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ollieofthebeholder · 1 year

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] || Also on AO3

Chapter 11: July 2016

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Right. There we go. Martin, what do you see?

MARTIN

W-what?

ARCHIVIST

I can’t really stand up yet. I need you to describe what’s going on. For the record.

MARTIN

Oh. Right. Yeah. Um, Sasha tackled Tim and there was a bit of a struggle, but she made it out of the Archives. That was about five minutes ago, and…she’s probably gone to get help. I don’t know for sure, but, well, it’s Sasha. She wouldn’t just abandon us.

ARCHIVIST

Did it look like any of the worms…got her before she left?

MARTIN

No, I don’t think so. Tim neither, I think. It’s a bit hard to tell, what with—it was a lot out there, but I think they both got out without a mark on them. [mumbling] Or a new one, anyway.

ARCHIVIST

Tim. What happened to Tim?

MARTIN

They got split up and he ran to your office. That was where they came in, you said you’d made a hole, so…Christ, I hope he’s careful in there. Jane Prentiss didn’t follow him, and, and the worms should be coming towards her, so as long as he doesn’t…maybe he found the spare CO2.

ARCHIVIST

Spare? What? Where? I never saw any.

MARTIN

I hid a couple in the old casefile boxes.

ARCHIVIST

What, why?

MARTIN

So they’d be handy? I’ve been stashing them pretty much everywhere I can think of. There’s only the one in here, though, since the room is sealed, so…

ARCHIVIST

No, I mean, why hide them?

MARTIN

So the worms wouldn’t find them.

Look, I know it sounds stupid.

ARCHIVIST

Yes. Yes, it is. They’re just…they’re just unclassified parasites. They don’t have consciousness, they can’t plan, they’re just an unthinking infection.

MARTIN

[Sounding tired] Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jon.

ARCHIVIST

[Audibly bristling] And just what is that supposed to mean?

MARTIN

You can’t possibly actually be this big of a skeptic. Nobody can work for the Magnus Institute and not have some idea of what’s going on—and I know you’ve never doubted when it comes to Prentiss, or to Leitners, you always treat those statements with a lot more…I dunno, respect. But when it comes to anything else, I’ve listened to you recording and you just dismiss them. You tear them to pieces like they’re wasting your time, but half of your “rational” explanations are more far-fetched than just admitting that there’s a ghost or something. It’s one thing to want evidence before you confirm something is legitimate, but there comes a point when you’ve got to just…accept that you believe. For crying out loud, you thought I was a ghost, and your only evidence for that was Tim.

ARCHIVIST

Of course I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artifact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that…why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have…I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason, I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe…thirty, forty that are…that go on tape. Those I believe, at least for the most part.

MARTIN

Then why don’t you—

ARCHIVIST

Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record those statements, it feels…it feels like I’m being watched. I…I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like…if I admit that there’s any truth to them, whatever’s watching will…know somehow. The skepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer somehow.

MARTIN

…

It’s a good strategy, I’ll grant you that. Worked for Joshua Gillespie, I guess. For a little while, anyway. Don’t think he’s the only one, either.

But it won’t work forever. Ignorance only keeps you safe for so long, but the minute you start accepting that any of it’s true, the only safe way is to accept that all of it is true. Pretending not to believe is just going to get you killed, because it means you’ll miss something until it’s staring you in the face, and by then it’s too late.

ARCHIVIST

…I suppose you’re right.

Still, it’s not my fault we’re about to get eaten by worms. Speaking of, can you see anything?

MARTIN

Not much. They’re just…there.

ARCHIVIST

How many?

MARTIN

Too many. And they’re coming up through the floorboards still. I didn’t think they could fit through.

ARCHIVIST

Prentiss?

MARTIN

No, I can’t…[frustrated noises] Hold on. This glass…

[DEEP BREATH, FOLLOWED BY A FAINT HISS OF STATIC]

She’s over by the shelves. Or at least there’s a lot of…there’s something person-sized over there.

ARCHIVIST

[Dry but slightly shaky] You might be able to see better with your glasses on.

MARTIN

Yeah, you’d think, but it’s easier to pinpoint without them. Christ, that’s a lot.

ARCHIVIST

A lot of what? Worms?

MARTIN

Yeah, basically.

Yeah, it’s Prentiss all right.

ARCHIVIST

What’s she doing?

MARTIN

Not sure. She’s messing with the boxes. She’s just picked one up and—aah!

ARCHIVIST

What?

MARTIN

She’s…she’s destroying them. Sort of.

ARCHIVIST

Sort of?

MARTIN

N-no, more like…Corrupting them. I’m not sure what that stuff is coming out of her mouth, but I think we should probably burn them.

ARCHIVIST

Right.

MARTIN

…

I’ll teach you the way we used to burn Leitners.

If you want.

ARCHIVIST

We?

MARTIN

Me and Gerry and Neens. The three of us.

[FAINT CREAKING NOISE AS MARTIN SITS ON THE COT NEXT TO JON]

I lied, Jon. Or, well…not lied, not about most things, but I haven’t told you everything. The only thing I really lied about was my CV. I don’t have a master’s in parapsychology. I don’t even have a degree. I was seventeen, my mum was having…problems, and my stepfather was starting to get forgetful. It wasn’t too bad then, not so bad he couldn’t function or take care of Mum, but it caused issues for him at work and he lost his job. I had to drop out of school to support us all, but nobody was hiring without qualifications and when I offered to take over Mum’s job at Pinhole Books Aunt Mary said I wouldn’t be needed, thank you very much. I started making things up. My lie about parapsychology got me in the door here at the Institute, and I know why Elias hired me after that, but…honestly, most of my employment details are made up. I won’t even be twenty-nine until next month.

The reason I know so much about Leitners isn’t because of a degree or a thesis or anything. It’s…that was literally most of my childhood. Mum and Mary Keay were—I don’t know if you’d call them friends, but they worked together, and not just at the bookshop. If they’d actually been witches, they’d probably have been a coven. A lot of what they did was tracking down Leitners. Books of power, you know? And the three of us got recruited to help.

ARCHIVIST

That’s why you’re here? In the Archives, I mean. I—truth be told, it’s been bothering me for a while. You’ve been living down here for four months, under the constant threat of…this. Sleeping with a corkscrew and a fire extinguisher. You must know that’s not normal for an archiving job. That’s why you stay?

MARTIN

Partly. Partly because I realized you didn’t know what was going on, not like I did, and I thought…I just thought if I stuck around, maybe I could keep you safe. You and Tim and Sasha. [bitter laugh] You can see how well that worked out.

ARCHIVIST

We’re alive, aren’t we?

MARTIN

For now.

Mostly, though, I haven’t left because…I don’t think I can. While I was still…you know, upstairs…I think I could have walked away, no harm done. Once I came down here…well, I think we’re all caught now.

ARCHIVIST

Yes.

Yes, I—I see what you mean. I think.

MARTIN

[Softly] I wish you did.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

SASHA

[Breathing heavily] Oh, God, that’s so much.

Okay, Jon. I know you’ll want to know what’s been happening. If you’re alive after this. There are worms on the upper floors. Not so many as down in the Archives, but enough.

I set off the fire alarm, so everyone’s evacuated but me and Elias. I haven’t seen any sign of the fire brigade, but I haven’t been near a window in a while. There was…a wave of worms, I guess, and I got separated from Elias. We were on our way to set off the fire suppressant system manually. I hope he made it, but who knows. Maybe everyone’s dead already.

I’ve had to retreat into Artifact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there.

God, I hate this place.

Did I ever tell you I joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyze and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would have quit, but I couldn’t afford to back then.

Never understood why we keep all this stuff secret. I mean, we’ve got enough here to send any skeptic packing, but it’s just locked away. I—I asked Elias about it once, but he just mumbled something about funding and mission statements. He’s good at changing the subject, isn’t he?

Sorry, I’m rambling. No worms, though, that’s—

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Get back!

SASHA

What—who’s there? Who are you?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Just—shit. Get out of here!

SASHA

Look, you shouldn’t—

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Agonized and desperate] Listen to me. If you take one more step forward, if you look at that, you will die. Get out of here.

SASHA

Are you threatening me?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Damn it, I’m trying to save you! I don’t know who you are, but you don’t—[gasps in pain]

SASHA

Are you hurt? Shit, the worms—come on, let me—

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Panicked] No, no, don’t touch me! Not yet! Just—

SASHA

Wait, that’s—is there someone else in here?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Oh, fuck.

[SASHA SCREAMS, THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE YELLS, A DOOR SLAMS]

SASHA

What was that?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Don’t know. That’s never been my—

[MYSTERIOUS FIGURE DROPS TO ONE KNEE, MAKING STRANGLED NOISES OF AGONY]

SASHA

Are you okay? Have you—have you been bitten?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Strained] No—no, it’s—give me a second. It’ll pass.

[DELIBERATELY FORCED BREATHING THAT SLOWLY EVENS OUT]

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Right, okay. Get out of here. If you know a way out that isn’t that way, I suggest you take it.

SASHA

Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m not leaving you behind. Besides, I don’t know if my friends are okay. We’ve got to stop those worms.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Dryly] I’m open to suggestions. I suppose setting the whole place on fire is out of the question.

SASHA

No! Not with—the CO2 is going to be bad enough, but they can survive that. Maybe.

We’ve just got to trigger the system. There should be a manual override. Elias was going to set it off, but we got separated, I don’t know if he managed it.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Lead the way.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #canon-typical worms #panic #peril #death mention #fire mention #the formatting is better on AO3 #at least it damn well better be because I spent the last half hour fixing it

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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pigeonsareprettysnazzy · 2 years

Text

I didn’t mean to

summary: Johnny struggles with his feelings for Ponyboy and confesses to Dally

TW: Mentions of suicide, internalized homophobia. i think that’s all but if not, let me know.

The crisp evening air bit Jonny’s cheeks as he walked to the Curtis house. His parents had been at it again and he didn’t want to stick around. The Curtis house was sort of a safe haven for Johnny. His friends were there and even though they could get a little wild at times, Johnny knew that they would never hurt him. He was very thankful to everyone in the gang. Especially his best buddy, Ponyboy. Ponyboy Curtis meant everything to Johnny. He loved Pony, even more than a buddy, but Pony couldn’t know that.

“Hey Johnnycakes, wait up.” The deep voice of Dallas Winston startled Johnny. Dally could see the shocked expression on his friends face as he jogged over and was quick to apologize.

“Sorry man.”

“S’alright Dal, I was just thinking.”

Dally had visibly little interest in the conversation, but Johnny had to get his feelings for the youngest greaser off of his chest.

“Hey Dal, could I tell you something?”

“Sure, whatever.”

The pair changed directions, heading towards the lot.

“So whatcha think about Cherry?”

Johnny asked, trying to start conversation.

“She’s real pretty don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think you would date her?”

“Maybe, she’s a soc though, dunno if I could get over that.”

Dally replied, lighting a cigarette.

“Where are you going with this?”

“You’re gonna hate my Dal, I really don’t wanna tell you but if I have to keep it buried inside any longer, I think I’ll kill myself.” Johnny rambles.

“Shit man, what the hell did you do?”

“I’m a fucking queer Dally! I’m disgusting!”

He cries. Dally is quick to put his hand over his friends mouth.

“Jesus Christ Johnny, who else knows?” Dally asks, mildly panicked as he puts his hand down.

“Just you. I haven’t told you everything yet though.”

The older boy starts walking around in slow circles, hands leaning on the back of his head as he waits for Johnny to continue speaking. It gets quiet for a second before Johnny whispers.

“I’m in love with Ponyboy.”

Dally stopped pacing and stared at Johnny.

“Why’d ya have to do that man?”

He sounded exasperated. The pained voice of Johnny replied with tears,

“I didn’t mean to Dal, I dunno what to do!”

“It’s okay man! It’s okay! Do you think he’s also.. you know?”

“Maybe. I think I should tell him. Not about my feelings for him, but just about myself.”

Dally just nods, and the two of them start to walk back to the Curtis house where Johnny would do the bravest thing he had ever done.

#johnny cade x ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #johnnyboy #curtis gang #internalized homophobia #this ship has taken over my life

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

Text

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety. Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.

Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out.

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?”

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored.

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!”

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked.

“...No.”

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?”

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?”

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained.

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?”

Virgil waited.

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added.

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure.

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly.

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.”

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!”

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone.

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to.

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop.

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully.

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them.

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?”

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.”

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.”

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight.

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.”

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped.

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?”

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.”

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie.

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.”

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?”

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over.

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?”

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.”

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment.

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.”

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket.

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them.

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something?

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible.

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it.

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.”

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?”

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.”

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say.

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe.

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?”

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.”

“Right, right,” Virgil said.

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked.

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him.

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?”

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?”

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.”

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?”

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed.

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off.

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear.

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked.

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.”

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying.

Logan shook his head. “No, never.”

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness.

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired.

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building.

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area.

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway.

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby.

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.”

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.”

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?”

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him.

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him.

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.”

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries.

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly.

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began.

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise.

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.”

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face.

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.”

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding.

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus.

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words.

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it.

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly.

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead.

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees.

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red.

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.”

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it.

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.”

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus.

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.”

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.”

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?”

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?”

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed.

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees.

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?”

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while.

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!”

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge.

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked.

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.”

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching.

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?”

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.”

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.”

“But, like, research? Drafts?”

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil.

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him.

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.”

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.”

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to.

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.”

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?”

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking.

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?”

Logan perked up. “Really?”

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it.

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?”

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

“I got my ass kicked but you held the ice” jalex?

sure thing, anon. i've been watching a lot of bones lately so maybe that explains...i dunno. the vibe here.

tw for minor blood & injuries, mentions of alcohol

read here on ao3

There’s blood on Jack’s face.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” feels like the right first question.

Jack staggers into the open seat across from Alex. “Got slugged.”

“You sound proud.”

“I am.”

“But you’re bleeding,” Alex says, aghast. He’s out of his seat and sliding in beside Jack before he can even really think. “Why— why are you bleeding? From getting punched?”

Jack shrugs and winces. Alex looks closer, hesitant to touch him. “Dude had rings or something. Hurt like a bitch.”

“You got scratched,” Alex says. Even he can hear the concern seeping into his voice, but if Jack notices he doesn’t seem to care. “Jack, you should clean this. We— you should let me clean this.”

“No, it’s cool.”

“Uh, I actually wasn’t giving you the option,” Alex says. He wraps an arm around Jack’s forearm and pulls him out of the booth. The seating area is far enough from the bar that Alex can justify somehow missing whatever scuffle Jack got into when he was supposedly getting them both drinks, but he wishes he hadn’t. Trust Jack to get into a fight the moment he’s left to his own devices.

“This isn’t necessary,” Jack says once they’ve reached the bathroom, though he’s letting Alex manhandle him anyway, which Alex appreciates. On account of the fact that it feels extremely necessary.

“You’re fucking bleeding from your face, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that,” says Alex, casting a glance around for anything to wash Jack’s face off with.

“And I’m supposed to bleed from other places?”

“No! No places.” Alex hits him on the arm. “No bleeding at all. Wanna tell me what happened? You were gone for like five minutes. I thought you were getting another round.”

“I was.”

Alex raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Well you obviously didn’t succeed, so what the fuck gives?”

“Got into a fight,” Jack says.

“That’s unlike you.”

“Do not use your fucking shirt to clean my bloody face,” Jack says, ignoring Alex, and Alex stalls in his motion lifting the hem of his shirt.

“Why not?”

“Oh my God, think rationally? You’ll ruin your shirt?”

“You got into a bar fight and you’re telling me to think rationally?”

“It hardly counts as a bar fight,” Jack says, and then sighs heavily. “Use mine. It’s black, it won’t show up, and I’m pretty sure there’s blood on it already anyway.”

Alex presses his lips together and frowns. The blood on Jack’s face isn’t really dripping. “How could there be blood on your shirt?”

Jack lifts his shoulders, shrugging off his leather jacket into Alex’s outstretched hand. “Dude pushed me.”

“...You said he punched you.”

“He did. And then pushed me, you know, with his fists, you know.”

“So he punched you again.”

