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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

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Not Losing You (Part 3)

Summary: Dean’s not out of the woods yet and there’s more trouble on the way...

Masterlist

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: language, life-threatening illness, implied past sexual harassment/assault

_____

“Hey,” said Sam, shaking your shoulder awake. You were back in your room and you were wide eyed, instant wetness filling them. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s okay.”

“He’s gonna-”

“No, like seriously. His numbers shot up like crazy last night and all this morning. He’s ahead of schedule even,” said Sam.

“What?”

“The second transplant worked,” said Sam with a smile. “Dr. Ross said it’s very likely he’ll pull through to the three week mark which is super important.”

“I thought…” you said.

“Me too. Last night he really started to rebound I guess. You were passed out wincing in that wheelchair this morning when they stuck you back in here but I think you’re up for a visit. Dean’s up, actually awake, if you want to pay him a visit,” said Sam.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really love to.”

Two Weeks Later

“Your labs are very good, Dean,” said Dr. Ross outside his room. “Your counts are coming back and there’s no reaction to the transplant.”

“Yeah but about that other thing I asked about,” said Dean.

“You can’t have pie, Dean. Strict diet,” he said. You chuckled and Dean smirked at you, staring at the door to the room. “No visitors just yet.”

“Someday I’ll bust out of here, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’ll make you a pie once you’re allowed some,” you said. “How’s that sound?”

“As if I didn’t have even more of a reason to live,” he chuckled.

“Alright, love birds. Dean needs to rest and Y/N has work I believe,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, I got a date with you tonight, cutie. Seven sharp,” said Dean.

“I’ll be here,” you said.

“Y/N, I’ll walk you out,” said Dr. Ross. You waved bye to Dean before you headed to the elevators, Dr. Ross, pausing halfway there. “We’ve noticed something about Dean’s recovery that’s a little odd but maybe not.”

“What’s that?”

“He does better and heals faster when you’re here. I suspected after his numbers recovered on the breakeven night a few weeks back. It’s like the opposite of broken heart syndrome,” he said. “Your presence helps him heal from our best guess. It’s likely psychological which is helping with the physical. I know you have work but any time you can spend with him seems to be helping.”

“This is a weird question but do you have an extension plug I can borrow?”

You spent the day working on your laptop outside Dean’s room, Dean taking naps on and off, sometimes chatting with you but mostly watching you work or listening to the TV. Around five you told him you wanted to go home and change for your date, Dean laughing but you promised you’d be back quick.

“That was not the outfit I was expecting,” said Dean when you sat down in the chair two hours later and tucked your backpack underneath.

“Sweatpants are the shit,” you said, pulling your blanket out and tossing it over yourself. “Want to have a sleepover?”

“I’m so ready for a sleepover date,” he said, sitting up in bed and smirking. “Is that my shirt?”

“Maybe,” you said, snuggling into the soft chair.

“God, you are attractive,” he said.

“I know. So hot,” you said, giggling when he stared so goofily at you. “What?”

“You look happy,” he said. “I like happy you.”

“You really have no right for making me as happy as you do,” you said.

“I know I put you through a lot this past month,” he said. “I mean a lot. But despite all that, I think you’re actually happier.”

“I care about you, Dean,” you said, staring off down the hall. “I...I might care too much.”

“Y/N. Sweetheart. Look at me please,” he said. You turned your head and rested it against the glass, Dean looking bashful but serious. “Do I look like I give a fuck about what an acceptable time period is to say I care about you?”

“Loser,” you smiled.

“Sammy told me how upset you got over me almost clocking out early,” he said.

“I care about you,” you said, staring at him. “You’re the first person in a long time that cared about me too.”

“This Liam douchebag, he’s not the only person that’s hurt you,” said Dean.

“He’s the only one that hurt me in that kind of way,” you said.

“Where are your parents?”

“Where are yours?”

“Why do I have a feeling we’re going to have the same crappy answer?” he asked.

“I can guarantee we don’t,” you said, closing your eyes.

“Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” he said.

“Disowned,” you said.

“I punched my dad in the face when I was eighteen. He threw me out. I haven’t spoken to either one since. They don’t even know I have cancer,” said Dean.

“Your parents don’t know?” you said, sitting up and crossing your legs, Dean nodding. You put a hand on the glass and frowned, looking down. “Dean, that’s…”

“They gave up on me a long time ago. I don’t want them around if they can’t accept me for me,” said Dean.

“I understand,” you said, fixing your blanket. “I really wish I could give you a hug right now.”

“Soon I can have visitors,” said Dean. “I’m really looking forward to just laying on the couch or in bed with you.”

“Me too,” you said, resting your forehead against the glass as you stared at your lap.

“What’s wrong?”

“How could you not tell your parents, Dean? Why didn’t Sam or Jess?” you asked.

“I swore them not to,” said Dean. “I wasn’t good enough for them when I decided to work on cars and have a manual job for a living. I was filth and had wasted years of their lives of scrimping and saving for me to go to school. I told them to give it to Sam and they did. The ironic part is my dad is a mechanic,” said Dean.

“Is it really that bad?” you asked.

“I haven’t heard from them in ten years. I died a long time ago to them,” he said.

“I suppose I’m still getting used to the no parents thing,” you said.

“When’d it happen?” he asked.

“About two years ago,” you said. “I moved here because it was nowhere near them.”

“They hurt you?” he asked. You shook your head and leaned back in your seat.

“I assaulted my cousin’s husband. I even got temporarily arrested if you can believe it,” you said.

“Bad girl,” he teased. You gave him a half smile but he was smiling wide. “Good for you.”

“He got handsy. I may have overreacted. I bruised his groin region apparently,” you said.

“Oh, I so love this story,” said Dean with a smirk. “Hit him where it hurts.”

“The family didn’t think it was so funny. I argued with my parents when they said I should apologize for my reaction. Then my dad made a comment about me being single and I got so angry at them. They’re supposed to protect me, not take someone else’s side when something like that happens. I walked out of their lives and aside from a random christmas card, I don’t hear anything,” you said.

“They know about Liam?” asked Dean.

“You don’t even know the full Liam story,” you said. “It’s not something I want to share in this kind of...setting.”

“The way Sammy talks about it, this guy hurt you bad, didn’t he,” said Dean.

“He and his family will pay. Sam and his old professor are making sure of that,” you said.

“Why won’t you tell me?” asked Dean. “My brother knows.”

“...He’s my lawyer. It’s embarrassing, Dean,” you said.

“You should never be embarrassed someone hurt you.”

“I know. I’m trying to learn that,” you said. You watched him throw back his covers and sit up, swinging his legs over the edge before he stepped over to the glass. “Dean. You need to rest.”

He kneeled down and rested his forehead against the glass, smiling at you when you did the same.

“Maybe someday I can know when you’re ready to tell me,” he said. “But until then...I got a surprise for you for our date, don’t I, Sammy?”

You spun around, Sam smiling as he popped up behind you, set down a food container in a chair and slid it over to you.

“A got you some of that pasta from The York you enjoyed so much. I will live vicariously through you as I suck down some of the blandest nutrient packed food on the planet,” said Dean. “Sammy, your services are no longer required.”

“I can’t wait until I can tackle you again,” said Sam, ruffling your head. “Netflix is on channel 2. Enjoy your date guys.”

“Dean,” you said, smiling as you pulled the container into your lap. “This is…”

“It’s dinner. About time we had our second date,” said Dean, chuckling as he walked across his room and to a table, grabbing a liquid drink and taking it back to bed. “Mmm. Yummy.”

“It keeps you full of vitamins,” you said.

“I want a bacon cheeseburger,” he said. “The second I’m out of here, I want to go get a bacon cheeseburger. And cherry pie.”

“We’ll have to go get some then,” you said.

“What would you like to watch first, sweetheart?”

“Good morning,” said Dean as you stirred awake in your fold out chair. You hummed and stretched, Dean smirking at you from bed. “How was the chair?”

“Pretty good actually. These one’s meant for sleeping are pretty good,” you said. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than usual,” he said as he sat up and you saw Dr. Ross start to head in.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you said, yawning as you stood. You were gone only a few minutes but it was enough time apparently for Dr. Ross to tell Dean something.

He was sat on the edge of his bed in the room, staring at the floor when you returned.

“Dean?” you asked, Dr. Ross with his back to you.

“I just…” he said, standing and going to the wall, leaning against it. He put his hands on his face and you shook your head.

“No, you were getting better…” you said, Dean suddenly leaning over to the door and pushing it open.

“Want to visit?” he smirked, poking his head into the hall.

“Oh my God,” you said, Dr. Ross smiling when he spun around. “I will kill you, Dean.”

“After everything we just went through? Nah,” he said as you walked to the door, Dr. Ross nodding when you stepped inside. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Remember what I said, Dean,” he said. “Five minutes and then you have treatment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dean as Dr. Ross stepped out. “We have to keep this PG. No touching allowed unfortunately.”

“S’okay. I’m happy to not have a piece of glass between us for once,” you said. “You must be doing better. I thought it’d be another week or two before you’d be allowed to have us come in.”

“I’m doing better than I was expecting. Rossy is putting me on a new treatment. Clinical trial,” he said. “I should say experimental.”

“Does Sam know?” you asked.

“He doesn’t know I said yes. If it works, I go from sixty something percent odds to ninety. Less chance of complications. I just have to not have a reaction today,” said Dean.

“Reaction?” you asked.

“There’s a chance that your body treats it as an allergic reaction. If that happens, I’m done,” he said. “But if it doesn’t-”

“When were you planning on telling me this?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“...After the treatment. People in the study that have a reaction, they have it fast, within minutes. You never would have known anything other than they needed to do a test and asked you to step out for a little bit,” he said.

“Well, thanks,” you said, rolling your eyes. He frowned and you shook your head. “Obviously it’s your choice but...if we’re gonna do this, you gotta-”

“What do you mean ‘if’, Y/N? I thought we were doing it,” he said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms in response.

“If we’re going to be a real couple, you need to share-” you said, Dean going back to his bed. “Or just walk away. Whatever.”

“Funny. I thought we were a real couple,” he said. “Maybe you’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“Oh yeah?” you scoffed.

“Yeah. You feel sorry for me. Pity me. I don’t need your pity,” he said.

“I don’t need melodramatic immature boys,” you shot back as you turned away.

“Yeah, why don’t you run away. It’s your go to, isn’t it?” he said. You froze and cocked your head, looking over your shoulder with a glare.

“I think it’s a good idea if we spent some time apart,” you said.

“Please. I’ll be grateful for the alone time,” he said. You rolled your eyes. “You got some money now. Why don’t you see about getting your own place for a while. I don’t think we’re at the living together stage yet.”

“You say I’m the one that pities you,” you laughed. “That’s rich. Don’t worry. I won’t be there when you get back.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“You can go now,” he said.

“Yeah, I think I will,” you said. You quickly shoved your blanket in your backpack and headed down the hall, Dr. Ross raising an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Peachy.”

You closed your eyes as you stared at the roof of your car, trying to get comfortable in the backseat that night. Your phone rang and you picked it up from the floor, closing your eyes when you saw it was Dean.

“I see you survived. What do you want?” you breathed out.

“I want you to go home,” he said, his voice light and gentle.

“Don’t worry about me Dean.”

“I was moody and nervous for the treatment. I’m sorry. Go home. Sleep in bed. I’ll apologize in person tomorrow but please don’t sleep in your car. I’ll sick my buddies on you if I have to,” he said.

“I think I’m better off alone, Dean,” you said quietly. “You were right. I run away.”

“You’re scaring me. You’re supposed to be the one that gets scared, not me. Come on. Don’t mess up our thing now,” he said, trying to chuckle but you heard how forced it was. “Don’t run off on me, sweetheart.”

“I’m happy you’re feeling better,” you said, watching some rain come down and hit the windows. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for you, you know.”

You sighed but stayed quiet, Dean swallowing so loudly you could hear it over the phone.

“I’m sorry for being an ass,” he said.

“Me too. You’re under a lot of stress, Dean. It’s okay,” you said.

“Please promise me you’ll go home,” he said.

“I’m not going back to my parents,” you said.

“Not your parents. Home. The apartment. Your home,” he said.

“It’s your home. I was only crashing there. That’s all it was ever supposed to be,” you said, throwing an arm over your face.

“It’s our home. I let you walk away once, mostly because I knew I’d see you again and we could work it out. This time though...I don’t want this morning to be the last time I ever see you,” he said.

“Why? All I have is problems. You need someone that can focus on you,” you said.

“That thing your describing is called a medical professional and I got plenty of those around here. What I need is my best friend back. Nobody else visited me everyday. No else put up with me smelling like throw up and needing hugs and was there for me no matter what was going on in their life. No one else bought me a hat so I wouldn’t be embarrassed about having no hair because the truth is I am. I ask if you’re okay, you ask if I’m okay. It’s our thing, sweetheart. I want to keep doing our thing, Y/N, for as long as I can,” he said.

“You’re not gonna die, right?” you whispered.

“Well...someday. But from this? Odds are getting lower every day. Today was a win Rossy said. Besides, you owe me a bacon cheeseburger and slice of cherry pie if I recall,” he teased.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to wipe off your face. “Yeah.”

“You okay to drive home?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you sniffled as you sat up. “I’ll be okay.”

“Listen. My two friends, Cas and Benny, they’ve been out of state at a training course for our shop the past few months but I know they flew in tonight. I’m gonna give ‘em a call and send ‘em over to keep you company for me, okay?”

“Dean, you don’t-”

“I get to take care of you too. I should have told you earlier about the treatment. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t pull anything like that again and it’s good, Winchester,” you said, using your shirt to dry your face.

“Take a shower for me when you get home. It’ll help you feel better,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“The treatment you got today...how long before you know it works?” you asked.

“Depends on how fast my blood counts come back but the fact I didn’t have a reaction is really good news. A week more and then I might finally get out of these damn woods for once,” he said. “I’m really looking forward to getting out of them. Until then though, take it easy?”

“Okay,” you said. “Okay.”

“Text me when you get home. I’ll have my boys over soon,” he said.

“Alright. I will.”

“Be safe.”

“You too, Dean.”

“Hey! Chickadee, you home yet?” you heard as you were getting dressed in Dean’s bedroom after your shower an hour later.

“Would you answer to that?” you heard another voice say.

“Don’t be pissy, Cassie,” said the first voice.

“You ate my snack!” said the second.

“It was fucking free airplane food. A bag of pretzels. Go raid Dean’s pantry if I deprived you so badly.”

“It’s the principle, Benjamin.”

“It’s the principle,” mocked the other one.

You stuck your head out of the hallway, raising an eyebrow at the two men in the living room.

“Benjamin?” you asked, the slightly larger one turning his head, both of them giving you a smile.

“Benny. Castiel. Deano said he was giving you a heads up,” he said.

“If you were her would you-”

“Go eat a snack. You’re cranky,” said Benny. Cas rolled his eyes but walked into Dean’s kitchen. You wrapped Dean’s flannel around yourself and stepped into the hall, Benny giving you a smile. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

“Dean said you were having a rough night.”

“...A lot going on right now,” you said. “He was worried is all. He overreacted. You guys just got home from months away. I’m sure you’d rather go to your own houses.”

Cas poked his head out of the kitchen, mouthful of pretzels and cocking his head.

“She must not know us very well,” he said after he’d chewed some.

“Dean asks us to do something, we do it,” said Benny. “Always been that way, always will be that way. So get used to our faces.”

“You got any dip?” asked Cas, grabbing another handful of food.

“I think there’s ranch in the fridge,” you said.

“It’s fine,” he said, carrying the bag into the living room, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. “Did he clean?”

“You think Deano cleaned?” laughed Benny as he sat down, glancing at you. “I think it was our new friend.”

“I’ve been staying here. It’s complicated,” you said, carefully walking out and sitting in the chair, both guys devouring the bag.

“Let’s order pizza,” said Cas, pulling out his phone.

“Wings. Oh, and fries too,” said Benny. “Oh and something with chocolate.”

You stared at them as they bickered for a moment over toppings, Cas ordering enough food to feed an army.

“Alright, it’ll be here in half an hour,” he said, stretching in his seat. “I’m gonna shower quick.”

“Remember there’s a lady in the house,” said Benny. “Pants, Cas.”

“How ever would I survive without you?” said Cas. “Y/N, I’ll keep the bathroom clean.”

“Really, it’s fine, Cas. Use whatever,” you said.

“So,” said Benny when Cas headed down the hall. “It sounds like you’ve been taking care of our boy while we were gone.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Not the way he says it,” said Benny. “I ain’t talking about you giving him all those cells either.”

“Again, I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Mhm,” he said. “You’re not much of a conversationalist, are ya.”

“I don’t know you and it’s ten thirty at night after a long day. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk,” you said.

“I see why Dean asked us to come over,” he said.

“Enjoy your food. Goodnight, Benny,” you said as you stood.

“You are just like him,” he said as you went past. “Dean.”

“No. I’m not. He’s normal and happy.”

“Yup, you two are just like one another I’m betting. You both got that put yourself down thing all the time going on,” he said.

“I’m not really in the mood for whatever this is so-“

“This is me saying thank you for taking care of one of my best friends while Cas and I were away. Dean doesn’t have many people left and what he’s going through, no one should do that alone,” he said.

“Like I said, I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Alright. You gonna sit back down or what?” he asked. You settled back into your seat, Benny cocking his head. “It was the hair wasn’t it. Boy always gets ‘em with the hair.”

“Huh?”

“Dean’s hair. He’s lured in more than one woman with that mess on his head,” said Benny.

“Uh no. He was nice. He doesn’t even have hair right now, just some peach fuzz,” you said.

“It’ll come back,” said Benny, leaning back into his seat more. “You know he hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was diagnosed. Not been on a single date. Well he’s been on dates but only first ones. He stopped after that kept happening.”

“I imagine dating isn’t really on your mind when you find out news like that,” you said.

“He didn’t tell you, did he.”

“Tell me what?”

“Dean had been dating this girl for nearly a year when he found out. She dumped him the next day.”

“No. That’s horrible.”

“Dean said it was cool but we knew it wasn’t. He needed someone and he got left out on his own. We were always leery of the chick. Deano was settling for someone that put him down a lot. We were pretty surprised when he told us about his new girlfriend about a month back. He swore he’d never have one again,” said Benny.

“He never can seem to catch a break,” you said. Benny smiled and shook his head.

“I’d disagree. He’s got odds of living, he’s got someone that cares about him. He really likes you, Y/N. You gave him a bit of faith in humanity back. He was pretty low. Don’t call that nothing,” he said.

“I was pretty low too,” you said quietly, Benny nodding. “How long have you been friends with Dean?”

“First grade. I used to be a skinny little kid if you can believe it. I was new that year. No one in my class wanted to be my friend. Dean and Cas though at recess, they saw me and asked me to play since I was by myself. They were my best friends after that. Every single day after that we were together. We opened a garage together.”

“Really? I thought Dean just worked at one,” you said.

“Cas handles the more business side but us three are equal partners in it. We do pretty good too. We like it. Dean’s folks weren’t too thrilled,” said Benny.

“He said he never told them he got sick,” you said.

“He didn’t. None of us did. We wouldn’t break his trust like that,” said Benny.

“He needed someone to take care of him,” you said.

“He’ll pull through. He always does. He was saying he’s got real good chances if he can get through the next few weeks,” he said.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, ducking your head down. You felt tears prickle your eyes. You didn’t even know why you were upset. For Dean. For you. For how his ex-girlfriend had treated him. You honestly didn’t know anything other than that you cared too much. You were going to screw something else up soon and he’d see you as being too clingy.

“Hey,” said Benny softly, suddenly kneeling down in front of your chair. “Can I hug you?”

You nodded and felt him wrap you up in a big bear hug, pulling you over to sit on the couch. He got up for a minute and returned with a box of tissues and a blanket. It was heavy, a weighted one and he tucked you into his side when he sat back down.

“Who’s been taking care of you?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, hiccuping slightly.

“Who takes care of you?”

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Other people have it way worse,” you said, sniffling again.

“Oh, you are so wrong, chickadee. Everybody needs somebody to take care of them sometimes. Dean’s not quite up to the job right now which is why he sent us. So you cry or vent or whatever you want to feel better, okay?” he asked.

“I don’t…” you said, hearing Cas come out of the bathroom, pausing when you both looked back at him.

“Dean said you’d be a hard one to crack,” he said, walking around to the other side of the couch and sitting down. He threw an arm over your shoulders and smiled at you. “You should have seen how bad Benny cried when Dean told us the news. Trust us, there’s no such thing as being embarrassed around us.”

“I’m glad Dean has friends like you guys,” you said, blowing your nose while Benny ran a hand up and down your back.

“You want to talk about anything?” asked Cas. You shook your head and it was quiet for a moment.

“Well let’s stick on a movie. We got some good food coming soon,” said Benny. They didn’t say much aside from occasionally asking if you needed anything.

You only had one slice of pizza but they polished off more of the food than you thought they would. By the time they were finished it was close to midnight and you were exhausted.

“I’m going to head to bed guys,” you said as you stood up.

“Alright. Try to get some sleep. We can go see Dean tomorrow,” said Cas.

“Goodnight,” you said, walking down to the bedroom. You flopped down on the mattress, letting out a shaky breath. After a moment you got under the covers and rolled over, spotting a call pop up on your phone.

Dad

“What?” you snapped as you grabbed the phone. “It’s midnight. What the fuck do you want?”

“Mom and I are at the airport. We’re staying at the Hilton nearby. We need to talk tomorrow,” he said.

