#i went back and read 'Cat in an empty flat' each time shit seemed terrible. and yeah. yeah
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Whitmore Guy - xenomorph
Whitmore Guy masterlist
word count: 3076
warnings: things get serious
Four days later Y/N decided she should visit Mal and see how he is. Lord knows how he’s going to cope with all this. Elena suggested, in a flare of her classical empathy stroke, to help out with compelling if they find out the guy’s not doing good. Y/N went chilly inside upon imagining a sociopath derived of feelings, forgetting why there’s a whole in his mind.
Before showing up on his doorstep, she dropped by at the shop and bought him some ice cream. She didn’t recall talking about ice cream with Mal, which was strange, but she put all her faith in that bubble gum flavor would do good. It was her favorite, and the two of them had it all similar, plus, Mal was really into chemical, artificial stuff to put in his mouth. A big bucket of bright blue frozen mass held neatly under her arms, she entered the block of flats and got to the fourth floor. Just as she was about to knock on the door, it swung open, so energetically, as usual, like there was a tornado behind it.
Mal let his scruff grow, and now he looked about five years older, and even more handsome. His hands still had dark small cuts from the debris of the table.
“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. Y/N eyed him carefully. The dude was wearing his jean jacket and sweatpants, and he looked smashing, but also, not pale enough. He didn’t even have swollen eyes or grey bruises around them. He looked perfectly healthy, mature, and happy to see her.
“Y/N, are you reading my mind?” he took the ice cream bucket from her and pushed the door, letting her in.
She entered his place with curiosity. Y/N hasn’t been inside yet; should she happen to give him a lift, she usually let him out of the car outside and drove away.
It was messy as hell, like a normal dude’s apartment. The only neatly organized space was kitchen, where all the cutting boards, knives and plates lay in their places, all the ketlery seemingly kept in one color palette.
His room, though, was an expression of his temper. Bed was full of candy packages, and his clothes, his pastel and black hoodies, jeans and t-shirts scattered around the floor. He wasn’t completely mental though: his jackets and coats were hung in the closet, on hangers. The big TV was on, prepped against the wall right opposite his bed; Netflix was paused indicating that he’s been watching Alien.
“This is perfect”, he puffed, pulling his jacket off and throwing in onto a chair. “I was just about to go out for the ice cream, and there you are, like a little fairy, granting my deepest desires”.
He crashed back on bed, his lively black eyes fixated on her. Y/N stood above it, unsure what to do.
“Are you doing okay, Mal?”
He opened his mouth, looking at her, while he lay in his bed, stomach up, like a cat.
“Yeah, what do you mean?”
Two seconds passed until a bulb lit up in the depths of his brain.
“Oh, yes, of course. Martha’s dead. Love of my life is gone and I will never see her again. But I’m fine”.
Y/N took off her leather jacket and threw it on the same chair, to pair it with Mal’s. Thing was, she didn’t mind mess much as long as it wasn’t completely biologically hazardous. Clean kitchen did that for her.
“Care to elaborate? How did you manage to cope with it in four days? I thought you’d need a lot of support, quite frankly”.
She put the bucket on the nighstand and opened it with her nails.
“Do you have a spoon?”
Mal looked down his bed and then put his arm under the pillow, looked around the room and finally spotted a spoon on the stand under the TV. Y/N took it and stabbed the stone-frozen blue stuff. She sat on the bed, thanking heavens that Mal thought to move to give her some space. He took the bucket from her and unpaused the movie.
“You’ve seen this?”
“You kidding?”
She prepped herself against the pillow and sat comfortably.
“I had such a big crush on Sigourney Weaver when it first came out…” there were traces of tenderness in Mal’s voice.
“Repeat that, slower”, Y/N eyed him as he took a spoonful in his mouth.
“Well, obviously, I mean when it came out, like, for me. Don’t pick on my words, I’m mourning”.
“You don’t look like you are”.
“God, you’re lucky you’re cute and bring me food, lady”, Mal shook his head slowly, never looking away from the TV. “Hold on, he’s gonna start feeding now”.
They both allowed all their concentration into the movie. To be honest, Y/N loved that one.
“I love him so much”, she whispered under her breath as the Xenomorph jumped down from the ceiling, sweeping a guy away so fast it was almost like when vampires did it.
“Yeah?” Mal smiled. “You want some?”
Y/N nodded and took the spoon.
“He’s fast, and he’s perfect. He never talks too much, he just feeds and kills, you know. Even Predators admitted that Aliens were the best hunting prey and that they had a kind of respect for them because how awesome they are. Look at him. He’s so stealthy and pitch black, he’s flawless”.
“You wanna fuck a Xenomorph?” he asked with uncertainty.
“I guess I like all things terrible”.
Mal nodded with understanding.
The plot went on as they were slowly consuming ice cream, like a couple of disgruntled schoolchildren, only, they were both way too adult to be dramatic.
“So, what have you been doing here these days?” Y/N took another swing at trying to open him up.
Mal sighed.
“You know, stuff. Cried a little, cooked, ate a lot, slept. Then I remembered our conversation about movies and how you once said that you watch stuff that makes you happy when you’re down”.
“So, you decided to go with Alien”.
“Nah, sorry, monster fucker, but cenobites are my all-time favorites. I started with Hellraiser, yesterday. Rewatched all parts”.
“Damn it”.
“What?”
“I should’ve come yesterday. What are you going to do now?”
“Uh, Alien franchise?” he eyed her with confusion as he shoved the spoon in his mouth. He was eating it like a bear, without even looking, like it was soup. Mal had incredible stomach for sure, made of titan or such.
“No, I mean, you’ll have to return to work eventually. And live on”.
“Come on, it’s been four days. Give me a break. Plus, I don’t have to return to work – I moved in here because of my girlfriend, and now she’s dead, so technically I don’t have to work”.
“Fair enough”.
Y/N shivered at the thought of never seeing him at the college again. After nearly two months of being as thick as thieves she couldn’t imagine going on completely alone in that madhouse.
Was it weird that Mal seemed so indifferent? Yes and no. Y/N learned not to question the weird long time ago. She was surrounded by them. She was just alarmed at what he might do or feel when it finally hits him that Martha is really gone.
She left it alone. Y/N slid down a little, shook her head negatively when Mal tried to feed her; by the end of the first part they were spread on the bed like two starfish. The second chapter of Ripley’s blood freezing adventures began at about Five PM, and Y/N only realized she was almost drifting away when her phone rang.
“Hey”, she hung from Mal’s bed and grabbed her phone. It was Damon.
“Is he alive?”
“Yep”.
“Is he raging?”
“No, everything’s fine”.
She looked around and looked at the guy; the bucket in his hands was half-empty. Her eyebrows went up.
“Although I think he’s a bit suicidal”.
“Cool, hit me up if anything”.
Damon hung up.
“Who was it?”
“Mal, you shouldn’t eat it all at once, you’ll poison yourself”.
“I’m fine. Was it Damon?”
Mal embraced his bucket in case she tries to pull it away from him.
“No”.
His eyes narrowed.
“Why are you lying?”
Y/N clicked her tongue, falling back and crossing her legs.
“Because I don’t want you to think about him”.
Mal stared at her, thinking about something. Y/N looked at the birth mark on his neck and thought to herself that she lost completely. She couldn’t resist it anymore, the urge to be close to him, to hear what he says, gain the little smiles as she mused out loud. Her inner guts warmed up as she looked at this young man, and there was nothing she could do about this unyielding attraction, about the sheer feeling of liberty she experienced under his testing glance.
“You wanna see her pictures?” he asked suddenly.
“I thought you deleted them all”.
“No, I wanted to do it, but…” he shrugged, “you know how it is, I got really soft over the years we’ve been together”.
Y/N ran her hand through her hair.
“Sure”.