“No, no, he—” Jack frowns. “I don’t know, who cares?”

“Me! I care! Who the fuck did you fight with? And why? And can I kill him?”

“No, it was stupid, and it doesn’t matter,” Jack says. “Answered your questions in reverse order.” He crosses his arms across his chest and tugs his shirt up over his head, offering it up to Alex inside-out.

“Well, at least you recognize that it was stupid,” Alex mutters. He steers Jack towards the sink counter. “Sit.”

“Come on,” Jack complains. “This is ridiculous. It’s just blood.”

“Everything you say makes me more worried about your well-being. Do you have no sense of self-preservation? Can I never actually leave you alone again?”

“It’s blood, I’ve bled a million times,” Jack says, exasperated. “And for the record, it was noble.”

“Really? Or was it stupid?”

“Can’t it have been both?” Jack sighs, and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

Alex grabs his chin and pulls his head back down. “Maybe. Can’t make a judgement until I know what you got into a fight about. And you have to look at me so I can clean your fucking face, which is bleeding, which is generally regarded as bad.”

“Sorry, mom.”

Alex runs Jack’s shirt under the faucet until it’s soaked through. He wrings out the excess water. “Sit still.”

“Okay, mom.”

Alex rolls his eyes. If it gets Jack to listen, Alex will accept being called mom. He’d like to think that cleaning a friend’s injuries is a thing that any decent human being would do, not just a mother. Not that it really matters. The point is it’s an Alex thing that he’s now doing for Jack.

It’s not something he’d ever anticipated doing. Jack’s not the type to get into fights. He’s a little bit of a thrill-seeker, sure, but he’s not an idiot. Which is why Alex really does kind of believe the fight may have been noble. Jack wouldn’t pick a fight for a stupid reason, but for a noble reason? Sure. Why not.

Jack hisses as Alex starts dabbing the wet t-shirt at his bloody face. His jaw tenses under Alex’s fingertips until finally he mutters, “Okay, ow, stop, stop it, that really hurts, can’t I do it myself?”

Alex’s hand drops from Jack’s face. “I’ll be more careful.”

“You’re not the problem. It’s— I got fucking decked. Everything hurts.” Jack casts a sidelong glance at Alex and exhales loudly. “Give me your hand, I’ll just do the squeeze-when-it-hurts thing.”

Alex offers up his left hand. “You sure?”

Their fingers interlace. Jack nods slowly. “Yeah. Go. I did this to myself.”

“Technically speaking, that dude you fought with did this to you,” Alex mumbles absently as he resumes his task. Jack groans and his grip on Alex’s hand becomes viselike. Alex does what he can, but it’s hard without another hand to keep Jack’s head stable. It’s also hard when his hand is being literally crushed.

“Ow,” Alex says, snatching his hand away. “Jesus, JB, you’ve got a fucking grip.”

“Sorry.”

“I need this hand,” Alex says, semi-apologetically. He’d be more apologetic if Jack hadn’t just been liquifying the bones in his hand. “You keep moving.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“No, I know that. I just—”

“Okay, it’s fine,” Jack mutters. “It’s fine.”

As delicately as he can manage it, Alex settles his fingers along Jack’s jaw, tilting his head in the most convenient direction. Jack continues bemoaning how painful this is, and Alex tunes it out. If it gets desperate, he’s sure Jack will hit him or something.

No assault occurs. Alex gets all of the blood off Jack’s face without further incident. “Okay,” he finally breathes. The sigh of relief that escapes Jack makes his posture fall. Slumped over with his elbows on his knees, he looks suddenly exhausted.

“I think that hurt more than being punched.”

“I doubt it,” Alex says. He rubs a sympathetic hand over Jack’s shoulders. They’re secluded, as much as they can be in the bathroom of a bar. Underwater by the way the walls muffle the music and chatter. Dim light washes over Jack. “Let’s go home.”

“No, we don’t have to.”

“I’m ready to leave and I think you are too.”

“Sorry,” Jack says quietly. “I wasn’t trying to ruin the night.”

“You didn’t.”

“We were just supposed to be getting a drink.”

“I have to say, I think I’m more impressed that you got into a fight while mostly sober.”

“I think I regret it.” Jack winces and curls further into himself. “And now I’m also cold.”

“Here,” Alex says, tugging his arms out of his flannel. “We can go back to my place. Watch a movie. Throw your bloody shirt into the laundry.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says again.

Alex shakes his head. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“It was stupid.”

“You know, I want to believe that, but I just don’t,” Alex says, sighing deeply. “I actually believe it was infuriatingly noble, because you are just that kind of person.”

Jack glances at Alex as he begins buttoning up the flannel. Looks back at the floor. “I don’t know if it was noble. I could have left it alone. That would’ve been the smart thing to do.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was smart. I’m sure it wasn’t.” Alex squeezes Jack’s knee and Jack looks up at him, surprised at the gesture. A small, almost indiscernible smile tugs at his lips.

“Some creep at the bar hitting on the bartender,” he admits. “Being really gross, really loud. Clearly making her uncomfortable. I said I was her boyfriend. Told him to back off. Guy didn’t like that.” He shrugs. “I pushed him, he punched me. Guess that was cause enough to get him kicked out. I mean, they should probably have kicked me out, too, but…the bartender seemed grateful.”

A soft smile crosses Alex’s face despite himself. “So I was right. It was noble.”

“Worth it,” Jack mumbles. “I hate creepy guys in bars. Ruining the experience for all of us. And look, I get hitting on a bartender, but don’t push it when she says no, you know? Anyway. I’d do it again.”

Alex reaches up and flips the collar of the flannel down, and his eyes meet Jack’s. “Did you get her number?”

Jack looks confused. “I didn’t want it. I was just being decent, you know.”

“Oh.” That’s new. Jack loves to collect phone numbers. Feeds his ego or something.

“‘Oh,’ what?”

“No, nothing, I’m just surprised,” Alex says, adjusting the collar. Jack shifts his shoulders. “You’re usually all over that shit.”

“Yeah, well. I’m…otherwise preoccupied. Not interested in a random hookup.”

“What?” Alex fakes a gasp, pretends to be positively scandalized. “What have you done with Jack Barakat?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well? Preoccupied with who? I won’t tell.”

“That’s true, you won’t,” Jack says. “Because I’m not telling you.”

“What? Jack! I swear.”

“It’s not that I think you’re going to tell anyone,” Jack says, rolling his eyes and his sleeves. “What are we, eleven? I just don’t want to say. It’s complicated. I’m still thinking about it.”

Alex squints. “Someone I know?”

“Declining to answer any of your questions starting now.”

“Sure, sure. But is it someone I know?”

“Alex.”

“Okay, fine,” Alex says. “Don’t tell me.”

“Same page,” Jack says dryly, gesturing between them. Alex steps away and gives Jack a critical once-over.

“Let’s go home,” he says. “You should put ice on that.”

Jack slides off the sink counter. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go.”

They’d anticipated being drunk on the way home, so they have to catch a cab. Jack winces when he thinks Alex isn’t looking, and Alex does him the courtesy of pretending not to see. It’s not until they’re back at Alex’s apartment, under the bright living room lights, that the bruise on Jack’s face becomes apparent.

Even Alex winces. “Oh, shit,” he says. He reaches for Jack without thinking and only stops himself just before his fingers graze Jack’s face. “That’s…damn. That’s a shiner.”

“Thank you,” Jack says. “People find this kind of thing hot, right?”

“Uh, damaged people, I guess,” Alex says. Like he’s not, at that exact moment, trying to suppress the thought that it is hot. So is Jack in his flannel. Alex already knows he’s damaged.

“Cool,” Jack says.

Alex wraps an ice pack from the freezer in a dish towel — not that anyone’s counting, but he’s fairly certain it belongs to Rian — and brings it back to the couch. The TV is on. Jack is flicking through titles on Netflix.

“Here,” says Alex. He sits next to Jack and Jack makes as if to take the ice pack, but Alex shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”

“You don’t have to. I’m a big boy. I can hold my own ice pack.”

“I know,” Alex says. He can’t quite figure out why he’s so dead set on doing it anyway, but Jack must read it in his tone, because he turns back to the TV without arguing.

“What are we watching?”

“Dunno, what’s on?”

“The entire Netflix library.”

“A constantly-changing selection,” says Alex, and braces the back of Jack’s head with his free hand. Jack leans into the touch. “Criminal Minds?”

“Great choice,” Jack says. He flinches when Alex holds the ice to his face, but only for a second. Alex is steady and then Jack is too. The Criminal Minds cover fills the TV screen. “Not a movie, but arguably better.”

“I don’t think that’s arguable,” Alex says quietly. Even with the dish towel, the ice is starting to make Alex’s hand cold. He doesn’t mention it.

Jack hits play on whatever episode of the show has come up. They’ve both watched this show all the way through, but it’s nice to have a show like that to share. On the one hand, neither of them ever tire of it. On the other, they’ve seen it all before, which means they don’t have to become invested or pay close attention.

Jack leans into Alex as the episode starts. Alex’s arm wraps around Jack’s shoulders. They stay that way until the episode ends, and Alex would call it convenient for holding the ice pack, but he sets the ice pack down about six minutes in, whispering that he can’t feel his fingers.

In response, Jack sandwiches Alex’s hand between his own without a word. Alex doesn’t say anything.

He sort of doesn’t think he needs to.

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firefly464 · 4 years

Text

The Real World - Chapter 8

ok this chapter is slightly shorter, so sorry about that!

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now

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~~~

The week passed by rather quickly, and without incident. Every day, Tommy would try to talk to Wilbur. And every day, something would happen. He would always walk in on Wilbur talking with someone else, or drawing up some sort of battle plans. Sometimes he would just end up talking himself out of it, mostly out of fear of Wilbur’s reaction. He couldn’t bear the idea of his friend looking at him with disappointment, and maybe even fear. The fact that he was lying only made it ten times worse. With every day he put it off, the harder and harder it became.

Every night, he would sneak out to go and train with George and Dream. His knowledge of sword fighting hadn’t exactly improved much, but it was odd. The repetitive motions of sword fighting felt familiar to him, as if he had done it hundreds of times before. It didn’t make any sense, considering how he had never picked up a sword in his life, but it was definitely there. Perhaps it was muscle memory from the other Tommy? That would make the most sense, but even so, it was strange. Either way, his sword fighting skills were increasing dramatically. He was still nowhere on the same level as George or any of the others, but he could at least last for nearly a minute now in a sparring session. Considering how he had started not even able to stand properly, he saw that as an improvement.

The three of them would trade stories as they trained, each one learning new things about the other world. It was nice, being able to relax and just hang out with friends again like nothing had changed. Of course, the swords broke the illusion slightly, but it was still something that Tommy looked forward to each and every day.

It was the night before Tommy’s deadline passed, and the three of them were out training like normal.

“No way. You’re lying, there's no way that's true.” George’s voice cut through the thoughts in Tommy’s mind as he tried to catch up to what was going on.

“I’m not! I swear it's true!” Dream replied.

“So you’re telling me that I can’t see all the colors?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s complete bullshit. You’re such a liar. I think I would have noticed something like that.”

“I’m serious! Here, look at this.” Dream pulled Tommy over and held up his jacket sleeve to the boy's blonde hair. “How different are these two colors?”

“I dunno, they look pretty similar.”

Tommy couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He had known about George’s colorblindness, but he hadn’t actually considered the fact that he may not even know about it in this world. It made sense, there was no way for him to figure it out. And if he had lived with it his whole life, then he would have never even realized that something was wrong.

“George, these are completely different colors,” Dream said, clearly trying his best to not laugh.

“What? No way, no they aren’t. They look the same!”

“Pffft, I swear that they are completely different colors,” Dream said with a laugh.

“Christ man, I knew your eyes were messed up but I didn’t realize that they were that bad,” Tommy teased, earning an indignant squawk from George.

“My eyes are perfectly fine thank you very much!”

“Yeah, alright Big G, whatever you say.” The three of them talked like that for a while, late into the night. Tommy wasn’t sure what time it was when he finally left, but he had walked back to his little shack with a smile.

~~~

Tommy stood at the entrance to the underground bunker for what felt like the hundredth time that week. God, he hated walking through the damn tunnel. It was small and cramped, not to mention just downright creepy. The memory of the piercing bell only made it ten times worse. Every time he stepped foot inside the small tunnel, he was terrified that it was going to ring out again, leaving him shaking, scared, and alone on the rocky ground. He had already chickened out from talking to Wilbur several times that week, just out of pure hatred of the tunnel.

Now though, he didn’t really have an option. George’s deadline had passed the day before, and now his only hope was to get to Wilbur before George did. Tommy wanted Wilbur to hear the story from him, not from someone else. If George was the one to tell him, then he would likely jump to conclusions. Conclusions that George simply didn’t have the ability to explain away. No. Tommy needed to be the one to tell Wilbur. It was only right.

With a trembling breath, he stepped into the long, dark corridor. The silence surrounded instantly, suffocating him, drowning him. He shook his head desperately. He wasn’t going to let something like a stupid tunnel stop him. His fingers began to dance across the hilt of his sword, creating a slight pinging sound. It wasn’t much, but the soft noise helped to fill the all consuming silence. It was ok, he was going to be ok. The sound of his footfalls against the stone helped to comfort him as well. As long as he kept moving, the sound would continue. Just as long as he kept moving, he would be ok.

He was about three quarters of the way to the bunker when he first heard the muffled sounds of voices. It was the sound of arguing, of shouting. Wilbur’s voice drifted through the tunnel towards him, echoing throughout the small space. “What?! Then where the fuck is Tommy?!” he cried out, his voice filled with desperation and fear.

George's reply was faint, too far away to hear, but Tommy had a decent guess of what he had said. He didn’t know. No one knew. The other Tommy had disappeared and no one knew what had happened. For all they knew, he could have died. Fuck… that was probably what Wilbur was thinking as well. He needed to get in there, to explain himself.

“That doesn’t- how the fuck do I know you’re not lying?!” Wilbur shouted. Tommy ran towards the sound of voices, desperate for a chance to explain himself. He needed to tell Wilbur the whole story, from his point of view.

As he burst into the small bunker, he couldn’t help but look around in awe. What had once been a small, three by three room was now a multi-room underground house. Only the main room was surrounded by obsidian, but the other rooms had small doorways that could easily be blocked off and covered if needed. Tommy had to admit, it was an impressive sight to behold. At the center of the main room sat a table covered in different maps and plans. Bookshelves lined the walls, all filled to the brim with different books. It was the type of area that should have felt cold and empty, but was somehow filled with a lively warmth.

At the center of it all, standing over the table, were his friends. Wilbur towered over George, staring at him pleadingly. “Where the fuck is he? How did you even know any of this?!”

“Wilbur! Will, I can explain,” Tommy said, putting his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Wilbur crossed over to the entrance in three strides and placed his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. His eyes burned with anger and pain, but there was an undertone of regret as well. Perhaps regret that he couldn’t do anything? Or regret that he hadn’t noticed sooner? Tommy didn’t know. “Where is he?! What the fuck did you do to him?!” He shouted, shaking the younger teenager as he interrogated him.

“I-I don’t know! I didn’t do anything, I swear! Just give me a chance to explain, please!” Tommy pleaded, trying to get his friend to see reason.

“Bullshit! I fucking knew something was up with you, but I didn’t think that it was something like this! Who the fuck even are you anyways?!” “I’m still Tommy! Just give me a chance to fucking explain myself!” he cried, pushing Wilbur away. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. I just want to go home”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you want. All I care about is the fact that you’ve possessed the body of my right hand man, and apparently you’ve been plotting with the men of the DreamSMP,” Wilbur snarled.

“What…? Wha- no, I didn’t! I had no say over any of this! I was living my normal life when suddenly I was here! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to go home ever since!”

“Oh really? And when did that happen? How long have you been ‘trapped’ here?” he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

“I dunno, two weeks maybe? I-It happened during the duel with Dream…”

“Right. Two weeks that you could have come and talked to me. Two weeks that you could have come and asked for help, or just told me what was going on. Instead, you sneak out in the middle of the night to talk with Dream. God, you’re just as bad as Eret.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “How did you…?” “I fucking saw you! Did you really think I was going to let you go out in the middle of the night without backup?! No, of course not!” “So you followed me?!” “Yeah! I needed to make sure that you weren’t going to go and do something stupid! Low and behold, you went directly to talk with Dream of all people. The only reason I didn’t confront you was because I knew I needed to trust my right hand man. But apparently he’s gone! He’s fucking gone and I had no clue!” His voice broke on the last sentence as tears started to form in his eyes. Hastily, he wiped them away.

“What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hi Wilbur, by the way I’m a Tommy from a different dimension where all of this is just a fun video game. Oh also the man that tried to kill all of you is the only person who I can actually talk to about this because he’s going through it too,’” Tommy scoffed. “Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds?! You would have said I was insane and then called it a day. I wouldn’t even have had a chance to fucking talk.”

“You could have at least tried! If you really are just a different Tommy, than why the hell did you not trust me enough to talk to me? I would have listened!” “Because you were at war! You were in the middle of a fucking war and there was just never a good time. Believe me, I thought about it, but you just always seemed so stressed out and I couldn’t find it in myself to add more to the pile.”

“But you still should have tried.” Wilbur turned his back to the boy and walked over to the tables. “Who else knows.”

“Uh, Tubbo thinks I have slight amnesia, but other than that, it's just George. Dream knows since he’s in the same boat as me, but that's besides the point.”

He nodded gravely. “Right. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out there and tell Tubbo that his best friend may be dead because of you, and then I want you gone. I want you out of my sight. Until you can tell me exactly what happened to the real Tommy, I want you out of these walls. Understood?”

Tommy could feel his heart shatter. No, this couldn’t be happening. He had just started to get used to the supportive family that L’Manberg provided, and now it was being taken away. Even worse than that, he needed to go face Tubbo… He wasn’t sure how his friend would react, but it likely wasn’t going to be good. Still, this was what he deserved, wasn’t it? He had technically caused the disappearance of this world's Tommy, even if he didn’t do anything on purpose. The other boy was still gone because of him. “Of course… Yes sir,” He said solemnly.

“Good. George, I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention. I may not consider you an ally, but you have gained my respect.”

“Thank you Wilbur. I felt that you had the right to know. Come on Tommy, let's go,” George said, as he walked past Tommy and into the dark tunnel once more. Tommy spared one last glance behind him before he followed George, trying to get one last look at his friend. All he could see was a tall, hunched over figure. As the two of them walked towards the daylight, the boy swore he could hear the distant sobs of a heartbroken man.