“I haven’t spoken to you in two years,” you said.

“We heard about this Liam guy,” he said. You swallowed, expecting another disappointed talk. “Your cousin divorced George. He cheated. More than once.”

“Good for her,” you said dryly.

“We’re sorry. We know you were telling the truth now. He even admitted it.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” you said. “Please don’t call again.”

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au

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split-n-splice · 3 years

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Takes place during the episode "Sick Day" because I had to wonder: How did Drakken get sick too?

From my The Company You Keep timeline to experiment with where they stand by the time we see them in the show.

[ FFn | Ao3 ]

Sick Day

Drakken slammed the phone down for the second time that day and slumped in his chair, fingers drumming on the desk. His lips pursed as he glowered at the phone, debating between calling across the lair and making the walk.

Towards her, Shego found him insensitive and cold enough on his good days. Often she swore she preferred it that way, even if he didn’t always feel the need to uphold it so stringently. He could get soft and sweet like a marshmallow after he’d accomplished their collective goal, she’d remind him, because villainy wasn’t for the mushy.

Despite the rift, Drakken found himself pacing back through the lair. In their own private wing, he paused as he passed by the kitchen doorway, stealing a glance in.

The kitchen was no different than any other cavern in the lair, except for the homey kitchen necessities and a sorry cloth-covered card table that sufficed for their dining table, which Shego was slumped over now, nursing a tall glass of cocoa moo. She shivered, bundling up tighter in her green robe. She hadn’t brushed her hair today. It didn’t look like she’d washed it either, sticking up in places and twisted into clumps, certainly from tossing and turning in restless sleep.

Just as Drakken tiptoed closer, she brought a tissue to her nose and blew it like an elephant before gasping and taking another big gulp of cocoa moo. She jolted and swore when his hand rested on her shoulder. “Milk isn’t going to help that stuffy nose, Shego,” he warned. That’s what his mother always told him, anyway.

“Did I ask for advice?” she grumbled up at him, shrugging his hand off.

He pulled off a glove to feel her burning forehead, ignoring the low noise of objection she made. “Have you taken any—?”

“Yes.”

Drakken grunted. He tossed both gloves down on the table and shed his lab coat to stand in the scrubs beneath before turning for the cabinets. “Hungry?” he piped, pulling out a can of condensed chicken noodle soup. A glance over his shoulder, and he saw Shego’s eyes roll and her lip curl before she began coughing violently into her crumpled tissue. Of course. She was too good for soup from a can. What was he thinking?

He rolled his own eyes as he moved to the refrigerator instead to take inventory, turning a deaf ear to his accomplice hacking to clear her throat. Between just them in the privacy of shared living quarters, she didn’t have such a pristine image to uphold. Still, it was unusual to see her sick. Some occasional manageable allergies, maybe food poisoning, but the cold or flu was rare. A robust immune system was a perk of being superhuman, she’d once told him while hunched over a porcelain throne as he’d held her hair back.

Drakken swallowed a lump and his eyes darted across to Shego standing up and knocking back the last of her chilly cocoa moo. He swore he saw steam rise on her breath, just as he swore he could see a faint feverish glow to her skin where she’d opened up her top to cool her chest.

“Killigan is on his way,” he blurted as the woman turned to leave. She paused in the doorway, almost glancing back. Drakken fidgeted and shifted foot to foot. “Uhm. So. Just a heads up. Maybe button up your shirt a little.” The last thing he needed with this Killigan situation was the man getting an eyeful of certain parts of Shego’s anatomy.

She gave a weary sigh and buttoned up the top three buttons she’d had popped open amidst the hot and cold flashes of her fever. “M’going back to bed,” she announced hoarsely, instead of asking why the Scotsman was coming over. He didn’t think to explain. She’d just get upset he was replacing her for a few days to keep world domination plans moving along.

Once Shego was out of the room, Drakken glanced about for the little-used kitchen telephone. Usually when he picked it up, it was to give his own mother a call for a little cooking advice or to beg a recipe out of her. This morning, his thumb punched in a sequence he was strictly forbidden to dial. He wasn’t even supposed to know it really, as Shego preferred staying estranged from her family.

There was a small commotion as the call was answered, and Drakken swore he could feel the loathing radiating through the telephone. “Lipsky?” ground out the woman as if the name he was born under was something vile.

He tried to pay it no mind. “Shilo is—”

“Arrested?”

Drakken flinched. “Wh—no! She has a cold, or the flu, or something,” he explained quickly, frustration aside.

“It’s going around,” noted the woman on the line. “What about it?”

“I was just…wondering? About comfort foods she may like?” he asked, innocently enough.

“You’ve been together how many years now, and you don’t know—”

He interrupted her criticism. “Are you going to help me help her or aren’t you?” he bit back.

“Chicken noodle soup.”

“I offered her Campbell’s—”

“Homemade,” sighed the judgmental woman. “She really loved the bowtie pasta when she was little. And a little celery – but not too crunchy. Crimp-cut carrots. Not too thick. Not too much salt. Chicken thigh, if you have it…” He should have taken notes, but he settled for nodding along and dedicating the details to memory. “I’m sure you can figure it out. I know you’re good in the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “How did you—?”

“She told me. It was one of the homebody things she loved about you.” Past tense.

His shoulders fell with the pang of guilt. He still cooked for his partner, sometimes. Not as much as he probably should have. Too many nights now, they made separate meals and ate alone.

Drakken wasted no time. With a deep breath, he pushed off from the counter and began the hunt through the kitchen for necessities for chicken noodle soup up to par with Shego’s standards.

A while later, he held a hot bowl atop a potholder and was rapping gently on Shego’s bedroom door, hating it a little that she had her own bedroom these days at all. Everyone needed their own space though, he rationalized.

She’d almost gone to bed with him last night, her mood lightened by the successful heist of Ray-X, but he’d barely laid hands on her scorching skin when she’d sighed and slumped forward against him, bringing activities to a sudden standstill. He should have noticed she’d been burning up more so than usual then, but he’d been a little too distracted to realize the change. She’d kissed his cheek, apologized halfheartedly, and given him a “not tonight” before slipping out of his room, leaving Drakken a little miffed at getting worked up just to be left.

If she was sick, then maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t done more than a little necking last night, he decided as he opened up her door despite the lack of invitation. By the sounds of it, Shego could barely catch her breath between sneezes anyway.

A pile of tissues was already overflowing out of the wastebasket beside her chaise lounge. Shego sat bundled like a big teal burrito in her thickest blanket, sniffling as Drakken approached from the side, hopefully out of the line of fire.

“I brought you something,” he informed, braced for the moment her dangerous eyes cut up to him for intruding.

Instead of snapping at him, she carefully crawled out of her cocoon, just barely. Enough to poke her hands out and accept the hot bowl Drakken offered down to her. Hunched forward with the bowl balanced between knees and chest, she stared into the bowl suspiciously like some sort of little hermit tea-reading witch.

He took a small shifting of her feet to be an invitation, and came to perch at the end of the chair. “Hope it’s up to snuff,” he muttered as the ill critic stirred her soup.

“I can’t sniff,” she informed, nose noticeably stuffed up, though he supposed her ears might be muffled too. She tried to take a whiff off the steam anyway before taking a sip, and Drakken felt just a little better to hear her pleasant hum. At least she’d stopped sneezing and coughing long enough to slurp down half the bowl in a few big gulps. She gasped for air then and poked around at the noodles with her spoon. “You made this?”

He grunted in confirmation.

“S’good.”

Drakken let his eyes wander up from watching his feet to take in her room he infrequently got a glimpse of. It was quite bare. The essentials. A big wooden wardrobe, a nice dresser with vanity mirror, and an actual bed across the room from her chaise lounge where she preferred to spend her personal downtime reading or manicuring her nails.

“More?” Shego rasped, and his eyes darted back to her holding out the empty bowl with a hopeful puppydog pout. Drakken complied, a small smile brought to his lips at her mousey, “Love you.”

“Now you’re just being a kiss-up,” he said with a withering frown that didn’t last long.

Between bites and slurps from her second helping, Shego paused to stare at her spoon, as if something had only now occurred to her. Her eyes flicked up to Drakken. He could see it in the reflection of the vanity mirror as he stood before her dresser inspecting the scarce few family photographs she’d yet to destroy.

“Just like Mom used to make,” she muttered. “How’d you know?” Her eyes were suspicious now as they met his through the reflection.

“Lucky guess,” Drakken dismissed. She was liable to fly off the handle if he admitted he’d called her mother for suggestion. He was about to take his leave when Shego held the bowl out toward him.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Considering how much she’d already downed and how quickly, it was believable, but Drakken knew better than to think it was simply because she was full.

He didn’t argue it though, opting to merely take the bowl and go. “Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder.

As he was walking down the hall, he didn’t think twice about raising the bowl to his lips to take a sip of the leftover soup. He really should have though, but hindsight had a funny way of sneaking up behind a person.

In no time at all, he was a sneezing feverish mess, only unlike Shego and her superhuman health, he wouldn’t be getting over it within a 24 hour period.

#oneshot #Drakgo #Drakken #Shego #Dr. Drakken #Kim Possible

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

Text

Healthy Patterns

Tony x reader x Bucky

Notes: Bucky was frozen at the same time as Steve. Bucky did not kill Tony’s parents but still has a metal arm

The team thought it was funny that the three of you were together. The three of you were such incredibly different people it was weird to watch you all interact with each other. Tony was a sarcastic asshole most of the time, Bucky was incredibly headstrong and resilient, and you were one of sweetest people some of the team had met.

Somehow though, despite your opposite personalities, the three of you fit together. Though Tony was an asshole he was thoughtful and sweet with the two of you, Bucky was headstrong when it came to the two of you he would do anything to make you two happy and just because you were sweet did not mean you didn’t fight the hardest on missions or in battle because you would do anything to keep the two men safe.

What the team didn’t see was how similar the three of you were. Especially in your unhealthy patterns.

“It’s two in the morning, Tony. Please just come to bed.” You begged, standing in the doorway of his lab. “Christ sakes, Buck’s in bed tonight.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve just got to finish this tonight.” He sighed, barely looking up from his tablet. “I promise I’ll be in bed tomorrow night.”

“Tony, you are running yourself into the ground. At the rate you’re going I’m scared you’re going to make yourself ill.” You told him, stepping closer to the man.

“Oh, sweetheart, you worry too much. I’m going to be fine.” He assured, putting the tablet down and gesturing for you to come to him. Once you were close enough, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you onto his lap.

“Tony, one day you’re not going to be okay.” You murmured. “One day you’re just not.”

“Sweetheart, trust me, for as long as I’m needed, I’m going to be alright.” He promised, raising your chin with two fingers and pressed his lips to yours.

“Come to bed, please.” You whispered as you pulled away. “We miss you.”

“Okay.” He agreed. “Okay, I’ll come up.” He said.

“Great.” You chirped, hoping off his lap and walking towards the door. “You coming, tiger?” You questioned, a small smirk crossing your face.

“You’re devious.” Tony groaned as he stood and followed you into the elevator. “I don’t know why people think you’re the sweet one, you’re evil.”

“They think I’m sweet because I am.” You smiled. “I am as sweet as sugar is fucking delicious.”

“That you are.” He chuckled as the elevator arrived at the floor you shared with Bucky.

“I didn’t think you’d actually get him to come up here.” Bucky commented as you both entered the bedroom. “Did she give you the face?”

“No, she guilt tripped me.” Tony grumbled, moving over the small fridge he kept in the corner of the room. “I’m telling you; we’re involved with an evil one.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked Tony as you climbed in with him. Turning to look at the man, you saw him pulling out an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

“Just having a sip.” Tony said before finishing off the bottle.

“Five bucks.” Bucky said, turning to you with a hand out. “I told you so.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you did.” You grumbled. “I’ll give it to you in the morning. I’m too tired to grab my purse at the moment.” You said, laying down.

“Wait what? Why does Y/N owe you money?” Tony questioned, pulling off his shirt.

“Because we had a bet and I won. I told her even if you did come up, you would have a drink.” Bucky said, wrapping his arm around you.

“I don’t always have a drink.”

“Yes you do!” You snapped, sitting up. “It’s every night and every time we bring it up you dismiss it. Is sleeping next to us so bad you need to be buzzed to do it?” You questioned.

“No, no, sweetheart, that’s not it at all.” Tony said, sitting next to you on the bed. “I swear that’s not it all.”

“Then what is it, tone?” Bucky asked him. Tony didn’t say anything as he merely stared at the two of you.

“Forget it. Let’s just go to bed.” You sighed, shrugging Tony’s hand off and turning over.

“I do it to stop the nightmares.” Tony admitted after a minute of silence. “Since the whole Loki thing I can’t sleep.” He continued, seeing the two of you turn to him and listen. “I can’t sleep without having to watch the two of you die over and over again. The alcohol numbs it enough I don’t have to remember it in the morning.”

“Tony why didn’t you just tell us?” Bucky questioned him. “We would’ve understood.”

“I’m a Stark, I’ve been bottling things in since I was born.” He snarked before letting out a sigh. “I also just didn’t want either of you to know. I didn’t want you to think I’m weak.”

“Oh, honey, come here.” You cooed, pulling Tony into your arms. “Go to sleep, honey. We'll talk this over in the morning some more, okay?” You said, running your fingers through Tony’s short hair.

Tony didn’t get to reply as the combination of alcohol and your soothing fingers lulled him off to sleep.

“We'll talk to him tomorrow.” Bucky agreed, pulling the two of you closer and drifted off to sleep. With a nod you closed your eyes and rested your head on Buck’s chest.

Tomorrow. You would talk tomorrow.

Non-reader POV

Tony didn’t quit drinking, but he did stop drinking before going to sleep. It was because of Bucky and Y/N that he began to see a psychiatrist. Tony could sleep at night once again thanks to their help but tonight he just seemed unable to.

Tony sat up as slowly as possible, expecting to see both his partners asleep next to him but only saw one. Tony let out a sigh as he realized which of his partners wasn’t in bed. As carefully as he could he slid out of bed and wrapped the blankets around a still sleeping Y/N.

“And what are you doing out here?” Tony asked, walking into the living room. Buck’s head shot up from the book he was reading and had the decency to look guilty.

“Hi, babe, you look nice.” Bucky said, cheeks red.

“Don’t sweet talk me, mister.” Tony scolded. “It’s three in the morning, you’re supposed to be in bed with me and Y/N.”

“I know. I just, really wanted to read this book.” Bucky told Tony as said man moved closer to him.

“Bullshit.” Tony scoffed. “Steve gave you that book a month ago, if you’d wanted to read it you would’ve done it a while ago. I’m not an idiot Buck.”

“I know.” Bucky sighed, resting his head in his hands.

“Is this about what happened the other night?” Tony asked, sitting next to the brunette.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“It is.” Tony said. “You know she doesn’t blame you for that, right?”

“She should.” Bucky said firmly. “She should hate me. How can she bare to look at me? I’m a monster.”

“You are not a monster.” Tony denied him. “You are not a monster. You are our Bucky and our Bucky is no monster.”

“I hurt her.” Bucky said, still not looking at the man next to him. “I physically hurt her and that’s on me. All me.”

“No it’s not.” Y/N said. Tony looked up and saw their girlfriend, standing in the doorway. She had little on apart from Bucky’s shirt, which was big enough it was sliding off her shoulder showing the fresh bruise on her neck. “It was an accident Buck, you are not a monster.”

“I hurt you, doll. I had a nightmare and I attacked you. There’s no excuse for that.”

“You did not attack me. You got spooked and you weren’t fully awake. It was a mistake, Buck, you didn’t mean it.” Y/N said, kneeling down in front of the man.

“Accidents happen. We all do things we don’t mean but you can’t keep sleeping out here because you’re scared to hurt one of us.” Tony added.

“What if next time, it’s not a bruise?” Bucky asked, finally looking up. “What if next time I seriously injure one of you? Or worse.”

“You won’t.” Tony told him firmly. “Because we love you and you love us. You’re not going to hurt us.”

“Now come back to bed. It’s cold without you neither of us can sleep without you there.” Y/N said, making Bucky crack a small smile for the first time that night.

“Are you trying to guilt me into healthy sleep habits?”

“I don’t know, is it working?” Y/N teased, rising to a stand. She held both hands out to the still sitting men and pulled them to a stand.

“I love you two. Thank you for everything.” Bucky murmured to the two long after they fell asleep on his broad chest.

And Bucky didn’t leave the bed again that night.

Reader POV

Every night for the past week, like clockwork, you would wake up three hours after falling asleep. And every night you would sneak out onto the balcony and pull out your hidden pack of cigarettes. You wouldn’t call yourself a smoker per say, but after a sleep like that, a smoke was the only thing that calmed you down.

“That’s going to kill you.” A voice said as you lit the stick. You shook your head and leaned against the railing as you inhaled a long puff.

“Well something is going to. It’s either this or a bullet.” You commented, not looking back at the person. “What are you doing up here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Bucky said, moving to stand beside you. “I decided to come up here when I noticed my girlfriend sneaking out of bed every night and coming back smelling like a nicotine factory.”

“Funny but just so you know, I only have one.” You said, inhaling another drag.

“This is going to kill you doll.” Bucky said, taking it out of your hand and having his own drag. “Plus, it’s certainly not going to help you sleep.”

“Okay first off; that was hypocritical.” You told him, watching as he put the smoke out. “And secondly I don’t want to sleep.”

“Doll you were asleep for three hours before you came out here. There’s no way you’re going to function well tomorrow.” Bucky sighed.

“I’ve gotten by on less.” You shrugged.

“How come you’ve never mentioned you’re a smoker, baby doll?” The man asked you as you stared at the world below.

“Because it’s not that big a deal. I don’t do it all the time, sometimes I just need one after a bad night. It’s only ever one, it’s not that big a deal.” You said without looking at him.

“What do you mean, bad nights?”

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had issues with sleep paralysis. It’s the one thing that scares the shit out of me because it feels like this it and I’m going to die. Sometimes I just can’t cope.” You said, turning towards him. “It doesn’t happen as often as it did when I was a kid but this week, it just won’t stop. And I can’t make it stop. I just want it to stop.”

“Darling why didn’t you tell us about any of this?” Bucky asked you.

“I hate talking about it. I hate having to resort to nicotine after an episode. I just hate it all.”

“You should have talked to us about this, sweetheart. We would’ve understood.” Tony said, making his presence on the balcony known.

“I know. I know, I just never got around to it.” You said as Tony walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Well now we know. And we're going to help you, if you want our help that.” Bucky said, enveloping the two of you in his warmth.

“Please.” You begged.

“Well first you’re going to give me the rest of your smokes.” Bucky told you, putting his hand out in front of you. After a second you placed the remainder of your carton in his hands. "I'm throwing them out brcause you dont need them, baby doll. They're not good for you."

“And now we’re going to head inside. You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to, but it’s cold out here.” Tony said, manoeuvring the three of you so you could all shuffle inside. Tony guided the two of you back to bed, where the two men climbed in leaving a space in between them for you.

You bit down on your lip as you stared at the open space between them.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ll keep you safe.” Tony said, pulling the blanket back for you. You let out a breath before nodding and crawling in between the two.

“We’re here, doll, no more smoking. If you go back to sleep and have more paralysis, wake us up.” Bucky said, pulling you and Tony close to him. You nodded at his words and relaxed into the two's hold

It took you two hours to finally fall asleep and you did wake an hour later but this time you didn't resort to nicotine instead gently waking Bucky and Tony who stayed awake with you until the sun rose.

You felt bad for waking the two, but talking with the two felt better than a nicotine high.

The three of you had bad habits. They were things you were working on and occasionally relapsed upon but you were working together. You were working together to gain healthy habits. To gain healthy patterns

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement @hopingforbarnes @rvgrsbrns @agent-barnes40 @smilexcaptainx @starlingelliot

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toocool2btrue · 4 years

Text

Good Intentions Gone Wrong...

Katie was at home, feeling quite miserable because she had caught a terrible flu and much to her annoyance. Lance along with the rest of her family had strictly insisted that she should take a few days off and rest. Lance had left for work with a heavy heart, not wanting to leave his ill wife alone but he had an important meeting that day and Katie was quite persistent, on him going to work.

"Go or else you are gonna spend the entire day fussing over me and make me go crazy." she had complained in a hoarse voice that morning but by afternoon, as Lance turned on his phone after the meeting. He smiled, finding ten missed calls from his beloved wife.

"How are you feeling?" he immediately questioned as Katie picked up the phone. There was a stubborn pause on her end before she spoke, "I am fine but try to come home early" she pleaded which was followed by a series of coughs.

"Miss me?" he teased, seizing the golden opportunity. He could imagine Katie rolling her eyes at the other end before she replied,

"Yes.. I do. Please just come home soon"

Lance's smile grew wider, "Do you regret kicking out your doting husband this morning?" he added. Pidge angrily sniffed from the other line, "You know what! Don't you dare come home tonight. Sleep at the Garrison today!" she threatened to which Lance nervously chuckled

"Easy there, Honey. I am coming. Do you want anything?" Lance asked, packing his stuff. There was a thoughtful pause from Pidge's side, "Well...."

Among the requests of getting more coffee, a big jar of peanut butter and chicken soup was the request of picking up her work tablet from her office. Lance knowing he was already in hot water couldn't protest much to the last one and so he dutifully made his way to Katie's office.

Despite them being married for 3 years now, Lance alongside Colleen wasn't allowed in Katie's lab or office. Despite his curiosity, he never argued much on this matter. Katie usually had a good reason behind her decisions and hence he silently accepted it.