He took his phone, putting the bucket between their thighs. Y/N tried to snatch it away, but Mal caught her wrist.
“I’m eating it”.
“Mal, it’s really bad for you”.
“I know what I’m doing, mum”.
The film was going on, but they leaned to each other, looking at the screen of his smartphone. Mal didn’t delete shit, she thought, and discovered, she was angry. For heaven’s sake, Y/N, she thought, the girl’s died four days ago.
“That’s us in Carolina. We rented a little house”.
Martha was standing in the kitchen in a pretty dress, much like one Y/N had herself. But then again, it was a very fashionable model one summer, so a lot of girls had it. Think rationally.
“You travelled a lot?”
“Yeah, well, mainly in America”.
“And you’re from Ohio?”
“Uh-huh”.
Y/N looked at their picture in which they were sitting on the bank of a river.
“Where is it?”
“New Orleans. She loved that city, Martha. Tried to get me to move in there”.
“She’s got a good taste. Architecture in New Orleans is amazing”.
“She was also very much into home interiors. You know, sinks, bath tubs. I’ve never met a person before, who’d be so interested in fucking acrylic”.
Y/N looked up and they met eyes. Mal looked very serious.
“She was also very kind. You couldn’t tell at first, people used to say she was wicked. But compared to me, she was an angel. Maybe not the most people’s person, but she sure was unique”.
He blinked slowly, and his gaze went blank. Uh-oh, Y/N gathered, there it goes. Well, her arms are attached and she’s capable of holding him for as long as he needed.
“Have you ever been in love so hard it annoyed the hell out of you?” he asked.
Y/N tried to think of all the times she has been in love. In truth, she didn’t fall for somebody too often and easily, and the way this black-eyed boy made her feel was rather unusual.
She’s been in love with her classmate, Ashton, for about seven years, in and out. Never approached him. Never let him know. It was a simple teenage crush, with all the teenage drama, while Ashton was dating other girls.
She’s been in love with Damon so helplessly, so fully, it was painful. There was a time in her life when she thought she never needed anything else, that she could grab the whole bunch of the planet and throw it away, just to be with him. But he was unreachable, unimaginable. He was a titan, and she was a girl in a brown dress. She loved him loyally and openly, and he never budged, because Damon Salvatore, to his honor, only loved one woman in his very long life. And it wasn’t Y/N.
“I’ve been hurt”, she said, “and I’ve been rejected, but not annoyed, I don’t think so”.
Mal nodded coyly, his straight thin nose diving down as he looked at his phone laying in her palm.
“I was never supposed to get into that trap. I’m not the kind of person who is capable of…” he winced, as if remembering something, “loving, caring, all the human things. That was always bad for me. I never even had the urge. And then it turned out she was crafted for me, and I hoped, I – for her. All the things I thought I knew were just crashed, my brain couldn’t even cope. You know, Martha had a stamina, because those first months we’ve got together for real I hurt her a lot”.
Y/N stiffened a little.
“I confused everything I felt. I wanted to hold her, and squeezed her so hard she had bruises. I had this eerie feeling like I was crumbling down in pieces, and then realized it was my guards falling down. She completely destroyed the portrait of the person I thought I was”.
“Who did you think you were?”
Mal looked at her and said in such a tone as if it was obvious,
“A mistake”.
There were people at some point so vile that they completely convinced this pretty boy that he was unwanted, that he was supposed to be unmade. How do you fuck your child up so bad? Y/N wanted to ask what mental issues his parents must have had, and then decided she didn’t have the emotional capacity for it.
She considered it a little and then put her hand on Mal’s head, covering his left ear with her palm.
“Look at them”.
They both turned to the screen. There stood a Xenomorph, its jet black skin glistening like oil, slender flexible limbs standing firmly, elongated head and exquisitely made spine, like a handle of a harp.
“He’s perfect. And so are you, Mal”.
He bit his lower lip and suddenly dropped his head, bursting into giggles.
His large hands encircled her waist and pulled her close. Mal smelled like ice cream, and his skin, having its own scent, was warm under his soft shirt. Y/N couldn’t fight him as he sat back on the pillows, cradling her in his arms and putting his chin onto the top of her head.
“I know, Y/N. Now I know, I’m just saying, there was a time when I really believed all that crap my dad fed me. But Martha came along and, grossly, saved my dirty, black, violent soul”.
She put her head on Mal’s shoulder and outstretched her legs, feeling so cozy it threatened to put her to sleep again. Mal sighed, and his chest went up and down, and she rolled her eyes, savoring these moments, because she knew she couldn’t keep going.
“But then, of course, Damon took my girlfriend away”, he added.
She sat up so harshly he lifted both his hands for a second.
“Mal. You know it was someone else, right? She attacked him, but somebody had turned her before, and compelled her to try and kill Damon”.
Mal did it again. A second ago he was as fluffy as a bear, and now there was poison in the very air he exhaled from his nostrils.
“But it was him who ripped her heart out of her chest, right? Or are you going to tell me I should ignore it, too, like I did with her parents?”
“We need to find that… vampire who’s behind all these killings first”.
“I don’t care about them”, Mal waved his hand, “people die every day. In packs. My girl and what Damon did to her – that’s my focus. Are you going to stop me?”
They looked at each other, worms stirring in Y/N’s belly.
“You really don’t understand what’s wrong with this plan, do you?”
“I really think you keep trying to protect him because you still have feelings for him”.
She fell back on the pillows with a swing – and ceiling swayed for a moment. She could feel Mal’s eyes following her, drilling into her face.
“I really don’t”.
“You’re lying to yourself”.
His voice was dry like sand. Then he took the bucket from the stand and continued to eat, as if nothing happened.
By the end of Aliens Y/N fell asleep and woke up again when it was already dark. Mal turned on a night shade, and was still watching movies.
She opened her eyes and adjusted them, staring into the TV while laying on her side. Having completely come to her senses, she sat up, causing Mal to turn his head to her.
“You really blacked out”, he said with deep admiration.
She rubbed her neck and face, feeling even heavier than before.
“Oh god, why did you let me sleep… how long has it been?”
“A movie and a half”.
“I have to go”.
“Okay”.
Her glance travelled around the room and stopped at the empty bucket.
“You mental patient”, she hissed, “you really wanna kill yourself?”
He just smirked.
She got up from the bed, stretching her limbs and back, and yawned.
“You know, I think I will return to work”, Mal said.
“That’s a good idea, Mal. You’ll keep busy and won’t have to think about anything”.
He nodded.
Mal didn’t get up to close the door after her, so she had to “just bang it harder” herself. As she left the building, the warm summer air started to put things in order in her mind.
She drove to her house and was standing in front of the mirror in her room in thirty minutes. Her hand lay on her throat as she was examining herself. She wasn’t going crazy, was she? She remembered putting on her necklace that morning, a pretty one, wrapping tightly around her neck. Now, it wasn’t on her desk, and it wasn’t on her, so? She took off her shirt and checked for any kinds of marks on her skin. There was nothing. All the things with Mal were so intense, so sexual and strange, she couldn’t put her mind to rest. She didn’t know why she didn’t phone him right away, and she didn’t know why she wouldn’t believe his deeply sad eyes even after he showed her their pictures with Martha.
She also didn’t remember ever telling him about the movies that make her feel happy.
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CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?
OBIKIN X AU /PART 3/ Part 2 / Part 1
Why do I make people suffer even in an AU? - I don’t know
Why can’t I write something that is not a slow burn? - I have no idea.
They still haven’t had much of a talk but believe me the spark is there. It’s going to stay. There is going to be romance drama, but first some other drama just cuz my life is boring.
Enjoy!