~~~

be careful what you wish for :)

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#this is what you guys wanted right?#its totally what you guys asked for :D #im just gonna tell myself that this is what you asked for :D #god everyone in this world just needs a hug #The Real World #The Real World AU #dreamteam #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #mcyt #mcyt au #dream smp #my writing #fanfiction #L'manberg #tommyinnit

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aevapollo · 3 years

Text

As I Am

My entry for the @trans-mages exchange week, my gift for @wellbelesbian. I hope you enjoy it!

My prompt was: Non-binary Baz, perhaps experimenting with pronouns and presentation and feeling affirmed by Simon and his friends.

(The title is from this quote from Carry On: "I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to carry on. As I am." -Baz)

Read it on AO3 or continue here!

Baz

Simon looks peaceful, looking up at the sun like that. Blissfully unaware of my fidgeting hands. I think about what he said just now--what he said about the vampire hotel, how happy and natural I seemed. The worst part is, he’s not wrong. Obviously, I didn’t want to stay there. That would’ve been a nightmare. But there was something about that night… I think it made me see myself in a way I never had before. That night, I got to be the gayest, sparkliest vampire there ever was. I got to be the most me I’ve ever been, and I liked it. Shit, I loved it.

I dunno. I’ve always been something less-than-masculine, much to my father’s chagrin. All those times I let my hair get just a little too long, whenever I wore a shirt that was just a bit too silky… he always had some carefully selected words. I never cared much for what he said about me. My goal back then was to push the limits of what he’d allow, but… maybe now that I’m with Simon, things will be different. Maybe I can finally be an adult about it and communicate. I could make up for all those years of repressed emotions.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey, Simon?”

“Hmmm?” He turns his head back to me but barely opens his eyes.

“ I-I need to tell you about something. And I don’t want to make you more stressed than you already are, or-or anything like that. So don’t feel like you need to understand me or act differently around me or feel--”

“--Baz, are you okay?” Simon cuts me off. He’d opened his eyes now, and seemed concerned.

I take a shaky breath. “Listen, I- I’m- I don’t really know if I’m totally… a guy. Like, I don’t think I want to be a girl, but what if I’m… neither? What if I’m non-binary, or something… like… that?” It all comes out in one big waterfall of words. Crowley, I hate feeling so out of control like this.

Simon’s brow is knotted. He’s thinking. “Alright, so non-binary… do you want to use different pronouns? And I shouldn’t call you ‘boyfriend’ anymore, right?”

“I...yeah. Yeah, exactly. I have wanted to try out they/them pronouns, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course I don’t mind. Baz, I-- you know I’d love you no matter what, right? I won’t stop just because you’re not a boy. Christ, I still don’t know if I’m gay or what, but I know I love you.”

He loves me. He said he loves me, that’s the first time he’s actually said it. The tears are coming. For once I don’t try to stop them or even hide my face. Simon pulls me into a hug, and I just melt into his arms. Somehow, nothing is wrong anymore now that I’m here.

***

I knew I would tell Simon first, and maybe I should leave it at that, but I just want to get this off my chest as soon as possible. After a while of being disgustingly vulnerable with him, I make my way back up to the house and onto the balcony. Shepard is here, too. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Deep breath. “Hey. Um. Can I say something? I’m fairly sure I’m non-binary, and I’d like to try out they/them pronouns for a bit.” The words are coming out much easier the second time around.

Bunce’s eyes light up. “You are?! Oh, I’m so glad you told me! Wait, wait, I think I just saw an article about this the other day… some American celebrity who came out as non-binary? Hang on, I can find it real quick--”

“--That’s fine, but I appreciate it. Really,” I can’t help smiling at her excitement. Somehow this whole “coming out” thing has sapped me of all my sarcasm.

“Cool. I know some non-binary folks. Have you got a new name, or are you still going by Baz?”

“I’m still Baz, thanks.” Shepard hardly looks surprised, and I can’t say I blame him. I haven’t exactly been trying to act straight since we’ve known each other.

Just then, Wellbelove slides the balcony door open, looking anxious. I prepare myself to give the speech again, but she speaks first. “Hey, Baz, I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to know anything yet but I… Well, I heard everything. The doors aren’t exactly soundproof. Still, I’m happy for you.” She manages a nervous smile.

“No, no, it’s alright. Makes things that much easier on me.” Everything happened so quickly. I’m not sure how I feel about Wellbelove finding out, but it was bound to happen eventually. I guess it’s good that she knows now, even if we’re not exactly close friends. Maybe that’s another thing I should work on, now that I’ve decided to be an adult. I could leave all these weird grudges in the past.

***

Later, Simon comes back inside and we all eat dinner in relative silence. It’s less like a family meal and more like the casual school dining halls we’re all accustomed to (except for Shepard, I suppose. Or maybe he had something similar). Wellbelove has been looking at me weirdly since she found out. I know she said she was happy for me, but I can’t help but worry about what she really thinks. I try to focus on Shepard spilling barbeque sauce everywhere.

Simon leans over to me. “Hey, Baz, I was wondering… does this mean you would want to wear different clothes? Or, like, makeup or something?”

I had expected questions like this. “Well, yeah, I have wanted to try wearing a skirt. Just to see if I like it, I mean.”

To my surprise, Wellbelove speaks up again. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps she’s also attempting to mend our strange relationship.

“I’ve got some skirts that you could try on. If you want to, that is. I… don’t wear them much, anyway.”

“I--yeah, that would be really nice. You’re sure?”

She nods and stands up. I hesitantly follow her into an (unnecessarily posh, even by my standards) bedroom and can barely take in the surroundings before she shoves an armful of skirt in my face.

I crane my neck over the pile of fabric. “Um. Thank you, really. You didn’t have to do this, but…”

She looks down. “No, I wanted to. You know, I’ve been kind of questioning myself as well, but I didn’t want to say anything about it until I was sure,” she lowers her voice, “and at this point maybe I never will be. But this is the least I can do, right?” She offers another half-smile, and I do my best to return it.

“Well, that’s… thank you. Again. And you can talk to me about it. If you want to, of course. I… It might be nice to have someone to relate to.” I’m not sure if I’m reassuring her or myself at this point. Wellbelove seems to understand, and brightens up a bit.

“No, thank you. And you can keep the skirts if you want. I don’t think they suit me.”

She leaves me to sift through the pile. I eventually land on a possibility: it’s a deep forest green, smooth and swirly. When I hold it against my waist, it comes down just above my knees. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t be holding this; like nothing I do will ever turn me into the person I see myself as. But part of me also thinks skirts are fun, and that’s good enough for me. Nothing left to do but try it on.

I look in the mirror and-- Crowley, not again. I’m starting to cry again. It’s just a skirt, but-- well, something about this just makes me feel… different. A good different. More like myself.

Okay, take some deep breaths. I dry my eyes and stand up straight, twirling around a bit. I’m smiling like an idiot now, but I don’t mind. This is the happiest I’ve been for a long time.

I grab the doorknob and throw the door open, shamelessly strutting out and modeling the skirt for everyone. I hardly ever get to be myself like this, and I’m going to enjoy it if it’s the last thing I do.

Everyone’s looking at me. Everyone’s looking at me. Stay calm. Wellbelove is beaming, though she’s trying to hide behind her hands. Shepard just grins and gives me a thumbs-up. Simon’s face is bright red (can’t say I don’t enjoy that), and Bunce puts her hands in front of her mouth and squeals.

“Baz!! You look so good! The color really suits you!”

“Thank you,” I can’t control my smile at this point, “I--” Wait. I have an idea. My mother’s scarf--it’s still folded up in my shirt pocket. I unfold it and tie it around my hair, just like how she used to wear it. Simon’s regained his senses by now and gives me a small smile. I wonder what my mother would say if she could see me now.

Simon gets up and pulls me into a hug. I hug him back, and any apprehension I had fades away. Something about this is familiar; much as we used to hate each other, seeing Simon at Watford always felt like more of a home than my “real” family ever did. Now it’s still the same: I’m at home wherever he is. Nobody can tell me who to be anymore.

***

Bonus:

Simon

Baz looks so good in a skirt. Of course, they do. They look good in everything. Still… something about the way they carry themselves now, how comfortable they look… this is more meaningful. I can’t pretend to know how they feel, or what they’re going through, but I do love them. I’m finally brave enough to say it.

As I pull Baz into a hug, I whisper it into their ear once again: “I love you. So much.”

They squeeze me tighter and return with an “I love you too. Even if your hair smells like barbeque smoke.”

Thank you for reading! This is the first fic I’ve ever published so hopefully I did good haha

This was like… wAYY longer than I planned to write but in my defense, this prompt was lovely and I just wanted there to be more. #noregrets this was very fun and I hope it’s fun for others as well :)

Also, I planned to post this earlier today but..... my laptop died and then I had to catch a flight. And then I thought "you know what would be a great idea? Writing a bonus section!!" ...so r.i.p. my schedule I guess ://

#transmages exchange #simon snow trilogy #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #nonbinary baz pitch #questioning agatha wellbelove #simon snow being a supportive boyfriend #The Gang (TM) being supportive friends #uhh yeah idk what else to tag #i wrote too much #im very tired #this is the first fic ive ever posted!! so I'm super nervous lmao #thats it #i hope you enjoy!

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mistersshelby · 4 years

Note

Could you maybe write something when the reader has to undergo an surgery or any medical treatment and she doesn’t tell anyone about it but Thomas finds out. They wouldn’t be together or anything but he would be into her and vice versa. A the beginning (the confrontation) maybe he would be cold and stuff and then soft? I wish you the motivation to write! And can’t wait for anything you post! Take care!!! x

hi love, i hope you like this!!

tw: rape mention

questions, comments, concerns

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Ada squeezed your hand as you walked into the abortion clinic together. It was just a few days ago when you had repeatedly knocked on her door, tears streaming down your face, to explain that the man who had raped you three months ago had left more inside you than you initially thought.

It was just three months ago that your world had turned upside down, a Blinder that Tommy had just hired not even a week ago had gotten you very drunk and pushed you into a coat closet. It was so loud in the Garrison that no one heard your screams and Ada only found you passed out in a pool of your own vomit hours later once everyone had left. When you had told Ada, Ada had gone to Polly who quietly fired the man, telling Tommy he had stolen from the company. Tommy never questioned it.

Since then, you had been different and everyone at Shelby Company Limited was beginning to notice. Normally the only cheery person who worked in the office, you kept to yourself now. Only talking to people when absolutely necessary. Tommy lit a cigarette and watched you, “What’s wrong with her?” Tommy said to Ada one day.

Ada frowned, “Don’t know what you mean.”

Tommy looked at Ada, obviously not buying her bullshit, “She hasn’t brought flowers in for everyone’s desk in months. She’s taking all of next week off. She’s never asked for time off. When I asked where she was going she said she wanted to catch up on her reading.”

Ada shrugs, “Yeah, and? Maybe she actually wants to catch up on her reading. Maybe she’s sick of flowers.”

Tommy’s frowning and shaking his head, he puts out his cigarette on the ashtray behind him, “No, it’s more than that and you’re not telling me, but no matter, Ada, I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Thomas,” Ada said sternly, “Leave it alone.” And then she walked off, leaving him to watch you by himself. There was no way he was leaving it alone.

So now it was that you walked into the abortion clinic with Ada, an appointment she had gotten for you. She had explained that she had once considered the service and Pol had made an appointment for her and so they knew her and Polly there. It was easy to get you in.

“You’ll be alright, I’ll be waiting out here, okay?” Ada squeezed you close for a minute before handing you off to the doctors. You weren’t doing very well with the trauma and quite frankly didn’t feel much of anything since. You felt you were just going through the motions of life without actually feeling or processing any of it. It was difficult for you to bathe because you couldn’t stand the sight of your own body. You had moved a bunch of heavy furniture in front of your door for fear of someone breaking in. You slept with a kitchen knife under your pillow just in case. And now as you followed the doctor into another room, you felt no fear, though you had heard horror stories of women who got abortions and died. Your life didn’t quite matter to you anymore.

But, as it was, you came out a couple hours later to an anxious Ada, in loads of pain, but alive. You wondered if one day you’d grow to regret terminating the life that grew inside you, but all you knew now was the idea of anything of his being inside you made you feel like you needed an entirely new body.

Ada talked a lot while she brought you home, the start of your week off from work as you recovered. She stayed with you well into the night making sure you were alright before finally leaving well past midnight. You were sad to see her go, you hated to be alone, but didn’t want to ask her to stay either. You were thankful for the pain pills, though, as they wiped out the possibility of nightmares. The nightmares were always the worst.

***

Tommy stared blankly at your empty desk for the second day in a row. Finally, he got up to leave, not telling anyone where he was going and turned up on Ada’s doorstep.

“Tommy?” She frowned when she opened the door, “Is something wrong? Why are you here?”

He storms past her into the house, not waiting for her to invite him in, “I need to know what’s going on with Y/N, she’s my employee, I deserve to know.”

Ada scoffed and closed the front door, “You’re not entitled to her personal life, what is this obsession with her lately that you’ve developed?”

Tommy collapses into a chair and sighs, rubbing at his forehead, “I’m worried about her.” He says quietly.

She sits across from him and scrutinizes him quietly, “You fancy her, don’t you?”

“What?” Tommy shakes his head, “No, she’s just not herself and I want to know what’s bothering her.”

“Okay, well, as her friend you should take my word for it that she’s alright. I have it handled, Tommy, alright?”

Just then, Tommy spies a doctor’s note on Ada’s coffee table and snatches it up.

“Tommy, give that back!” Ada says urgently, trying to grab it from his hands.

“Did you get an abortion?” He says, having scanned the paper.

She snatches it back from him, “Christ, nothing in this family can ever be private. But no, I didn’t.”