"So what's the password? Is it my birthday?" Lance wondered as Katie snorted. "Sure..so that any random person who knows your birthday can hack into my office"

Lance pouted, "You are so unromantic.." he muttered to which Katie giggled in amusement.

"It's a pity but since you are now stuck with me so there is nothing we can do about it"

"So how do I get in then? Should I get Matt?" He questioned.

"No you don't need to get Matt. Just place your right hand on the scanner, the door will open. I added your fingerprints from the database in case of an emergency" she explained.

"Awww you do love me" he teased, his heart fluttering. "I thought it was quite obvious when I promised to spend the rest of my life with you. Let me tell you it's not an easy task at times" she shot back.

"Ha ha ha.." Lance laughed mockingly, rolling his eyes. "You should not be the one talking. If you had listened to me in the first place, you wouldn't have this cold"

Much to Lance's triumph, he had won this round as Katie muttered a quick whatever before ending the call.

When Lance entered Katie's office, he suddenly became well aware of the 'good reason' because of which he was forbidden from it. It looked like it had been hit by an earthquake or tornado or perhaps a disastrous combination of both. Everything was in complete disarray and Lance couldn't walk two steps without stepping over crumpled papers or tripping over discarded parts of prototypes.

Her table wasn't any better, it was scattered with various design sheets, important documents and in the very corner lay her work tablet. Lance carefully made his way towards the table and grabbed the tablet. He was about to make his way out of the disastrous office but his fingers itched, even though he had initially intended to go home to Pidge as soon as possible but his heavy conscious wasn't letting his feet move.

Lance placed the tablet in its original place again as he started to pick up things from the floor. Lance rolled up the sleeves of his Garrison uniform, it was going to be a lot of work but he smiled thinking it would be a nice surprise for Pidge to find a much cleaner office when she comes back to work.

__________________________

Lance was halfway done with the cleaning when Matt Holt arrived at his sister's office. Matt Holt was the only one who had full access to all of his sister's projects and even office so Lance wasn't quite surprised by the sudden visit but Matt surely was.

Matt casually sauntered into the office, partly surprised to find his brother in law still at work. His brows furrowed in confusion as he paused to survey the room and slowly a terrified look crept on his face as he was witnessing a crime scene rather than spring cleaning.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Matt cried out suddenly, grabbing the other man's attention. Lance blinked at him innocently, still holding onto files he had been busy arranging.

"What does it look like? This place was a mess and I thought I might clean it up a bit" he explained, not understanding the worried look on Matt's face.

Matt sighed, shaking his head sadly. "You know...I really liked you as a part of our family. It's truly sad that our time together has come to an end"

"Farewell, bro in law" Matt whispered, patting Lance's back. "What are you talking about?" Lance questioned, now feeling concerned as well.

"Pidge is going to kill you" Matt stated gravely.

"Why?" Lance questioned, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Because you messed up with her setting!" Matt cried out, wildly gesturing to the more organized office.

"What setting?! This place looked like it was hit by a natural disaster!" Lance defended himself to which Matt nodded in understanding.

"Sure to an ordinary eye it seems so but in reality everything was chaotically organized according to her. She could have easily picked out even a single piece of paper from this mess but now she won't be able to because you rearranged it all….she is definitely going to kill you" Matt repeated.

"She isn't going to kill me. She loves me" Lance stated, trying to assure himself.

"Yeah I thought so too till one day I tried to make her room more organized before she came back from science camp. Sometimes that day still haunts me in my dreams…" Matt whispered dramatically with a distant look in his eyes.

"But if you don't believe me. You can just call her and ask if it's alright that you cleaned up her office." Matt urged with a daring smirk gracing his face.

Lance gulped, taking out as his phone. "Uh..hey Honey. Just wanted to check up on you"

"Hey.." came Katie's tired reply. "Were you taking a nap? Did I disturb you?" he questioned, worriedly.

"No no you didn't disturb me" Katie assured softy before her voice rose dangerously high, "It's the neighbor's stupid dog! He has been barking so loudly for the past half an hour because of which I can't sleep and when I called her to complain about it. She started saying that Bae Bae is more obnoxious than her dog. That made my blood boil, how dare she compare Bae Bae to him. If only I could get out of bed, I would show her who she is messing with!" Katie growled angrily.

Katie coughed violently before continuing, "This is one of the worst days ever and that would be saying something since I was part of intergalactic war. I swear one more bad thing and I might just end up killing someone today"

Lance gulped briefly glancing at Matt before turning back to Katie, "Take it easy there Pidge, I am coming home and then we'll deal with the neighbor and her dog. Also any other snack you would like?"

"No, I am good. See you soon" Katie hung up. Lance placed the phone back in his pocket and turned towards Matt again looking slightly pale.

"Well then I'll start preparing for your funeral" Matt declared, heading towards the door but was immediately stopped by Lance.

"You have to help me. Aside from Katie you are the only one who comes here and would know where these things originally belonged" Lance pleaded.

Matt frowned, "Well I do have the general idea and perhaps we can wing the rest of it and pray that she doesn't notice it but-"

"But?" Lance cut him off.

"I have a very important meeting in two hours and I still have to complete my presentation for it.." Matt added moving towards the door yet again.

"No you can't leave!" Lance protested but Matt shrugged, "I am sorry dude but I really have to go.."

Lance sighed sadly taking a seat, he covered his face with his hands in defeat, "You know Matt. Don't share this with anyone but I always considered myself to be a lot to you than to my actual brothers. We have so many things in common and get to spend a lot of time together. I didn't get to do that with my actual older brothers and that's why I feel so lucky to have you and I always thought that when me and Katie would have our first kid. We would name him after you"

"You did?" Matt questioned. Lance cautiously removed one finger from his eyes to glance at his brother in law before nodding slowly.

"I did but I guess it's not going to be happening now…." he forlornly stated. "Anyway you should head back to work. I don't want to waste your anymore of your time"

"Screw the meeting! And let's get to work" Matt declared to which Lance laughed nervously, at this rate him and Katie would need to have triplets as their first borns.

The End

Will Katie ever find out?😏

Thanks for reading everyone. If you enjoyed the story. Please Reblog it and do mention your favorite part

#plance #Pidgance #plance domestic bliss #kinda sick fic #married plance #Katie Holt #Lance Serrano #Matt Holt #voltron legendary defender #crack fic?#Lance gets in to trouble #flirtyrobot #fluff #teasing #married couple banter

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pepperminthepatty · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2 of post season 5 Entrapdak Fic

Contains Angst and Hordak hating himself. I’m not sure where this fic is going but there is a made up scene I’ve had in my mind for like 3 months that I want these two to take part in involving water and I hope I can write it out as a future chapter because its really cute in my head.

Consciousness ebbed in and out of Hordak. He wanted to wake up each time the feeling came close. Each time he thought about reaching for consciousness his body begged him to stay in the nice warm bed that was far more comfortable than he remembered it to be when he had initially gotten into rest.

Something about the blanket over him now was so very soothing thus encouraging him to clutch it tighter. His fingers seemed to slip through it but with sleep weighing down his strength he felt no need to investigate the reason why. Either way the blanket seemed to get tighter around him despite his failed attempt at pulling it in snugger around himself.

His ears twitched as he fell into a deeper relaxed state. This is heavenly. The thought came but just as it did he suddenly shot open his eyes. His body stiffened as he realized he had let himself relax far too deeply. He always tried to minimize his vulnerability even when it came to sleep. Not remembering where he was even if it was only for mere minutes made him feel exposed and at risk. His eyes tried to adjust but it was very dim in the room. His hearts began to race and he started to breath heavily as panic set in. He gritted his teeth as he tried to stifle a growl of frustration.

Hordak proceeded to sit up and ball his fists together. He couldn’t hold in his frustration any longer and with one hand clawed at the sheets he found himself on while the other hand clawed at the pillow his head had been resting on. As he tore the silk sheets and pillows he let out a growl. With that his blanket grew snugger almost like a caressing gesture. Hordak’s eyes glowed deeper in the dim lighting as they grew wider. He froze once more for several heartbeats this time as he recalled the prior night's events. Entrapta had stayed by his side to comfort him….but she had made a chair for herself to do so. However he was positive she was no longer by the bed but rather in the bed.

To confirm his suspicions he heard a small noise escape the small body beside him. He felt the blanket tighten around him again. Hordak looked down as his eyes continued to readjust themselves. His face grew a deep crimson as he realized his blanket was actually Entrapta’s hair.

“Mmhm.” Entrapta stirred beside him.

He had no idea what to do...he couldn’t go back to sleep now. This was surely a mistake. He was positive Entrapta would be just as embarrassed as he if she realized they were like this. She must of been too tired last night to go to her room and accidentally fallen asleep after helping him. But he couldn’t bear thinking of waking her or even tapping her shoulder now. He wouldn’t want to cause her any embarrassment.

“Mmhm Hordak…”, she said softly. He looked at her but her eyes were still closed. “Entrapta?” He asked.

Her eyes shot open. “Hordak!” She yelped as she sat up hastily. Her hair loosened around him and quickly collected to her side of the bed.

“I’m so-sorry! I was really tired yesterday and…” Entrapta struggled for words. Hordak intervened, “ I can understand that. You do not need to explain yourself. I should be apologizing.”

“You? But why?” Entrapta asked.

“I am the cause of this embarrassing situation for you. You should not have needed to aid me this evening.” Hordak said with a hint of disgust aimed at himself.

“No, no. There is nothing wrong with that Hordak. You’ve been through a lot these last couple of weeks. It’s only been a few days since” she paused trying not to directly mention Prime. “Since...I got my lab partner back…”

Hordak’s ears went down and his expression was soft yet also confused. He was at a loss for words. Before things could get awkward Entrapta blurted “Oh! But I do think you mean yesterday evening. You probably noticed it’s a little dark here right?”

“Yes it’s quite dim...I was under the impression it was the middle of the night?”

Entrapta let out a squeal of delight. “I wanted to show you this last night but with getting back into Dryl there was just so much to sort through first treaties, trading and so on which of course there still is much to agree on but I’ll worry about that later now…”

Entrapta fumbled under the bed and Hordak heard the ripping of Velcro. “There it is!” Entrapta giggled. “The lack of lamps or artificial light sources are on purpose because of this!” she continued excitedly.

From what he could make out she had a remote in her hand she pushed a couple buttons and boom the ceiling began moving. It was opening up to reveal the morning sky. “I’ll leave the tinted glass layer up so it gives your eyes time to adjust. But you should see this at night!”

“It does seem...entertaining.”

“You like it?”

“I-I do and as you say I think it would be more enjoyable with the night sky.”

“Ooh so could we do this tonight?” She asked him eagerly. Hordak felt his cheeks getting warm again. “I would like to look at the stars with you here if you wouldn’t mind.” Entrapta added.

“Ah, of course not,” Hordak mentally cursed himself for fumbling over his words. “That is- what I mean to say is...I would not mind it at all. However do you mean here?” Hordak added pointing down at the bed. “Like this?”

“Oh I’m sorry again!” Entrapta said stumbling out of the bed. “This was probably a little much for you. I will keep my hair to myself this time! So you won’t have to worry about that. I’ll stay wide awake and I’ll leave before I get tired.”

Hordak struggled to reply back. He wanted to tell her he didn’t mind her touches...he liked them. He just didn’t know how to reciprocate. It felt unnatural most of the time. “I enjoy...your presence and I don’t mind our proximity.”

“You do?” Entrapta said.

“Well, yes.” Hordak replied a little flabbergasted with himself for being straightforward for once. Entrapta climbed back on the bed and laid on her side facing him now. He stared at her a little wide eyed for a few seconds. But then continued, “I simply was curious on what you meant exactly as to not lead to any miscommunication.”

“I would tell you if you made me uncomfortable or if something bothered me Hordak. And I would hope you would too?” She said as she rested her chin on a bundle of hair bright eyes wholesomely on Hordak. Entrapta proceeded to place a hand gently over his. Hordak fought back the urge for his ears to drop down which would ultimately give away the light blush dusting his cheeks.

“I am comfortable with these kinds of gestures from you. I apologize if I appear, I believe the word is cold, however. That is not my intention...but reciprocating touch is-” Hordak paused wanting to find the best word to describe all the thoughts and emotions when he thinks about indulging in similar gestures of affection towards her. How could he describe the fears and frustrations that pile up in him and cause him to freeze instead?

“Difficult?” Entrapta offered as she squeezed his hand lightly. That would do for now. “Yes.” He replied with a sigh.

“Well we can work on that together!...I don’t really enjoy being touched sometimes...or in the manner that most Etherians just brush off as normal.” Entraptas voice had dropped on the last part. She had also averted her gaze now. Hordak turned his whole body now to better face her and so that he was laying on his side just as she was.

“Entrapta.” He called out to her. She looked at him, his knitted brows and frown gentler then how he would wear if he were furious with a subordinate. It was mainly concern and worry that produced such an expression but a glint of fury did glow somewhere in his eyes that were still green from reconditioning.

“I find most Etherians to be backwards creatures and the ones who say anything ill about you are nothing more than imbeciles, nimrods, and lowly cretins!” Hordak proclaimed loudly.

“Shh-sh.” Entrapta said fumbling on the bed and trying to suppress some laughter while pressing her hands against his mouth now. She glanced at the door then back at Hordak. He raised a brow while her hands were still covering his mouth. She pulled her hands away and put them behind her back. She sat on her folded knees thus still leaving her slightly lower than Hordak.

“I appreciate the meaning behind your statement!” She added quickly. “I just don’t think “most” Etherians would appreciate being called such things or tolerate it.” Hordak crossed his arms and laid his head back on the torn pillow. Entrapta lifted her arms in somewhat of a shrug gesture. “And, we sort of are supposed to be in peace times now so we probably shouldn’t give any of the other kingdoms a reason to start any squabbles with ours.”

Hordak huffed. “I understand. As such I will refrain from saying such things bu-” Hordak stopped mid sentence putting a hand to his head as if just remembering something. “Buuut?” Entrapta asked quizzically. “You said...ours. As in our Kingdom?”

“Oh yeah. I did. Well it seems fitting now that you live here with me.”

“I am only a...guest.” Hordak replied sternly while looking off distantly.

“Oh...I won’t use terms like that. I’m sorry if it bothered you.” Entrapta added softly.

This kingdom wasn’t his no matter how Entrapta made him feel. Through force it had been his at one point. Now however, he wanted to distance himself from those past actions. Something inside him felt it would be wrong for him to be tied to her Kingdom of Dryl even if only through her innocent words. He suddenly felt Entrapta’s hand beside his head resting on the silky pillow. She was examining the torn fabric now finally having noticed them.

“What happened here?” she asked, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She looked at Hordak now. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone brimming with concern. Hordak wondered why he would have imagined Etheria’s greatest scientific mind would have failed to figure out he was the cause of the torn pillow and sheets.

#entrapdak #hordak x entrapta #Entrapta #Hordak #she ra season 5

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

Text

Share a Scare

Earlier today, I made a list of every illness/infection that I’ve had over the past couple of months, and let me tell y’all, I am not exaggerating or joking when I say I am ready to die. I honestly could die today and be so happy with that. I hate my life. I’m tired of being in pain and tired of getting sick and not being able to afford to get well, but Happy Valentines’ Day anyway. Here is an update. Sorry they’ve been so scarce.

Share-a-Lair 9

Charlotte was asleep on top of Max whenever Billy and Nora began to get ready to go. Their parents were going to come pick them up, so they tried to quietly wash up and gather their things without waking Max and Charlotte. Nora even texted them that Max was asleep so not to make noise whenever they came, after she silently snapped a photo of them to potentially use against him later. He looked more peaceful than she could remember seeing him and he even seemed to be smiling a little, though with the eye mask on, she wondered if he was actually asleep. Had to be though, because he'd have sensed her so close for that photo otherwise.

When the monitor sounded, “Alert, parents approaching,” Max abruptly snatched off his eye mask and started trying to get up. He slid Charlotte over carefully and she stirred a little, but hugged the pillow and remained sleeping.

After a moment to drink her in (which Nora definitely noticed), Max urged his siblings to get their things and leave out of the door before their parents came in. However, they made their way in, saw him and Hank cheered, “Oh! You’re awake!” He winced and looked at Charlotte. Still asleep. He put his finger in front of his mouth and shoved Billy and Nora towards the door.

“Max, who is that girl?” Barb wondered.

“A friend. A sleeping friend. Shhh.”

“That’s Charlotte,” Billy said. “She says she isn’t Max’s girlfriend, but they sleep in the same bed and hold hands and stuff a lot. I think they even kiss!”

Barb and Hank both looked a mixture of surprised and excited to hear this. They'd heard of this Charlotte a few times and well, Max hadn't been involved with anybody in a while and he was usually his best self when involved with someone special.

“Get out!” Max hissed, pushing the line of them towards the door as they protested, his parents asked questions, Billy defended his assessment, Nora fussed about being rudely shoved, and Max shut and locked the door behind them.

Just in time, because Charlotte stirred and looked up at him. Breathily, he greeted, “Heyyyy, You. Good morning. Sorry to wake you. Billy and Nora left kinda noisily.” She was still partially asleep when she sat up and just sat there for a moment, sort of looking around the room. She was adorable when she first woke up. His heart couldn’t stand it. “You want me to get you some breakfast?”

She stretched, yawned and reached for her dental pouch on the night stand. “Naw. I gotta get to work. Thanks, though.” She washed up in his bathroom, changed into clothes that she had in his closet and grabbed Penelope and her bag to head for the tower. “See you later!” She cheered and was gone. He was lonely as soon as she left.

Over the next few weeks, a few things happened. Charlotte began to sleep over every night, without it being a conversation or requiring explanation. Also, Henry got really busy (and cranky), as his superhero advancement assessments neared. This meant that Charlotte was a little bit busier, too, and spent more time in the tower than usual.

She began moving most of her work needs into Henry's lair. If he passed his assessments and became a hero in his own right, she didn't know if he was going to even remain working with Ray. They were close, but Ray was sort of a mess and well…

Henry would never reach his true potential if he just went along with him all the time. He might even be held back if he focused on his loyalty to Ray more than his loyalty to himself and his own abilities. He worked hard to get out of the shadow of Captain Man and to be fair, he worked harder than Ray did, in general.

It was a point that she was making as she gave herself a pedicure in Max's room while he was working out. "I mean… even you, as an already established superhero are here to advance and not necessarily remain in Phoebe's shadow…"

"What do you mean, Phoebe's shadow?" He asked.

"I just mean, well.. she was first. In superhero… on the path…"

"Yeah, but I bested her and was granted the position on Z-Force. Our next assignment was leading together, as a team."

"A team of Thundergirl and SuperMax. Rarely ever said the other way around."

"You think Phoebe is better than me?"

"I think Phoebe has been working as a superhero longer than you and that it's something that others are aware of and something that you probably have thought about a few times. Why are you acting like this?" She was genuinely confused, because this conversation wasn't even about HIM, it was about Henry and she was merely mentioning him to establish empathy. Now, he looked mad or something. But, he smiled.

"I'm good." The shade of red that he was let her know that wasn't my true. She bit her lip. "What were you saying? Something something, Henry. Something something something, Kid Danger."

She sighed. "Can I not discuss my job in your room?"

"Henry is your job? I haven't heard shit about what you do tonight. Just like a huge list of reasons that Henry is too good for Captain Man…"

There he was. There was the Max Thunderman that she had been wondering Whatever happened to him? And for whatever reason, seeing him like this… hurt her feelings. "Sorry. I will take my list and go." She began to grab her stuff, but wondered if she should just get her immediate things and go, or take all the crap she'd let get comfy in here the past few weeks?

She was considering it when she felt his hands take her wrists gently, "Charlotte, don't go. I'm sorry." She didn't want to look at him. If she did, she might be susceptible. And she couldn't be susceptible. His tone was unwarranted, unnecessary and hurtful.

"Acknowledged. I'll talk to you when we've cooled off." Able to keep herself from looking at him, she grabbed her phone and nothing else. She worried that staying a moment longer might make her weak.

"Char…"

"Goodnight, Max." She told him and headed for the tower. She hoped Henry wouldn't make a thing out of this, but she was too upset to be in Max's quarters right now and she certainly wasn't about to sit in her car and cry. Besides, there was a couch in the lab if she simply couldn't face Henry.

Whenever she came into the tower, Henry and Jasper had the TV on and were sitting mighty close. Henry was leaning back against the couch on the floor and Jasper was laying on his belly on the couch, resting on his elbow with his other arm rested on Hen’s shoulder. They turned whenever they heard the door swoosh and said “Hey!” to her. Charlotte waved a hand and wondered, “Could I chill here a moment? I can go into another room if you two are in the middle of something.”

Jasper sat up to make room on the couch, swinging one leg over Henry’s shoulder where Hen was now leaned back into the opening of his legs. “Nah. Come on. We’re watching this hilarious movie.”

“By hilarious, he means terrifying,” Jasper said.

She nodded and sat down next to Jasper, who noticed that something wasn’t right and pulled her onto his shoulder. She tried not to cry, but that gesture made her break her resolve. He looked at her and she just wiped her eyes and shook her head. PLEASE DON’T ASK. Fortunately, he did not. He didn’t say anything, either as Henry was oblivious and throwing his head back to cackle at the horror scenes on TV.

After a while, she was falling to sleep on Jasper’s shoulder and Henry was getting up to get ready to go to bed. “She asleep?”