After Aayla’s friend so nicely dropped him off in front of his apartment building, Obi-Wan immediately ran up to his flat, so he could lie down and get as much sleep as possible for his next shift. His flat is only on the second floor so he didn’t bother to use the lift. When he reached his destination, he put his key inside the lock, heard a click and after opening it a little he could hear some faint sounds from inside. Ahsoka he thought with uncertainty. She was the only one that had another key. The girl insisted that Obi-Wan should make one and give it to her after some unfortunate “incident” that made the older man incapable of doing anything for a month. Okay, the incident wasn’t so much of an incident but Obi-wan’s recklessness with his health. It happened just one time, he blacked out just one time for a few hours, which ended up creating a series of very big headaches for Obi-wan, him being checked into a hospital for a week and a half, "the half" being caused by him trying to sneak out before he was signed out, Ahsoka’s and Rex’s protective mode turned on to the max, Cody forbidding him to work and all of that not necessarily in this order. And no one especially Ahsoka wouldn’t let it go for a year.
What he saw inside his flat, however, was something he has not expected in the least.
“Father?” his voice was faint and strange to himself. He wasn’t sure if it was real or was he hallucinating from exhaustion. Obi-wan hasn’t moved an inch from the front door, his body stiff and his mind running. He gulped and tried moving. Qui-Gon has turned towards him from the kitchen’s archway, just observing him with that slightly ever so critical look that was somehow still filled with warmth and love towards his only child.
“Hello, son,” the deep voice of the older man brought him back to reality. Obi-wan hasn’t seen or heard from his father in two years. He felt like a child again, he often felt like that when the older man was around. He wanted to run up to his father, embrace him and make the younger man feel like every difficulty he has is melting away. But he wasn’t a child and he hasn’t been able to face and accept that his father was right about him, as always. Ever since his teenage years, Obi-wan had always found that being stubborn and rebellious against his father had brought him some kind of satisfaction. The younger male didn’t see himself as a prideful person but he as sure wasn’t going to apologies now.
Obi-wan wanted to speak but his brain was being too slow for him to function.
“Are you feeling well, son,” it seemed that Qui-Gonn was able to read him as fine as ever, kriffing Jedi senses. The older man was still standing in that same position, just observing him, trying not to unnerve Obi-wan. The younger man wanted to lash at him but didn’t have the strength. He also didn’t see the reason to why. It was stupid. He was being stupid. He wasn’t a teenager anymore but his whole being wanted to act like one. He breathed in and out and spoke.
“How did you get inside?” Obi-wan took a couple of steps to the front, getting closer to the man in front of him.
“Ahsoka” Qui-Gonn didn’t miss a beat “she called me and gave me the spare key. She told me that she wanted to call sooner, but she knew how you’ll react and decided against it. But according to her, it’s time to “sort out our shit or she’ll lose her mind”. She knew you were too proud to do anything and I wanted to see you. “His father faintly smiled, looking at him and then at the key in his hands. “But I think I made a mistake in coming in. I shouldn’t have. It seems like I am ambushing you and you seem tired, it’s not fair to you. We should talk about when you feel better. I will go.” The older man took a step forward, extended his hand to the nightstand next to the bed and put the key there. He stood there for a couple of seconds, then turned to the door and started walking.
“We are going to record in a studio. A proper studio, I mean. And-and I will call you soon to talk about it.” Obi-wan managed to spit out, his voice gradually becoming more hushed. The older man turned slightly towards him and smiled. “I am glad for you, Obi-wan. I am going to wait for you to call me.” Obi-wan nodded and watched as his father left the flat.
He fell back to his bed and sighed deeply. After that, he intensely rubbed his face, put it into one of his pillows and screamed. This drained him to no end.
After that one last thought, Obi-wan woke up to the sound of his alarm. He wasn't even able to change, great. There were two hours to his shift and thanked whatever entity he could think of that he thought of putting alarms for every day he was working. He felt sleepy, but his stomach was loudly announcing how empty it was. Cussing his bodily functions, he begrudgingly stood up from his bed and went to the kitchen to fix up something simple.
He was instantly reminded about the unfortunate meeting he had with his father and made a mental note to call Ahsoka and try not to shout at her for her mindless actions. He knew she meant well but sometimes she shouldn’t. He sighed once again and pinched the bridge of his nose. His phone rang from the bed. He went to pick it up and he raised his eyebrow. Speaking of the devil he thought.
“Hey, Nobi, what’s up?” the girl’s voice was unusually high. It seemed she was regretting some of her choices.”How are you doing? How is it going? Please, don’t kill me the next time we see each other.”
“I don’t know Ahsoka, this is not a very long time. It’s what - day and a half. This is not much of a time for me to sit on it and react rationally. I don’t know. What do you think?” the man was mocking his friend with some kind of parodied voice of a Senator they have heard on holos.
“Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement, Mr Kenobi? I did this only for your good and if the great Kenobi looks deeper into the matters I am sure he’ll see that his friend is just worried for him that he is carrying too much unresolved emotional issues that he shouldn’t just ignore and try to face them.”
“I am ever so grateful to the fierce Tano that she is giving me her wisdom.” They both laughed at their silliness. “Next time if you decide to make me some kind of surprise, just consult me.”
“It won’t be a surprise then.” Ahsoka tried to object and the man could picture the girl rolling her eyes.
“Exactly,” Obi-wan retorted.”I’ll see you and Rex soon then.”
“Bye, Obi”
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After eating and showering, Obi-wan checked if the cat ate anything so he could refill it but it seemed she hadn’t been around since the last time so he just changed the water with a fresh one and headed to work.
One the way there he was inspired by some of the events happening in his life and some of the planet’s landscapes he was passing by so he scribbled some lyrics that the band can use later. His thoughts also drifted to the dark blond-haired boy that is helping them. Obi-wan was a little too eager to see him but was scolding himself not to get too carried away. After all, it won’t be a smart decision to make. He knew that he wasn’t in the right headspace to begin any kind of serious relationships and one-night stand will only make things awkward. Flirting was the only smart action he could do, for now at least.
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After arriving at work, Obi-wan headed straight inside, determined to talk to Cody about the shifts and the low numbers of staff. He couldn’t understand what was his friend doing or trying to achieve with overworking his people. He passed by the bar and the staff’s room, totally missing Asajj’s greeting and her “dude, are you okay” look, he went up the stairs and was now in front of Cody’s office, knocking on the door.
“Come in” a firm voice answered from inside. He opened the door with intent and determination. His whole speech evaporated away and his stance became dejected as soon as he saw his friend. Cody was in a hunched position over his desk, dark circles painted under his eyes, piles of documents on either side of him and his hair slightly dishevelled. He looked awful. It seemed like he hasn’t slept in a few days. How he hadn’t noticed earlier. Obi-wan felt like a terrible friend.
“What is it?” his friend’s raspy voice took him out from his thoughts. Cody was looking with puzzlement in his eyes. Obi-wan cleared his throat and spoke.
“I wanted to ask you something but it seems you have a lot on your hands so I’ll come whenever you are free. Also maybe you should take a few days off, you look dreadful.” Obi-wan said with a rush while sounding concerned. He was in the office, having closed the door but still holding on the knob, ready to rush out from the room.
“Thanks, buddy, very reassuring. I am glad to have you as my friend.” Cody couldn’t be more deadpan but Obi-wan is seriously worried for his friend he just didn’t want to explain why was he here in the first place.”So why did you exactly come up to me?” Ah, here it is.
“It really can wait. Have you looked lately in the mirror? Please, do. You know what, on second thought - don’t. Just go take some rest, please.”
“Look who is talking” Cody muttered under his breath and stared at his friend for a few moments before continuing “So, what is the problem. And if you say one more time it can wait I am going to-“
“It’s about the shifts and the staff. You don’t have enough staff, but you seem that you don’t want to hire anymore but the shifts…” Obi-wan thought that it was better not to argue with his friend so he went straight for the matter.