“Then who’s paper is that?” Ada’s silent, opening and closing her mouth a few times before Tommy’s put it together. “It’s Y/N’s paper, isn’t it? That’s why she took next week out, to recover.”

“Tommy, I swear to God, leave it. If you show up at her apartment bothering her while she’s recovering–”

Tommy rises and walks towards the door, “Thank you for this enlightening visit, Ada, you’ve been a tremendous help.”

“Thomas, I’m not joking, you leave her alone!”

But Tommy closes the door before she can say anything else.

***

“What d’you mean he’s coming to my apartment?” You were on the phone with Ada, sat in bed with a cup of tea.

“He… He’s been trying to figure out what’s going on with you the past few days, I dunno why he’s so obsessed with it, I think maybe he fancies you,” You snort at this and Ada waits for you to stop laughing before continuing, “but he came over today and found the doctor’s note. He thought it was mine and when I said it wasn’t he put it all together.”

You groaned, “Fuck, Ada.”

“I’m sorry, he’s been badgering me for days, I didn’t expect him to show up at my house.”

There’s suddenly a loud knocking at your door and you sigh, “Well, looks like my employer’s here so I should go answer that.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, honest. When Tommy wants to know something, he figures it out.”

“It’s fine Ada.” The knocking grows louder, “I’m gonna go before your brother breaks down my door.”

They say their goodbyes and you shout that you’re coming so Tommy will stop pounding like murder on your door. When you finally push your couch away from the door and open it, Tommy bounds inside.

“I’m on vacation, you know.” You say moodily.

“You got an abortion.” He says it like an accusation.

“That’s my private information.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

You frown at the hurt in his voice, “Why would I tell you?”

“That’s a fuckin’ dangerous procedure, Y/N, why would you need to get something like that done? Were you worried about the money? Raising a baby? I could’ve helped. I would’ve helped you.”

You stare at him for a moment, “Are you serious? This is somehow about your hurt feelings because I didn’t give you the chance to provide for my baby, a baby I didn’t want?”

“You could’ve died, Y/N! It’s not fuckin’ about me, it’s about you! Did you even think about that?”

“Of course I fuckin’ thought about it!” You shouted, “And I decided I’d rather be dead than carry around the baby of the man who raped me, alright? Is that what you wanted to fuckin’ hear, Tommy?”

He looks as if you’d punched him in the stomach, “Wha–? Rape? Who?”

You shake your head, “It’s not important.”

“That’s bullshit,” He’s angry again, “Who was it?”

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business Tommy. I know you can’t stand it when you don’t know everything, but it’s not your business. I don’t need you running around killing people in my honor. It’s already been taken care of.”

“Taken care of? By who?”

You stand there shaking your head, “Why do you need to know? Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

“Because you’re my employee, I’m responsible for you.”

“Polly and Ada took care of it for me. Please just drop it.” You wince and bring your hand to your abdomen. Tommy rises immediately and guides you to the bed.

“Are you alright?” He brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His face is very close to yours and it reminds you of the crush you had on him when you first met the Shelbys. You used to watch him smoke and ended up picking up the habit just so you’d have an excuse to have some alone time with him outside the office. “Fine.” You murmur, tearing your eyes from his.

He sits on the edge of your bed quietly for a few moments before breaking the silence, “I’m sorry if I… Pushed you too hard.” You snort. He continues as if he didn’t hear, “I’ve always felt… Protective of you since you befriended Ada and came to work for us. You’ve always been so… happy.” He smiles at the recollection of your first day at the office. You had been walking around humming, putting flowers on everyone’s desk. John told you he would cut you if you didn’t stop humming, and you simply giggled and tucked a flower behind his ear. John had smiled the rest of the day. “I never wanted this world to change you and now I feel responsible for allowing all of this to happen.”

“Tommy, you didn’t… How could you have stopped it?”

“It was Frank, wasn’t it? The one Pol let go on his first week? She told me he stole something.”

Tears prick your eyes and you look away from him, “He trapped me in a coat closet at the Garrison on a Friday after we all headed there after work. I drank too much.” You shrug and swipe at your eyes, “It was my fault, Tommy, not yours.”

He’s shaking his head, “It was your fault for getting drunk in my bar? In the one place nothing should have ever harmed you? I hired him. I was at that bar. I noticed you were both gone and I just thought maybe you had taken a liking to him. I should’ve looked for you.”

“S’Alright, Tommy. I don’t blame you. I blame him.” He’s quiet now, and then you remember something that makes you laugh, “You know, Ada said on the phone that she thinks you’re acting like this because you fancy me. She’s absolutely barking, but it gave me a good laugh.”

Tommy’s still quiet, but he turns to look at you. Not a hint of a smile on his face, “Would it be so horrible if I did?” He turns away from you quickly, “Don’t answer that.”

You frown at him, “Tommy, you–?” You shake your head, “I’m nothing like the women you typically go after, I’ve seen them, I’m not–”

He shakes his head, “Just forget it.” He stands, pulling his cap back on, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Tommy, wait!” But he’s already gone, the door shut behind him. “Fuck.” You swore and fell back against your pillows.

***

You spent most of your days away from work debating on ringing Tommy and then thinking better of it. Before you knew it, it was time to return to work. You weren’t 100% yourself again, you weren’t sure if you ever would be after what Frank had done to you. But, you felt much better. You even brought some flowers into the office today.

John hugged you when you came in, taking his flowers and saying he missed you, which made you smile. You went around the office distributing the flowers, until you knocked on the door of Tommy’s study.

“Come in.” You heard his voice call through the door.

You ignored the way your heart seemed to want to jump out of your chest as you leaned against the door behind you. “I brought you some flowers.” You say quietly and he looks up from his work.

Then he looks back down, no emotion on his face, “You look well.”

You place the vase you had already filled with water and sugar on his desk and then place the flowers inside, “Can we talk?”

“Is it important? I’m busy.”

You almost back out just then, thinking maybe everything he had told you was a fever dream that you had imagined, but you stand your ground. “Yeah, it is.”

He looks up again, placing his pen down, and gesturing for you to sit, “Go on, then.”

You take a deep breath, “I never smoked before I met you, you know. I didn’t drink whiskey before, either. I started smoking so I’d have an excuse to be alone with you during the day and I started drinking whiskey to impress you. But I knew I wasn’t like the women you were attracted to, I saw the girls you watched carefully in the Garrison.” You shrugged, “So I never said anything. I was happy just getting what little attention you’d give me. But I’ve been in love with you for ages, Tom.”

He’s shaking his head, “You’re the girl who brings flowers to the office everyday and you think you’re in love with me?” You open your mouth to protest, but he holds a finger up to quiet you, “How about this, eh? After you told me to leave it alone, I left your apartment and tracked down Frank. Then I brought him back here and I tortured him for three hours before I finally killed him and burned his body. You still think you love me?”

You shake your head, “I know what you do, I know what kind of man you are, it doesn’t scare me. I’d been fantasizing about you killing him for weeks, so, thank you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me in the first place?”

“Because I was ashamed, Tommy. I blamed myself, hated myself, every second of every day until you came to my apartment and told me it wasn’t my fault.” Tears stream down her face now, “I didn’t want you to look at me differently. Like damaged goods.”

He looks at you like he’s not quite sure what to do, but eventually stands and walks around his desk to meet you. “Come on, stand up.” He coaxes and pulls you out of your seat and into his arms, “I’m sorry.” He says, stroking your hair, “I won’t let anything happen to you again, alright?”

He pulls back to press your foreheads together, “I love you. Nothing you do will ever change that.”

His face is so close to yours, his breath intoxicating, you can barely think about anything else. You manage a nod and then you slowly lean just a centimeter forward, to see how he reacts. His hand is on the back of your neck and reaches up to tangle in your hair before he pulls you forward the remaining inch. The kiss starts off soft and tentative, both of you seemingly unsure if the other is going to break it off at any moment. But then Tommy sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and you can’t help the way you moan.

Tommy backs you into the desk and then lifts you up to sit on it before pulling away breathlessly, “Is this… Is this alright? I know you’re probably…” He trails off and you know he’s thinking of Frank, “We can stop.”

It was true you knew you couldn’t handle the idea of sex at the moment, but kissing him was blissful. Kissing him you could do, “Can we just… Keep doing this for a while? Nothing more?”

He smiles, “We can do whatever you want, sweetheart.” And then he leans down to kiss and suck on your neck, your eyes rolling back at his touch.

“Tommy,” You said and he pulled away immediately, searching your eyes with concern, “I love you, too, you know. No matter what you do.”

He smiles again and it’s truly lovely, even lovelier that it’s just for you. He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and softly kisses your mouth, “I think you should probably get back to work now.”

You nod and slide off the desk, “Okay.”

He gives you one more kiss and then you walk out of the study. When you look back at him as you shut the door, he’s still watching you, a grin on his face. You weren’t exactly healed, not entirely yourself again yet, but you think with Tommy’s help you’ll get there one day.

You smile to yourself as Tommy walks around the office humming for the rest of the day.

#tw: rape #tw: rape mention #mine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #anonymous

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dumb-little-trans-writer · 3 years

Text

Rust and Black Thorn Trees. Chapter 2.

The girl tiredly wandered, getting increasingly exhausted.

She didn’t know where she was.

She knew nothing.

What Miranda neglected to focus on, however, was the fact that she also transformed when on the brink of death, to attempt to find something, anything, to eat, or to wear.

She saw a pack of lycans.

She silently transformed, as how Mother taught her.

Or, more accurately, beat into her.

She stalked the lycans for the perfect moment.

They grabbed bunnies as though they were chips, the high-pitched screaming echoing through her ears.

As one of the lycans had a rabbits leg in it’s mouth, Dasha struck the lycan closest to her, slashing it’s throat. She quickly moved from lycan to lycan before they could react.

As she transformed back, she immediately started tearing the flesh from the lycans with her teeth. She found that eating right after transforming prevents the nausea and the puking, it doesn’t prevent the leaking of the liquid from her eyes and nose, though.

She binged, knowing that this may be her last meal for a while.

She could smell winter on the horizon, and this was her life for the next six years.

Over these six gruesome years, she was able to find the occasional lost tourist or hunter in the forests surrounding Heisenberg’s Factory.

She stole their weapons, and their clothing.

She found that she preferred men’s clothing.

The girl would transform less and less, using the limited ammo and resources she had.

Karl Heisenberg watched her last hunt, as it was the closest to the factory she’d ever been.

Risky.

Hmm, he thought as he watched her dance with the lycans.

With a shotgun shell to the face, of course.

“Hey, you know, there isn’t anyone who can sell you ammo around here,” Heisenberg said, walking toward the girl. She jumped, cautious, “if you run out, you’re kinda fucked.” he stated, putting out his cigar.

She had heard of Lord Heisenberg. Never met him though.

“What are you implying?” she spat.

“All i’m saying is that running out of shotgun shells during the wintertime, when it’s nearly below zero, can be deadly,” he paused, spitting on the cold leaves, “especially for someone as tiny as you.” he laughed at her glare.

“Don’t call me tiny.” she replied, walking past him.

In the recesses of her mind, she was okay with it.

Heisenberg led Dasha to his factory.

It was loud.

The metal clanging against itself, the periodic releases of steam, and the...chainsaw revving?

Heisenberg opened a hatch, and screamed “SHUT YOUR HOLE, ROTTEN CUNT.”

The revving stopped.

“Is one of your failed experiments down there, Karl?” she teased, taking off her jacket as the humidity made it extremely warm, and uncomfortably sweaty. It revealed how muscular she had grown. She was still slim, but a little buffer from when she was with Her.

He seemed taken aback by her calling him Karl, instead of Lord, or even just his last name.

He liked that she didn’t pay his status any mind, he knows he didn’t give a fuck.

“Maybe. I’ll throw you down there if you decide to say some shit.” Heisenberg said with a slight growl.

“I could take it, i bet.” she purred.

“Don’t tempt me, bitch.” Heisenberg whispered, emphasizing ‘bitch’

The girl lightly skipped down the hallway, amusing Heisenberg.

“If I didn'thave a spare room I'd make you sleep outside.” Heisenberg called. She turned and nodded, “It’s right over here.” he pointed to a door on the side of another hallway. The room they were currently in had the bare necessities, albeit it was a mess.

She really didn’t mind though.

She walked to the room he was talking about, and opened the door to a bed that seemed to be collecting dust.

In fact, everything seemed to be barely touched.

Despite her past with cleaning, she needed to at least dust everything down.

“You got something i can wipe this shit down with? Looks like a tomb in here.” she yelled.

“Yeah, gimme a sec, christ” Heisenberg seemed to be struggling with something. She left the room, confused, and then amused at the sight before her.

He seemed to be trying to fix his oven, or cleaning it, whatever he was doing, he was struggling with it.

“Pfft, need help?” she asked, smirking.

“I’d rather kill myself than get help from you.” he coldly replied, sighing as he took his head out of the oven. His face was slightly stained with ash, and he was sweating. She leaned up again the counter, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. Now that she had a closer look, he seemed to be cleaning to oven judging by the ash stained rag soaked in water he was holding.

“This isn’t how you do it, let me help you.” she demanded. Heisenberg was slightly surprised by this, but silently swallowed a bite of his pride, and stood up, arms crossed.

“So how do YOU do it?” Heisenberg asked in a condescending tone.

“You got baking soda?” she suddenly asked, “’cause we’re gonna need a decent amount.” she added, taking out the oven racks.

“I have a lot of it, i guess.” Heisenberg replied, slightly confused.

“Do you realize how much of a fire hazard this is? I might scrub your entire fucking house down at this rate.” Dasha exclaimed, “where’s the baking soda?”

“There.” he pointed to a cabinet. She opened it and grabbed the tin, holding it for a moment to see if she’d need another one.

“Vinegar?” she asked.

“In the same cabinet.” Heisenberg said, annoyed and impatient.

“This is gonna take a day, I hope you know.” Dasha laughed.

“Fucking WHAT?” Heisenberg asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I have to-”

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME AND YOU’RE CLEANING MY OVEN.” Heisenberg said, frustrated.

“...Do you wanna know my name?” she asked, pouring baking soda and water into a cup, “or how to clean your own fuckin’ oven?” she said, sarcastically.

“Both’s fine I guess.” Heisenberg rolled his eyes.

“Dasha Jelíneková. That’s my name.”

“Dein Name ist schön...” Heisenberg muttered.

“...what?” Dasha asked, confused.

“Nothin’. Explain why it’s gonna take a day.” he quickly changed topics.

“Well, wiping down the interior with a soaked rag might get some of the grime off, but it won’t get it all off,” she paused as she mixed more baking soda in with the water to make a paste, “deep cleaning your oven like this also helps heat disperse evenly.” she explained.

“Seriously..?” he muttered, thinking about how his last meal was damn-near raw in some spots, and burnt in others.

“So, you take baking soda and water, make a paste with it like this,” she stuck the cup in his face, “you got rubber gloves, right?” she asked.

“Take a fuckin’ guess.” Heisenberg laughed at the question.

“Hand ‘em to me, dickhead.” she said, making a poor attempt to hide a smile.

“By the way, dunno if this has anythin’ to do with you, but i’ve been finding pretty large lycan carcasses that are either brutally killed and then eaten, or seemingly killed in self defense, all of ‘em had gnarly claw marks,” he paused, “know anything about that?” He asked. Her blood ran cold, but she tried to keep her composure.

“Maybe it was a mutated Lycan.” she quietly said, applying the paste to every crevice in the oven. Heisenberg was confused as to why she was acting strange, and more importantly, how she knew the Lycans were caused by...that.

“Well, uh, keep an eye out, yanno?” Heisenberg uncomfortably laughed in the awkward silence.

“Can you plug the sink, and pour some baking soda on ‘em? Then pour the vinegar on ‘em.”

“Okay...what now?” Heisenberg asked.

“Wait for it to stop foaming, and stick em under the water. In the sink, i mean.” she explained, finishing applying the last of the paste.

“Okay...” he muttered.

“Now, we wait for at least ten hours.”

“...Are you serious?” Heisenberg asked, seemingly shocked.

“Why wouldn’t i be?” she replied, confused.

