoon ― or, at least, I did, at the beginning ― but he’s just… not right for me, and I’m shocked it took this long for me to realize. He was always trying to steal me away from you, keep you away when we were both together, while you were always ready to share me with him… all to keep me happy.”

“Y/N...” Before you knew it, Hyunjin was leaning closer, and so were you, and you didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, your lips were pressed against his, and there it was, that spark, the one you hadn’t felt against your lips for five years.

As you both pulled away, you realized the words didn’t need to be said ― the kiss had spoken volumes more than those three simple words. That was the lovely thing about gestures ― they could explain things in ways much more nuanced than even a dictionary.

That night, you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s arms, your legs tangled with his, your heartbeats synchronizing.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

You woke up to the warm sunlight filtering through your window; that was, by far, the most peaceful sleep you’d gotten in the last few days. You stretched, yawning appreciatively, before your eyes fell on the still-sleeping form of Hwang Hyunjin beside you. You smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to his forehead ― he stirred slightly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly ― before slipping out from under the bedcovers, going downstairs to make yourself and Hyunjin some coffee. Right as you’d finished pouring the two mugs, your doorbell rang; you went to open the door, your mug of coffee in hand, and saw Yongwoon standing there, smiling a little sheepishly. “Oh. Hey.”

“I was worried about you,” Yongwoon said, launching right into it with no prior greeting. “You haven’t been yourself lately ― you keep refusing dates, you don’t answer my texts quickly ― I’m worried about you, Y/N.”

Footsteps made you both turn around; Hyunjin was coming downstairs, looking tired but much refreshed after having showered and changed clothes. His smile made your breath hitch; it was funny how liking someone made them even more attractive in your eyes, because before, you’d been able to notice how pretty his smile was, but now, it was as if you’d forgotten, or never fully appreciated, how breathtakingly stunning it was.

Yongwoon’s smile had faded, and he was studying Hyunjin with a frown, furrowing his brow. “Why is he here, Y/N?”

“He stayed the night. He wasn’t… feeling the best, so I thought it best if I took care of him.” Your tone made it clear you weren’t taking any arguments, which simply made your boyfriend even more uneasy.

“I don’t like it,” he said abruptly. “I don’t like it at all, Y/N. I know you call him your ‘best friend’, but as your boyfriend, I don’t like the idea of you being home alone with another guy. I won’t let you―”

“Let me? Let me?” Your eyes widened with incredulity; the anger that burned in their depths caused him to take a step back, surprised. “I only meant―”

“No, I’ve heard enough,” you decided. “You sound like my grandpa. My annoying, patriarchal grandpa.”

“Y/N―”

“This isn’t working.”

He froze, staring at you for some hint that this was just a joke, maybe a very, very early April Fools’ prank. When he saw nothing except seriousness on your face, he managed, blankly, “Y/N, I―”

“Look. Don’t get me wrong, there was a point where I really, really liked you. But that was before I realized, whatever else we had, there was no spark.”

“Y/N!” he protested, taking a step towards you. You took a step back, shaking your head quite calmly ― you didn’t know where all this calmness was coming from, but you were glad for it.

“I want you to be happy,” you said finally. “I don’t think I’m the answer to that. And I don’t think you’re my answer, either. I’m doing this for the both of us. It’d be nice if we could stay friends, but… that’s up to you.”

Yongwoon looked from Hyunjin to you, the realization dawning in his eyes, which flared with anger. He shook his head, simply leaving the house; after a moment, he turned around, pausing, his eyes slightly wet with the reality that he wasn’t yours anymore ― and hadn’t been, for a while. “I don’t know about that, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a long, long while. “Bye, Yongwoon.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

As soon as he’d left, the tears spilled out; now, it was Hyunjin’s turn to hold you as you cried against him, your tears soaking through the thin fabric of his white t-shirt as he guided you to the couch, his arms tight and warm around you as he held you till you couldn’t cry anymore.

“Thanks, Hyunjinnie,” you whispered, looking up gratefully at him. He brushed away your tears, smiling that signature fond smile he reserved only for you, and placed a warm, soft kiss on your forehead, sending that tingling feeling flooding through your body.