Cody sighed deeply and leaned back on his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. Obi-wan could hear him cursing softly, he felt like apologizing. “Look, I know I am not that high in the work chain so you can’t say that much to me, but you have to remember that I am always here as your friend to support you with whatever you may need.” Obi-wan’s voice was filled with earnestness and determination, he was hoping his friend was hearing him and wanted his friend to confide in him. The other man wasn’t saying anything, still leaning back on his chair, his head pointed upwards his eyes looking at the ceiling like he was searching for his answers there like he would find them there. In the meantime, Obi-wan has stepped further into the room, in front of the spare chair upfront Cody’s desk. Obi-wan grabbed the top part of it, squeezing it a little bit and releasing it. He didn’t want to push his friend further, didn’t want to put him in a tight place. That is why he just stood there, matching his friend’s breathing, observing him and waiting for him.
A few more minutes passed before Cody gave his answer.
“There-there were some irregularities with several of our financial accountings the last few months, seven months to be exact. We were trying to find what was going on with Wolffe because things were not adding up and missing. It seems that the guy we hired in the last minute because we needed the help, screwed us up. He was dealing with some other business on the side and it looks like he had mixed us up in all of it. We found a month and a half ago and we are trying to fix everything, trying not to sink it. We will probably need a couple of months more so things could return to at least some kind of normal and manageable. That’s why I can’t afford to hire anybody for now and I can’t ask too much of you as you already overwork yourself. “
“Cody, listen, I-“
“Don’t. Just don’t try and go on your suicidal crusades to help me. Do you hear me? Do not dare try it!” Cody’s voice was gradually escalating, but he was managing not to be too loud so people outside would hear and start to gossip. The two friends were playing a starring match, with Cody now standing up from his chair, both of them filled with elevated emotions, trying not to burst from every corner of their bodies. Obi-wan squeezed the chair again, sighed and looked down, giving up.
“I wasn’t- I won’t-“even he couldn’t believe himself enough to be able to finish the sentence. “Look, I am your friend, of course, I am going to worry after everything you told me. I am going to do whatever you allow me to do for you, whatever you ask me. “He returned his gaze towards his friend, with less fight and more support in it, “I think you can even hire Ahsoka as an intern or something. I know she is studying music business but I am sure she can use this as some kind of work experience. “
“I don’t want to exploit her. There is probably something better she can do than this.”
“You won’t, you will give her work experience. And I am sure you won’t be able to stop her helping you if I tell her what’s going on.” Obi-wan slightly smirked at his friend, who scowled at him.
“If you only try and-“
“Excuse you, have you met me?”Obi-wan’s smirk grew bigger, with him arching his eyebrow and crossing his arms in front of him. “I am a notorious rebel.”
Cody scoffed at him in disbelieve “People who call themselves ‘rebels’ are hardly ones. Yet you truly are a pain in the ass.”
“Thank you.”
Both of them laughed lightly and looked at each other;
“Okay,” Cody stated,” I am going to think about Ahsoka and will talk directly to her. “He emphasized the last part. “So you can return to work now if you don’t want your boss to seriously scold you in front of your nice co-workers.”
Obi-wan mockingly stood in a military pose, saluting his friend “Sir, yes, sir.” He turned on his heels, somewhat marching and exited the room. He could hear his friend laughing inside and smiled softly to himself.
#obikin#obi wan kenobi#obi wan x anakin#anakin skywalker#cody#qui gon jinn#ahsoka tano#anakin#ahsoka#qui gon#star wars#starwars#sw#au#fanfic#fanfiction
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Elastic Heart - Part 3 (Branjie) - Mia Ugly
A/N: Soooo this chapter took a turn for the sad-bastardish, but I swear there will be less moodiness and more kissing in the future. Also I’m trying to use she/her pronouns in Drag Race, and he/him out of drag, but sometimes it all goes to hell, bear with me! Thanks to everyone who’s been so sweet about this fic so far.
Social media -
Is not Brock’s strength area.
Detox used to hassle him about it before he even went on Drag Race, and he made a promise to himself that he would do a better job after. Tell the world when he - ate a bowl of cereal or whatever.
Post photos of his cats at the very least.
So when his manager comes to him with the expectation that he and Jose play up their relationship for the fans, Brock says: (nonononononononononono)
He says “fine.”
Jose’s in, apparently, and - well, Brock can only take that information second-hand because the two of them haven’t really. Spoken. Recently.
He says “fine” and then he goes on Jose’s Instagram and almost has a panic attack (because some people are so pretty it is unfair, some people are basically built to break your heart - from atoms to molecules to cells.
Jose in sweats and snapbacks.
Vanessa in gloss and feathers.
Each one feels like a hand around Brock’s throat.)
So.
After about thirty minutes in the fetal position, Brock leaves it all in his manager’s hands (or whoever his manager is paying for social media these days.) Someone adds flirty comments and cute photos to anything Jose posts, someone keeps the fans happy.
Brock doesn’t need to see it.
It’s too soon (too much, too real) for him.
He tries to avoid Instagram; Twitter is about all he can handle (he knows his mom follows him and he doesn’t want to make her worry.) He doesn’t read any of the speculative articles about their relationship, but he is always extremely polite when he’s asked about it (just flirty enough to give the fans hope. Professional, friendly, not too fond. It’s a fine line, and he worries sometimes that his feelings rise a bit close to the surface. That the people who know him best are going to watch one of these interviews, peer through the ice at his blue skin and see everything.)
Friends keep texting him. Leaving him voicemails, asking him how he’s doing. Brock ignores the ones he can, and responds whenever anyone seems a bit too concerned. Gotta make sure the outside world stays outside.
Clearly it’s all going to come out by the time the finale airs, and that’s just something Brock will have to be ready for. Maybe he can do a European tour. Or an Antarctic one. They don’t have internet there, do they?
He’s wonderful, I love him, he says on ET Canada as if that doesn’t mean anything, as if it isn’t the first time he’s said ‘I love him’ out loud.
Brock keeps working (because he’s still a force of nature, even without a crown.) He does shows across the mid-West, hosts club nights, dances the house down because he is a queen, damn it. He goes on tour with the First Wives Fight Club, let’s Ginger Minj distract him with the most offensive jokes Brock’s ever heard (and it’s good to feel outrage rather than longing, for a change. It’s good to do something different, something that’s not related to Drag Race and soft-skinned Puerto Ricans who won’t answer his calls.)
Or probably won’t.
Because Brock hasn’t called.
It’s shady and pathetic and each day feels like pulling teeth out, but he’s trying to respect the boundaries Jose put up. They said their piece at the reunion before Brock died of blunt force trauma to the chest (it’s fine, he’s fine) and he’s not the kind of person to push someone to take him back.
To beg someone to want him.
He can’t say if it’s pride or fear that stops him every time he gets shit-faced and picks up his phone. He can’t count the number of texts he’s written and then deleted. And then re-written.
The night after the First Wives show in Vancouver, the other queens go out to whatever local club hasn’t been closed yet, and Brock goes for a run on the beach. It’s dark out, and after a couple of miles he stops, stretches, and sits cross-legged in the sand.
The ocean reaches out for him, black-fingered and impetuous, dotted with the twinkling lights of oil tankers.
Brock hasn’t had anything to drink. There’s really no excuse when he takes his phone out of his pocket, scrolls to Jose’s number.
His thumb hovers over the keys, thinking thinking (over-thinking).
(I’m on the West coast and I’m miserable without you and I want to hear you laugh again even if it’s at me even if it’s mean I want to hear your voice and you killed it on Jimmy Kimmel and I’m losing my mind I think you’re incredible I think you’re hilarious and brilliant and I miss you I miss youImiss -)
“Damn it,” Brock hisses, because he’s smarter than this. He’s stronger than this (he wants that to be true.)