He looked down, “That doesn’t seem reasonable-”

“You don’t seem to be either, Mister Heisenberg.” she smirked at him.

“You know...” he started, “You should be happy I haven’t chucked you down that chute.” he threatened, towering over her small frame with a hand in her hair, mimicking a ponytail, pulling her close to him. He outwardly smelled like cigar smoke, gasoline, and sweat. His breath reeked of whiskey, his hot breath on her cheek. But she smelled more than just that, due to the experimentation with the Cadou.

She could smell what people feel, she always sort of could, but this was heightened by the experimentation.

This was new, it smelled like a heavy, rich devil’s food cake.

It smelled like sin.

She glanced downward at his crotch, and he was definitely pitching a tent.

“You really don’t want this, Karl.” she whispered. It was true, at least in her mind.

No one should want a monster.

She didn’t even know what she wanted, outside of Her dead.

Staring directly into his eyes, she gently placed her hand on the hand he was using to grip her hair. He violently let go, glaring and walking outside.

He hated how similar, yet different they both were. He wanted her to stay with him, despite barely knowing eachother.

It was a bag of mixed emotions.

Dasha followed behind, she found Heisenberg collecting firewood.

“I’m makin’ hotdogs.” he stated.

“On a fire, I’m assuming?” she asked, “i had to learn how to make a fire by myself. Got good at it too.” she bragged.

Heisenberg ignored her comment, “Can you get the ‘dogs and the buns for me outta the fridge?”

“Sure, what rack are they on?” she asked.

“Figure it out.” he coldly replied.

She scoffed, and went back inside, muttering to herself.

Heisenberg thought for a while while she was inside.

Why did she know about the Cadou? Why does she live in the forest? Is it by choice? I wonder if she’s useful...I wonder if Miranda- he thought. He zoned out, and realized his hands were dangerously close to the fire. He nonchalantly pulled them away, added a little more wood, and grabbed a chair. He thought for a moment, and pulled another chair over from the wood pile.

She came back, hot dog buns and hot dogs in tow.

Heisenberg used his powers to make two metal sticks come to him.

“What the fuck.” she whispered, taken aback.

“Oh. Here.” he said, handing one to Dasha.

“No, what the fuck was that-?” Dasha nervously laughed.

“Oh, yeah. I can do that. Only metal though.” Heisenberg explained.

“Huh.” she replied, giving a bun and a hot dog to him. He stuck the tapered metal point through the middle of the hot dog, and stuck it over the fire.

Dasha did the same.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like a hour, but really was five minutes.

Heisenberg, obviously, was the first to break the silence.

“So I know you’ve never really mentioned it, but I’m thinkin’ you LIVE in the forest, right?” Heisenberg asked.

“Yeah. Why?” she asked, holding the hot dog above the fire.

“Just haven’t really seen anyone willingly live in the forest.” Heisenberg shrugged. There was another period of silence between them as the fire popped and crackled.

“Do you live in the forest willingly?” Heisenberg asked, taking his hot dog off the metal stick, placing it into the bun.

She looked at him, and opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words to describe her situation. She blinked a couple times, trying to find the words.

“I don’t know.” she furrowed her brow, and had an unmistakable look of i’m-remembering-things-i-don’t-want-to-think-about. Heisenberg wasn’t amazing with emotions, despite being able to read someone like a book.

“Sorry.” he quietly said, looking away from her.

“You had no way of knowing. It’s fine.” She leaned towards him. Then, she took her hot dog away from the fire, and just ate it off the stick. This sight amused Heisenberg.

“How long have you lived in the forest?” Heisenberg asked with his mouth full.

“Around six years? Hard to keep track.” she said, after swallowing a bite.

“Damn. So how old are you now?”

“I don’t know, around twenty-three, i think?” she replied.

“That checks out.” Heisenberg smugly joked.

“At least I don’t look like I’m from World War II.” she retorted, laughing.

“And what if I am, huh?” Heisenberg joked, knowing he was in fact born around when WWII ended.

“I was kidding, shut the fuck up.” she laughed. Heisenberg realized that he really, really liked her laugh. Maybe it’s from the isolation in the factory, and now he finally has someone that seems to enjoy his company. This feeling scared him, just a little bit.

“Yeah, sure.” he laughed. There was silence again.

“This might be coming out of nowhere, but could you...refer to me as a boy? I know this is strange coming from someone who looks like me, but-” he got cut off.

“I get it, it’s alright. No worries. You got a new name?” he asked.

“Dimitri.”

“Still a pretty name.” Heisenberg muttered.

“I heard that.” Dimitri laughed.

“Oh.”

The both of them finished their hot dogs, and they went inside. It was getting cold.

“Starting tomorrow, you’re gonna help me around the factory. Otherwise I won’t hesitate to throw you out.” Heisenberg threatened.

“Alright, you’re gonna have to show me how it works around here though, depending on my job.” he replied, taking his jacket off. He got into his room and rummaged through his bag, looking for a tank top or something. He found a black one that he looted off of a tourist, and swapped into it. Even when it was freezing outside, it was mildly uncomfortable to wear a sweater like he was. He didn’t even think about his immense number of scars being visible, from various creatures and pitiful self-defense attempts. One benefit from the Cadou was that it gave him a healing factor. The only downside, in his eyes, was that killing himself was impossible. He walked out of the room, and into the living room. Heisenberg was making multiple small metal parts like gears and screws float in a certain fashion, making outlines of various things.

He sat on the couch that looked as though it was about to fall apart.

“You’re almost as scarred up as me,” Karl laughed as he pulled up his shirt, revealing a multitude of scar marks, and a happy trail.

Fuck, okay maybe I do know what I want... he thought. He felt a small tingling around his cheeks, as he laughed. He turned around and pulled up the back of his shirt to reveal some of the worst scars he’s gotten. Heisenberg felt himself tense up, his cheeks went red too.

“Can i..?” he asked as he reached his hand out halfway.

“Touch them? Sure.” Dimitri replied, scooting backwards.

He felt his calloused hands gently trace over all of his scars, even the smaller ones. Despite Karl’s rough and mean demeanor, he was so gentle. His hand gently ran down to his waist. He was surprised, but it was calming.

Karl pulled away, fearful of being intimate with him. He had just met the guy, why did he feel this pull?

“I was okay with that, you know.” he said, facing him and letting his shirt fall back to it’s place. He moved a bit closer, wanting the closeness of someone that he never had. “...Please?”

Heisenberg was confused. He was reluctant because of trust issues, yet Dimitri was the polar opposite?

Why did he come here..?

I wanted to use him as an experiment, why-?

“No.” he stated, “I can’t.”

He wordlessly left, Dimitri assuming into his room.

He sighed, and left into 'his' room too.

"Shit." he muttered, thinking about how bad that was. Dimitri went to sleep, trying to forget the entire damn day.

#karl heisenberg #daddy heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village #fanfic #heisenberg x oc

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rpf-bat · 4 years

Text

You Can’t Keep My Friends

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader

Genre: Romance, Drama

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 4. Prompt: “Bat Country”.

It’s the summer of 2005, and you, and the other members of My Chemical Romance, are on Warped Tour. You start making friends with your tour-mates, Avenged Sevenfold. But, an unexpected comment from their guitarist, makes Mikey jealous.

You were relaxing on your tour bus, reading the new issue of Fangoria, when you heard a knock at the door. You got up, wondering who it could be.

“Hi,” greeted an unfamiliar, black-haired man, when you opened the door. “Is Mikey here?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged. “He’s not around. I think he went over to Fall Out Boy’s bus, to hang out with Pete.”

“That’s okay,” the man shrugged, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Oh, I guess I should introduce myself.”

“Yeah, what’s your name?” you wondered.

“I’m Zacky Vengeance,” the man smiled. “Ok….I’m actually Zacky Baker. But, you gotta admit, my stage name sounds cooler.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vengeance,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N.”

“You plays drums for My Chem, right?” Zacky guessed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nodded.

“I’m in Avenged Sevenfold,” Zacky explained. “I play guitar.”

“Good to know,” you smiled. “Did you want me to tell Mikey, when I see him, that you stopped by?”

“I actually wanted to thank him,” Zacky confessed. “Our bassist, Johnny, broke one of his strings during soundcheck.”

“Oh, that sucks,” you said sympathetically.

“Yeah, and somehow, we couldn’t find our replacement strings anywhere!” Zacky frowned. “But, thankfully, Mikey let us borrow some of his.”

“Oh, that was nice of him,” you replied. He really is a kind person, always going out of his way to help others. It was one of the things you liked most about him.

“I wanted to give him this, as a thank you,” Zacky said, pulling a beer bottle out of his pants pocket. “Could you give it to him, for me?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking the bottle. “I’ll put it in the fridge for him, and let him know it’s there, when he comes back.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Zacky smiled. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you too, dude,” you replied. This was one of your favorite parts of Warped Tour - you always made new friends, with other bands.

Now, you thought, back to reading about the new Romero movie.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You looked up from the page, when you heard the bus door open.

“Hey, Y/N,” Mikey greeted, wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Hey,” you smiled back. “Hot out there today?”

“Scorching,” Mikey laughed. “What’s up?”

“Zacky from Avenged Sevenfold was here,” you explained. “He gave me a beer, to give to you. He said thanks for helping them out.”

“Oh, sweet!” Mikey grinned. He went into the fridge, took out the beer, and twisted the cap open. “He got me my favorite kind, too!”

“I wish we had our own supply, this year,” you confessed.

“Well, Gerard’s trying to stay sober,” Mikey pointed out, taking a sip. “So, for his sake, we can’t really keep them on the bus, like we did last summer.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “I was being selfish.”

“If you want one, I’ll try and find you some,” Mikey offered, having another swig.

“Nah,” you declined. “It’s not like I need it that badly.”

“Speaking of which,” Mikey wondered, “where is Gerard?”

Your vocalist had been staying on the bus, like a hermit, for most of the tour. It had to be boring for him. But, you supposed it was the best way, for him to avoid temptation.

“Apparently there’s a comic book shop, not far from the venue,” you explained.

“Oh, so, he went shopping?” Mikey realized, finishing his drink, and tossing the bottle into a trash bin.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean, we’re not going onstage, til like, eight o clock tonight, so he’s got plenty of time, to get there and back.”

“That’s true,” Mikey reasoned. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? How when Warped Tour started last summer, we were on at like, midday, because nobody knew who we were…”

“And then our time slot got moved!” you recalled. “Because suddenly, Revenge was like, the hottest album of the year.”

“And now, this summer, we’re headlining,” Mikey said proudly.

“We really have come a long way,” you agreed.

“Since we have so much time on our hands,” Mikey suggested, “do you want to go check out Avenged Sevenfold’s set?”

“Sure!” you agreed. “Do we need to take a couple security guys with us?”

“Nah,” Mikey chuckled. “Just put your sunglasses on, and your hood up, and we’ll be fine.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You joined the crowd, just as the band was starting to take the stage. The vocalist, you noticed, was a buff-looking guy in a muscle tank, wearing a backwards baseball cap. He was almost the antithesis of Gerard’s pretty-boy aesthetic.

“I’ve met him,” Mikey said, following your gaze. “He’s actually a pretty cool guy.”

“What’s his name?” you wondered.

“He calls himself M. Shadows,” Mikey replied.

“Edgy,” you joked.

“Maybe I’m the lame one, for using my real name,” Mikey considered. “I could have been, I dunno, Mikey Nightmare, or something.”

“I like your name,” you assured him, taking his hand.

Mikey blushed.

“WHAT’S UP, DENVER?!” M. Shadows screamed into the microphone.

“....Is that where we are today?” you blinked.

“I guess,” Mikey chuckled. “I’ll be honest, the cities start to blur together, after a while.”

“WHO WANTS TO HEAR A SONG OFF OUR NEW ALBUM?”, M. Shadows bellowed.

The crowd cheered.

“ALRIGHT!”,” the singer announced. “THIS SONG IS CALLED….BAT COUNTRY!”

You banged your head to the beat, as Avenged Sevenfold launched into the song:

Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay

I tried to drive all through the night

The heat stroke ridden weather, the barren empty sights

No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me

Can't you help me as I'm startin' to burn (all alone)

Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction

My confidence is leaving me on my own (all alone)

No one can save me and you know I don't want the attention

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

After the set ended, you and Mikey showed your passes to their security guy, and walked backstage.

“Dude, your show was amazing!” Mikey complimented.

“Oh, hey, Mikey!” Zacky grinned. “Y/N, you came to watch, too?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “He’s right, you guys really killed it up there today.”

“Thanks,” Zacky replied. “Oh, hey, let me introduce you to the rest of the guys!”

“Sure!” you nodded.

“This is my man, Synyster Gates,” Zacky introduced, indicating a man in a grey hat. “But, you can call him Syn.”

“Hi, Syn,” you greeted.

“Hey,” Syn waved. “Nice to meet you. I’m the other guitarist.”

“He’s lead guitar, and I’m rhythm guitar,” Zacky explained.

“Oh, so, basically, the same setup that Ray and Frank have,” you figured.

“I feel like I need to meet this Frank guy sometime,” Zacky quipped. “People keep telling me I look like him.”

“You kinda do,” you confessed. You glanced over at the drummer, who was sitting down in a folding chair. “Does he have a heavy metal stage name, too?”

“I’m the Reverend Tholomew Plague,” the drummer grinned. “But, my friends call me Rev.”

“Hi, Rev,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rev replied.

“I’m Johnny Christ,” said a third man, who sported a fauxhawk. “Hey, Mikey, thanks again for the assist earlier!”

“No problem, dude,” Mikey said casually. “Where’d Shadows run off to?”

“He went to get drinks for everybody,” Zacky told him. “I’ll text him, and tell him to bring two extra, for you guys.”

“Thanks,” you smiled.

Just then, a summer breeze blew through the backstage area, sending Syn’s hat, flying off his head.

“Shit!” Syn swore, watching his hat blow further away, back onto the main stage. “This is why I hate outdoor venues.”

“I’ll go get that for you,” you offered.

“Thanks,” Syn said gratefully. “Quick, before it blows over the barricade!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You ducked past the crew members, who were taking down Avenged Sevenfold’s banners, and preparing the stage for the next band. The Offspring, if you weren’t mistaken, were supposed to go on in an hour.

A tech was taking down Rev’s drum kit, and setting up Atom Willard’s. You spotted the hat, next to the bass drum.

“Excuse me,” you muttered. The drum tech got out of your way, and let you take the hat.

“Oh my god!” you heard a fan gasp, who was still by the barricade. “That’s Y/N, from MCR!”

You turned, looking at the gaggle of teenagers. They had probably stuck around, so they didn’t lose their front row seats.

“Y/N!” a second fan called out. “Will you please sign my shirt?”

“Sure,” you smiled. You leaned over the edge of the stage, taking a marker that was held out to you. You signed your name on the blushing teen’s band shirt.

“Thank you so much!” he gasped. “I can’t wait to see you and the guys perform tonight!”

“Thank you for coming to see us,” you replied.

“Y/N, will you sign my ticket stub?” another fan pleaded.

“Yeah, why not?” you acquiesced. You stayed by the barricade for a few moments, signing autographs, and posing for pictures.

“Alright, guys,” you said finally. “I really do need to go give Synyster his hat back.”

“Ok!” the fans said agreeably. “Thank you for taking time for us! Say hi to Gerard and Frankie for us when you see them!”

“Will do,” you chuckled. The MCRmy were such nice kids. It made you feel special, to be loved by such a great group of people.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You were about to turn the corner, and re-enter the backstage area. But, you froze, when you heard your name. You realized, that the guys were talking about you.

“So,” you heard Zacky ask, “is Y/N single?”

“Uh….,” Mikey hesitated. “Yeah, as far as I know, she’s not seeing anyone.”

“That’s surprising,” Syn commented. “She’s, like, really pretty.”

“If I asked her out,” Zacky wondered, “do you think she’d say yes?”

What?!, you stifled a gasp. Zacky was interested in you?

“No!” Mikey blurted out. “You definitely don’t want to do that!”

“Why not?” you snapped, revealing herself. “You think I’d be a super annoying person to date?”