“Yeah,” Jasper said.

“Gonna leave her here, or take her with us?”

“I don’t wanna leave her here. I think something happened. She was sad when she got here,” she heard Jasper say. Now, she had to either let them know that she wasn’t asleep yet so that much more wouldn’t be said, or pretend to be asleep to avoid facing any questions or feelings.

“Okay. Well, bring her. I’m ready for bed,” Henry said. She felt Jasper gently shift her to carry her bridal style to Henry’s room and continued to pretend to be asleep.

The three of them heard the computerized voice call, “Alert, Superior Hero to You approaching.”

Henry looked around, “What the heck was that?” he asked.

“The monitor thingy announcing Max,” Jasper said, settling Charlotte in bed.

“But, why does she say THAT to announce him?” Henry asked.

“Probably because he’s good with computers and most likely programmed her to do so,” Jasper said, laughing a little. “Get rid of him. He’s probably the reason Charlotte was upset. He never comes to your chambers.”

“Right?”

Henry went to his door and opened it to see Max, clearly fresh out of the shower and seemingly upset. “What?” Henry asked.

“Hey… Is Charlotte here? Her car is still outside, but I think she blotted herself off of the house scan.”

“If she did, I’m guessing it was to dodge you. I don’t know how to check a fuckin’ house scan and I’m positive Jasper doesn’t either. What did you do wrong?”

Max nodded his head and looked at the floor. “You’re right. Sorry to bother you at this time of night. I was just worried about us… her…” He sighed and wiped his hand through his hair. “Just… if she ever wants to talk to me, I’ll be available for her, anytime, always.” He turned and started leaving.

“No snivelling or smug little quips?” Henry asked.

Max winced and forced a smile, “Goodnight, Henry.” He didn’t say anything else as he left the exit from the tower into the main house.

Henry just watched him. What the hell was that about? Henry went into his bedroom, where Jasper was laying on his belly and Charlotte was sitting up. They both were facing the door, waiting for him. He was startled to see them not going to bed. “You two aren’t going to bed, and I’m ready to. So, if you’re about to gash over Max, take it out of here.”

“What did he say?” They both asked, ignoring Henry’s request.

He rolled his eyes, “Something like he’ll wait forever to talk to you or something. Go ask him. He’s barely out of the tower. All I know for sure is that you two better let me go to sleep,” he crawled into bed and they got up.

Jasper walked Charlotte to the door and wondered, “You gonna be alright?”

“Of course. You guys have hurt my feelings worse than he could, plenty of times.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. We’re your friends, that’s your… you know…” Jasper said with the shrug of his shoulders.

Charlotte was too tired to do her whole ‘Whatever do you mean?’ routine, and too sad. So, she just said, “I think that makes it hurt worse. Whenever your friends don’t get it. When they just hurt you and keep going.”

Jasper felt bad. He knew that he and Henry had issues regarding this topic. He was working on it, though. Tonight, he just said, “Well, at least Max didn’t just keep going. He wants to make it right, whatever he did to hurt you and he wanted to do that tonight. If I had a guy like that, with his hair, and brains, the superpowers, my God, that print! I’d be letting him off easy every time, much more the first time.”

“I am. I just… I guess I’m not used to BS from him. I’m used to him being this escape from being sad or angry.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. I know he’s a super, but he’s human. Go talk to him, forgive him, love on him and you know, give him a little tug, on my behalf…” She cackled at Jasper’s shamelessness.

“Henry is gonna ban you if you keep this up,” she warned.

“He should just take it as an opportunity to step his D game up.”

“Wow. Goodnight, Jasper.” She left laughing.

Max heard the monitor announce, “Alert, Future Baby Mama approaching,” and he gasped and assessed himself. He had been eating his feelings for several minutes, gorging on treats from the snacker and had a pile next to him and probably some on his face! He rushed to make sure he was presentable, and when she landed on the landing pad, he felt at least… clean.

She got up and fiddled with her fingers, “Hey. You’re still up.”

“Yeah,” he said and approached her. He stopped just short of her face and put his hands together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to behave so jealous. I just hate how much you love him. I don’t know. It finally got to me when you just… KEPT talking about him.”

“Jealous?” She repeated, with her eyebrow raised. She sighed, laughed, then squealed, “Men are infuriating!”

He nodded, feeling really disappointed in himself, “I try really hard to be perfect for you, because I know that you’re generally surrounded by infuriating men..”

She softened and stepped closer, to fill the space between them, then just hugged him. “That is so unnecessary, Max. Just be you. I like him. I liked him from Day 1… hundred.” He laughed into her hair and hugged her back. “It’s beneath you, Dude. You and Henry being jealous of each other is SO stupid and I don’t understand why either of you feel that way!”

He leaned back to look at her, “The fact that you don’t know why Henry would be jealous of me is part of my insecurity. He should be jealous of me. I’m ME!”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “And he’s him. Neither of you could ever be what the other one is to me, so to be jealous is absolutely ridiculous. You two don’t mean the same thing to me. You’re never gonna be my lifelong best friend, because that’s already happened already and nobody else can be that for me, not you, not anybody. And as that person for me, Henry’s NEVER gonna be able to be anything else, in my eyes, so for you to be jealous, when you’re who you are to me...”

He stared into her eyes for a moment, waiting for her to elaborate. He really didn’t want to ask her, but since she didn’t seem to be willing to volunteer the information, he did. “Who am I to you?”

“You’re my Maximus,” she said and diverted her gaze from his eyes.

Whether she meant maximus as in “greatest” or “My Maximus,” as in she was FINALLY claiming him, he was satisfied. Beyond, in fact. She looked at him again and saw him smiling. “Let’s go to bed, okay? No more Henry talk,” she decided.

He nodded in agreement. He hadn’t ever wanted to talk about him in the first place. He gave her a kiss on the lips then rested his lips on her face, “Deal.”

#Share a Lair #henry danger #the thundermans #crossover #crossover fanfic #Nesha Crossover #Thundanger #Thunderbolt

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allonsysilvertongue · 5 years

Text

Be Alright

Summary: Peter’s seemingly normal civilian life was disupted with the return of an unexpected hero from the past, thirteen years after he had moved on and stepped up to fill the gap left behind.

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

The morning sun was bright and unforgiving, and to Peter’s dialed up senses, it felt unbearable. He grabbed a pillow to cover his face, hoping to block it out except now, he could hear conversations coming from outside the bedroom. He tossed in his sleep, a little annoyed at the ill-timed interruption.

The space next to him on the bed was empty and cold which meant MJ must have woken up and started her day for a while by now. Propping himself up, Peter checked the bruises on his torso that coloured his body yesterday night, and just as he expected, they were all gone now.

“He’s asleep. I don’t want to wake him,” he could hear MJ argue.

“But it’s important.”

Recognising the owner of the voice, Peter smiled. He snatched a shirt from the back of a chair and made his way out of the bedroom.

“Morning, Morgan,” he greeted with a wave.

Morgan’s gaze drifted to the wall clock behind him and she wrinkled her nose. “It’s nearly noon, Peter. Come on, get change. Let’s go!”

“Hey, hey, you don’t get to boss me around,” he said much to MJ’s amusement. “Where are we going? Cause… “ He exchanged a look with MJ. “It’s just that – I got – uh – plans with MJ.”

He held a breath, waiting to see if Morgan’s curious nature would make her dig for more information because he really didn’t think he could lie about taking a romantic weekend getaway with MJ or that this wasn’t his idea but that MJ had planned it out because they needed a relaxing time in order to try for a family.

God, he was so tired. All he wanted to do was just go back to sleep but he had promised MJ that this would happen this week and he couldn’t push it any longer.

“It’s alright,” MJ said before Morgan could get a word in. “Peter and I can take a raincheck. Go ahead with Morgan,” she turned to look at him. Peter watch her face carefully and when she smiled, he allowed himself to relax a little. “I’ve got things to clear in office anyway.”

Morgan’s demeanor changed instantaneously.

“Oh, are you preparing for another trial? Is there anything I can help?” she asked.

MJ’s job as a woman’s right lawyer fascinated Morgan for as long as Peter could remember.

“And here I thought there was something important you wanted to show Peter…” MJ teased.

“You sure?” Peter approached MJ and when she nodded, he kissed softly. “I’m sorry. Hopefully this won’t take long and I’ll see you tonight. Okay?”

He found one of the Stark Industries car waiting for them and almost on instinct, he looked out for Happy. Of course, the old man was nowhere to be found, grumbling about having to wait for the two of them. Instead, the driver was another of Stark Industries’ employee.

“So what’s this about?” Peter asked once they were on their way.

“Avengers related,” Morgan said mysteriously.

“They wouldn’t send you, Morgan. I’ve been in this longer than you, I know how they work,” he tapped on his responder.

“Well, it is of some importance to the Avengers and you’ve got me cause… Let’s just say it’s on a need to know basis only.”

He sighed. There were days when this kid whom he adored and whom he grew up looking after like a little sister, drove him insane and today was one of the days. He wondered if her dad ever felt that way about him.

Probably all the time, he thought wistfully.

When they arrived at the Avengers compound, they walked passed the stone memorial erected to honour fallen Avengers taken down in the line of duty. Peter had stood in front of it countless times on days when his mind wandered to Mr. Stark.

Tony, he mentally corrected himself.

He was an adult now. He should be able to call his mentor and father figure by the given name, 13 years after his death.

“Promise me you will be calm, alright?”

“Nope, not happening. I won’t make that promise. Besides, why - why would you expect someone to be calm after asking that question? It has the complete opposite effect!”

“Alright, I guess you’re losing your cool this early on,” Morgan shrugged and walked out of the elevator towards the labs.

Peter had spent hours here with Tony – upgrading old suits, designing new suits and being allowed to tinker under supervision. Morgan had clearly inherited the lab Tony often used.

The door was locked and the blinds were closed, preventing anyone from looking into the glass windows. It was odd because Peter had never seen the lab this way.

Once they entered, Morgan locked the door once more but she did nothing to remove the blinds. They moved further into the room, to the work bench where broken pieces of Stark technology littered the table. Peter was used to her general state of messiness so he didn’t even blink an eye.

It wasn’t the disorganization that bothered him. It was something else.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His spider senses were tingling but not in a way that signified danger. It was a strange feeling - as if there was something familiar yet, unknown lurking nearby. “Who is behind the door?

Morgan smiled, still awed by his abilities after all these years. “You can sense him.”

“Him? Is that why’re here? There’s someone you want me to meet?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Morgan shrugged.

He frowned at her behavior. Peter could hear the faint heartbeat which was actually starting to worry him. It was weak and irregular, as if whoever was on the other side of the room was on the brink of death.

Impatient, he crossed the room, talking to Morgan over his shoulder. “From the sound of it, that person needs a hospital, Morgan. Is he – oh my god.”

It was his heart now that had stopped beating for a second. His heart that felt like it was about to go into cardiac arrest; his chest that felt as if someone had punched him and his entire body that felt as if it was about to go into shock.

Peter stopped completely in his track, rooted to the spot by the scene in front of him. It couldn’t be, he thought wildly. He stared unblinkingly at the face inside the cryogenic pod. The person’s eyes were closed and half of the right side of the face all the way down to the neck looked like it had burnt.

He looked exactly as Peter remembered him on that battlefield. Injured, broken but finally at peace.

This was the face that he often dreamt about; the face that had given him nightmares and festered his guilt because Peter knew he should have done more.

“What the – Morgan,” he rounded on her, trying and struggling to find words. “What – Why … Oh my god, what the hell?”

If Peter was horrified and shocked beyond words, the same could not be said for Morgan. She stood there, unable to hide the hint of pride shining from her eyes.

“Who is that?” he blurted.

“You know who that is, Peter,” Morgan’s voice was quiet and gentle, as if not to provoke or upset him any further. Her face softened when she stepped forward, gesturing towards the pod. “It’s really him.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, Morgan. It can’t be.”

“You’re seeing him, Peter. You just need to work on believing but take your time. Dad’s not waking up anytime soon.”

He rounded on her the, face aghast with shock.

“How, Morgan? How is he here?” He ran a hand through his hair in obvious distress. “This is – Who else knows.”

“Right now, only you and me,” she answered.

That explained the locked lab doors and the blinds.

Morgan bit her bottom lip worriedly. “I’m not sure… I mean, I don’t know how to tell mum. Any suggestions?”

“He’s dead, Morgan. He’s been dead for thirteen years. You don’t just – you can’t. Oh my god, kid, this isn’t something that – I don’t know. What were you thinking?”

That question set her off.

“What was I thinking? I saved my dad. He’s right there now, he’s not dead yet. We can still save him!” This time, she looked distraught. “What’s wrong with you, Pete? I thought you’d be in my corner. You loved him, too. You loved him so I don’t get it …” The tears spilled down her cheeks “I thought you’d be happy to have him back.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he breathed in and out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Morgan. I just – This is too much to take in, you get that right? I - I need an explanation.”

She pulled a stool and sat on it before curling a foot around the leg of another to nudge it in Peter’s direction. Peter couldn’t shake off the freaky and strange feeling to be sitting there while his mentor slept frozen in a pod.

“The simple version is – I went back in time, waited for Dad to snap his fingers, kidnapped his body and brought him back here.”

“Right. And the long version will be?”

She sighed impatiently. “Mum told me what happened that day on the battlefield. So did you. One thing stood out to me, though. F.R.I.D.A.Y said his life functions were critical. Critical, not dead yet. So when he was laid down on the battlefield and when no one was looking, too busy trying to account their dead, I took his body and here we are.”

“I think we can save him, Peter,” she added when he only stared at her.

Peter took a step closer to the cryogenic pod keeping his mentor in stasis. He touched the glass panel. Tony looked so peaceful, as if he had just fallen asleep.

“What then, Morgan? What’s the plan here? We save him; we nurse him back to health and return him back to his timeline?”

“Honestly, I didn’t really think it through,” she looked at him pleadingly. She needed her help. Like she had needed his help since she was a child. This was no different. “I only wanted to make sure he didn’t die back in the battlefield.”

“Okay, alright,” he pulled the girl into a hug. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, alright? I’m just – I wasn’t expecting this when I woke up this morning. I’m shocked. And – And I understand, Morgan. You saw a possible solution and you pursued it.”

She nodded against his chest.

“I guess now we have to figure the next step forward,” Peter mused. He scratched the back of his neck. He felt out of his depth here but for Morgan’s sake, he kept it together. “I think it’s – “

“Steve – Sorry, Peter,” she apologized for interrupting. “Um, Steve Rogers returned the infinity stones, didn’t he? He returned it to when the Avengers took it. It all worked out. So – so if we do that with Dad…”

Peter cocked his head to the side contemplatively. Steve had done that and in theory it sounded neat. Except, after the dust had settled, Peter had sat down with Bruce and they had talked about time travel. There was something about changing the past that would only create an alternate timeline.

Which was what Steve had done when he returned to the past and stayed there.

For one, Tony Stark could hardly be compared to an infinity stone. It could have different consequences even if they were to return him to his own timeline. It would branch out and create a different timeline in which there was a world where Tony is alive. Second, Steve Rogers is dead which meant, they had no one alive to ask what it was like to return and live in the past.

“I – I don’t know. I don’t think it will work quite the same,” he informed her. “Hang on a minute, how did you go back in time?”

“I thought you’ll never ask,” she laughed. “I came across Dad’s old notes on the time travel and I worked out what I needed. If dad could do it, then so can I, right? I didn’t have any Pym Particles so I asked Cassie. We’re good friends.”

He scrunched his face. “And she just gave it to you? Just like that? I may need to have a chat with Cassie.”

“It took a lot of convincing. I told her I’m working on placing proper medical safety for when she grows big or small, into her suit.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. Morgan’s field of biomedical science has helped Peter tremendously. She had assisted him with the padding on his suit which ensured that any broken bones or open wound is taken care off immediately. It wouldn’t be far-fetched for her to use that cover on Cassie.

“You should never have done that without telling me or – or someone. Jesus, Morgan,” he paced. “Anything could have happened. You could have been stuck in the past and no one would be the wiser. What will I tell Pepper then?”

Peter expected some of the teenage rebellion and angst he had had to deal with lately to rear its ugly head but the mention of her mother seemed to make Morgan bow her head in shame.

“Sorry,” she muttered, scuffling the toes of her shoes on the floor. “Just needed to know if it’ll work. Didn’t think more than that.”

He sighed. There really was nothing else to say on the matter. Admonishing Morgan any further would not have changed the fact that she had meddled with time to bring her father back.

The only pressing issue was to figure out their next step.

“I got to think,” Peter mumbled as he touched the back of his neck.

“I know that we can do this,” Morgan stressed. “Science and technology has advanced so much since… since the war and since dad died. We can save him using the technologies we have now.”

Peter shot her a look. Morgan might believe in him but he didn’t have the abilities to medically save someone. He wasn’t trained in that.

“We have to call Bruce or… or Shuri, at least,” he decided. “We have to get them here. I – I don’t know what to do, Morgan.”

“But you’re an adult. That’s why I got you here.”

He laughed because it sounded so easy, so straightforward when she put it that way. She had always turned to him to get her out of every sticky situation and he had always had her back, but this… This was beyond him.

“I’m not a doctor,” he pointed out. “And that’s what Tony needs. We can’t bring him to a hospital. It’ll only draw attention but we’ll get Bruce or Shuri to take a look at him and do what is necessary. If – If he’s not too damaged from the radiation,” Peter added.

He saw the look on Morgan’s face but radiation poisoning was a fact that Morgan needed to come to terms with. She might have gotten him out of the battlefield to get medical attention but he could still die from radiation poisoning, if not now then in a few days, weeks or months.

“No,” she shook her head adamantly. “I – I didn’t do all that for him to die from… No way, Peter.”

“Morgan,” he held her arm. “I know you’re hopeful. So am I but – but from what I know … Bruce was the one to bring everyone back because … He was the only one who could withstand the radiation. Even so – His arm was out of it for months. Tony’s just – at the core of it, he’s just human, kid. So we – we’ll try but we have to – “

“We’ll try,” Morgan pursed her lips together, reminding him so much of Pepper. “I didn’t go back all the way for nothing.”

Whether or not Tony could be sent back to his own timeline, was secondary.

Right now, they needed to ensure that the radiation damage is contained. If that was at all possible.

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

There is about a 12-year age gap between Morgan and Peter, so in here Morgan is about 18 years old which puts Peter at 30.

I wrote this a few weeks back but didn't publish it cause I wasn't sure it would work. And I know the way things end, I could do a multi-chapter for this but like I said, I'm not sure if Tony can actually survive it so, I'll think about continuing. Just wanted to post this up now since I've written it.

#irondad #spiderson #tony stark #morgan stark #peter parker #marvel fic #post endgame

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callboxkat · 5 years

Text

Infinitesimal (part 19)

Author’s note: This one took a bit longer than I expected to edit, but it’s an important part! I hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think. :)

Warnings: illness mention, injury mention, arguing, panic, food mention

Word count: 2867

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Roman had been rather distracted in his classes lately, and to be honest, it was starting to affect his work. In his defense, he felt that no one would be able to blame him if they knew what was going on. Finding Patton, a not-quite-five-inch-tall, half-drowned, sick and scared mouse-man who had to be nursed back to health and whose trust had to be painstakingly earned, was something that he felt plenty of people would consider distracting. Roman would argue that he was dealing with it very well, thank you very much.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could just tell people what was going on—and they wouldn’t believe him, anyway, even if he wanted to do that—so his professors were just getting very annoyed with him lately, assuming he was just slacking off and not paying attention. (Okay, so maybe he wasn’t paying as much attention as he could have, but again, tiny, sick mouse-men were distracting!)

So, Roman was already in a foul mood when he got home from his morning classes on Thursday.

He let himself into his and Logan’s apartment and closed the door behind him. He leaned his head back against the wood with a heavy sigh, then pushed himself off of it and walked out into the kitchen. He put his backpack in its usual spot in the corner and stretched, reaching up towards the ceiling with a groan.

“Long morning?” asked Logan, looking up from where he was scribbling in a notebook.

“You could say that,” Roman sighed. He glanced at the living room, silently debated for a second, and then walked towards the doorway. He didn’t know if Patton would appreciate seeing him; and sure, they were going to see each other when they ate lunch either way; but he just wanted to say hello and to check on the little guy. Plus, Logan had mentioned that Patton should become more at ease as he grew accustomed to their presence. He couldn’t grow accustomed to them if they always stayed away.

All Roman really wanted was for Patton to feel safe. To know that they weren’t going to hurt him.

With this in mind, Roman entered the room. He knocked quietly on the doorframe just before he did so, wanting to give Patton a warning. He could imagine that a giant—which he was, from Patton’s perspective—suddenly bursting in might be rather startling.

“Hey, Pat,” he said, putting on his best smile. Patton was on the table, bundled up in all his blankets, but his arms were free. He was drawing, the little box of supplies Roman had given him at his side.

Patton looked up at him.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Patton shrugged, twiddling with the colored pencil lead he held in one hand.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your new outfit. You look nice.”

Patton glanced down at himself, shifting. Roman couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“It’s pretty remarkable you know, that you can put together a whole outfit like that in a day,” Roman continued, and he meant it. “Did you stay up all night working on it? Did you get enough sleep?”

Patton looked away, seeming a little awkward now. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he backtracked, his heart sinking, “or to bother you. I just wanted to say I’m impressed.”

Patton glanced up at him. Maybe Roman was just seeing what he wanted to see, but he thought he saw a hint of pride in Patton’s eyes.