“I’ll be at Drag Con,” he texts before he can think too much about it. “Hope i see u.”
He waits. He’ll probably delete it without sending. He should delete it without sending because Jose doesn’t want to talk to him.
His thumb sits on the ‘Send’ key, barely touching it. It’s such a pointless, empty message. It doesn’t say any of the things he wants to say.
This was easy once. Talking to Jose was like breathing. What the fuck happened? (He knows what happened, and he resists the urge to throw his phone into the sea.)
After a few seconds, Brock deletes the message and puts his phone down.
Then he picks it back up.
He bites the inside of his cheek, a habit he mostly gave up in middle school.
This was easy once.
(“When this is all over –“
“Oh Jesus, oh Mary, there she goes.” Vanjie at her station, rummaging through yards of tulle. “You wanna shack up or something? Get cats, turn me into a proper wifey?”
“Well. I was thinking more like buy you dinner.” Brooke doesn’t touch her, because the world is watching. Still - her eyes linger on the bones of Vanjie’s hands, her wrists, her jaw. There is not a part of her body that doesn’t beg for contact, not a part of her that Brooke doesn’t want to touch.
“Ha, okay. But I’m a classy ho. It’s gotta be Olive Garden at least, get me some unlimited breadsticks.”
There’s a faint blush on her cheekbones even though she’s rolling her eyes, and it makes Brooke love her even more than –
Shit.
Shit.
She did not just think that word.
They aren’t - there yet. Brooke’s tired and stressed and her brain is clearly short-circuiting. It’s nothing. It’s fine.
“That shut you up, hey? Olive Garden too bougie for you? Don’t worry, girl– when this is all over and I’m a honey-thousand dollars richer, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”)
He should have known then.
Stopped it all in its tracks before it got totally out of control. But he didn’t.
Brock lies back against the sand, breathes in the copper-sweet taste of the ocean.
(That’s a star, right?)
The waves roll in, and he can almost see stars.
* * *
Back in her hotel room, she’s running over choreography for Tuckpantistan in her head, counting under her breath (one and two and three and -) when a noise distracts her.
A papery scratching at her hotel-room door. When Brooke goes to investigate, she sees a folded note that’s been slid underneath it.
U up?
Then below it: Haha, JK. Got a PA to deliver this, some real high school shit. Thinking bout your pretty face. <3 <3 <3
It’s signed Papi and Brooke turns rose-petal pink with embarrassment and pleasure. Fuck, she wishes she had her phone. Wishes she could FaceTime Vanjie any time she wanted, see her all bleary-eyed and soft and sleepy. Just the thought of that image makes Brooke’s heart clench painfully, and she tries not to think about why.
Instead she takes out the notepad from the desk in the hotel room.
How do I know this is really you and not just a producer fucking with me?
She folds the paper into a flat square and writes Return to Sender on the front of it, before sliding it under her hotel room door.
Then she immediately feels like an idiot.
This is ridiculous. They aren’t teenagers.
Brooke goes back to rehearsing for tomorrow, and tells herself there isn’t a stupid smile on her face. That would just be too undignified.
About fifteen minutes later (not that Brooke was counting or paying attention or anything) she hears that same scratching sound, and goes back to the door. A new piece of paper has been slid underneath it, and Brooke bites down on a grin.
You want a ring or some shit?
Thought you’d like that, something only the real MISS VANESSA VANJIE MATEO would know. This PA’s real nice, I’ma take advantage of her. UNLESS SHE’S READING THIS.
What you wearing?
Brooke snorts out a laugh (then covers her face and pretend that sound didn’t just come out of her.) She sketches out a quick, terribly unsexy picture of herself (basically a beefy stickman in pajama pants and a t-shirt) then folds it up and sticks it back under the door. This is the most bizarre flirtation she has ever taken part in, and - and she shouldn’t enjoy it as much as she does.
Vanjie’s reply includes a decidedly more X-rated stickman.
I better get some nudes next. Gotta occupy my time somehow besides missing on you.
Brooke laughs at the thought of the horrified PA that could be reading this.
You’ve seen it all in the werkroom anyway, she writes, And you could occupy your time with sleeping, maybe?
Brooke sends the note off, and gives up the ghost of rehearsing for a minute. She stretches out on her bed, arms against the headboard and bare feet nearly hanging off the end. Story of her life, really. She’s always felt like she’s too big, too tall, too much. Compared to Vanessa, she’s like some sort of beast, stumbling around crushing beautiful, delicate things beneath her feet.
Vanessa is beautiful. Brooke wouldn’t call her ‘delicate’ though, not by a long shot. She knows Vanjie well enough by now to know that she can hold her own.
(She wonders how much of that attitude is for the show. What Vanjie’s like when she’s all alone. Every so often there’s a moment where it seems like the other queen is letting her guard down, softening the sideways grin and adorable swagger that Brooke sees when the cameras are rolling.
How much of that is protective, Brooke wonders. How much of that swagger is self-defense?
How much of that humor is about survival.)
There is a reply not even ten minutes later: Nah girl, you’re keeping me up. Gonna think about you in those overalls all night, haha. When I can’t do shit tomorrow I’ll be blaming your fine self for messing with my head.
Brooke folds and unfolds Vanjie’s reply too many times, unwilling to put it down. She’s glad she can’t see herself, knows that she’s probably glowing with affection. She’s got a crush, right, just like she told them in the confessional. That’s what this is. Just a massive, ridiculous crush.
An impossible, stupid, hopeless crush.
I take no responsibility for that.
But also your angel costume is the real problem here, how am I supposed to get anything done?
Go to sleep and dream about my overalls, Miss Vaaaaanjie.
Brooke has had crushes before. She’s always survived them.
When she slides her note back under the door she thinks that will be the end of it, but a reply comes later, clock nearing midnight and shadows sliding like fingers through the blinds.
Sweet dreams Brooky Poo.
Brooke holds the note against her chest, and laughs, and when she falls asleep she’s still smiling. Her dreams are full of white feathers, falling gently as snow from the ceiling of her hotel room. Settling soft as a promise against Brooke’s open mouth.
#rpdr fanfiction#vanessa vanjie mateo#brooke lynn hytes#branjie#angst#canon#canon adjacent#elastic heart#mia ugly#concrit welcome#submission#on set fic#s11
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wiski – marina finding out julia still has magic? (in the world in my head where most things from canon are the same but marina lives)
Ok I got way overboard with this and wrote a near 4 page drabble so I will put it under the cut. I never wrote Wiski before so it was nice to try! Thank you for challenging me :D
I also posted it on Ao3 for an easier read
“Jules, I don’t thinkyou should go”
“Well I am going, youdon’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. ”
“ She’s crazy! Who knowswhat she can do to you. ”
“Honestly Q, after lastyear, Marina is not as scary as you think.”
This shut Quentin’sconstant arguing for a moment. Julia felt bad for bringing up againthat she was raped and didn’t called him because he was in anotherland doing gods knows what. No she called Marina. And despite theirfight and bickering, she knew Marina would come, and she did. She puther back to her feet and when she needed help to kill Reynard, sheshowed up again. This had cost her a finger and her cat’s life, butMartin had open the portal quick enough to save her form moreatrocities. And when they got double crossed by Quentin’s friendPenny and got sucked out of Marina’s apartment, Julia had managed alast desperate attempt to stab the fucker and she’d hit him in theeye. Marina had finished the job, Martin was dead, Penny brought herback on earth against her will. Yeah fun stuff that both frienddidn’t want to remember right now.
“I’ll be fine. Go orderpizza and watch Stranger Thing with Josh. ”
“Can’t belive you watchit without me. ”
Julia smirk and stole thecigarette Quentin had just lit, still wondering when he’d picked upthe habit. She knew it was all Eliot fault but he use to chastise herfor smoking, now he was doing more than her. She kissed his cheekedand walk away, knowing when she’d come back both boys would nerd outin front Quentin’s laptop at the Physical Kid cottage and she wouldtease them not to have seen the finale coming.