“Y/N?” Mikey gasped, turning his head around, towards you. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you frowned. “Why are you warning people not to ask me out? Am I that unattractive, when I don’t have my stage makeup on?”

“No!” Mikey said quickly. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant, either!”

“Then, what did you mean?” you demanded.

“I….,” Mikey trailed off, his whole face turning red. “I can’t tell you.”

“Bullshit,” you barked. “Here’s your stupid hat, Syn.”

You practically threw it at the guitarist, then turned, and began walking away.

“Where are you going?” Mikey cried, following you.

“Back to the bus!” you growled, walking faster.

“Y/N, please, slow down!” Mikey begged, jogging to keep up with you.

“No! Buzz off!” you told him. Your cheeks burned.

Does he think I’d be a shitty, clingy girlfriend? you wondered. Why would he tell some complete stranger, that I’m not worth dating? I should’ve known...he’d never be interested in me.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You climbed back onto the bus, and immediately threw yourself into your bunk. You pulled the curtains around you, as if you were going to sleep.

Mikey pulled the curtain back again, and sat beside you.

“Can we please talk?” he implored you.

“What is there to talk about?” you huffed.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Mikey said gently. “Look...do you really want to date Zacky? If that’s what will make you happy….I’ll go back there, and I’ll tell him to shoot his shot. I can even give him your number.”

“I don’t want to date Zacky,” you confessed.

I want to date you, you stupid man. You wished you could tell him that, but you didn’t have the guts. But, that will never happen.

“I didn’t tell Zacky, not to ask you out, because I think you’re annoying, or unattractive,” Mikey explained.

“Then, why did you say it?” you demanded, wiping tears on your sleeve.

“I said it because….,” Mikey hesitated.

“Spit it out,” you insisted.

“I said it, because I wanted to ask you out myself,” Mikey said finally.

“Wh…..What?!”

“I’ve been trying to find the balls, to ask you out, all summer,” Mikey confessed, reddening. “But, I could never find the right time, or the words. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” you said softly, moving closer to him.

“I have no right, to tell you who to be with,” Mikey sighed. “Y/N, I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship, by telling you how I feel about you. I understand, if you aren’t interested in…”

“I’m interested,” you interrupted.

“Huh?” Mikey’s eyes widened behind his glasses.

“I’ve been interested in you for a long time,” you confessed. “I just didn’t have the balls to tell you, either.”

We’re both idiots.

You leaned over, and lay your lips on his. He kissed you back, eagerly grabbing you, pulling you closer. You kissed him, again, and again.

“....So,” Mikey gasped breathlessly, coming up for air, “does this mean you and I are dating now?”

“Now,” you grinned, grabbing him by the collar, “and forever.”

#mikey way x reader #mikey way imagine #band member reader #gothtober

95 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Sixteen)

Ughhhh Tissues Needed

Also Generic WS-typical warning for mentions of slightly torture-y things

MASTERLIST HERE

*****************

“Sir, could I remind you that use of this particular suit results in more wear on the arc reactor? With numbers pushing 70%, surely you don’t want to risk it?”

Tony called James from the suit as it blasted towards Washington D.C., ignoring the warning numbers on the screen as the arc reactor surged to maintain the suits demand for power and the projected poison levels in his blood climbed higher.

“Tony?”

Just hearing James’s voice made Tony’s resolve falter, and he was glad he’d programmed in the auto pilot for D.C. as the need to turn around and forget what he’d learned, forget about Project Resurrection and the Ghost Protocol climbed strangling up his throat.

“Hey.” he tried for bright, but was afraid it only came out miserable. “Why don’t you fly out to DC tonight? Have Pepper come with you in the jet. I have to get to a meeting that’s taken about three years to arrange, so I took a suit.”

“I can just wait till you get home again, sugar.” Happy called something in the background and James laughed and the sound almost killed Tony. “What sorta meeting was so important it took three years to set up?”

“Nothing you should worry about.” Tony lied. “But it would be fun to have dinner in D.C. or something, right? I’d like to see you tonight.”

James’s voice got soft, “Dunno how I feel about getting back into D.C. but I’d like to see you tonight too. You feeling better? Last night you were real tired.”

“I’m feeling better.” Tony promised and he’d never lied so much in his life. “Let me know when you guys land and I’ll send a car for you. See you soon?”

“See you real soon, sweet thing.”

********

From Rhodey: Pep says you’re in D.C.? If you aren’t sucking face with soldier boy, let’s get dinner.

From Tony: Only if it’s one of those giant steak eating places.

From Rhodey: Tones, last time we ate at one of those I threw up for three days.

From Tony: And you were gorgeous the entire time.

From Rhodey: I hate you

From Tony: Smooches!

It was so damn easy to lie over text message, maybe that was how Tony should handle every conversation from now until 100%.

It was warm out, but Tony still wore a long sleeve to hide the handcuff on his wrist that attached to the briefcase at his side. Eventually--if he had time-- he was going to tap the tech into a watch that would form into a gauntlet and then a suit from there but for now he had to carry the admittedly stylishly packaged armor at his side.

JARVIS was right, using the suit took more energy than the other ones simply because it assembled in place instead of using robotics to piece together around him, but it had been worth it to get to D.C. so quickly...

...and it would be worth it tonight if everything went right and he needed to leave. If everything fell into place the way it should, but the way Tony kept secretly hoping it wouldn’t, he would leave and not take anyone with him so the suit was perfect.

Perfectly like a prison he kept willingly locking himself into and wasn’t that a piece of poetry worthy of writing down or at the very least making into a tragic movie or maybe he could request it got put in his biography because there should be at least one true thing amidst all the crap they were going to write about Tony Stark.

At least one line should be truth, even if everything else was written by people who had never known him at all.

But he shouldn’t think about that. Not yet. Not at only seventy percent, he had another ten maybe fifteen percent before he had to think about a biography, right?

Right?

Christ, it was getting hard to think.

The SHIELD headquarters were ostentatious and ugly, an eyesore at the banks of the river and a clear warning to anyone who thought to look twice at the city and dare to take a shot. The Pentagon might house the dressed up generals who gave out orders, but SHIELD was the real power behind the United States Government right now.

The ugly building housed all the best minds, all the best weaponry, and spoke of a clearly visible statement Director Fury and Secretary Pierce had been less and less subtle about in the past few years-- Fuck. Off. America is done playing nice.

Not that Tony blamed them for being so blatantly bold. There was no need to be subtle when there was an actual legendary super soldier leading the charge to protect America’s interests both at home and abroad, right?

Tony and Fury met in a little cafe along the river, the eatery quiet and unobtrusive in a way that was meant to be as visibly invisible as possible. There was nothing particularly interesting about the staff or their uniforms, the menu didn’t boast anything that would garner extra attention, there was never a chalkboard out front with a gimmick or sale to draw pedestrians in to try a daily special.

It was the sort of cafe someone either went to as a habit, or never even noticed on their commute and it was exactly the sort of cafe where Nick Fury preferred to get his tuna melt sandwich.

“Well this is quaint and terrible.” Tony sat down across from Fury with suitcase settled between his feet and sunglasses firmly on his face. “What happened to high profile business meetings at steakhouses, or at the very least good greasy pizza? And are you eating a tuna melt? With a fork?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, my Ma didn’t raise a heathen.” Fury was a sight to behold in his trademark trench coat, intimidating eye patch and somehow more intimidating single eye, a napkin tucked neatly at his collar and a knife and fork held daintily to cut his sandwich into bite sized pieces. “And this isn’t as good as hers used to be, but it does just fine for our conversation today.”

“Alright then.” Tony motioned to the waiter, and pointed towards Fury’s plate. “Could I have the same thing please? Make mine with pickles.”

“You’re pushing it.” Fury warned. “You don’t disrespect a sandwich by putting pickles on it.”

“Ma’am, would you make that extra pickles please?”

“Damn you, Stark.”

“Don’t tell me how to eat a sandwich and I won’t tell you to not do all of--” Tony made a vague motion to encompass all of Fury’s look. “--all of this. You look like the Grim Reaper.”

“And you look like a man the Grim Reaper isn’t too far from visiting.” Fury stabbed his fork at Tony bluntly. “Lookin’ like chicken shit these days, Stark. What’s going on?”

“Nothing that matters.” Tony waved off the Director’s sarcastic concern. “I need to talk to you about two things and then we can move on.”

The Director made a ‘go ahead’ motion and went back to eating. Tony watched the knife and fork dissection of a perfectly respectable tuna melt for a moment and then stated, “I don’t trust Pierce. I went to his party a few weeks ago and got a real sketchy vibe from him.”

“Uh-huh.” Fury nodded. “And?”

“And since you have the whole all seeing eye thing going on, I thought you’d want to know.” Tony smiled up at the waitress when she brought him the sandwich, and with eyes firmly on Fury, took a huge bite and crunched deliberately through the pickles. “How do you feel about him lately?”

“I feel like the world’s most reckless billionaire should be more concerned about the effects all that poisoning is having on your complexion and less about what those of us in trench coats are doing.” Fury wiped his mouth and pointed over his shoulder to someone Tony couldn’t see. “Brace yourself, Stark.”

“Brace myself for wha---OW!” Tony jumped when a needle jammed into his neck, delivered courtesy of one rather spandexy clad Natalie Rushman. “Christ! Natalie, what the fuck!?”

“I forgot you still think her name is Natalie.” Fury pushed his plate away and then dragged a chair over for the redhead. “Tony Stark, meet Natasha Romanov. Former KGB agent, former Russian Foreign Intelligence Service, former traitor to that particular country and defector to this one, and currently my favorite agent at SHIELD.”

Tony rubbed at his neck a few times and scowled at Fury, then over at Natalie/Natasha. “Former KGB? That was dismantled in ‘91, and you’re only twenty four. Nice try.”

“You do pass for a very convincing twenty four, Tasha.” Fury took a sip of his water. “In fact Mr. Stark, Natasha here is an absolute beauty at the ripe old age of--”

“--you tell him I’m a day over thirty and I’ll cut your tongue out.” Natasha said coolly, and Tony blanched but Fury didn’t so much as blink. “Tony, I just gave you a shot of lithium dioxide. It’s not going to solve anything with the palladium, but it’s going to temporarily slow down the effects so you can focus. I know you’ve been struggling with it for a while, there’s no other way to explain how scattered you’ve been.”

“First you stab me, then you insult me? You are fired.” Tony breathed in slow and purposeful, then out again when his headache started to ease thanks to the hypodermic hit to the neck. “Warn a fella before you shank him, is this foreplay to you scary spandex types?”

Natasha gave him one of those always consistently enigmatic smirks and Tony accused, “How’d you get here so fast? Pretty sure Pepper told me you two were shopping today. In fact, I’m pretty sure she took the jet to Vegas just to spend a gross amount of money.”

“The moment you hung up with Director Fury I excused myself from Ms. Potts and headed towards D.C from Vegas.” Natasha held up her hand to stop the next words from Tony. “And yes, I know there’s no civilian aircraft that could possibly get me to D.C. faster than your suit would, but you left an hour or so after me and also, as everyone is now aware, I am not a civilian.”

Still literally and figuratively wounded from the jab to the neck, Tony only huffed at the redhead and went back to eating because honestly, a new secretary turning out to be a secret spy wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened. At least she was on their side, right? Later Tony could get a little hysterical about having a former KGB agent helping him pick out ties, but for right now, he had other things on his mind.

“Alright then. Ms. Romanov. How do you feel about Secretary Pierce?”

“I don’t think that’s the question you’ve come to ask.” Natasha deflected, green eyes glittering curiously. “So ask the other one.”

“Okay I will.” Tony put his sandwich down and pleated the napkin between his fingers until it tore. “How long have the two of you known the hundred year old prisoner of war Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was camping out in my house in Malibu?”

“If it makes you feel any better?” Director Fury shrugged. “We just thought he was the Winter Soldier. Wasn’t one hundred percent on the Barnes angle until recently.”

“The Winter Soldier.” Tony repeated, and this time his mind snapped into place with out the stuttered click click click of trying to process. It was almost like being him again and even though Tony knew the lithium oxide was a poison all in itself, he was already wondering how many shots of it he could take to remain lucid up until the end. “Ghost assassin from the sixties and seventies, silver arm, once thought to be Steve Rogers risen from the ice and back to seek revenge. It was James, instead. Product of Hydra experimentation, amiright?”

“And then some.” Fury nodded. “When Project Resurrection came to be and the Captain woke up, he asked for his best pal Bucky and then his best gal Peggy in exactly that order. SHIELD had been aware of the Winter Soldier for decades, but we couldn’t have imagined the connection to the missing Sergeant Barnes. The Captain saw a surveillance photo, said he’d recognize that scowl anywhere, and went off half feral trying to track him down.”

“Half-feral.” Tony glanced between the two of them. “Captain America. Are you serious?”

“I spent almost two years at his side.” Natasha spoke up. “Half feral is an understatement. I’ve never seen a man so determined to burn the world down if it meant finding his friend.”

“Two years.” Fury echoed. “And then just over a year ago, a few months before Stane engineered your trip to Afghanistan, the Winter Soldier dropped off the map. Guess Hydra got tired of having their spots blown to shit or something like that, decided to cut their losses and run.”

Tony only blinked and Fury explained, “Turns out the Captain isn’t exactly the aw shucks good ol boy those posters made him out to be. Anything that stood in the way of finding his Bucky went up in flames, and the man didn’t care if anyone was left inside. On more than one occassion, Romanov went into the rubble herself because the Captain wouldn’t do it. It was a wasted effort though, there were never any survivors.”

Tony looked around and then lowered his voice. “Captain America let people die like that?”

“Not the aw shucks good ol boy we all thought.” The Director repeated. “Never seen a man so angry in my life when we lost the Soldier. Definitely never could have predicted you’d show up with him as your date at a few high profile event. I see a lot.” Fury pointed to his one good eye. “But even I didn’t see that coming.”

“Does the Captain know about James?”

“We thought it was best to feel out the situation and see if we were dealing with the Winter Soldier or if we were actually seeing Sergeant Barnes.” Fury hedged. “Wanted to be sure we weren’t going to walk into a situation with a still activated super assassin when from all appearances, he’s just a nice kid with some memory loss situations. Captain Rogers isn’t the sort to knock and ask to come in, he would have brought that fancy Malibu house of yours down into the ocean trying to get his friend.”

“That seems a little over the top, but--”

“--but you’ve never been seventy years out of your own time looking for the one person in the world who can understand what you’ve been through.” Natasha interrupted. “I’m telling you, there isn’t anything that would stop the Captain from trying to get to his Bucky.”

“His Bucky.” Tony echoed faintly. “Is that so?”

“I’ve been watching James for several weeks now.” Natasha’s voice dipped in sympathy when Tony’s face flickered with misery. I don’t think he remembers anything about his time as the Winter Soldier, but you’re closer to him. What do you think? Do you think he knows who he was?”

“No way.” Tony denied tiredly. “James doesn’t know anything. Not his last name, nothing about technology or recent history. He panicked about using too many eggs the other day and now that I know what I still can’t fucking believe I know... it makes sense. In some weird way, everything I know about James makes perfect sense now.”

“So Sergeant Barnes doesn’t remember anything before he showed up in D.C.?”

“Nothing at all.” Tony said adamantly. “He remembers waking up beneath a bridge and then everything’s a blur for a while and he’s not sure how much time passed. He thinks he lived a year in D.C. before meeting me, but he doesn’t know anything beyond that.”

“That could be for the best.” Natasha muttered, and Fury nodded.

“Well you can be sure we will be keeping an eye on the situation.” the waitress came by for the plates and Fury waited until she was gone before mentioning oh so casually, “I have something that belongs to you, by the way. Your dad left it in storage along with instructions to give it to you when you were ready.”

“I have everything I want of Howard’s and none of it’s worth anything at all.” Tony shook his head. “Forget about it, I want to meet the Captain.”

“You’re going to want this.” Fury countered, and pulled up a photo on his phone. “The real thing is about ten times heavier than anything I’d ever want to life, but take a look at it anyway.”

“I’ve seen this.” Tony barely glanced at the picture. “It’s Dad’s diorama model of the Stark Expo. I used to race my cars up and down the roads until he screamed at me to stop. Why would I want a giant piece of cardboard that holds so many shitty memories for me?”