“Anyway, lunch is soon. I’ll leave you alone for a bit ’til then.” He gave Patton a little wave and went back out into the kitchen. Logan was still sitting there, at the table, bent over his notebook. Roman sat down heavily next to him.

Logan looked up and regarded him for a moment. “What would you like for lunch?” he asked. “I can cook today.”

“I don’t care. Whatever’s easiest, I suppose.”

Logan nodded and got up, leaving his notebook and pencil on the table. As he flipped it shut and went to prepare lunch, Roman caught a glimpse of one of the pages. Frowning, he pulled it over and reopened it. He read the contents of the page in a heavy silence.

A moment passed before Roman picked up the notebook and walked over to where Logan was standing at the counter.

“Ah, Roman, would you mind handing me the—.”

“What the hell is this?” Roman asked, waving the notebook under Logan’s nose.

“One of my notebooks,” Logan said, frowning. “I would appreciate if you didn’t touch my personal effects.” He moved to take it back, but Roman held the book just out of reach. Logan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason for this childish exchange?”

Roman huffed at him and opened the notebook to a particular page. It held a rough sketch of what at first glance seemed to be a human, until one saw the long tail. The body and each limb were marked with measurements, and there were notes written in small script on the side. Data and observations and questions. About Patton.

“You’re studying him!” Roman snapped, keeping his volume low so that Patton wouldn’t overhear.

Logan seemed confused. “I am afraid that I do not see the issue. As a member of the scientific community, it is imperative to attempt to further humanity’s knowledge of the universe as much as possible. Even putting that aside, it is important to understand Patton as best as possible in order to determine how to help him.”

“He’s not some test subject in a lab!”

“I know that, Roman. I have neither harmed Patton nor pressured him to provide any information that he did not want to provide.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t want you measuring him.”

“I took those measurements when we first brought him here,” Logan admitted. He turned off the stove so that what he was cooking would not burn. “Not only as scientific data—which is, regardless of Patton’s personhood, important to collect—but also in case it became necessary in the future.” He was starting to sound agitated. “Had we been the ones to make him clothes, or needed to put a cast on one of his limbs, or attempted to as accurately as possible determine a dosage of medicine, or had any other relevant event occurred, these measurements could have been instrume—.”

“Those are excuses,” Roman said, his voice deathly quiet. Logan broke off at his tone. There was a long moment of silence before finally, he spoke again.

“Are you telling me I should not attempt to understand the world around me? Besides, the data I have collected is not of the conventional, experimental sort, but rather a collection of observations, developing hypotheses, and recommendations of future actions based on said hypotheses.”

“Goddamn it, Logan, I’m telling you not to treat Patton like he’s some scientific discovery. He is a person, a sick and hurt person who needs our help. He doesn’t need you seeing him as your ticket to a Nobel Prize, or whatever you’re doing this for. Don’t pretend it’s out of some kind of ‘scientific duty’ or that you’re doing it to help him.”

Logan reached for his notebook once more, but he unsurprisingly failed to snatch it. “What do you want from me?” he asked. “I can’t just… not document my findings.”

“You can learn about him the normal way,” Roman said. “Like any normal human being learns about other people. As an equal. Not something to be studied.”

Logan looked towards the other room, towards the wall behind which they both knew Patton was. “Perhaps I have been a little overly engrossed in understanding him,” Logan finally sighed. “At first, at least. Although I do maintain that my notes are invaluable data.”

Roman figured that this was about as close as he would get to Logan admitting he was wrong about this. He’d take it for now, if only because he didn’t want to keep arguing. He slipped the little notebook into his inside jacket pocket, ignoring the hurt look Logan gave him at the action. “Let’s just have lunch.”

…

Lunch was a somewhat tense affair.

Patton seemed to pick up on it, probably from Logan’s part. Roman was using his usual cheerful, gentle tone towards the “mouse-man”, looking for all the world as if nothing was wrong. Logan sometimes forgot how good of an actor Roman was.

Logan himself, meanwhile, was only picking at his spaghetti. He was doing his best to act normally, too, but it was difficult.

After a while of mostly being left out of the conversation—which was, admittedly, more just Roman speaking and Patton occasionally nodding or saying a single quiet word in response than an actual conversation—he heard Roman say, “I hope you don’t mind if I leave early. I have a meeting to go to, unfortunately.” Roman stood up, empty bowl in one hand. He looked apologetic. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he promised. And he left.

With Roman gone, a little of the tension Logan felt was lifted. The college student shifted, setting his half-finished bowl of spaghetti on his lap. He looked over at the small being before him, the impossibly small person. He was still eating, his actions guarded as always.

“We’ll have to get some more suitable dishware soon,” Logan commented when Patton was almost done eating, trying to be conversational and get rid of the awkwardness from earlier. Patton had his fork, yes, but they only had so many bottlecaps. And other forms of dishware would be easier to clean than something with so many grooves.

…

Patton glanced up when the human spoke, his fork pausing halfway between the bottlecap and his mouth. Logan looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps Roman and I could purchase some doll furniture tomorrow.”

Patton dropped his fork. It landed at the side of the bottlecap with a quiet tink that Patton barely heard.

“—tton?” Logan’s voice said above him.

Patton’s gaze very slowly rose to Logan’s face. He could feel his heart thudding, pounding like a frantic drum in his chest.

….

Logan jolted in alarm as the tiny person suddenly shot to his feet and darted away from him, his gait unsteady but hurried.

Except… there was nowhere to run. Patton was still on top of a table. “Where are you—?”

Logan got up quickly. Patton had staggered to the other side of the table; but trapped and clearly without a plan, he turned back to hide behind a stack of books that sat near the cage.

Logan took a split-second pause before he slowly lowered himself to be eye-level with the stack of books. “Patton?” he called very softly. “Did I do something wrong?”

There was a long silence. Patton stayed hidden. Logan didn’t move, knowing he needed a gentler touch.

“Please—I want to help, but I don’t know how I have upset you. If you tell me, I’ll know not to do it again.”

“I’m not a doll!” Patton suddenly cried out, still hidden.

“I know that,” Logan said, baffled. “Why would I believe you to be one?”

“I—I’m not a d-doll, I’m a—I’m a person.”

“No one here believes you to be a doll,” Logan affirmed calmly, although his mind was racing. He didn’t like the implications that this development had for what Patton might have been through before they found him. Of he and his roommate, Logan was the less creative, but his imagination was quickly supplying ideas of what truly traumatic experiences could have caused such a knee-jerk reaction, such terror, at the mere idea of being seen as a doll.

But what had set Patton off? Logan thought about what had happened right before the “mouse-man” took off. He’d only been talking about potential dishware for Patton.

…About potentially using doll furniture for it.

Ah.

“My apologies, Patton,” the college student said, and he truly was apologetic. “It was not my intention to upset you. You can stay hidden if you so desire. I won’t force you to come out. However, you still have more food over here if you want it. It is important for you to maintain your caloric intake, especially during your recovery.”

There was still no sign that the tiny person was going to come out any time soon.

Logan wasn’t sure what to do here. Part of him wanted to leave, let Patton come out and eat on his own while he was gone, but in his current emotional state Logan couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t try another escape attempt. Especially while as panicked as he was, such an attempt could end very badly for Patton.

“Patton,” Logan said softly, trying again. “I would never treat you as a doll. Neither would Roman. We know that you are an intelligent, sentient being and would not wish you to be otherwise. You are free to be yourself, I swear.”

Logan could see Patton’s fingertips, curled around the edge of one of the books. He decided to wait.

After a few minutes, Patton reemerged, still more than half-hidden by the books, but visible now.

Logan glanced at him, but didn’t hold eye contact, as he knew that that might come across as intimidating. He just continued to wait hopefully.

“You—you’re really not going to make me… make me be a doll?”

“I promise.”

“But… but you still won’t let me go.”

Logan sighed. “The only reason we are keeping you here is because you are not well enough to be alone. As soon as you are well enough, you may leave. Roman and I are doing all we can to make you as comfortable as possible. If you have any requests, all you have to do is ask. If we are doing something wrong, inadvertently making you uncomfortable in some way, all you have to do is let us know.”

There was a long silence after Logan finished speaking. Then Patton closed his eyes tightly for a second, as if steeling himself; and despite how much he was trembling, he deliberately approached the human. He settled himself by his food again, only marginally further from Logan than he had been before.

Logan couldn’t keep the relief from his face as he and Patton resumed their meal.

…

“I request that you return my notebook,” Logan said as soon as Roman walked through the door.

Roman shot him a glare, but he seemed too tired to argue, so he just took the notebook out of his jacket pocket and threw it at Logan, who barely managed to catch it.

“I’m going to take a nap.”

“Roman, wait,” Logan said as Roman started to walk away. “Would you at least read what I have written before you judge me so harshly?”

“I already did,” Roman said pointedly, facing away from him. “You know that.”

“All of it?”

“What do you mean, all of it?”

Logan opened his notebook, taking a pen out of his pocket. He flipped to the page he wanted, and he marked something down in bold letters. Then, he flipped through the rest of the pages, exaggerating how loudly he turned each one, knowing Roman could hear him doing so. Roman turned around. He held out his hand, his expression hard.

Logan handed it over and watched as Roman leafed through it, scanning over each page.

“I was never going to publish anything,” Logan said quietly. “You do know that, correct? I assure you, although I may have been excited at the discovery of Patton at first in a more purely scientific sense, over the past few days, as I learned more about him and realized that he contains a sentience on par with that of ourselves, my concern has grown more and more to be solely for his well-being. The other notes and observations I recorded will never be given to others, and I will never treat him as anything other than a person.”

…

Roman read through the notebook, his eyebrows drawn together. After the page Roman had seen with the sketch, measurements, and physiological observations, were various additional pages labeled things like ‘Diet’ (he noted the underlined phrase ‘very fond of cheese’), ‘Health’ (here were noted Patton’s injuries, symptoms that Logan had noticed, and how they were improving), and ‘Topics and Behaviors to Avoid’. Roman stopped at that last one. Logan had listed, in neat bullet points, things that might make Patton uncomfortable or scared. The list included ‘grabbing’, ‘yelling or loud speech’, ‘prolonged eye contact’, as well as numerous other points. At the end, in ink that had barely dried, was a single word in capitalized, bolded letters: ‘DOLLS’.

Roman looked up to see Logan watching him in silence. He handed back the notebook.

“Okay. So maybe you haven’t been treating him like a lab rat,” he relented. “But why write ‘dolls’? Could you explain that to me?”

Logan glanced towards the other room, as if worried that Patton might have overheard their whispered argument.

“Certainly.”

...

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#sanders sides #thomas sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #infinitesimal!sides #sanders sides fan fiction #ts fanfic #fanfiction #infinitesimal fic #g/t

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

Text

sans vêtements

Prompt: Undressing (undressing in front of someone for the first time; one character undressing another; fumbling clumsily to get undressed, striptease).

Bond has a different relationship with nudity than most people. Of this Q is quite sure.

It’s not simply that the man has no shame when it comes to his body; most of the other agents that Q’s worked with are similarly blasé when it comes to stripping off in front of strangers, be they doctors, potential informants, or startled quartermasters who don’t actually need to see them position the recording device, thanks--he can trust them to follow directions.

Some of them do it, Q knows, just to get a rise out of him, so to speak, to see if they can get him to blush. 008, for a time, seemed convinced that her bare bosoms would do the trick (they did not), nor did the broad spread of 004’s Adonis-like chest, or the ebony curve of 009’s very nice thigh. No, after eight years in the service, Q was immune to the peacocking of her Majesty’s professionals in the 00 service, and rather proud of it; it was, he'd observed in training his team, a rare skill.

So that Bond will peel off his shirt after a briefing, right there in Q’s workshop, is de rigueur, as is his unerringly collegial manner on such occasions. A prat he may be to Q on the comms--usually when his very life is on the line, natch--but in person, face to face or hands to skin, his treatment of Q is nothing short of proper.

No, the problem, Q finds, comes in when they’re out in the field, something that happens with a new and worrying frequency once they have a new M.

“It’s important,” M says the first time the order comes, the first time that Q bites back panic and marches past Eve to demand a reason why. “That should be sufficient, quartermaster.”

“But sir, I don’t--”

“And,” M says with a deadly sort of nonchalance, “I’m ordering you to go.” His eyes flick up from the envelopes in his hand, stiff and steady. “Unless you’d prefer not to be head of Q branch any longer. Is that it?”

That Q escape with his dignity is uncertain; that he gets out of there with his pension still intact is a cause for temporary relief.

The plane ride is awful, the airports even more so, and by the time he’s standing on the streets of San Francisco squinting into the sun, he feels disoriented and in desperate need of a drink.

He finds the hotel and checks in, drags his ass to the lift and down the bloody great hall, and collapses face first on the bed with a groan.

“My, my,” a voice says from behind him, a curled tail of amusement, “Travel really doesn’t agree with you, does it?”

“Ugh,” Q mumbles, his face still mashed in the covers, “really, Bond? I've been on a plane for eight bloody hours. Can you not give me two minutes of peace?”

Bond laughs. “I can do better than that.” He tugs at Q’s ankle, pokes at the trainers hanging over the edge of the bed. “Go drown your sorrows in the shower, eh? And then you can help me get ready.”

“For what?”

“To do my job. I’ve got dinner with our friend Mr. Kislyak in an hour, so don’t dawdle.”

“Ugh,” Q says again. He hauls himself up, feather ruffled, ready to fuss, but--

But James Bond is standing less than two feet away wearing a white, fluffy towel.

It’s pulled tight around his hips and carefully tucked; there seems to be no danger of an imminent fall. Everything even mildly obscene is covered; indeed, the thing is so long it falls practically past the man’s knees.

So he’s shirtless, essentially, a state in which Q has seen him a half dozen times, at least, and yet in none of those instances does Q remember his own mouth running dry nor his heart pounding hard. Of course it hadn’t, he tells himself, because this is Bond, 007, the barbed one, the old, and yet somehow, the sight of the man’s damp chest, of his glistening arms, of his wet hair and his ocean-blue eyes--turned on Q now, curious--makes Q feel like his insides are alight. He looks like some half-wild sea god, does Bond, some king of the deep who’s emerged in search of new world to conquer, except he doesn’t seem ill at ease; no, indeed, there’s an ease in his movements, a looseness, that Q’s never seen at HQ, and god help him, it’s fascinating .

“Q?” A step in his direction, the stretch of one slightly wet hand. “Are you all right?”

He blinks, looks down stupidly at Bond’s fingers on his arm. “I’m fine.”

“I doubt it. You’re dehydrated, probably. Here, let me get you some--”

“I’m fine,” Q says again, shaking free of Bond’s grip, sounding to his own ears like a petulant child. “I’ll just--I’ll just use the shower, shall I?”

Bond raises an eyebrow. He’s still standing too close. “Fine. But drink some water while you’re in there. I won’t have you passing out tonight at an inopportune time.”

“Fine,” Q repeats, “fine.”

It is not fine, not then, not the whole of the weekend they’re in California chasing Putin’s favorite puppets round the Bay. Nor is it fine in Taipei or Abu Dhabi or Niamey when he’s stationed at Bond’s beck and call, for Bond never stops being beautiful, much to Q’s chagrin. Nor is he inclined to cover up.

He doesn’t parade about sans vêtements all the time, as Q imagines 008 might, and he isn’t showy about it either, as no doubt 004 would’ve been. But even when they don’t share a room, when their cover story doesn’t demand it, Q sees more of Bond on those brief forays than he’s ever done in all his years in the lab.

Bond hates wearing socks, for example; will peel them off with his shoes at the first opportunity and sink his bare feet to the floor with a sigh. He’s fond, though, of leaving on his tie, of tugging the knot loose and opening his collar but letting the thing still hang from his throat. He favors sleeping without a shirt and--as Q discovers one morning when Bond gets up first--without shorts, too, when the mood strikes him.

Bond has the decency to be a bit embarrassed about that one, at least.

But in the day-to-day press of life in the field, it just happens, seeing Bond half-dressed, Bond with his fly open, Bond with his shirt open and his feet propped on the balcony rail, a sweating glass balanced on his chest his face turned up to the sun like a self-satisfied cat, and if these aren’t sights that Q gets used to, they’re ones he learns how to take in and then carry home: souvenirs of professional intimacy, small snapshots for him to reexamine at his leisure, snapshots of James Bond, the man.

He, on the other hand, never changes or even fiddles with his clothing anywhere in Bond’s sight. Why would he? There’s nothing about his knobby frame or city-pale skin that’s especially alluring, and besides, a state of undress is 007’s department, not his. The thought doesn’t even occur.

Ha. Except that it very much does.

That Q toils in a state of semi-incoherent lust, sometimes, safe at home, at the thought of Bond standing over him, those sharp eyes sliding down his bare skin, of the twitch of his hips as that hot, knowing gaze becomes a touch, well, he tells himself, well.

That he lies awake in the wee cold hours imagining Bond stretched out beside him, the heat of their bodies, of their breaths, tangled under the coverlet, Bond’s mouth on his moving in time with his fist, well, he tells himself, well.

That sometimes when he comes he wonders what his spunk would look like spread out on Bond’s chest, how it would feel to lean down and lap himself up, well.

That’s entirely his own affair.

At least it is until Bonn.

*****

It’s a last-minute trip, which is part of the problem. Bond’s in a jam and there’s no time to think; Q has to pack and go in a dash.

“Don’t worry about clothes,” M says offhandedly, careful to keep out of Q’s way. “Or any of your personal things. You’ll be back in two jiffs. Provided Bond’s not actually dead.”

Q can’t keep the snap out of his voice. “Oh, lovely, sir. What a confidence booster.”

M flicks his hand. “Tsch. There’s no need for sarcasm, Q.”

“Isn’t there?” Q slams a few drawers unnecessarily. It’s rather cathartic. “Really? I think this is the perfect bloody time for it, sir. ”

“Quartermaster,” M says in his I’m the boss voice, the one that Eve says makes even the Prime Minister quake. “I have every confidence in your success--once you finish your juvenile and frankly unbecoming tantrum, that is.”

“My--!”

“Your flight leaves in 90 minutes. Be on it. And let’s not have another word about it, hmm?”

And then he’s gone, oozing back upstairs to hide behind his leather door, and Q has only his gadgets to yell at, only his own people to startle as he bangs his case shut and stomps off towards the lift.

“Good luck, sir,” someone calls.

“Luck,” Q snarls to no one in particular. “The service’s best weapon, eh? Is that all we’ve got? Blind fucking luck?”

The lift doesn’t answer. Neither does the startled-looking analyst inside it. It’s probably for the best.

#00q #q in the field #pining #feelings realization

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downeysgirl94 · 6 years

Text

Exposed Ch.11 of Not Alone Anymore

Tony knew that he didn’t want peter to be in the public eye, he didn’t want that type of life for him. So ever since tony had peter in his life he made sure the press never got word of him. Tony had to grow up in the public eye because of Howard he didn’t want that for peter, not until he was out of school at the earliest. But of course life never can be easy for tony can it?

Tony was in the middle of his lab working on upgrades to peter’s newest Spiderman Suit when he heard the door open and the sound of heels stepping forward him in a hurried manor.

“Pep what’s with the problem, did a forget about a meeting or something?” tony asked without looking at her

“Tony we got a huge problem” pepper said walking over to him

“What is it pep?” tony said looking at her

Pepper handed him a tabloid

It read

Stark’s Son Finally Revealed?

Tony’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“Shit”

A picture of peter’s face was on the front of the tabloid. Probably whatever restaurant got greedy and sold a picture of them to the media.

“God damn it, how the hell did those vultures find out we were so careful” tony said sighing dropping his face to his hands.

Pepper walked over and pulled Tony’s head to her chest “I don’t know tony but well find out ok I’m going to go do damage control now I just wanted you to know so you could warn Pete” pepper said comfortingly

Tony sighed “ I don’t want him to have the childhood I had in the public eye all the time I practically didn’t have a childhood thanks to Howard, I thought I was going to be better” he trailed off

“stop your already way better a father than Howard, tony that boy knows he loved and you done as much as possible to keep him out of the public eye it’s been almost ten years and there just now figuring out about a child you’ve had since he was six so I consider it a win.” Pepper said warmly

Tony smiled “thanks pep that means a lot, I just wanted him to at least finish school before this was a thing” tony said with a weak smile

“Well he got close so look at the glass half full but let peter know about this so he’s not blindsided” pepper stated

“I will when he gets home from school hopefully his school doesn’t know much yet” tony said shrugging

“Well I’m going to get to the bottom of the photo I’ll see you guys tonight” pepper said before giving tony a quick kiss

“Alright remember we got lawyers if needed” tony said with a smirk

Pepper chuckled as she walked out of the lab.

Tony’s smiled dropped as he looked at the tabloid again

Luckily they didn’t catch him superheroing at least tony thought. Tony glanced at his watch it was a little after 2.

Tony pulled out his phone and dialed Happy’s Number

“Hey Boss, what’s up?”

“Have you left to get peter yet?”

“No was about to, why?”

“I’m coming with today”

“Ok I’ll be there in 10 minutes”

“Thanks Happy” tony said hanging up his phone and going to change.