As she walked the fewblocks she was from Marina’s apartment, Julia finished her cigaretteand wondered what had brought Marina back to New York. After Reynardcorpse was burn to ashes, Marina had given up all pretense of nothaving been scared by the bastard. She had went on a trip around theworld in hope to find a solution for her missing fingers and to learnnew powerful spell. She’d stop answering Julia’s email at the sametime magic died.
Then Quentin had met Petein one of those desperate hedgewitches house that still believe thatcould do magic but didn’t practice enough. Apparently he’d takenMarina’s spot as the leader of New York which said a lot about thesorry state the Hedgewiches were overall. Pete had mentionned Marinahad came back a few days ago and since then, Julia couldn’t stopitching to go see her.
When Marina open the doorof her flat, she looked at Julia less with surprise than eagerness.She’d lost weight and her hair had grown even longer. She looked sickand yet, had her eternal red lipstick and killer eyeliner trait. Evenworn out, she was herself more then ever. A sence of calm took overJulia that surprised her; she haven’t realize that she’d been worriedabout her since they were appart. Seeing her alive, in those times ofdays, was more than a welcome sight.
“If you are about tostart crying, please don’t. ” Marina said in her eternal sarcasticvoice.
“ Was more thinkingpunching you in the face for disapearing. ” Julia said back in thesame tone.
Both girl looked at eachother for half a second before breaking into a smile. When Juliahugged her, Marina didn’t pushed away and even hugged back. Which wasa victory in itself.
“Who ratted me out?”Marina said, letting Julia enter her underwhelmingly boring andfurniture less appartment.
“Pete.”
“Figures, I am sure hewant you to kick me out and send me back to France. He must shit hispants, fearing that I am gonna come from him. ”
They went into thekitchen were only a table with three chairs, a fridge and a microwavewere present. The lack of decoration meant that she didn’t entend tostay. But yet, she seemed doing something big. There were poulticesand herbs everwhere, notes and books in different language and even abook she saw in Quentin’s room of all the plopper’s exercise forfirst year at Brakebills.
“Something like that. ”Julia said sitting at the table while Marina went for two glass ofwine and a half empty bottle. “When he saw me, he almost hid beingQ, it was embaracing. ”
“Let him swim in hisshitty pants, being a leader there don’t mean anything when magic isdead. ”
The bitterness inMarina’s voice was a melody she’d heard in so many magicians andmagic user in the past months that Julia’s heart felt tired. How shewish she could just give whatever she had to everyone and let themhave magic. They’d fought and jinx each other. But at least, theworld would be what it suppose to be, not this pale replica that theywere living in.
“Your finger are stillholding? ” She simply asked, pointing to the magically reconstrucedfinger Marina had in her hand. She’d explain the whole castingprocedure with an healer from the underwold and a magicians inCalifornia and it looked strangely like darker magic that Julia wascomfortable to deal with. But she get it. A magicians without fingersis like a bird without wings.
“They are not gluedtogether by magic Jules, they regrew. So yes, they are fine thankyou. ”
The conversation diedlike it was started: quickly and dryly. There was so many things shewish she could ask her and tell her. But there was also a lot ofunsaid that needed to be adressed first.
“What brought you backhere? ” She finally ask, knowing it was better to ask now than tomake the conversation linger.
“You. ” Marina saidcrossing her legs and putting her trademark smile on her red lips.
“Me?”
Alright, this one, Juliahaven’t seen coming.
“I know people, thatknow people. You see. And… I know someone that was at a certainparty with a lower god of fuckery. I tought you’d keep away fromthose assholes. ”
Bacchus. Gods, the simpletought of his permanent alchoolic smell and his terrible sweet breathmade her remember the whole night and how wasted she’d been. Thatpink drink was probably not meant for mortal and totally fucked herup.
“I was there for Q. ”Julia said after a large gulp of her wine. Anything to make her stopthinking of the aftertaste of that pink drink.
Marina leaned her smallframe against the table and went close to Julia, visibly excited.Last time she saw her that way, they were burning a god corpse in herbackyard.
“So is it true? Youstill have magic?”
Julia had played eversenario she could in her mind to explain to Marina that she still hadthat spark and that she was trying to find the root of it. She haddozen of iner monologue trying to find the best angle to put it sothe girl in front of her wouldn’t brand her as crazy or delusional.And there she was, being ask that question. Once again, julia feltMarina had reminded her that she had powerful connexion wherever shewas. Always being able to surprise you when you think you’d seeneverything of her. And this is why, deep down, Julia admire her.
So instead of tellingher, and let’s admit it to show off a bit, she did her spark. It wasbecoming easier and easier to bring it to the surface, like it camefrom her and not from a source outside of her. She was that spark.
Marina’s eyes wereglowing with eagerness but, also, jealousy and awe. The samebefoddled look everyone gave her when she show her power. The oldergirl put her hand over the spark, feeling it’s heat, confirming it’struth.
“How. ” She said aftera moment. Making Marina speechless was a first for Julia, and shecouldn’t help but swell with pride.
“I don’t know. I’mtrying to find out. ”
“Let me help you. ”
Marina had taken her handthe moment she stopped casting her small spell. She couldn’t tellthat two of those finger had been missing a few months ago. The wayshe was clutching her was real and hard as ever.
“There are people tryingwith me too. ”
“I don’t care. ”
“They are fromBrakebills. ”
There was an hesitation.Because Marina knew Eliot and Margo from being one year their senior.Because she knew that Julia and Quentin were still friend. Becauseshe knew that they fucked with the three of them. And now they willhave to put that aside for a common good. She knew Q would be able todo this. Marina’s pride tough, was another monster to tackle.
“ Alright. ”
“No fighting, bitching,straching with them. I don’t want to babysit. ”
Marina rolled her eyesand stuck her little finger.
“Pinky swear. Whateverit cost to bring magic, I’ll be there. ”
Julia grinned at Marina’sreadyness. She linked her little finger to hers in a juvenile promisethat had nothing to do with a word as bonds. But probably meant more.
Magic had brought themtogether, they will bring it back together.
#julia wicker#marina andrieski#wiski#drabble#there no dead marina#and some epicness ensue#:D#hope you#like it
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Those Damned Books
Rating: T
Words: 3334
Fandom: Naruto
Summary: Kakashi realizes that his apartment isn’t big enough. Tenzo does his best to remain the responsible one. Kakashi ANBU era. KakaYama.
Tenzo’s breathing was soft an even, his lips parted ever so slightly in his sleep. The way he positioned his body, at first, made Kakashi wonder if he was feigning it. His kouhai lay on his side, knees bent in a fetal position, with one arm draped over his torso and the other bent so that his hand rested beside his face on the pillow. Kakashi had waited long enough to realize that this was, in fact, how Tenzo slept. For whatever reason, he hadn’t noticed it before now. Rather, he didn’t care to notice. It amused Kakashi to no end, comfortable as he was when splayed out in all directions when he slept alone.
As he lay sandwiched between the wall and the warm body next to him, he reflected that, now, he really needed to get a new bed. It was one thing for his legs to hang off while he slept; after last night, there was the added challenge of not kicking Tenzo to the floor when his vivid dreams took him. But, a new bed meant less space in a flat he’d already filled. Maybe it was time to move. He was twenty after all, an age considered by almost everyone that qualified him as an ‘adult.’ It couldn’t hurt to find a place that had more than six walls, if he counted the two that separated the bathroom from the rest of his home. Hadn’t his landlady mentioned an opening?