“I don’t know why you want it.” Fury put his phone away again. “And I don’t know why Howard wanted you to have it. Something about how you’d see the design when no one else could, and how he wouldn’t ever have access to the tools necessary to make it a reality, but you’d probably be the one to invent the technology to make it happen.”

“That’s nice.” Tony pulled out a couple twenties and dropped them on the table to cover the bill. “Put it in the mail and I’ll open it when I get back to Malibu. I’m feeling normal for the first time since Afghanistan and I’m not going to waste it on some homework from beyond the grave. Take me to see the Captain.”

“He’s going to be cranky.” Fury tried one last time to stall the stubborn billionaire. “He doesn’t really sleep much, and since losing track of the Soldier, I don’t think he sleeps more than a few hours a week. Maybe you don’t show up as your patented brand of asshole, huh?”

“I do what I want.” Tony stood up and patted the Director on the shoulder. “I’ll see you and Mrs. Super Spy later on. We should talk about Pierce.”

“I know what you’re doing Stark.” Fury said then, and Tony paused. “You’re getting everything set up so when that poison kills you off, your boytoy is set with someone he knows and loves.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“I’d say it’s admirable, but really I think it’s cowardly.” Fury shrugged. “You’re doing all this without even trying to fight, without figuring out a way to beat it. Gonna sign ye olde master assassin over to the Man with a Plan and then jet off somewhere dramatic to die. Cowardly way out.”

“I’ve exhausted all my options.” Tony said flatly. “I’ve tried everything over and over and nothing works. Now my option is to make sure the people I care about can keep on going with out me. How is that cowardly?”

“This might shock you, but the world will keep turning without Tony Stark in it.” the Director retorted, and Tony shot back, “Yeah well, at least this way it keeps turning with my loved ones well taken care of. Send the address to my phone please, I’ve got a star spangled super soldier to meet.”

Natasha sent a text with directions to Tony’s phone, and after Tony had stalked out and hailed a cab, she turned to ask Fury, “Why does he want to talk about Pierce?”

“Don’t you worry about Pierce.”

“Director--”

“Ms. Romanoff, I am already dealing with Secretary Pierce. Don’t you worry.”

“Do you really think he’s being cowardly?”

“I think if Tony Stark wasn’t so tired of living in pain, he’d realize he could just invent something new to cure himself.” Fury stated. “I watched his dad create scientific miracles out of every day things. Watched his Auntie Peggy create unbreakable codes based on her knitting patterns. He’s been so obsessed with being Iron Man that he’s forgotten he’s Tony Stark. If anyone can fix what is literally killing them, its a Stark. Hell, he did it once in a cave with a box of scraps. He should damn well be able to do it in a state of the art lab.”

Natasha’s lips tipped up at the corner. “You like him.”

“I think he’s a spoiled brat with a small man complex.” Fury picked up the dessert menu. “But I think our world is a lot better off with him in it, so yeah. I’d appreciate if he didn't keel over and die.”

“You like him.”

“You’re pushing it, Romanov.”

*************

It was fifteen minutes to a low rise apartment building, three flights up stairs and then down a long hallway until Tony could raise his hand and knock at the door of a piece of American history

Two knocks and then three more just because Tony was impatient even on his best days and today was not one of his best days.

Besides, when else would he have the chance annoy an actual living Smithsonian relic by knocking too many times at their--

“Can I help you?” The door swung open to Big and Blond and Patriotic, deep blue eyes and a square jaw, ruggedly handsome in a way that the old posters and pictures had never come close to capturing, and the sort of bulging All American Muscles that belonged on a Lumberjack’s Weekly pin up calendar.

Holy Spangles, Batman. Tony thought, and then grinned internally because that hit to the neck might have hurt but at least it had given him back Grade-A witty one liners. Thank you, Ms. Rushman-Romanov.

“Captain Steven Rogers.” he finally dragged his eyes away from the muscles and up to the piercing gaze. “It's nice to officially meet you. Name’s Tony Stark, long time fan, first time fanboy. How are you?”

“Tony Stark.” Captain Rogers extended a hand big enough to cover Tony’s entire face. “Howard’s boy, isn’t that right? Director Fury has mentioned you a few times. Figures you’d know about me being awake, though I’m a little surprised it took you this long to track me down. Howard wasn’t exactly the patient, subtle type and Fury made it seem like you inherited all those qualities as well.”

Tony blinked, and Captain Rogers grimaced. “Ah. Sorry. That came out worse than I intended. I’ve never been quite as charming as those old movies like to pretend I was.”

“No that’s--” Tony blinked again. “It’s fine. It’s actually a little hilarious-- um--”

“I was real sorry to hear about your parents passing.” The Captain’s blue eyes dimmed in sympathy. “I didn’t know your Ma, but despite me and Howard’s differences, we worked together for several years. He was a good man.”

“He was an asshole even on his best days.” Tony finally found his words, and offered a smile to his childhood nemesis hero. “But that doesn’t change the good work he did, so thanks. And yes, I inherited all of his less than charming traits and created a few more of my own which is why I’ve known about you and Project Resurrection for a few years now but just couldn't muster the interest to give a damn.”

“Any by the way, if you were a brunette, I’d be charming your pants off.” Tony winked because he couldn’t stop himself from flirting with an American icon. “But you’re blond, so consider yourself safe from my efforts. That and it’s hard to think sexy thoughts about the literal embodiment of the American flag.”

Good God, even the Captain’s laugh was patriotic, head thrown back and a hand over his heart like he was pledging allegiance to hilarity and Tony looked away to hide an answering grin. Shit, he didn’t want to like Steve Rogers, he had spent his entire life trying to measure up to the bastard, he didn’t want to be making friends when they had more important things to talk about.

“If it makes you feel any better?” Captain Rogers was still cheesing a grin. “Under all that patriotism I’m just a loudmouth Brooklyn kid with a big mouth and not a single shred of self preservation.”

“Eh.” Tony made a show of shrugging. “You’re still blond. I tend to prefer them brunette--”

--he hesitated, then pulled out the picture of he and James together at the redwoods. “--And smolderingly intense in a scary ex soldier sort of way. You know the type?”

All laughter fell away in an instant, the surprisingly easy conversation Tony hadn’t expected to find with Captain Rogers ground to a halt, the smile on the big blond’s face wiped away as quickly as it had appeared.

“I took that in the redwoods last week.” Tony actually took a step backwards when powerful shoulders squared up and one of those massive hands closed into a fist. “Me and James-- we’ve been living together the last couple months. Figured it’s high time you and he got together again, you know?”

“James.” The Captain’s throat jerked when he swallowed. “Not Bucky. He goes by James now?”

“James is the only name he knows.” Tony watched him carefully for any sign of what might be rage, but there was only heartbreak on the rugged features. “We’ve been looking for answers into his past, but it wasn’t until early this morning I came across a family link and traced it backwards. You can bet I was surprised as hell to find myself looking at a picture of you two when the facial recognition software finally pinged him.”

“I see.” The picture shook in the Captain’s fingers and nearly tore between his grip. “Mr. Stark--”

“Call me Tony.”

“Tony. I think you’d better come inside.”

****************

The apartment housing the Greatest American Soldier was sparse to the point of being bare, clean to the point of being sterile, and warm enough that Tony broke into a sweat just walking through the door.

“Sheesh, Captain.” Tony undid a few buttons at his collar. “Tropical, much?”

“Sorry, I’ll turn it down.” The Captain really was massive, had to turn sideways to get down the narrow hall and to the thermometer. “I uh-- I’m always cold, you know?”

Tony waited with a raised eyebrow and Captain Rogers pursed his lips, shoved both hands into his pockets self consciously. “I did seventy years in the ice, Tony. That’s the sort of chill that gets into your bones. Into your soul. I’m always cold. Can’t seem to shake it.”

“I can fix that.” Tony spoke before thinking, the words eerily similar to his very first thought about James. Was it the super soldier thing that drove him to offer help? Or just the countdown and toxicity monitor and desperately tallying marks on the good karma side so maybe it would get him into heaven?

“I can fix that.” he said again. “I’d think a super soldier would run hot because of your metabolism, so the cold is probably psychosomatic and a weighted blanket or even a sweater with heavier threads might take care of it. People equate weight with warmth, and being covered with being safe so if you let me get some sizes I could have my AI run some programs and figure out a material that could--”

He stopped when the big blond just looked at him. “Sorry, Captain. I tend to ramble. Alot.”

“Call me Steve.” the Captain went for some water and handed a bottle to Tony, then sat down in a nearby chair and clasped his hands between his knees. “And you know, your Dad did that too? He’d get an idea and talk for an hour and you’d start the conversation not even knowing you needed the thing he ended up handing you when he was finished.”

“Sounds like Dad.” Tony agreed. “Guess I did inherit all his annoying habits.”

“You must get your looks from your Ma, then.” Steve said casually, and when Tony about fell out of his chair in surprise, he grinned. “Oh no, not for me. I mean sure, I can appreciate a good lookin’ fella just as much as the next guy, but I used to tell Buck if he got together with Howard--”

“I might actually throw up if you finish that sentence.”

“--then we could double date, but he said he’d sooner kiss Dugan.” he finished and Tony breathed out noisily in relief. “If he likes you, you must look like your Ma. Buck couldn’t hardly stand to be in the same room as Howard.”

And then almost awkwardly, “No offense meant.”

“None taken, most days I couldn’t handle it either.” Tony rolled the water bottle between his palms. “So um, how are you adjusting to life in the twenty first--”

“Tell me about Bucky.” Steve interrupted and Tony’s mouth clicked shut. “I wanna know everything. Where did you find him? How did you find him? Does he know who he is? Who I am? Does he know about--”

He clenched his jaw. “--does he remember being the Winter Soldier?”

“Captain.” Tony began slowly, but Steve cut him off again, “It’s just Steve, Tony. Captain Rogers, Captain America, that’s not who I am. I’m Steve. Call me Steve.”

“Steve.” he started again. “James--er, Bucky-- and I met a few months ago in a diner right here in D.C. I don’t know if you watch the news at all, but I was mid Senate meeting and mid nervous break down, apparently he was just there having breakfast. I saw he was missing an arm--”

“--his left arm?”

“--his left arm.” Tony nodded. “And since I have a weird assortment of various robotic arm pieces laying around the house, I told him I could build him a new one. I gave him a whole spiel about wanting to do some good and that he didn’t have to take me up on the offer but he told me--”

“--that you got a pretty smile.” Steve interjected. “Yeah, you’re just his type. Dark hair, pretty eyes, big smile. Just his type.”

The simple statement from the soldier warmed Tony clear down to his heart, and he ducked his head to hide a barely there flush. “Uh, anyway. He came home to Malibu with me and we’ve been there ever since. He’s getting better. No more panic attacks and his Brooklyn accent comes out more every day and um--”

It felt awkward talking to a total stranger about his boyfriend--partner? He was too old to call someone a boyfriend, right?

It felt more awkward talking to a total stranger that wasn’t really a total stranger considering how Tony knew everything everything about Steve Rogers and Howard had literally helped create the soldier. More awkward talking to a not-total stranger who actually knew James Bucky better than Tony could ever hope to. More awkward talking to a not-total stranger who knew Bucky better than Tony did and would be around at Bucky’s side after Tony--

--after Tony--

“--sometimes I think he’s remembering things, but then I don’t really know.” he finished lamely. “Captain, er Steve. I’ll be honest, it seems weird to tell you about your best friend. I can tell you that he doesn’t have nightmares anymore and that he hasn’t had a panic attack in weeks. He likes Rocky Road ice cream and looks great in the color red and when he calls me sweet thing I actually melt a little bit inside. What else do you want to know?”

“I just want to know if he’s okay.” Steve said softly, softly, spread his hands helplessly and made those All American baby blues as heartbreakingly earnest as possible. “Tony, I woke up from the ice and found a picture of the Winter Soldier and spent the next two years trying to figure out what the hell had happened to my best pal. How did he survive the fall? Who captured him? What have they been doing with him? To him?”

The Captain’s throat jerked when he swallowed. “Does he-- does he smile? Do you make him smile? Or is he real quiet now? Did they ruin him? Break him?”

Steve got to his feet to pace, rubbing his hands down his thighs in agitation. “I’ve read all the Winter Soldier files, Tony. I know what they did to him. You know they-- they didn’t do that stuff to me. Howard juiced me up and sent me out the door but Bucky? He was always a good soldier but there’s a lot of steps between a good soldier and a master assassin. What they did to him to make him into the Soldier…”

His steps stuttered, faltered, and when Steve turned around to pin Tony with a look, his jaw was set stubbornly. “Tell me how he really is. Did they break him? Is he even Bucky anymore?”

“I don’t know if he’s Bucky anymore.” Tony said slowly, honestly. “But I know he’s James, and he’s a good man. Not broken. Definitely hurt, but not broken. He’s-- I think he’s okay, Captain. Or at least he’s getting better.”

“Okay.” Steve dropped back down onto the chair and the springs groaned under his weight. “Okay okay okay. Have you done any research on the Winter Soldier? About what he did?”

“No.”

“Don’t.” That super soldier strength showed up when the arms of the chair splintered beneath Steve’s fingers. “Tony, for your own sake. Don’t. I haven’t read the mission files because it makes me sick to my stomach but I saw enough of what they did to him to know there can’t be anything good in the other ones.”

Tony’s whole body went cold, horror stricken and wanting to scream thinking about his soldier, his Brooklyn being hurt for however long he’d been captive as the Winter Soldier. “What they did to him?”

“Experiments.” Steve muttered hoarsely. “Testing his strength, his healing factor. Whatever super juice they gave him, they had to make sure it worked so they experimented. Broke major bones to time how long it took to heal up again. Put bullets close to major arteries wondering if he’d bleed out. Made him run until he was vomiting and couldn’t take another step to check his endurance.”

“Shit.”

“They wiped his mind after every mission.” the Captain continued miserably. “Got him to the point where all he could do was carry out orders. That’s not even human, they took his soul Tony. My best friend and they took his soul. Wiped it away every time they hooked him up to that damn chair--”

“Chair?”

“--it had straps.” Steve made a motion and Tony’s heart sank, then sank further still when he added, “I crashed a set up once and it was this monstrous chair. Straps and hooks and this helmet thing that went down over his head to fry his brain.”

“What--” Tony wet his lips, flashes of that first awful panic attack hitting him like a punch to the stomach. “-- What did you do to the chair?”

“Broke it apart with my bare hands and then snapped some bad guy’s femur just because I wasn’t done breaking things.” Steve said coldly, calmly. “I can’t read the mission files, not after seeing that. I don’t think you should read them either. Buck deserves to have people who look at him and don’t see everything he did as the Soldier. He deserves to be loved by people who just see him.”

“Yeah, I--” Tony dug his fingers into his knees and bit back a heartbroken noise. “Yeah, he does. So what did you do with the data? It can’t just be out there, that’s not--”

Even now, his brain was shifting into gear, trying to figure out the next step, trying to figure out what he could do to fix what had happened with James or how he could make sure it never came back to ruin his soldier’s new life. “--it can’t be out there for someone else to find. What did you do with it?”

“Natasha dumped it all.” The Captain informed him. “Burned it, erased it, whatever she does. I’m not really up on all the tech of this century yet. But she swore it was gone, and that’s all I care about.”

“You trust her?”

“...I do.” Steve’s smile was almost… melancholy. Almost lonely. “Most people wouldn’t, but she hasn’t lied to me once so I have no reason to think she would about this.”

“Alright.” It was a relief to know the Winter Soldier’s actions weren’t out there for anyone to find, a relief to know someone else was looking out for James the same way Tony wanted to. “That’s-- that’s good. If Captain America can trust her with that, I can trust her too.”

“Yeah.” Steve screwed his eyes shut tight and pushed out a long breath. “Tony um-- can I see him? Feels weird to ask permission to see my own best friend, but I think you know him better than I do at this point. Can I see him? Will you bring him back to D.C., or could I come with you to Malibu? I searched for him for so long, Tony. The canyon below the train-- I spent days there. Days in the snow trying to find him, and I spent the first years waking up trying to find him… can I see him?”