Peter was standing by his locker talking to MJ when Ned ran up to him freaking out

“Ned what’s wrong?” peter said grinning

“Uhm did you see the news lately, Dude?” Ned said panicked

“Not since this morning, why?” peter asked worried

“Look at this” Ned said handing peter his phone

Peter just stared at the screen lost for words there was a picture of him Stark’s Son Final Revealed “crap this isn’t good”

“Dude why didn’t you tell us?” Ned asked

“Tony didn’t want it getting to the public but apparently it did somehow.” Peter said shrugging

“Well do you know the avengers? Can we meet them?” Ned said rambling on

“Ned once I figure out what is going on I’ll ask if you guys are allowed over ok?” peter said nervously

Ned nodded

Peter grabbed his backpack and closed his locker and waved goodbye to Ned and MJ he walked out of the school and was blindsided by a few paparazzi shoving cameras in his face. Peter was frozen in place

“Your peter parker right? What it like having Tony stark as a dad?”

“How long have you know Tony Stark?

Peter’s spider senses were going crazy from all the lights he couldn’t focus on any the questions. Not long later peter heard a noise he recognized

“Get back he just a kid, leave him alone” tony said

Tony push through the crowd and put an arm around peter shoulder and directed him toward the car while he avoided all their questions. Happy helped hold them back until tony got peter in the car. Once in the car tony just pulled peter into a hug.

“You okay Pete, I wasn’t expecting them to show up so quick” tony said sighing

“Too much” Peter muttered quietly

“Oh Pete I forgot about your senses, here tony pulled out peter’s noise canceling headphone, handed them to him and was glad the windows were dimmed.

“Thanks dad that helped a lot” peter said smiling

“No problem Pete try napping till we get to the compound ok? It will help” tony said running his fingers through peter’s hair.

“Ok dad” peter said resting his head on Tony’s shoulder

Tony sighed in relief he was able to calm him down.

Once they arrived at the compound tony gently woke peter.

“Nap help bud?” tony asked

“Yeah it really did” peter replied

“Good come on let go you deserve a quiet afternoon after that” tony said walking towards the elevator.

“Yeah but I really think I need answers first dad” peter said looking tony in the eyes

“I know come on Pete” tony said standing in the elevator

Peter nodded and followed.

They stepped off on tony floor and went and sat on a nearby couch.

“So how did they find out dad?” peter asked

“Pepper is looking into it but my guess is one time we were out the owner got greedy and sold the image of us to the press.” Tony said rubbing his face

“Well why hasn’t this happened before then we go out a lot and I’m sure a lot of people have seen us together?” peter asked

“Because I am extremely careful anytime I normal have like a sixth sense if there is a camera anywhere around me so anytime in the past I saw someone attempting to take your picture I stopped it before it could happen. I guess when this happened we were having too much fun to me to notice” Tony said grinning

“Well why are you trying so hard to keep me out of the press, I see you handle it all the time like its nothing.” Peter asked

“Kid the moment you’re in the public eye they never leave you alone. I didn’t want you to be burdened by that. What you see me handle it as is many years of experience and its nothing I want you to have to experience yet. I was thrown at it at a young age; thanks to my dad it practically made me have no childhood I thought I could avoid his mistakes.” Tony said sighing

“Well dad being your kid I’m going to be exposed to them at some point growing up with you I knew that I was just surprised it took so long. But dad I’m 16 now it’s not like I’m a young kid I can take it, with your help I should be able to understand them soon enough.” Peter said grinning

“Well that’s good to know kid you definitely mature for your age, of course ill teach you my tricks. First of all we can’t keep avoiding them they’ll never leave you alone they want to know about you the moment they get the truth they move onto the next story”

“Ok so what do you suggest we do then dad?” peter asked

“press conference small one ill handle most of the questions but you got to be there may be a question or so for you.” tony said patting peter on the back

“That doesn’t sound too bad”

“Good and we should do it soon because we don’t want to risk a picture getting out of you as Spiderman” tony stated

“Yeah I don’t want to risk that” peter sighed

“Once pepper gets back we’ll see when she gets one scheduled and see where she is with the leak.”

“Yeah and dad what you told me about Howard you’re doing way better than he ever did.” peter said smiling

“Thanks kiddo that’s means so much coming from you” tony said with a warm smile pulling peter into a hug.

“No problem dad, oh and before I forget can I ask something” peter said grinning

“Well obviously with this out Ned and MJ found out are they allowed to hang out here now.” Peter asked

Tony was chuckling “kid when I said I didn’t want anyone to know I meant media and everything, you could have told your friends, I was wondering why you never brought them over here?”

“Oh really guess you should have been clearer dad” peter said sarcastically

“Shush up kid but you should obviously know your friends are always welcome.” Tony said smiling

“Thanks dad” peter said grinning pulling out his phone.

“Pete message your friends later go pick out a movie for us to watch if you don’t I’m putting a horror movie on, I know you hate them” tony said with a smirk

“I do not hate horror movies dad” peter said defensively

“sure kiddo that’s why when we went to see The Conjuring you asked sleep in my bed cause you didn’t want to be alone” tony said giggling

“Shut up dad I picked a movie ok happy?” peter said obviously embarrassed.

“Not star wars right?” tony said grinning

“Not star wars, Saving Private Ryan” peter said

“Ok were good then” tony said chuckling as peter put on the movie

As the movie was ending pepper walked off the elevator

“Any luck pep? Tony asked as he pulled her into a hug

“Narrowing it down but still a process how about your end?” Pepper asked

“They were already at his school today luckily I went with Happy to get him”

“Wow they work quick how did he handle it?” pepper asked

“being blindsided by everyone flipped out his enhanced senses so had to calm him down a bit ouch we got away from the crowd, but once I explained everything he says he’s ready he was actually shocked they didn’t find out sooner.” Tony said shrugging glancing at peters sleeping form on the couch.

“So you want me to schedule a press conference?

“Yeah the sooner the better they’ll lose interest in him one we address it” tony stated

“Tony stark what happened to my immature boyfriend I was dating? who is this adult standing in front of me?” pepper said giggling

“He still there pep just little more mature then he used to be at times” tony said chuckling and pulling pepper into a kiss.

“Peter was the best thing to happen to you” pepper said smiling

“Along with you, Pep” tony said happily.

#fanfic #tony stark #pepper potts #peter parker #iron dad #spider son #tony is peter's dad #tony is such a dad #Not Alone Anymore #marvel #mcu #cliche idea #Let me know what you think

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devilsofficialfanfic · 6 years

Text

The Eternal Hourglass

Chapter 5: Be The Person You Needed When You Were Younger

A week passed, and Shiro showed no sign of waking up from his coma.

Lotor stood in the doorway of the private room Shiro was in, making no move to announce his presence.

Keith was with Shiro. He spent a lot of time here, sitting in a chair pulled up to the bedside, holding Shiro’s flesh hand in both of his, talking quietly, as if Shiro would hear him and wake.

He wouldn’t; the scans showed no brain activity above the brainstem. The body was alive, but it was an empty shell.

Lotor was too weak to tell Keith that.

It was clear that Keith was close to Shiro, and as long as Shiro -his body, anyway -was here, he’d stay. He’d spent two years looking for Shiro, after all; he wouldn’t give up so easily.

And maybe… Keith loved Shiro. Lotor wasn’t quite sure he believed in love anymore, but he almost could, just watching Keith look at Shiro.

no one will ever look at you like that you can never have this you will live alone and die alone and be forgotten and no one will mourn for you hate him because he has this and you never will

Lotor turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Dr. Arnok. I hope you have good news,” he said quietly, so as not to disturb Keith’s vigil.

“About Shiro? No, I’m afraid not. No, actually, Sire,” he said, with an apologetic cough, “I had hoped I might have a moment of your time?”

Lotor’s fingers tingled relentlessly. “Of course.” He pulled the doctor aside.

“The, uh, child,” Dr. Arnok began. “His health is declining.”

“Declining?” Lotor asked. “Is he ill?”

“No, Sire. At least, not in the conventional sense. But he’s… He’s not eating. He won’t eat. We may have to tube feed him if it-“

“No!” Lotor said sharply, then flushed. “No. Find another way.”

“That’s why I’m here, Sire. Young children are very sensitive to those around them, and they… They know their parents. He needs you, Sire, and I know that the circumstances are not ideal, but-“

“‘Not ideal’?” Lotor hissed. “May I remind you that his father was the man who-“

“He is your son, too,” Arnok replied quietly. “You are his father, too.”

Lotor flexed his hands a few times, before finally saying, “I will consider it.”

“I’m afraid,” Lotor said quietly. “So...terrified. I don’t- I’ve never been around children. I don’t- I can’t- and I’ll just… He needs someone better, someone who knows what to do-“

“Take a deep breath,” Ramil said. “Everyone is afraid of parenthood, and you certainly have more reason than most, but you don’t have to let that stop you.”

“I- Everytime I think about him… I can only see Sendak, and it’s not fair to him. It’s not his fault. He didn’t ask to be made. He deserves someone who can love him.”

“You could,” Ramil insisted gently. “You should see him and get to know him as his own person. You only saw him the once, right?”

Lotor nodded. “It made me ill. I vomited after. How damaged is he going to be?”

“Many of my clients have children that are product of rape. With the right parental support, those children grow up just fine. He just needs love.”

“I don’t know why we’re having this conversation in the first place,” Lotor said abruptly. “It’s not as if I need to raise him myself. I could give him up for adoption, and even if I didn’t, most royal children are raised by a nanny until they’re old enough for a governess. It’s not as if I have time to raise a child. The universe is in shambles. I’m trying to negotiate my way out of a war on infinite fronts because Sendak’s aggression was only outmatched by my father’s. The Coalition consists of three planets, one Balmera, and four-fifths of Voltron. I have no idea where the Black Lion is, but I suspect the witch has it. Olkarion is gone. I have far too much to do, without adding a child into the mix.”

“And yet you brought it up.”

He had.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Ramil continued. “I think you are afraid of becoming your father.”

Of course he was. “Please tell me something I don’t know.”

“There’s a difference between becoming a father and becoming your father. You've spent how long trying to be better than he was?”

“Centuries,” Lotor said quietly.

“This is just one more opportunity you have to prove that you aren't him. You can do better. You can let the cycle end with you.”

It sounded so nice. “I’m...frightened,” Lotor whispered.

“You don’t want someone to depend on you, because you’re not even sure if you can depend on yourself.”

Lotor nodded.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Ramil said. “If you need help, you just have to ask for it. You already have. That’s why I’m here. The first time is always the hardest, and I promise you that it will get easier.”

“I- I will try to remember that. Thank you, Doctor.”

It was incredibly late, but Lotor couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual, these days; his sleeping medication made him too drowsy in the morning for it to be worth taking, so Dr. Arnok was looking into finding a different, more effective one.

In the meantime… He spent a lot of time on the training deck. He was slowly regaining muscle mass. It would take time to get back to his previous shape, but he could see the progress he was making already, and that was something.

Tonight, though… He’d overdone it. Every muscle and joint ached. Errant spasms in his arms and hands had caused him to drop his sword twice before he finally called it a night.

His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t settle. That wasn’t new, either; even during the happier times in his life, he often had sleep problems because he got too involved in a project to sleep until it was finished.

It was different, now. He had trouble sleeping because he needed someone next to him, and there was no one he trusted enough to share his bed. He needed -craved -personal contact, but he couldn’t ask for it.

Keith… Keith was busy, and anyway…

why would he ever want you he has enough problems he doesn’t need yours

He found himself outside the makeshift nursery.

The child didn’t have a name, just a subject number, because no one had given him one.

There was still the possibility that Lotor might send him off to be adopted someplace far, far away, as another unknown child victim of the war. Maybe that would be the kindest course of action, and if so, it was kindest to himself to remain unattached.

He wailed, though, and it grated on Lotor’s ears, but also…

He couldn’t take it anymore. He entered the nursery.

“What is going on here?” He demanded. He was aware that babies cried, sometimes for unknowable and arcane reasons, but really. These were supposed to be professionals.

He ignored them, drawn to the cradle, afraid and reluctant and unable to stop himself.

It was strange.

Like… maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered...this.

Not this, exactly, of course. But

Lying in a cradle, crying for someone to care for him, small and helpless and utterly alone, surrounded by people who didn’t care and never would…

He reached out tentatively and stroked one finger across the downy fur on the side of the baby’s face.

He was so...small.

He stopped screaming, as if startled by the touch, and turned his huge, golden eyes up at Lotor, reaching out in return.

Lotor flinched back, and the baby’s face crumpled, and he started to bawl again.

Without thinking, Lotor picked him up, setting him against his shoulder, both hands supporting him. He wasn’t heavy -in fact, some instinct told Lotor that he wasn’t heavy enough -but it felt necessary, to have as much contact with him as possible.

“Hush, Little One, you’re alright,” Lotor murmured, stroking the soft white crest of fur that extended from the top of his head to halfway down his back. “I know, I know… Life is terribly unfair, but hush now, it’s late…”

“Sire? He’s, uh, probably hungry,” one of the attendants said.

“I know,” Lotor murmured. He hadn’t forgotten about Dr. Arnok’s report from a few days ago. “I’ll feed him.”

A bottle was pressed into the hand he held out, and he sank into a chair in one corner, completely unable to take his eyes off this...creature.

Not so different than him, really. Children no one wanted, but had to suffer through life anyway. Children to be used and discarded as it suited those around them. Unnatural children -one of the Rift, one of the lab -who shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

“It will be different,” Lotor said quietly, adjusting his hold on the child so he could feed him. “I am not the man I wish to be. Not yet. But I will try. I will give you a better life than anyone gave me. I swear it.”

Of course the baby had no idea what he was saying; he just nursed from the bottle, so quickly that Lotor had to pull it away several times.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Lotor told him. “Slow down, Little One. I’m not going anywhere.”

He wasn’t, he realized. There was no way he could give this child up now, no way he could hand him off to a nanny, no way he could send him away to be raised by strangers, ignorant of who he was…

When the bottle was empty, Lotor placed it on the floor by his feet. The attendants had left at some point, and now he was alone with this child.

His son.

His son, with whom he was immediately and devastatingly enamored. He understood the witch’s plan better than he had before.

He would not let her turn this precious, innocent thing into a weapon, and that was all there was to it.

The baby turned his golden eyes back up to Lotor, blinking a few times, and yawned. He didn’t have any teeth yet, and Lotor didn’t know much about babies, but he thought he was still pretty young. Less than a year old, certainly.

Lotor was still not completely certain on the timeline of Events during his...captivity, but…

No, he didn’t want to think of that. Not while holding his son. His son, who, now that he’d been fed and was being held, started purring, startlingly loud for such a small thing.

Holding him was… such a natural thing, an easy thing.

The baby fell asleep, still purring, and suddenly...the universe was quiet, Lotor’s mind was quiet, and he slept.

#vld lotor #teh #the eternal hourglass #a baby!#real talk: im crying rn this was too cute

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ambrosiaswhispers · 6 years

Text

AUFDTD - Story One: First Impressions

Okay guys - So this is the first Mini-story for my AUFDTD/HP world. This has been a long time coming. I hope you like the stories as I release them. If you missed the preview story that’s here. And all stories will be tagged with the AUFDTD - which is noted on my page. This first one is just to give you guys an idea of the characters and where they’re at. There are going to be some fun surprises in this series. Thank you for supporting my works.

Story One: First Impressions

Richie’s muttering woke him up and Seth tossed a pillow in his brother’s direction, swiftly dodging it as it boomeranged as nearly collided with his own face.

“Asshole.” Snickered the creature hiding on a shelf above Richie’s bed, its eyes reflecting eerily in the predawn light.

“Asshole is right.” Richie muttered sleepily fumbling for his glasses, “Why are you throwing your pillow at me, again?”

“Did you enchant this damn thing to hit me in the face?” Seth snarled shaking the traitorous feather-filled thing at his brother, who was still trying to find his glasses.

Richie chuckled despite his plight, “Only if you threw it at me first.”

“Fix it!”

“Quit throwing shit at me.” Richie countered, before requesting, “Azil, can you see my glasses?” The grey Jarvey wound himself down from the shelf and delivered a pair of glasses to the younger Gecko. “Thank you.” He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the lenses. “Wait, why are you up so early?”

“You. You are why I’m up so early.” Seth grumbled dropping the original pillow to the ground and flopping back onto the remaining pillow that he now only sort of trusted. “You were talking in your sleep. It woke me up.”

“’Cause you never wake me up with that.” Richie stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. “Our separate sleeping quarters will be ready tonight. I’m gonna grab a shower before everyone starts getting up.”

“Knock yourself out.” Seth closed his eyes, hoping to get a little more shut-eye before the orientation shit-show started.

“You didn’t need come back you know. You got all your credits last year, and with who we are, they would have let you do your teaching courses part-time. You could have stayed on the other side.” Richie stood in the doorway, looking much smaller than his six-foot-two-inch frame.

Seth sat partway up and sighed, “You’re here; I’m here. Besides, someone has to keep you from blowing your fool-self up.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

He sighed and attempted to get comfortable, before hearing a distinctive ripping sound. He opened one eye to stare down the Clooney, who was ripping the hell out of the maroon and gold scarf. “Really?”

The mostly-black Crup snorted and gave the item another good tare.

“You know I really don’t care if you didn’t like her or how she smelled. If you cock-block me again, you’re gonna go stay with Eddie on the other side.”

Clooney flashed his teeth at Seth before rolling on his back and yawning, as if bored by the threat.

“I knew I shoulda docked your damn tails for real.” Seth closed his eyes again and attempted to get that last hour or so of sleep he so desperately needed to deal with what today was going to be.

.:.

Kate Fuller had never been happier in her life; never. She’d spent the last four years studying magick from home, doing triple the homework, and only coming here during breaks for testing. To see the campus alive and full of others studying like her was so exciting. She wouldn’t have changed the last four years, though. The last four years had been hard, but her family was the most important thing. After years of secretly treating her mother when her father wasn’t looking, her mother’s illness was finally cured. And nothing short of a miracle, her father agreed to let her study the magick that ran wild in his family, but somehow skipped him.

The only thing that made her slightly sad was that most everyone here knew each other and it was going to be hard to be the new girl in her technically second to last year of required training. Thankfully, Hufflepuffs were known for being inviting by nature so she at least was going to make friends in her house. She smiled at the sunshine and the activity buzzing around her. How could anyone not love the busy environment?

“Hey, you’re the new girl, Kate, right?” A smiling red-head offered her hand to Kate. “I’m Holly, I’m supposed to show you around, but you already know the campus don’t you?”

Kate shook the girl’s hand. “Yeah, I’ve been here every summer for testing. They made exceptions for me because my mother was so sick.”

“Well, it’s totally different being here during the school year. Way crazier and lots more fun.” Holly winked and they made their way across the courtyard. “So are you doing advanced studies? Or training to be a teacher?”

“Well, I’m taking advanced classes this year and after that I haven’t decided yet.” Kate paused by the fountain and admired the way the water jumped back and forth – it was always off during the summer.

“Do you have your class schedule?”

Kate finished the paper out of her cloak’s inner pocket and handed it over, watching Holly’s eyes scanning it quickly.

“You are gonna have a lot of Ravenclaws and Slytherins in those first two classes. Oh and that first one…yikes, that’s a super small class I think mostly Slytherins.”

“Oh, I don’t really mind other ho…”

“No, no no….I didn’t mean it like that.” Holly waived away Kate’s concern about her opinions on other houses and continued. “But have you ever seen a Slytherin when they’re stuck in a morning class? Seth Gecko blew out a window once when his lab partner accidentally spilled his coffee. It was nuts.”

“Gecko…” Kate bit her lip, that name sounded awfully familiar. “Is that family famous for something?”

“Infamous is more like it.” Holly hopped up and sat down on the fountain. “Ray Gecko was super powerful, but into all kinds of dark magicks and supposedly that’s how their mother died – some kind of fight, but they were on the other side when it happened, so no one knows the real story. Of course, the brothers aren’t all bad.”

Kate cocked her head to the side, “Well, it wouldn’t be right to judge them for what their father did.”

Holly let out a little laugh, “I meant they are super nice to look at. Even though Seth’s grouchy and kind of a womanizer. And Richie’s well…I don’t know what he’s about, but if there’s trouble going on, then it’s probably one of them. Come one, we should get you settled in.”

They started back to through the courtyard when a chorus of screams echoed in the air and Kate Fuller was staring down the largest, darkest colored Crup she’d ever seen.

.:.

“I can’t believe you left the damn door open.” Seth was yanking his gloves on as he and his brother sprinted down the halls. “He’s gonna eat someone.”

Richie was managing to keep up and still finish tying his tie, “Crups only attack Muggles, so unless someone snuck in, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Seth shouldered the door open, not bothering to acknowledge the other student, who squealed in surprise at nearly being hit and kept moving towards where he’d heard the screams. “Hufflepuffs are basically a Muggle and the yelling came from the main courtyard. So I’d say we’ve got reason to worry.”

As they made their down the steps and a blonde in a bright blue coat brushed by between the brothers as she ascended the stairs. “Good Day, not always dangerous Geckos.”

“Wait what?” Richie went to turn around, but Seth grabbed his arm.

“Focus. Devil dog – ten year secret about his tails, potentially mauled underclassmen, and us in an other-worldly amount of trouble.” Seth growled as they continued forward.

They both skidded to a stop in front of one of the school’s fountains, which several of their classmates had jumped into, in terror at seeing Clooney sans his masters.

But one of the girls, brown-haired and wearing those stupidly bright colors, was crouched in front of Clooney. “Well, what’s your name, Handsome?”

Seth winced waiting for the impending growl or bite but was shocked to hear the girl giggle. He was dumbfounded at the fact that Clooney was actually letting the girl scratch his ear affectionately.