And as the first snow of the year began to fall, outside, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips meeting his in a burst of warmth.

“I love you, Hyunjin.”

“I love you more, Y/N.”

“No! Stop that, I love YOU more!”

“Y/N! Gah, stop tickling me! I love you most!”

“Surrender already! You know I love you more than most.”

“Yes… yes, I do.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin fic #angst #fluff #best friends to lovers #anki writes

[ramblinganthropologist]

Framed

Setting: “Bo Peep Shepard is the dumbass Shepard” (CO Bo Peep, XO Alistair)

Summary: It was such a simple task: go give Shepard his fucking glasses. You think he wouldn’t have been able to screw it up, but Garrus somehow figures out how. Damn his curiosity. 

(Pre relationship.)

---

Early morning shifts were the worst... what time was it even? He would've known that had the Normandy been sensible and used the global time. Damn humans and their need to keep everything Terran … but at least he knew in his bones that it was too damn early for this.

“Yo, Mandibles.”

Garrus was still trying to shake the sleep from his bones when he heard the voice that made his carapace vibrate. He suppressed a mild groan and turned to face the origin. Like a rampaging Krogan, Bo Peep Shepard cut a path through a crowd. Honestly, he wouldn't have been surprised to hear her genes had been spliced with a little something extra. After all, he was pretty sure red wasn't a natural human color for eyes.

Not... that he had spent much time looking at a particular pair or anything.

“Need something, Shepard?”

She shoved something at him. “The bitch wants me for something. Al left his glasses in my damn room again. Mind finding him so he's not wandering around the damn ship blind?”

Bo didn't allow him to answer; off she went to wherever Miranda – he assumed that was 'the bitch' as she had put it so eloquently – was working. That left him alone, half asleep, and in a hallway with what he realized was a small case. It was one he had seen the Normandy's XO carry around ever since they had met back in 2183.

It was impressive that they weren't on his face, given Alistair Shepard was known for being pretty damn myopic.

“How'd he even get out of her quarters without them?” Garrus mused to himself as he headed towards the elevator. Last he had checked, Alistair had mentioned he would be down in engineering. You know, exactly the place he would need a boost to his vision. The whole thing was ridiculous, but he kept that to himself as the doors slid open and he stepped through.

As they closed, curiosity killed the dog or however humans put it. Carefully, he flipped the case open. Inside were the black framed lenses that the Spectre so desperately needed to make sure he didn't walk into walls – or C-SEC officers – when he didn't have his helmet on. They were surprisingly simple for something so crucial to his performance and well-being.

Garrus glanced around as he took them out of the case and held them up to the light and peered through the left lens. It looked the same to him, but how was he to know? Maybe the human was just fucking with him about needing them. Maybe he liked smashing into walls.

“I shouldn't.”

There were a lot of things he shouldn't do, but yet he did them anyway – his face was proof of that. Garrus went with his gut on this one and carefully slid the lenses onto his face. It was an awkward fit, mostly because Alistair didn't have mandibles and he lacked a nose. But at least if he held them by the arm they didn't completely slide off his face.

Spirits, the man was fucking blind.

“No wonder he smacked into me.” Garrus winced as a sudden headache bloomed before his eyes. With the glasses on, his vision was far too focused on the left. It was worse than his scope, and hurt more too. There was an off balance too – the right lens was only plain glass. After all, the XO didn't need corrective vision on an eye that didn't work. Somehow, that made matters worse.

Still... the turian reached up to touch one of the arms that Alistair was constantly playing with while he worked. It was silly, but he could picture the man so well in them, even with the headache. Glasses were beyond old fashioned, but somehow he made them look... good. Great, even, in a way that Garrus really couldn't quantify. Words weren't exactly his thing.

How the hell did the man make a stupid pair of black glasses look so damn endearing? Maybe it was biotic thing.

He was left musing on that in the small space. It had been on his mind for more than a few hours – a few years was correct if he was being honest with himself. There was just something about the Spectre that made Garrus want to look at him. Hell if he knew why, but it was impossible to keep him out of his thoughts.