After their fight, when Kakashi had finally come down from his traumatic reaction, Tenzo refused to leave him alone. Too tired to argue anymore, Kakashi relented and allowed him to stay. He winced at the memory, regretting what was said and how he’d spiraled into those parts of himself he didn’t want Tenzo to see. Hopefully, his kouhai wouldn’t ask about it when he woke. Doing his best not to jostle the bed, Kakashi was all kneecaps and elbows as he flipped himself over onto his stomach, falling into a comfortable position. He froze for several seconds to make sure Tenzo was still asleep before reaching up to the shelf on his headboard, pulling down his most recent copy of Icha Icha.
He bent the covers back to loosen the spine, and the pages made that satisfying crinkling sound that each new book gets only once. Bookworm that he was, it was one of Kakashi’s favorite things. It was better than sex. Well… almost. Eagerly, he opened the cover to the title page, taking a moment to read the short inscription that prefaced each volume he owned. In scratchy handwriting below the printed title read:
To Kakashi~
Now that you’re over eighteen, the old man won’t be able to confiscate this package! (Though, you always seem to find a way around that one. Your sensei and I are so proud.) Enjoy, but not too much. Make sure you actually get outside and talk to some real, live girls every now and again, eh?
Until the next volume
xJiraiya
Kakashi smiled as he deciphered the characters, which was a challenge with how Jiraiya wrote. He bit back a chuckle, wondering if Lord Hiruzen had tried to get his hands on this volume. For a Hokage, old man Sarutobi was terrible at hiding things. As he got older, Kakashi wondered if he had been hiding the other volumes at all, or if he was making a show of it to cover his backside. He turned the crisp page, full of excitement now that he could see the conclusion to the cliffhanger last volume tortured him with – and for three years, at that!
He allowed himself the luxury of reading through the first chapter, which was a denouement from the previous book’s closing chapter. It was probably a trick to sell more copies, but Jiraiya loved leaving the books just before the best part. Curiosity sated, he took the page between his fingers, intent on beginning the second chapter. A knock on his front door had him, regretfully, dog-earing the first page in this volume. It was inevitable that almost all of them would suffer the same fate at one point or another, but there was just something so melancholy about marking the first one.
The volume found its place back on the shelf as the knock sounded again. “’Comin!” Kakashi called, stumbling over Tenzo gracelessly. As he slipped, he took the man down with him, tangling them both in a pile of sheets and limbs that landed with a dull thud that only a human body could make.
“Are you okay?” The knocking became insistent. “Kakashi-taichou!”
Disoriented and sleepy as he was, Tenzo was the first to recognize the voice. “Yugao!” he hissed.
Kakashi swung his arms frantically, gesturing to the other side of his apartment. “Bathroom!”
Tenzo ran as quickly and quietly as he could to the one room of Kakashi’s flat that wasn’t part of his ridiculous open-floor plan. To his dismay, Kakashi realized he was dressed only in his boxers. Shit, he couldn’t keep Yugao waiting any longer if he didn’t want her to think something was wrong. Hastily, he took his blanket and wrapped it around himself like a cloak, clumsily holding the edge to his face in lieu of his mask.
When he cracked his front door, Yugao had her fist raised to knock again. Awkwardly, she lowered it. “Kakashi-taichou, you scheduled training for the new recruits for over an hour ago.” She studied him with suspicion, eyes inquiring about his fashion choice.
Fuck, that was today. Well, it wasn’t like he was never late. He’d gotten over that eccentricity after Obito. His team should know by now to proceed as instructed without him when it came to training. “Right. Yeah, I’ll be right there. I just overslept.”
“Please hurry.” She turned to leave, but stopped to look over her shoulder. “And Taichou, remind Tenzo if you see him. We sent Itachi-kun to his apartment, but it was empty.” Beneath her words ran the message because he’s the reliable one, and we’re actually worried.
Kakashi waited until she teleported before closing the door. He slumped with his back against it, letting out a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that was close.”
“Too close,” Tenzo agreed. “It’s lucky she didn’t think to look for chakra signatures.”
“She had no reason to.” Kakashi shrugged. He picked his pants up from where he’d tossed his dirty clothes in a pile the night before.
“Guess not.” Tenzo pulled his undershirt down over his head, puzzled at the strange tightness across his torso. Once he pulled it down, the excess fabric at the neck showed him his error. “Nope, yours.”
“Trade.” Kakashi tossed him the proper shirt before Tenzo removed his, passing it over. It would have been amusing if they weren’t so late, and if that mistake wouldn’t have been serious among their teammates.
“What’s our cover?” Tenzo asked as he tightened the straps on his armor.
“I don’t need one. They’re used to it by now. Yugao will probably tell them I overslept or something.”
“Well, what about me?”
“Yeah, that’s tough… I don’t know, you were doing something good. Being helpful. Carrying groceries for an old woman? Getting a cat out of a tree?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“You don’t understand. Obito was late every single day, and it was because of crap like that.”
Tenzo was surprised to hear Kakashi speak so casually about his friend. Even Kakashi seemed caught off guard by the way his visible eye widened. Trying not to make a big deal out of what he considered an essential step of the grieving process, Tenzo broke the silence. “Cat out of a tree it is.”
“Right. Um, I’ll go out through the window, and you… wait, I don’t know, thirty seconds then phase through the door?”
“Done.” Tenzo watched as Kakashi climbed out his window before disappearing in a silver flash. Thoughtfully, he picked up the discarded blanket and took a moment to make the bed, unable to leave it in disarray. He’d be preoccupied with it all day, otherwise. Cat mask in hand, he activated his jutsu before walking through the locked door like it was made of water.
In an instant, he was on the training grounds, only a few feet behind Yugao. He jogged forward, informing her, “Sorry I’m late.”
“Everything okay? You’re never late.”
“Tsuki-chan’s kitten got stuck in one of the big oaks. It’s so small, I didn’t think it could get down itself.”
“You’re a bleeding heart.” Yugao looked in front of them, where young ninja were sparring, two-on-two. “I had to send a few home, already. Nothing special, a call you or Kakashi-taichou would’ve made.”
“I trust you,” Tenzo affirmed. “He’s running behind again, is he?”
“After I sent Itachi to find you, and he came back empty-handed, I went to find him myself. The state he was in, we’ll be lucky to see him at all. At least you’re here, now. We can finally get things going.”
Securing his mask over his face, Tenzo stepped forward and gave a sharp whistle, at which the sparring came to an immediate halt. “Switch from taijutsu to ninjutsu!”
“Sir!” chorused the recruits before turning back to their opponents.
Tenzo sensed an abnormal surge of chakra behind him, and he turned on his heel to face the potential threat. To his surprise, Lord Hiruzen was looking on, studying the recruits as they fought.
“Lord Hokage!” Tenzo lowered into a bow, which Yugao followed not a second later.
Hiruzen waved his hand lazily. “Relax. I just came to see what the new group was like.” His brow creased when he realized that there were only two agents in front of him. “Where’s Kakashi?”
“He should be on his way here shortly, my lord,” Yugao assured the hokage.
Hurizen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m going to ban those damned books from this village.”
“Books, my lord?” Tenzo inquired.
“Jiraiya’s drivel he’s peddling as romance novels. They’ve caused me nothing but trouble, much like their author…” He frowned. “Every time he publishes a new one, like clockwork, he sends a copy to Kakashi. Really, these are jonin-level ninja we’re talking about. The next time-” Aware that he was rambling, he shook his head, dismissing his train of thought. “But that’s why you’re here, Tenzo. You know, Team Kai needs a new captain.”
“I’m honored, sir, but I think it’s pretty clear that I’m needed on Team Ro.”
Unable to argue with his logic, the hokage shrugged. “It’s open if you change your mind.” Turning his attention back to the recruits, he mumbled, “I think Uchiha is the last one we’ll be getting out of this year’s batch. Keep them going for now, for appearances. Give them one more practice before sending them home.”