“You’re such a sweet boy. Is this your person? He looks pretty worried.” She stood up and offered her hand to Seth. “I’m Kate Fuller.”

“Seth Gecko.” He shook it on reflex.

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?!?” He snatched his hand back with a growl, he knew that look. She heard his damn name and now had she opinions about him. “Forget it. Come on, Clooney.” He turned on his heel and marched back towards his room with the creature on his heels.

“I’m Richie, sorry about him.”

“Richard!” Seth snapped and his brother caught back up with him in a flash.

“What the hell was that about?” Richie adjusted his glasses. “Clooney’s a good judge of people, if liked her, she’s probably fine.”

“Well, the mutts wrong this time. You take him, I’ll be back later.”

“Am I covering for you too?”

Seth shrugged as he walked away, “Do whatever you want. This day cannot end soon enough.”

.:.

Not sure how I feel about this as a whole - but here we go. Again I hope you enjoy reading. Love to my Loves.

#aufdtd #here we go #magical geckos #who was that girl?#what is grouchy mans problem?#Kate just wants to be be around people like her #Clooney has opinions about his masters company #devil dog #craziness inbound #I really hope you guys enjoy this #thank you for reading #sethkate #slytherpuff

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ayearofpike · 6 years

Text

The Wicked Heart

Pocket Books, 1993 244 pages, 16 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-74511-5 LOC: CPB Box no. 1195 vol. 8 OCLC: 29202142 Released November 1, 1993 (per B&N)

When Sheila Hardolt’s best friend doesn’t show up for school one Friday, she’s worried and goes to her house to check on her. Her friend isn’t home — but on her pillow there’s a small white card with a swastika. The card connects Sheila with a detective conducting the investigation into the disappearances of other girls in the area. When it turns up at a house where two teenagers have been killed, Sheila fears but suspects the worst. What she doesn’t realize is that she already knows who the murderer is, and in fact she’s been asking him for help in solving the case.

I don’t remember much about this book, but I have a vague memory of not liking it. Maybe it’s because the premise of being compelled to do something against your will by the ghost of old relatives is so creepy. But just maybe it’s because I understood even as a teenager the thing that bothered me the most on this re-read: that dehumanizing Nazis to some degree delegitimizes the very real horrors that humans can inflict on others. I’m not going so far as to call Pike a Hitler apologist, but turning the leader of the SS into a literal devil and associating his party’s symbols with an unrelated evil fifty years on paints over the observable, physical evils and ills perpetrated by people in Germany and Europe leading up to and during WWII. And yes, painting over with black is still painting over.

Like, I don’t even really want to summarize this book, which will maybe make me keep it short. I’ll do the briefest rundown I can while sharing relevant points. First, Pike is back to multiple viewpoints, which he hasn’t done very much recently. We get Sheila’s perspective, but we also follow the killer, Dusty Shame, who is compelled by a mysterious whisper in his sleep to target and slaughter innocents. The book starts, in fact, with him killing Sheila’s best friend and burying her in a cave in the desert. This makes three murders, and each time the whisper eases up, but for a briefer and briefer respite until it returns. He somehow figures that if he gets to six, he’ll be done and can rest.

Sheila is Dusty’s friend and chemistry lab partner, and they comment on her friend missing class and how unusual that is, but she’s got another, bigger, problem. Namely, her boyfriend Matt thinks they should break up. And like, come the fuck on, but OK, Sheila doesn’t know the story yet, I’ll give her a pass. But she engineers “bumping into him” in the parking lot, and as they talk she gets so overwhelmed that he agrees to drive her home. Instead, though, she has him drive to her friend’s house, where they break in and find the card and call the cops. A detective immediately comes over, and even though he won’t say why it’s pretty obvious that the card is a clue connecting this house to other similar cases. He mentions two names that nobody recognizes, but Sheila is determined to help him crack the case. Pike’s kid detectives strike again!

Meanwhile Dusty already needs another victim. He uses an online service called Einstein (because Prodigy was already taken) to get close to innocent and inexperienced girls and track them down. He doesn’t mind talking to his mom about it — she’s got early-onset Alzheimer’s, and he’s pretty vague about his intentions, but it’s still creepy. The one he chooses for this particular night has let slip that her parents will be out late, so he sneaks into her house and nails the sleeping girl in the temple with a ballpeen hammer. Only the bedroom light flicks on and his actual target is standing in the doorway. He tackles her, but she bites him and shakes free, running for the door. He manages to stop her with words, and then stabs her in the heart with a switchblade which has appeared out of nowhere, and then scrams without cleaning up after himself because there was screaming and too much blood and he’ll get caught. Instead, he races as though compelled to an unmarked grave just outside an old cemetery, where he spends the night in pain and fear and terror.

Next morning, Sheila tracks down the parents of the first two girls, who let on about the Einstein membership. She calls the detective with this clue, and learns about the previous night’s murders. But the detective wants to know more about how the service works, and Sheila remembers that Dusty is a big time user, so she enlists his help to talk to the officer. They go to his house and meet his 14-year-old daughter, an innocent if there ever was one. Dusty hangs out with her while Sheila and the detective talk about an old case on the books with a similar MO: young girls missing from their beds with a swastika card on their pillow, six in all, just after the war. He wants her to talk to the detective who was on that case, because he had some mystical feelings about it and she might have a more open mind and get him to talk more freely than the modern police. But he dissuades her from taking Dusty, because he is sad and shy and might preempt the old detective from saying certain things.

So she takes Matt instead. And, yeah, the detective might get mad, but it’s probably a good idea to have a friend you trust when you’re an 18-year-old girl driving an hour and a half to meet someone new. What the hell, 1993. The detective is a WWII vet who actually met Heinrich Himmler and his (invented for this story) mistress Olga Scheimer. He tells this whole history of their rising through the ranks and manipulating power to be cruel, and how they reveled in the capture and death of innocents. The rationale, he says, is that they’ve opened themselves to evil and now only exist as empty vessels for the ills of whatever supernatural terror to act through. And, like, I appreciate the need to tap into something beyond the mundane for the teen horror book market, but like I said up top, this does something to undersell how horrible it can be when a group of human beings devalues another group so completely as to decide they should be exterminated. As though instead of a policy handed down and agreed to by so many involved, it was the subliminal efforts of one devil.

But anyway, the old detective encounters them only at the end of the war, when they’ve been captured by the Allies and are up for interrogation. Scheimer catches his eye and suddenly he wants to have her, kill the other guards and take her away, kind of like another evil vessel we’ve met before. But he prays for good and the urge desists, upon which Himmler kills himself with cyanide. And because he’s dead and she wasn’t officially affiliated with the power structure, the military lets her go so that she can safely take care of her daughter. Upon which she moves to Los Angeles.

A year later there are mysterious disappearances and swastika cards, and yet Old Detective is the only one who makes the connection. Maybe because he was the only American in the room when she was captured, coincidentally. He goes to talk to her, they shoot the shit, but he never formally accuses her of anything because they both know he has no evidence. At least not until she pulls a knife and tries to kill him in front of her toddler, which gives him no choice but to shoot her. He takes the kid home with him and tries to give her a normal life, but as soon as it’s learned that he shot her mom, he loses his job and social services or whatever it was in the 1940s takes the kid away. He was able to track her as far as an adoptive family, but after the dad killed the mom and then himself, she disappeared. Old Detective assumes that she changed her name to dissociate herself from the shame of her sordid background.

And as soon as he says the word, it all clicks into place for Sheila. She knows she has to find Dusty and she has to do it fast, so she jumps in her car and totally bails on Matt and Old Detective. And she thinks she knows who the next victim will be, and that it’s going to be tonight, so she doesn’t go right to Dusty’s house.

Young Mr. Shame is, in fact, hearing the whispers again already, in dreams of a cockroach who threatens to bite off his ear. It’s real enough to wake him — to find his actual mom biting his actual ear. He knocks her off and pins her down, smothering her with a pillow for a moment, before realizing what he’s doing. So instead of his mom, he needs to find an innocent, and he knows just where she lives already. The detective’s daughter is so psyched to be going out with a high school senior that she doesn’t notice the blood on his ear and hand. She doesn’t notice when they get on the freeway, or when they head toward the desert. In fact, she doesn’t notice much until he essentially flat-out says he’s going to kill her. Lucky for her, Sheila is already on their tail.

They end up at the desert cave, and Sheila gets Dusty to pause long enough to hear about his problem with the voices, including the cockroach who bit his ear and it tying to his mom. She’s actually met his mom, and realizes that the evil has another empty vessel to speak through — after all, Dusty only hears the whisper at home in his bed. She tells him about his grandmother, and tries to help him shake off the darkness that’s taking him over. But he doesn’t want to hear it. He just wants six. So she talks him into swapping her out for the detective’s daughter.

Before he can pull the trigger, Matt and Old Detective show up. They’ve gone to Dusty’s house and found his mother dead in his bed ... guess he was a little too vigorous beating her back. The live-in help isn’t surprised: she’s known Dusty is a bad seed for a while and has actually followed him to the cave in the desert, and is able to guide the others to it. Their arrival really only buys a few minutes, but it’s enough for Sheila to convince Dusty that she actually does care about him, that she wants him to find some help and get good again. And that — the simple validation of care, of having a friend — is what Dusty needs to apologize for his misdeeds and then shoot himself in the head, thus ending the cycle of the wicked heart and the empty vessel.

I have to admit that the book wasn’t as disturbing as I remembered it being. But I think maybe I misremembered the gore of the murders. Today it’s disturbing for a whole new reason. Like, remember when Nazis were bad? Now they’re coming out of the woodwork again, and I have to read this shit that says maybe they only did evil because they were possessed? Fuck you, The Wicked Heart.

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cookinguptales · 6 years

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trick or treat~ karabita 😈💕

So the song this time was Close Your Eyes by Al Bowlly. The song’s always given me the creeps; I think it’s probably about slow dancing or whatever, but it’s always kind of reminded me of the kind of sleep you don’t wake up from.

That said, here’s a story about the kind of monster that might come to feast upon you while you sleep. (Or would if he were any good at it.)

(Yeah, it’s Karamatsu-the-not-incubus fic. Y’all wanted the Karamatsu fic!! The Chibita one would have gotten you magical dream shenanigans and porn! But the Karamatsu has fuck-or-…well, not die, but I guess fuck-or-chronic illness. And h/c! And flangst! So that’s good, too.)

“So let me get this straight.”

“Mm.”

“You all went to Dekapan for your flu shots – dumb move, by the way – and there was some kind of mishap.”

“Mm.”

“So instead of getting a shot full of vaccination, you got…”

“An experimental hormone treatment.”

“Right. And that’s why you look like shit.”

“Hey!”

“Because you need to have sex. Doctor’s orders.”

“N-no! I told you, it’s–”

“Yeah, yeah, idjit. ‘Physical intimacy’. That still sounds like fucking to me.”

Karamatsu folded his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way the movement made his joints ache. “Normal touching works,” he said, sounding a little peeved. “Just like. Holding hands and cuddling and stuff.”

“But fucking works better, right?” Chibita said, wiggling his eyebrows at Karamatsu even as he cleaned out an old beer glass.

“I – maybe! But it’s not necessary! Anything that stimulates, ah, pleasure hormones…” He cleared his throat. “That works.”

“Mmhmm,” Chibita said, and he didn’t look particularly convinced. “Pleasure hormones. Still sounding an awful lot like sex here, Karaboy. Not gonna lie.”

Karamatsu’s face burned even darker than it was, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose with fingers that shook. It sounded like sex to him, too, honestly. It had sounded like sex to his whole family, which is why they’d been teasing him about being a shitty, painful incubus for a solid week.

Chibita just pursed his lips, though, and gave Karamatsu a canny sort of look that he didn’t particularly like. “So who’re you ‘stimulating pleasure hormones’ with, anyway?” he asked.

There was something in his voice there, something a bit tense. If Karamatsu were a little crazier, he might even have called it unhappy. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the part of his mind that was craziest. “My beloved brothers have been showering me with affection daily,” he said, and that was true. Sort of.

The day after they’d gotten back from the lab, Choromatsu had put a chore wheel up on the wall – but instead of things like cleaning out the drains or scrubbing the bathroom, it had things like “touch Karamatsu” or “pat Karamatsu on the head” or, most insultingly of all, “give Karamatsu a hug”. Frankly, they probably would have preferred cleaning toilets.

“Really?” Chibita asked, and he was looking pleased now. Good. Karamatsu didn’t like it when his brow creased up like that. “And they’re actually keeping up with it?”

“I… Sometimes?” They had admittedly started to lose interest after the first few days.

Chibita’s mouth turned down into a pretty little frown, and he crossed his arms in front of him, mirroring Karamatsu’s defensive pose. “Maybe I didn’t hear you right,” he said slowly. “The doc said this could kill you, right?”

Karamatsu looked down. “It probably won’t,” he said. It would just hurt. Like it did right now. Like it had for the past several days. Like it probably would for the rest of his life.

Chibita just stared at him, possibly shocked, for once, into silence. And then he was hopping off his box and crossing around the side of the cart. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered darkly. “Can’t depend on any of you idjits for anything.”

Karamatsu frowned at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Shut up and scoot over,” Chibita said, a little bossily in that way he had when he didn’t want to seem weak.

Karamatsu obeyed wordlessly, even when Chibita dropped to sit next to him, leg pressed to leg, hip to hip. It felt nice, he had to admit. Warm.

Chibita tilted his head, still looking cross as all hell. “So what do I have to do, idjit?” he asked.

“Eh?” Karamatsu asked, not entirely politely.

“To make you feel better,” Chibita said. “You’ve been fidgeting all night, dumbass. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“A-a little,” Karamatsu admitted. “But you don’t have to–”

But Chibita ignored him, just as he always did, and turned so he could wrap his arms around Karamatsu in an awkward sort of sideways hug. He squeezed a little too hard, a little too long, but. Well. Karamatsu sort of suspected that Chibita wasn’t all that practiced when it came to hugging. “Like this?” he asked, his face buried in Karamatsu’s side.

“Um,” Karamatsu said, his mouth going dry. “Yeah. Just like that.”

He carefully let his arms settle around Chibita’s waist, and he hugged him back.

The next time it happened, Karamatsu had tried to seem casual, walking up to Chibita’s cart like his hands didn’t hurt and he hadn’t found a distressing amount of hair in his comb that morning. He hadn’t resisted at all when Chibita had rolled his eyes at him and hugged him as he handed him his oden.

The fifth time it happened, Chibita gave him this look, one that Karamatsu hated. It was quietly unhappy, pitying and worried both. “You look like death,” he’d said, and his voice had wobbled precariously as he’d said it. “Don’t you do this again. Don’t wait so long. You know you can always come to me, idjit.”

And after that, well, Karamatsu did. There really wasn’t anyone else, was there? His family couldn’t be depended on to do such an onerous chore, and it wasn’t as if – it wasn’t as if he had a lover. Dekapan had not-so-surreptitiously slipped him a box of condoms during his last checkup, a silent plea to fucking use them before his symptoms got any worse. But they both knew they’d just gather dust in his closet. Karamatsu didn’t exactly have potential beaus lining up around the block even before his skin started to go gray. It felt pretty hopeless now.

He could touch himself, of course, and did with even more regularity than he had even before he’d gotten sick. And he could, if he got really desperate, maybe pay for companionship. But the very idea made his skin crawl. It just – it felt like giving up. Like accepting that no one would ever love him without being paid to do so.

It was melodramatic, he knew, but he was halfway sure that he’d rather die than give up that. Anything but that.

Chibita, though, was the balm keeping him from needing to find out for sure. Easy hugs at the cart. Chibita hauling him around town by the hand, casually tangling their fingers together as he did his grocery shopping like that didn’t make them look like… well. He’d even invited him back to his place a few times, just to watch movies and knock their feet together beneath the blankets.

It was nice of him. It was really nice of him. Karamatsu knew that. But Chibita had always been like that, hadn’t he? He’d always had such a weakness for strays and lost souls. He was always feeding cats and helping lost children and, and watering tiny, dying flowers. Karamatsu knew where he stood in that hierarchy. Most likely above the cats, but still well below the children. And the flowers.

And, well, they were pleasure hormones, right? Dekapan had even told him that they were the chemicals that made humans fall in love with each other. So his silly, stupid feelings, well, they weren’t much of a surprise. The chemicals were doing what they were supposed to be doing. Chibita was keeping him alive. The crush was just… maybe it was wisest to just think of it as some kind of medical side effect.

He shot a sideways glance at Chibita, who was transfixed by some dumb late-night comedy show he’d recorded. Karamatsu’s stomach tightened as he watched Chibita laugh, and yeah. It was much, much wiser to know these feelings for what they were.

Karamatsu sighed and sat forward a little, absently massaging his hands as he did. They hurt when it got cold now, and he felt far older than he should have.

He didn’t notice Chibita’s eyes on him until Chibita sighed, too. “They’re hurting you again tonight, aren’t they?” he asked.

“Nothing but the aches and pains of a lovelorn life well-lived,” he said, giving Chibita a tight smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chibita just frowned at him, then reached out to pause the program. “Don’t bullshit me, Karamatsu,” he said, and he sounded uncharacteristically serious. “Do they hurt?”

Karamatsu’s lips twisted and he shrugged, and goddamn it, that hurt, too. “A little.”

“Idjit,” Chibita said, and the harsh word sounded oddly tender in his mouth. “Give me your hands – no, don’t bitch at me, just give them here.”

Chibita wasn’t worth arguing with when he got like this. Hell, he was rarely worth arguing with, period. Karamatsu pulled his hands from his lap and held them out, just enough that Chibita could grab them roughly with his own.

“Jeez,” Chibita murmured as he started to rub down each of his fingers, the knuckles, the back of each hand. It felt so good, and not just because of the chemical reaction. “I keep telling you, idjit. I’ll help you out if you need me.”

That was just it, though, Karamatsu thought as he watched Chibita’s callused hands massage his own. He didn’t want to need Chibita. He just murmured something noncommittal, hoping it’d get Chibita off his back.

“I just…” Chibita’s voice was doing that thing again. That too-quiet, too-soft thing. “I hate seeing you like this.”

And, well, Karamatsu didn’t like it much, either. He didn’t like needing to lotion his skin constantly just to attain the level of elasticity he’d needed only a few months ago. He didn’t like it when his lips bled when he stayed out too long in the wind. He didn’t like the way his heart would lurch sometimes in his chest, like it was in a three-legged race it hadn’t quite prepared enough for. He hated that. He hated always needing to depend on someone else. He hated depending on people who weren’t there, and someone who would never be there the way he wanted.

Chibita just sighed again, apparently unbothered by his silence. “It’s not just the hands, is it?” he asked.

Karamatsu slowly shook his head. Of course it wasn’t. It never was anymore. His whole body always ached like he’d climbed Mt. Everest, and all it was was one giant reminder that treatment was out of his reach. That physical intimacy, the simplest thing in the world, was still too hard for him to master. Some days it felt like his entire body was rejecting itself, just like the rest of the world had.

“Karamatsu. Look at me.”

Karamatsu looked up, as unable to disobey that voice as he always was. And the way Chibita was looking at him was so strange, so alien. His eyes were oddly dark, and the romantic part of himself said they sparkled in the light from the tv. The romantic part of himself was always getting him in trouble. The romantic part of him was telling him that Chibita looked – that Chibita looked interested. That Chibita looked like he was looking into his eyes and seeing everything that made him him. And wasn’t looking away.

“Chibita–”

“Shh,” Chibita said, and then he kissed him.

It was shock that made Karamatsu’s lips part, but Chibita took it as invitation instead. He shifted closer, still holding one of Karamatsu’s hands in his, and let one kiss segue into two, three. What was the point in counting when the edges ran into each other like the wind? What was the point in thinking when this felt so good?

Chibita felt soft against him, felt dear and familiar, and Karamatsu wasn’t sure if it was Dekapan’s serum or if it was just Chibita that was making his head swim. Actually, the most likely culprit of all was probably his heart, running a thousand miles a minute, too fast for his chest, so fast he was dizzy with it.

Too soon, too soon by far, Chibita was pulling away. Was blinking, dazed, was licking his lips without a care for how that made Karamatsu’s blood rush hot in his veins.

Then. Then.

“Did that help?” Chibita asked, breathless.

Did that help what? How could a kiss help– And then Karamatsu’s heart froze in his chest. Of course. Of course. He’d been so stupid to think that, that Chibita had kissed him because he…

Karamatsu closed his eyes for a moment, tight, and tried to slow his heartbeat, his breath. Tried to bring himself back to before the brief, brief moment he’d thought that maybe Chibita had feelings for him, too.

“Karamatsu?”

And the worst part, the very worst part, was that it had helped. There had been a few moments there where nothing in the world had hurt. Even now, there was a certain lightheadedness that felt good. It was pleasure, yes, but it was healing, too. He could feel it.

So this was what he could have had if anyone had wanted him.

Karamatsu pushed the blankets from his legs and levered himself to his feet, not daring to open his eyes until he knew he was facing away from Chibita again. He’d just been trying to help. Karamatsu knew that. He knew all that. He understood everything perfectly well.

He didn’t say a word, just walked to the genkan, grabbing his coat as he went.

“Wh– Karamatsu, hey, wait! Where the hell are you going, idjit?”

“Home,” he bit out. Where he could lick his wounds in peace. He’d have to be careful from now on; he wasn’t going to be able to use Chibita’s help from now on. And that was gonna suck.

“But we– I thought you liked it!”