Biotic thing, had to be. Maybe it was an after effect.

Probably because of that, he missed the fact that the elevator had stopped. He was left standing, unaware that the doors had slid open. A shadow cast its way across the floor, rather short compared to most of the Normandy. Unfortunately, it wasn't a trick of the light or some shift in perspective.

“Garrus? Is that you?”

The turian felt his heart jump into his mandibles as he peered through his right eye. Standing there, squinting a little, was the Normandy's XO. Despite the frankly ridiculous goings on, he was pretty calm. That let Garrus decide that the human either couldn't see what was going on, or he hadn't processed it yet.

Talk about a saving grace.

“I would hope so. I'm the only turian on ship.”

Playing it cool was going to win the day for him. The question was getting the glasses off his face before Alistair noticed. He might have been blind as a bat, but his close up vision was better than his distance. If he got in the elevator, it was game over. However, someone up on a floor above needed it. That meant Garrus had to get out or... well, look even more stupid.

He settled for keeping his head high and stepping out. “Bo said you would be down here. Something about checking on the Normandy's setup?”

It was a lie, but it was going to save his ass. Alistair straightened up at mention of the ship. After all, it was the only woman he had ever loved – though he would gripe until the end of time that the Normandy was clearly the sexiest man that ever existed. He nodded, the gesture somewhat subdued probably out of habit to not knock off the glasses Garrus currently had sitting on his face. Given how much they wanted to slide down his lack of nose, it made sense. Damn things were more trouble than they were worth.

Though... they definitely looked good on the man. Not that he noticed.

“Just putting her through her paces. Cerberus fucked with her, but I've got her running right. I'm no quarian, but I think she'll be ok.” It was rare for Alistair to swear, but the Normandy was his baby. He was already walking back to her side, close to heading towards a wall. Maybe he hadn't noticed. “Though can you believe what these assholes did down he-”

Garrus' hand snaked out to grab the human by the wrist before he smacked straight into it. The gesture caught him off balance and he jerked back. Another hand went out to steady him. They were now dangerously close, enough that the turian swore he could hear his heart beat. Or maybe that was his... it was going a little fast.

“Seriously, there's a wall right there.”

Alistair's cheeks colored. “Yeah I'm uh... not used to the new layout. Keep smacking into things without my glasses.”

And then his eyes narrowed. “Wait... are you...”

In a flash, Garrus had removed the glasses and placed them back into their case. These he handed back over to the human and retreated back towards the elevator. It was a breakneck pace, one he hoped would throw his movements off.

“Well, need to get to the battery. Cerberus has no idea what they're doing with big guns. Talk to you later Shepard.”

His last image was the man putting the glasses back on his face as the elevator door closed in front of him. Briefly, blue eyes met, one framed by black lenses, in a gaze so strong that he wanted to look away. And then there were the metal doors, cutting them off. He was alone again with nothing but a growing feeling of stupidity.

He... definitely fucked that one up. Nice going, Archangel.

Garrus didn't stop until he was back among large guns and behind heavy doors of the battery. His heart was still racing as he leaned over the console. At least here, the guns wouldn't judge him. They just shot when they were told. That dependability was something he liked about them, especially in a time like this when everything else was going to hell around him. Worst of all, it was his fault this time.

“Shit.”

He shook his head, glad to be free of the glasses and their headache inducing power. Still, it was hard to forget how close they had been for a brief moment. That made his poor heart race even faster and banished any thought of work. It was hardly dignified for a man of his age and body count, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

Especially after, you know, wearing the damn man's glasses. No way he was living that one down. Still, there was work to be done. Sighing, Garrus shook his head and looked back to the console. He could worry about screwing things up later.

Besides... why was he worrying about that anyway? It wasn't as if...

Shit.

#Shakarian #Garrus Vakarian #Alistair Shepard #This is stupid and inspired by a picture of Garrus in glasses #I guess turians don't do the dude you're blind thing and swap glasses #Mostly because glasses are apparently nonexistent in 2183 and to that I say bullshit #ramblinganthropologist's writing