“Yes, sir.” Tenzo bowed once more. While an unfortunate turn of events for the recruits, it wasn’t uncommon in the slightest. The ANBU were the best of the best. Any ninja who fell outside the top one percent wasn’t worth the armor they’d wear. It was a sad, somewhat cynical fact that most of these ninja would be buried in their uniform just the moment after they put it on. He watched Hiruzen walk down the road. Yugao waited until the hokage was out of earshot before speaking up.
“That’s disappointing. Predictable, but still.”
“We were able to get a handful this time around, which is better than usual. There’s nothing we can do; Lord Hokage’s veto makes it a done deal.” Tenzo cracked his knuckles. “Itachi’s already proven to be more of an asset than Kakashi-senpai thought.”
“Yeah, I guess we didn’t need him, after all.” Yugao was clearly annoyed that she ran across the village for nothing. “Really, those books can’t be that interesting.”
“I can lend them to you if you’re curious.” Kakashi’s voice spoke from behind. Yugao and Tenzo jumped, spinning to face their captain. Sure enough, his nose was in his latest volume, and he raised his hand in a wordless greeting. “The plot is really compelling.”
Yugao snorted. “Sure.”
“Lord Hokage told us to send these recruits home at the end of the day,” Tenzo informed his superior, trying to be businesslike. “He’s not accepting any of them.”
“Why the end of the day? We can just send them home now.” Kakashi peered over the top of his book.
“He wants to keep up appearances.”
“Oh, for god’s sake.” Kakashi closed his book with a snap and strode forward, whistling far more loudly and sharply than Tenzo had done. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he declared. “None of you made it. Go home.”
Amidst displeased grumblings and several swears, the recruits began to disperse when they realized the ANBU agent was serious. “Kakashi-senpai,” Tenzo began in a scolding tone.
“What? It’s a waste of their time, and it’s a waste of ours. I came all the way out here just to tell these guys that they didn’t make the cut. If Lord Hiruzen gets angry, it’s all on me, okay?” In a fluid motion, he re-opened his book, sticking his free hand in his pocket.
Yugao and Tenzo looked at one another, a silent exchange passing between them before Yugao vanished. She saw no reason to stay, after all. Tenzo began to form a series of hand signs when Kakashi glanced up at him. “I need a second set of hands later. Think you can come by in a couple hours?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” Tenzo agreed, puzzled by his request. If Kakashi actually asked for help, he needed it. That wasn’t his way of using double entendre, and there was nothing in his body language to suggest it should be taken that way.
“Great.” He smiled, and, with a slight wave, Kakashi started walking in the direction of his home.
The sun had reached its peak when Tenzo, freshly showered and in a new set of civilian clothes, trudged up the steps to Kakashi’s apartment. The front door was propped open, which made him instantly suspicious. The ruckus from inside told him Kakashi wasn’t alone.
“It’ll be fine!” Guy’s booming voice said in assurance.
“I know you can lift it. It’s the cardboard that’s the problem.” He could practically hear Kakashi rolling his eyes.
“I know a thing or two about structural integrity.”
As Tenzo climbed the last step, he was able to see Guy standing in front of the bookshelf, piling paperbacks into a cardboard box. He stepped over the threshold and caught sight of Kakashi in his kitchen. He was barefoot, standing precariously on the countertop as he retrieved something Tenzo couldn’t see from on top of the cabinet. He looked over his shoulder at Tenzo, but, with both hands occupied, he had to settle for a verbal greeting. “Yo. Thanks for coming.”
“What’s going on?” Tenzo asked with caution.
“I’m moving. I thought I told you.”
“What? When did this happen?”
“Hmm, three, four hours ago?” Sensing his confusion, Kakashi explained, “My landlady owns the whole building, and there’s this family on the first floor that just moved out. You know, to get a house. It’s a little more expensive, but hey, I won’t be getting letters every month complaining that I exceed maximum capacity by roughly ten every couple of weeks.”
“Just start packing boxes,” Guy declared. “Don’t worry about what goes where. He’ll have it unpacked tomorrow morning, I’m sure.” Bandaged hands reached down and lifted the cardboard box, which he balanced on his shoulder to keep from tearing at the bottom. “Down to 105!” After informing Tenzo of the new location, he strode out the door to deposit the box.
Tenzo took advantage of his absence to say, “Kakashi, you can’t just make decisions like that.”
“Why not?” Kakshi asked as his feet touched back down on the floor. “I need more space, the apartment’s vacant, and I don’t have to go looking.”
“Because it takes more than three hours to decide whether or not to move. It’s a big decision.”
“Not for me. Actually, I think it would be nice to have a real bedroom, with a bed I fit on. Maybe I can use the kitchen now. Or, I could have the guys over and keep them in one room. Think about it, one room. I won’t have to clean the entire place.” He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. “C’mon, Tenzo. 200 square feet to 400.”
Tenzo looked around the cramped apartment, which was, truly, not big enough for even one person to live in. “I mean, as long as you’ve thought it out.”
“I have. It would be suicide to bring a new mattress in here, and the one I have just isn’t cutting it.”
Before Tenzo could comment, Guy returned, flashing them a thumbs-up. “Told you I had it.”
“Yeah, you did, Guy.” Kakashi gave a placating grin. “Do me a favor and grab the bookcase next, would you? I’ll feel better once they’re back in place.”
“You know your attachment to books is strange, right?”
“Not going there.”
Guy responded with a laugh. “Whatever you say, Kakashi.”
What few belongings Kakashi possessed were easily moved down to the bottom floor, with only a few of the larger pieces requiring more than one person to navigate down the stairs. The new apartment was far nicer, containing a full-sized kitchen, a living room, and, as Kakashi was so thrilled to have, a separate bedroom. Even though he lived alone, he sorely missed his privacy when he had company. His friends were too nosy for their own good, most of the time.
Guy departed once the last of the boxes were safely inside. Choza was treating his old squad to dinner, to celebrate Ebisu’s promotion to special jonin. Left to the task, Kakashi and Tenzo set about unpacking in relative silence. The book case in the living room was slowly filled in a system that only Kakashi could understand, and Tenzo managed to find a place in the kitchen for everything.
The walls were bare, and the space seemed overwhelming, but it was something to get used to. Kakashi wouldn’t care much about decoration, and Tenzo planned to slowly introduce various wall hangings or pieces to the apartment when he visited. All at once would be too much for Kakashi; better to ease him into it.
The white-haired man was kicking the leg of his couch lightly, almost prodding it, with a displeased expression. Tenzo waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, Tenzo relented.
“What is it?”
“I don’t wanna sleep on the couch,” came a grumbled response. They’d spent so much time moving and unpacking that he hadn’t taken care of his sleeping arrangement. All he had was a box of blankets and pillows sitting on the floor of the empty bedroom.
He sighed. “You’re asking me if you can stay the night, aren’t you?”
His lack of protest told him all he needed to know.
“Just… come on.” Tenzo gestured for him to follow. “This is why I try to make you think things out, you know?”
“Maa, Tenzo, don’t lecture me. I’ve had a long day moving.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Do you have your keys?”
Kakashi withdrew his hand from his pocket, keyring around his middle finger. He held lazily at eye level before returning it to its place. With that, the door was shut and locked, and the pair set off.
“You know, when someone helps somebody move, they usually pay them back by buying dinner or alcohol,” Tenzo informed his companion.
“I would, but I don’t have my wallet.”
“We can go back for it.”
Kakashi shook his head, walking with his head tilted toward the ground. “Can’t. Locked myself out,” he lied, keeping his best poker face. He stumbled when Tenzo bumped him with his shoulder, a gesture he hadn’t expected in a public setting.
“I can’t stand you, Senpai.”
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