He did. Of course he did. He’d liked it too damn much. “Stop,” he said, simple, ragged.

“Fuck no! You’re gonna kill yourself one of these days!” Chibita snapped, and what the hell right did he have to sound upset?

“So what, Chibita?” he asked, spinning on his heel and knowing that pain was making his words ugly. “What were you going to do about that? Fuck me?”

Chibita flinched. “I…” he trailed off for a second, as if not quite sure how to respond. “Maybe? If you – if you wanted that…”

Karamatsu stared at him. And then he dropped his coat on the floor so he could open his fists, clench them again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked.

Chibita reared back like he’d be slapped. “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, asshole?” he asked, and Karamatsu could see his back stiffening up like he was preparing for battle.

“What’s wrong,” Karamatsu said, standing his ground for once in his goddamn life, “is you kissing me. What’s wrong is you making me – making me think that maybe you actually wanted to kiss me! And you won’t even let me go home to be humiliated in peace!”

Humiliated. Ha. That was a funny way to say “heartbroken”.

Chibita paused, and now he just looked confused. “But I did want to kiss you,” he said.

“To ‘help’! To make me feel better!” Karamatsu said, and to his horror, he could feel tears starting to build in the corners of his eyes. “Like I want a pity fuck!”

Chibita’s eyes widened and Karamatsu could see it, the moment when things clicked. “You think I…” He stalked forward, abrupt as anything, and for a split second, Karamatsu shrank back.

But Chibita didn’t hit him. Instead, he reached forward, reached up, and tugged Karamatsu down so he could press one bruising, angry kiss to his lips. Before Karamatsu could push him away, though, he’d moved in, was winding his arms around Karamatsu’s waist with arms like iron. “You fucking idiot,” he hissed, and Karamatsu couldn’t quite place the darkness in his tone. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or if it was fear, or maybe even some combination of the two. “That wasn’t pity.”

Karamatsu just stared straight ahead. If he didn’t look down, he didn’t have to look at Chibita at all. “Don’t lie to me,” he said softly. That was the only thing that could make this whole shitshow worse.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Chibita said, face buried in Karamatsu’s shirt, “to love someone and watch them hurt like you do.”

Karamatsu’s heart stopped.

“Like, seriously? You need pleasure to survive? What kind of gross ero manga plotline is that? It’s so stupid. I can’t believe something this stupid gets to hurt you so badly. And I’m right fucking here. I keep telling you and telling you, I’m right here if you need me. I’d do whatever you want me to. Kiss you, fuck you, whatever you fucking want. I – I really like you, you dumbass, and you won’t even let me help you.”

And it didn’t make sense, none of Chibita’s shaky words made any sense at all. Until they did. “Hormones. The hormones. Dekapan said that the chemicals, the…” The…serotonin or oxytocin or some other fucking -in, whatever it was. “He said they were the love hormones. The ones that make you like people.”

They were what had done him in, after all. He believed that. He really needed to believe that.

He could feel Chibita shaking his head against his chest. “God, you really are such a fucking idiot. I liked you before any of this, stupid. You seriously think I’d do all this for just anyone?” he asked, and Karamatsu’s heart finally felt like it was coming to life in his chest again.

He remembered that look in Chibita’s eyes just before he’d kissed him, that odd, odd light that had shone in them for just a moment. Chibita, their Chibita, his Chibita, he’d always had a weakness for strays. Cats and children and flowers. But he’d never looked at any of them the way he’d looked at Karamatsu.

Slowly, with trembling hands, Karamatsu brought his arms up to wrap around Chibita’s back, and he could feel Chibita’s breath hitch against him. His lips still hurt, still felt bruised and tender, from Chibita’s less-than-kind kiss. His heart still hurt, too.

But he was mending. He could feel it now, the buzz of something like pleasure beneath his skin. And this time, it didn’t hurt. It just felt… quiet. Like the faraway hum of a dragonfly flying through summer grass.

Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was whatever-the-fuck-in that Dekapan had accidentally addicted his body to. But, Karamatsu thought, as he smoothed a hand over Chibita’s back, maybe he just really liked Chibita, too.

They stood there for several long minutes, swaying slightly in nonexistent wind. A minute, a lifetime, later, Chibita looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and shiny. And then he stood up on his toes so he could press his lips to Karamatsu, gentle, gentle, like he was almost afraid he’d break apart beneath his touch.

It wasn’t so much a kiss as soft breaths against each other’s lips. Something quiet to be shared. Neither one of them said anything at first, not wanting to be the first to break the silence. They just stood there, resting against each other, propping each other up, until Chibita said, quietly shy, “Let me take care of you. Please. I want to make you feel good again.”

“Okay,” Karamatsu said, pressing one more kiss to willing lips. “Okay.”

That gentle buzzing, the dutiful quiet of mending cells, had reached his heart by now. That was the only explanation for how he felt now, like he was coming down from a high that he’d never experienced before, and the simple joy of it suffused him. His heart started to beat regularly, unencumbered, for what felt like the first time in weeks.

And for one brief moment, nothing at all hurt.

#who am I kidding the chibita one would've ended in tears too #karabita #halloween ficlets #fic stuff #this one got pretty long #I'll put them all on AO3 later #and if karamatsu thought that helped just wait until chibita blows him lmao #oso

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theartofbeinganerd · 7 years

Text

Haha so guess who was too tired to write tonight? That’s right, it’s me, so instead, here’s a fic I wrote sometime during the Season 3 mid-season hiatus, set sometime after 3x10.

(Ao3)

After sleeping through her alarm and therefore getting a late start to the day, Jemma was hurrying down the hall to the lab, an apology to Fitz already forming on her lips. They’d planned to work on a new project Coulson had assigned them the day before first thing, and normally Jemma wouldn’t be worried about being late because Fitz almost always was, but he’d apparently broken that habit during the months she’d been gone and at times, he even got to work in the lab earlier than she did.

“Jemma! Hey!” Daisy called as she passed, rushing to catch up with her. “I was just looking for you – I wanted to ask you something.”

Jemma bit back a frustrated groan, throwing a longing glance at the entrance to the lab, mere meters away, before pausing and turning to Daisy with a tired smile. “Yes, what is it?”

Daisy rocked back on her heels, pursing her lips and letting out a sigh. “Okay, so Lincoln and I were supposed to go on that double date with Bobbi and Hunter, right?”

“And you were very excited about it,” Jemma remembered, nodding in understanding. “What happened?”

“Well, Hunter just got back from a mission for Coulson, and I heard him and Bobbi screaming at each other in the locker room about something.” She groaned, bringing up a hand to cover her eyes. “So, I think the date is a no-go, and I don’t want things to be super awkward with Lincoln – like this is still so new for us, so…” She dropped her hand, giving Jemma a hopeful look. “I was wondering if you’d want to come along? There’ll be free food and a movie, and the awkward tension between a new couple – what can beat that?”

Jemma chewed her lip as she wrung her hands together, thinking over Daisy’s plea. Hanging out with Daisy and Lincoln and watching them flirt and couple-out wasn’t exactly what she wanted just then, but on the other hand, she knew how hard Daisy’s love life (and life in general, really) had been and just wanted her to be happy. So, if being the third wheel on their first date was what she needed, then Jemma would be there for her, regardless of how she felt about it. “Of course I’ll come along. I suppose I could use an excuse to have a life outside the lab.”

Daisy let out an excited squeal, throwing her arms around Jemma in a quick but sincere hug. “Thank you so much! This is gonna be great! Meet us in the hangar at six-thirty, okay?”

“Alright,” Jemma agreed, giving Daisy a small smile and wave before she continued on her way to the lab. As soon as she was through the door, she noticed Fitz hunched over at his desk, working intently on some project, and the apology she’d prepared burst forth. “Fitz! I’m so sorry, I slept late, which you know is so unlike me, and then Daisy stopped me in the hall, but –”

“’S’fine,” Fitz interrupted, giving a careless shrug and setting aside what he’d been working on. “No problem.”

And just like that, Jemma was reminded of why she’d spent the night tossing and turning, leading to her oversleeping that morning. Obsessing over the way Fitz held himself away from her, over how impossible fixing their relationship seemed, over how much she just wanted to stride up to him and claim his lips like he’d done to her so many weeks ago – it’d been a near constant of her daily life for so long now, but she still hadn’t gotten any closer to a solution and it was driving her mad.

But, with no clear answers yet again, Jemma just forced a cheery smile and nodded. “Let’s get to work, then.”

That night, at six-thirty on the dot, Jemma entered the hangar, feeling odd and out of place in her nice evening wear, rather than the simple shirts and cardigans she’d been wearing around the base since she’d returned. She spotted Daisy and Lincoln by one of the nondescript black SUVs, and began heading over, a wide smile already affixed to her lips.

But, both her step and her smile faltered when someone else appeared around the side of the SUV to speak to the other two, a grumpy look on his face and his hands shoved into his pockets.

Jemma’s first thought was to flee, and her gaze shot to the hangar door behind her as she calculated the likelihood of being able to make her escape before anyone noticed her.

All her hopes were dashed when Daisy started waving her arms frantically and calling out to her, gesturing for her to come join them. Jemma took a couple automatic steps in response, but then she noticed the huge smile on Daisy’s face and it all suddenly made sense – they’d been set up. That was why Jemma had seen the bewildering sight of Hunter and Bobbi looking cozy and not at all at odds in the common area earlier, and that was why Daisy had carefully left out the fact that it wouldn’t be just Jemma joining them tonight. Because they’d been set up.

Even as her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat with nerves, Jemma felt a wash of gratitude for her (other) best friend, who had somehow picked up on the problems plaguing her and set to helping her fix them. Though she would rather have not been left in the dark about it, she was completely grateful for the opportunity.

Replacing her former faux smile with a much more genuine one, Jemma continued on her way over, ignoring the betrayed look Fitz was shooting at Daisy. “Even being on time, I’m the last one here. I hope I’m not making a habit of being late.”

Daisy chuckled, throwing an exaggerated wink at Jemma. “The only time you’ve got to be worried about being late is when it’s your period, Jemma.” With that, she and Lincoln disappeared around their respective sides of the SUV, the sound of doors opening and closing following.

Rolling her eyes at Daisy’s ill-humored joke, Jemma moved to open her own door, but paused when she saw Fitz still standing rigidly near the back of the car. “Fitz?” she called, frowning when he didn’t even look up to acknowledge that he’d heard her. “Are you coming?”

He gave an audible sigh, his shoulders slumping, but he moved regardless, going around the car to open his door and get in. Jemma followed, trying not to let their close proximity and the heat she could feel coming off of him get to her. However, cramped together in the back seat as they were, she could smell the new cologne he’d taken to wearing and it was making it difficult for her to focus. All she could think of was the last time she’d been close enough to smell said cologne, and with that sensory memory came another – the taste of his lips, hungry and desperate against her own.

Taking a deep, calming breath through her nose and letting it out through her mouth, Jemma let her eyes slip briefly closed as she forced herself not to get caught up in thinking about kissing Fitz yet again. It didn’t work quite right, and when she reopened her eyes, all she could think about was reaching over the scant space between them to rest her hand over Fitz’s, lacing their fingers together and holding onto him for dear life. She never wanted to let him go again.

It wasn’t too long before they arrived at the restaurant, and Jemma bit back a smile when Lincoln rushed to pull out the chair for a surprised Daisy. As such, she barely noticed that her own chair had been pulled out until it was too late and Fitz was already sitting, his gaze studiously focused on his menu. Fighting the urge to sigh in frustration, she sat down and picked up her own menu, blocking out the sound of Daisy and Lincoln discussing the different options.

After they’d ordered and were waiting for their food, Daisy struck up a conversation in an attempt to include Fitz and Jemma as well, and somehow got on the subject of Jemma’s failed attempt at sneaking around at the Hub what seemed like lifetimes ago now.

Smirking from ear to ear, Daisy regaled an amused Lincoln, a mortified Jemma, and an impassive Fitz with the tale, stopping every now and then when she couldn’t speak she was laughing so hard. “And then,” she went on, shaking her head and snickering into her hand, “she told him that he had a gorgeous head!”

“I was under pressure and had had no time to prepare!” Jemma defended herself, covering her blush-warmed neck with her hands. “I’d like to have seen you do better!”

“Wait wait wait, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet,” Daisy insisted, ignoring Jemma completely and flapping her hand excitedly. “When he wasn’t falling for it, Jemma shot him with the Night-Night Gun! And she thought she’d actually done alright!”

Lincoln shot a grin at Jemma, chuckling along with Daisy’s near-hysterical laughter. “Wow. And I didn’t think there was anything worse than my attempts to fly under the radar.”

Jemma sighed, giving him a small smile. “I suppose there’s not much worse than my lack of lying skills before I went undercover.”

Daisy was still trying to get her laughter under control, now with the aid of Lincoln, so Jemma focused on Fitz, who hadn’t spoken or reacted at all during Daisy’s story. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and felt a wave of relief at the sight of the tiniest of smiles quirking his lips.

Dinner startlingly passed without Daisy making any more attempts to embarrass anyone, and they left the restaurant to walk the short distance to the theater. Daisy and Lincoln ended up a bit ahead of Fitz and Jemma on the sidewalk, hands linked between them. Jemma was once more hit with the all-consuming urge to reach for Fitz’s hand, but not only was it hidden in his pocket, she had no idea how he’d react to such an advance.

With a resigned sigh, Jemma tucked her hands into the sleeves of her thin cardigan and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep out the sudden cold emptiness that she felt.

A sharp gasp left her lips moments later when she quite abruptly found herself with Fitz’s arm draped over her shoulders, pressing her against his side. He was as warm as ever, and paired with the reemergence of Jemma’s desperate hope, she quickly went from freezing to toasty warm, inside and out.

“You looked cold,” Fitz muttered, giving a shrug and keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. Jemma wished that he would just look at her, but figured that she’d take what she could get for now.

“Thank you,” she murmured in response, feeling brave enough to rest her head on his shoulder. He tensed a bit, but didn’t protest, so she didn’t bother to move from the new position. For some reason, she was feeling irrationally giddy at the idea that anyone passing them just then would assume that they were a couple, having a romantic night out.

Of course, that just served to remind her that they weren’t couple, nor were they having a romantic night out. But, she stubbornly refused to dwell on that, and rather focus instead on making it true.

At the theater, Lincoln and Fitz went to get the tickets while Daisy dragged Jemma with her to concessions. Once she was sure the guys weren’t close enough to overhear, Jemma asked Daisy pointedly, “How long have you been planning this, then?”

Daisy gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Don’t you remember? I talked to Bobbi and Hunter about it a couple of weeks ago.”

Jemma planted her hands on her hips, shooting Daisy a dry look in lieu of a verbal response.

“Okay, fine. I was planning on doubling with Bobbi and Hunter, but then I saw you giving Fitz heart eyes and him ignoring the hell out of them, so I talked to Bobbi, who was one hundred percent on board – maybe even a hundred and ten, who knows? Lincoln was a little confused by the sudden change, but I explained it to him, and I think he’s just going with it, but still. Anyway, how are things going?”

Jemma scoffed, shaking her head in exasperation. “Fitz has mastered the art of pretending there’s nothing between us – I don’t think one night on a forced date will change that. But, thank you for trying, Daisy.”

Daisy didn’t seem to be off put by Jemma’s words, a determined look on her face. “We’ll see about that,” she replied cryptically as she turned to order popcorn and candy, even though they’d just eaten.

Fitz and Lincoln met them in the lobby, and they went into the theater together, Jemma ending up seated between Fitz and Daisy. Daisy had ordered two tubs of popcorn to share, and she and Lincoln had claimed one, leaving the other for Jemma and Fitz. She offered it to him, and he muttered a thanks, taking a handful as his gaze never leaving the previews playing on the giant screen.

She could hear Daisy giggling beside her, and a quick glance over showed that both she and Lincoln had reached for popcorn at the same time, accidentally touching hands, and were now gazing at each other with huge smiles.

Sighing, Jemma slouched a bit in her seat, settling in for what would no doubt be the longest movie of her life.

Fortunately, the movie Daisy had chosen ahead of time was of the action/adventure genre, and was not some sickeningly sweet romance movie that Jemma normally had a secret love for, but would make everything uncomfortable at the present time. Unfortunately, however, about midway through, the protagonist and her love interest came to the height of the romantic tension between them, and the music swelled throughout the theater as he pressed her up against the wall, planting an unexpected but passionate kiss on her lips.

Jemma was hit with the vivid memory of experiencing something incredibly similar with the man beside her, and had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from reaching for him. The kiss on the screen was going much longer than theirs had – not cut far too short by one of them breaking it and claiming that they were cursed, go figure. Then, the scenery changed, the couple was suddenly flopping onto a bed, and moans, along with declarations of lust and love, poured out of the surround sound.

Unconsciously, Jemma shot a glance at Fitz, and even in the darkened theater, she could see the tense set to his jaw and shoulders, as though he too was keeping himself from grabbing her and reenacting the intense love scene. But, to Jemma’s extreme disappointment, he didn’t, and soon the movie was back to its fast-paced action plot.

All too soon, it was over and they were heading back to the base, Daisy and Lincoln discussing the movie, and Jemma joined in here and there, if only to break the awkward silence that seemed to linger in the backseat alone. When they arrived back in the hangar, Lincoln and Daisy left hand-in-hand, but not before she threw a wink back over her shoulder at them.

Jemma, left alone with Fitz for the first time all night, opened her mouth to say something – anything – but Fitz spoke first, mumbling a good night as he moved quickly toward the entrance back into the base. However, she was having none of that, and stalked after him, grasping his arm to slow him down. “Fitz!”

His shoulders rose and fell on a deep sigh, and without turning around, he asked, “What?”

Feeling her frustration from the past few weeks bubbling over, Jemma snapped, “Would you please just look at me? Can you pretend for a moment that I’m not such a terrible sight so that we can have an actual conversation?”

Abruptly, Fitz whirled to face her, his blue eyes blazing. “What? What do you want from me, Jemma?”

Jemma threw up her hands in exasperation. “I want to know why spending time with me is suddenly the worst thing you can imagine, why you can’t even bother to look at me, why you’re acting like we’re barely even friends, let alone…” Losing a bit of steam, she trailed off, unsure how to end that sentence.

“You want to know why?” Fitz clenched his jaw, and she noticed his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Because spending time with you is torture, Jemma. Even just looking at you…it’s…it’s just easier to pretend that it’s not tearing me up inside. If I pretend that you’re just another colleague then I’m not thinking about how much it kills me what we could’ve had, how much I –” He cut himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line and glaring down at the ground between them.

Jemma was aghast at what he’d revealed during his outburst, slowly shaking her head as she absorbed the obvious meaning behind them. “Fitz…when did…when did anyone say that you had to pretend that there was nothing between us? When did we decide that what we can have became what we could’ve had?”

Fitz raised his head to shoot her an incredulous look. “I think you know, Jemma.”

Her frustration was rising to dangerous levels once more, and she took a deep breath to attempt to calm herself before she told him slowly, carefully, and in no uncertain terms, “I needed time to mourn, to deal with my guilt, and to figure out my rather confused emotions, yes. But, now? For weeks I’ve known what I want, and I’ve been attempting to make it clear, but I suppose I haven’t been clear enough. Allow me to try again. Fitz, all along, it’s been you. You’re the one I want, the one I’ll always want – my first choice, and I now understand, the only choice for me. Nothing else will make me happy, no matter how hard I pretend. I’m very much in love with you and I’d appreciate it if you stopped pretending that you don’t feel the same and instead focus your energies on kissing me breathless. Preferably multiple times a day for the rest of our lives.”

He was gaping at her for most of her long-winded confession, jaw slack with disbelief. By the time she’d finished, he’d moved onto rapid blinking, and it looked a bit like he was trying to keep tears at bay. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak, but ended up clearing his throat again before he managed, “Jemma, I… Are you sure?”

Jemma let out a startled laugh, stunned by the fact that he even had to ask after everything she’d just said. However, this was Fitz, so she stepped into him, grasping the front of his shirt in her hands and going up onto the tips of her toes to press her forehead against his. “Yes. I’m very, very sure, Fitz.”

He swallowed audibly, nodding a bit dumbly before he blinked and blurted out, “God Jem, I love you too. I love you so much – more than anything. You’re the only that could ever make me happy too, you know that, right?”

Beaming, Jemma slid her hands up and over his shoulders, linking them behind his head as she brushed her nose against his. “I had a suspicion. Now, about the other part?”

“The kissing part?” Fitz asked, a sly smirk playing around his lips.

“That’s the one.”

“What about it?”

Biting her lip, Jemma felt a swell of heat low in her stomach when his gaze immediately dropped to watch the action. “Well, now seems like a good a time as any to get started on it, wouldn’t you say?”

Rather than reply verbally, Fitz swooped down to capture her lips, just as she’d hoped he would. She smiled against his lips as his hands came up to rest against her back, pressing her closer to him and further into his embrace.

When they eventually parted a long moment later, Jemma took a step back, grasping one of Fitz’s hands in hers and tugging on it as she took another step in the direction of the hangar door, an eyebrow arched in a silent question. Fitz’s astonished expression only lasted for seconds, then he was leading the way toward the bunks, a willing and eager Jemma trailing along behind him.

The next morning, when Jemma was once more late to the lab, it was with a huge and satisfied grin on her face, Fitz following not far behind her.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #shayna's one shot collection #season 3 #season 3 au #background static quake #and huntingbird #double dates #there's way less angst than canon #but that's not hard to do tbh

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