Quieter, almost afraid, “Do you think he’ll know me?”

“I don’t know.” Tony said honestly, and Steve’s shoulders hunched in like the words physically hurt. “But they should be landing here in D.C. in a few hours and I already sent him this address.”

“Seriously?” Steve’s head snapped up. “You would-- you didn’t even know me. You told him to come here when you hadn’t met me yet?”

“You’re Captain America.” Tony shrugged carelessly, shrugged like his heart wasn’t tearing in two right there in his chest as everything he’d feared started falling into place. This was the right decision but it hurt and his heart could have collapsed under the strain. “And he’s Sergeant Barnes. There’s no question you two should be spending time together, in fact, I’m probably just in the way. I’ll bring him in and as soon as I know James is okay, I’ll leave you in peace and let you get reacquainted.

“That’s amazing.” Steve lit up with a mega watt grin. “Tony, thank you. Thank you. You’re giving me a piece of my life back, I swear. I don’t even know where to begin to thank you.”

“Just...take care of him.”

“I promise I will.” the Captain swore. “I promise. I’ll help him readjust to life and we’ll figure out… I dunno. Netflix together? I’ll help him Tony, I will.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Tony tried for a smile that didn’t feel like it was crumbling at the edges. “Now. Are you a enough of a rebel to have a beer in this place while we wait? Or still too good ol’ boy for that?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve laughed again, and yep, Tony would have been seeing stars and stripes if he hadn’t been blinking back tears. “Good beer is the best part of this century! And I don’t get drunk, so I’ve been trying them all! Come on and pick one out!”

“Picking out a beer with Captain America.” Tony struggled to his feet with a hand over his chest and followed the blond to the tiny kitchen. “How could anyone pass that up?”

“Tony!” Steve sounded immeasurably lighter, the smile on his face evident in his voice as he called, “Does Bucky ever listen to music anymore? Have you ever heard of the Andrews Sisters? We heard them sing the night he shipped out for the war, this was his favorite song!”

Before Tony could object or protest or fall to his knees and beg for mercy because he didn’t think he could take another second of this self inflicted torture, the all too familiar beginning notes of ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ floated through the apartment and everything got worse.

“Me and Pegs used to dance to this.” Steve tossed Tony a beer he could only barely catch. “She made Buck dance too even though he didn’t have any interest in the other dames. She always said one day he’d find a fella to dance with too, have you guys danced together yet?”

“Once.” Tony said faintly. “Just uh-- just the once.”

He closed his eyes when the song got to the chorus, when the beat changed and he could almost feel James pulling him in closer like he’d done that night in the lab when everything changed between them.

“...just the once.”

**************

“Hey babydoll.” James was confused when he finally made it up to the apartment door, confused and stiff when he bent to give Tony a kiss hello. “This is uh--” he cleared his throat. “Don’t like being back here, Tony. D.C. doesn’t have any good memories for me. I didn’t want to come.”

“I know.” Tony stood on his toes to chase one more kiss, gratified when James automatically wound an arm at his waist to hold him. “And I’m sorry but this is important, alright? What we’re doing here is important.”

“Important like the way Pepper’s fancy parties are important?” James teased halfheartedly, and tugged at Tony’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. I’m a real big fan of the way you’ve blown off work the last few weeks to spend time with me, we should keep doing that.”

“James.” Tony tried for words and failed, squeezed at James’s fingers and tried again, “I’ve got someone you should meet. Re-meet. Someone you used to know and I think it’s important you see him again. I think he can fill in a lot more blanks, help you out a lot more than I can, alright?”

“I don’t want anyone helping me but you.” James glanced around the hallway, glanced at the door and out the far window, then back down at Tony, shoulders set uncomfortably tense and jaw clenched. “Tony, can we go? Something feels weird here, I don’t like it.”

“It will feel better in a few minutes.” Tony promised. “Just um-- be brave, Brooklyn. Okay?”

“Brave? Tony, I’m telling you this don’t feel right, I don’t want to be--”

Tony turned the knob and shoved the door open before James could finish the sentence, pushed the soldier through into the living room and then hung back to just watch.

Be brave, Brooklyn.

“Bucky.” Steve stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets and chin ducked like he was trying to look small, the unmistakable shield sat prominently on one of the chairs, that old picture of he and James from the Smithsonian propped up on the table.

“Holy shit.” The Captain choked out a strangled sort of laugh and freed his hands to run them both through his hair, tugging at the strands and then rubbing at his eyes as they filled with tears. “Bucky. It’s really you.”

James narrowed his eyes at the big blond, at the picture and at the shield, then looked back at Tony in confusion.

“Bucky? Who the hell is--”

Click click click.

“I had ‘em on the ropes.”

“Yeah Stevie, sure you did.”

Click click click.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Click click click.

“You’re keeping the suit, right?

Click Click Click

“I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Click click click.

I know him.

Stevie.

“...Stevie?”

The Captain covered the room in two big steps and James met him in the middle for a bone crushing, desperate hug. James’s legs crumpled and Steve caught him halfway down, Captain America crying unashamed tears and swearing under his breath as he smoothed Jame’s hair back from his face to get a good look at him.

“Stevie?”

“Christ, Bucky I can’t believe I finally found you. I finally found you and I’m never gonna let anything happen to you again, I swear it. I swear it.” ----

--- Tony closed the door to the apartment and walked alone down the hallway, took the stairs up to the roof and stood for a long time looking over the city, over the monuments in the distance and the barest glimmer of blue from the river.

His phone rang and it was James but Tony ignored it so he could undo the latches on the briefcase suit and step into the boots, shivering as the armor climbed his body and encased him in cold metal before it warmed to his temperature.

His phone rang and it was James, and the picture on the screen was of them at the redwoods, the name beneath “Sergeant Barnes” because already James wasn’t James anymore, he was Sergeant Barnes, he was Bucky.

His phone rang and it was James and JARVIS intoned, “Sir, it’s Sergeant Barnes calling.”

“Send it to voicemail.” Tony whispered and the call shut down as the suit powered up.

“May I remind you sir that extended use of this suit specifically strains--”

“I remember.” Tony closed his eyes for a minute. “Send a message to Rhodey? Tell him I won’t make dinner tonight. He won’t be surprised, I’ve missed at least a hundred dinners. Call Pep and remind her that I owe her something expensive and sparkly and to pick out whatever she’d like.”

“...Yes sir.”

“JARVIS.” Tony’s chest tightened until he couldn’t breathe. “Enable Ghost Protocol.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just like we talked about.” Tony was shaking inside the suit, grateful for the exoskeleton that kept him on his feet. “I won’t let this be catastrophic and I-- I can’t watch while James realizes he doesn’t need me anymore. Start the process now.”

In the lab in Malibu, lights in the lab started to dim and the myriad of suits Tony had worked on for months drew back into the walls. The lock codes blinking on each panel changed from Tony’s preferences to ones coded to Honeybear, to Rhodey, to Sourpatch and Platypus, on and on the list went.

Computer screens flickered as dozens of letters went out to various charities and foundations, notifications of soon-to-be-arriving checks meant for specific projects that desperately needed funded. Signed paperwork irrevocably keeping Pepper as CEO and turning over any stock held by Tony Stark to her after a death certificate was produced was sent off to the proper compliance departments to make sure everything was legal.

A program was uploaded into Dum-E’s limited software that would allow the robot to function a bit safer and up it’s interaction levels to ones that would make the kiddos in the Children’s Wing at the Cancer Center smile and laugh whenever it rolled through the halls.

Back in Washington, JARVIS’s comforting monotone listed off each point of Ghost Protocol as it was engaged and completed, and the phone rang as Sergeant Barnes tried again and again and again.

“Send it to voicemail.” Tony whispered through a sheen of tears, and the call went silent as the Iron Man armor took off from the roof and soared into the darkening sky, punching through the atmosphere and heading for the stars.

This was the right decision.

Send it to voicemail.

73%

***************

Chapter Notes:

Did you cry? I cried.

I love Steve in this verse. The “First Winteriron, then Steve comes Along” dynamic is something I’ve never written, and I’ve also never written Fresh from the Freezer Steve and I sort of love him??

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

***************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #natasha romanov #nick fury

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philthepegacornfics · 4 years

Text

Stained Hearts

Michael Clifford x Reader

Summary: What happens when Michael tells his FWB he loves her?

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, implied sex, mentions of past abuse, angst

Word Count: 6k

A/N: @galcalirwin and I wrote this together! What inspired it was a conversation we had about the songs “i love you” by Billie Eilish and “Why Won’t You Love Me?” by 5 Seconds of Summer.

~Michael’s POV~

“Fuck!” I giggled, rolling onto my back, tucking my arms under my head.

“That good, huh?” she giggled with me, snuggling into my side.

“Always,” I murmured, moving my hand to run my fingers through her hair. “Gonna miss you when I’m gone.”

“You fuckin’ better.”

“I always do, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty good at that. Pretty good fuck, too,” she winked before kissing at my jawline.

I laughed loudly, hooking my fingers under her chin and bringing her up for a proper kiss. “Fuck, I love you,” I breathed, before going in for another kiss.

She pushed against me, rolling out of bed, her feet hitting the floor. She didn’t say a word as she quickly shimmied into her jeans, throwing her shirt on over her head as she headed for the door, her things gathered up in her arms.

“(Y/n)?” I asked in confusion while my mind caught up with the last 30 seconds. Oh, shit… “(Y/n)!” I scrambled to my feet but the front door was already slamming shut. I slumped back down on the bed. “Fuck!”

~Y/N’s POV~

Panic consumed me as I booked it out the door and drove home. He said those words. Words that we agreed to never say. Friends with benefits. That’s all we were. Nothing more.

My heart was racing. What the hell did I do for this to happen?

“Maybe he was joking?” I said aloud, questioning everything as I entered the threshold to my home.

No, if he was joking he would’ve laughed his way through saying it. He can never tell a joke with a straight face.

“Fuck!” I yelled, throwing my purse across the room. The items in it spilled onto the floor where it landed.

Tears streaming down my face, I ran into my room and locked the door behind me. Michael has a key to my place and the last thing I wanted was to see him. He ruined everything!

Not bothering to change, I climbed into my bed. My thoughts were racing a million miles an hour. The last time this happened, things ended badly. Very badly.

“I love you,” he said when I caught him in bed with another woman.

“I love you,” he would claim every time he beat me when I tried to leave.

“I love you!” his voice echoed in my head for years to come.

~Michael’s POV~

You're still coming in a few weeks, right?

I stared at the message, waiting for a reply that never came. I sighed, swiping my thumb up my screen to hit the airplane icon on my phone before clicking it shut. I sighed again as I leaned my head against the glass of the plane’s window. “Fuck…” I muttered. Then I scoffed at myself. Really Mike? Fuck? That’s the only thing you’ve been saying for the last 6 hours.

“Jesus, who died?” Ashton’s voice asked me.

I opened my eyes that I hadn’t realized I had closed to peer back at the man frowning at me. He may have been frowning, but his hazel eyes were lit with humor. “I fucked up, Ash. I said the words we promised to never say.”

“Oh, shit…” The humor vanished as he took a seat across me from, resting a hand comfortingly on my knee. “Did you at least mean them?”

I swatted his hand off of me. “Of course I fuckin’ meant them!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fuck. Well, what’s the problem then exactly?”

“I wasn’t supposed to! That was the deal. Just sex. Keep the loneliness controllable. No real emotions. And I fucked it up!”

“Okay, back up. What exactly happened that made you say it in the first place?”

“Well, we had sex.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“And I dunno. We were just lying there like we always do. Joking with each other about how I better miss her and shit. And then, I dunno… it just sorta slipped.”

“Sorta slipped? How do those words just sorta slip?”

“Fuck if I know. But she just… she feels so good in my arms, mate. And I guess for a second I just wanted to pretend what it would be like if things were different. If I could have all of her.”

“So you didn’t mean it, then?”

“No, I did. That’s the problem. Like I know I should apologize, but I can’t. Because I don’t know how to apologize for saying something I meant to say. Like ‘whoops, sorry I let you in on how I’ve been feeling, my bad, you weren’t supposed to know’? I don’t know what to do, Ash. All I know is that I fucked up probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to the real thing. Three stupid fuckin’ words! If I ever met him, I swear I’ll kill him.”

“Not if she gets to him first, you won’t,” he chuckled. “Look, mate, and I know it’s easier said than done, but just try and move past it. Maybe this’ll all blow over by the time we head back home.”

“She’s gonna be with us in a month,” I reminded him.

“Shit… well, who knows what’ll happen a month from now.”

“Ash?”

“Yeah, Mike?”

“I appreciate all this,” I gestured about the man. “But, can I be left alone now?”

“Sure thing, buddy.” He patted at my leg as he got up and went over to bother Calum and Luke.

I clicked my phone, my home screen lighting up to a picture of her smiling brightly at me.

“We’ll never be lonely, right?”

“Never.”

Course. Wouldn’t miss it.

I smiled at the notification. Maybe Ashton was right. Maybe this could blow over if either of us could pretend it never happened in the first place.

The plane rumbled and I turned my attention to the window, watching as the ground rushed by, then grew smaller and smaller as we climbed higher and higher. I felt a tear start to roll down my cheek, so I hurriedly wiped at my face, sniffing back even more. Or maybe we could just pretend she loved me too.

~Y/N’s POV~

In front of me were dark chocolate double doors. From the other side I could hear an orchestra playing a beautiful melody. I looked down at my hands to see myself holding a bouquet of cream coloured roses.

I then notice that I’m wearing a beautiful dress. The top is white with intricate lace and pearl beading that overlap onto the skirt. The skirt was long and cream coloured to match the roses.

My cheeks started hurting because of how much I was smiling. Suddenly the band began playing louder, causing my heart to accelerate. The double doors opened slowly to reveal a beautiful ballroom that was decorated from top to bottom in whites and creams. Rows of chairs sat on both sides of the room creating an aisle for me to walk down.

I looked up to see Michael standing at the end of the aisle waiting. He hadn’t seen me yet. I start walking faster. He’s wearing a white tuxedo. His hair is combed, but still slightly messy as it always is. He turns and sees me. A smile breaks across his face as tears well up in his eyes. It takes everything in me to not drop the bouquet and run to him.

As I reach him, he steps forward and takes my arm. Walking me the last couple of steps. I turn and face him, basking in his presence. In the corner of my eye, I see a man I assume is a priest. He’s talking, but I don’t pay any attention. I was too busy studying Michael. And Michael was studying me back with bright green eyes.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you too,” I mouthed back.

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing on my nightstand. I let out a groan as I rolled over to see who could be calling me at this ungodly hour. The screen was lit up with my best friend’s face. I let out a heavy sigh before answering.

“What’s up?” I grumbled.

“(Y/n)!” She squealed into the phone.

“Jesus Christ, woman. What do you want?!” I snapped.

“Well good morning to you too,” she giggled.

“Rosa, it is,” I pull my phone away to look at the time, “Holy shit, it is five in the goddamn morning. What do you want?”

“Well, I have news and I couldn’t wait anymore to tell you.”

“And that is?”

“I’m engaged!” she cheered into the phone.

Hurt panged into my chest as my dream flooded back to me. I stared blankly at the wall, not saying anything to Rosa about her news. My thoughts were racing. I could feel tears well up in my eyes.

“(Y/n)?” Rosa called out, bringing me back to the moment.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“What’s wrong?” she sighed.

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” I mumbled.

“No because if I told you this two weeks ago, you would’ve been screaming. It’s Michael, isn’t it?”

“I can’t get him out of my head,” I sobbed as I continued to tell her about my dream.

“Honey, you need to talk to him.”

“Rosa, I ran. There’s nothing to say!”

“He’ll forgive you if you just talk to him. You’re still going on part of the tour, yeah?”

“Yeah. He asked me if I still planned on it, and I told him yes.”

“See! He wants you there. Just talk to him.”

“I don’t want to,” I admitted to her.

“Avoiding this isn’t going to solve anything,” she said sympathetically.

“You’re right.”

“I know that, Girl! Now, I’m going to let you go back to sleep. Dream about my wedding for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that we hung up. Before laying back down to sleep, I decided to check the notifications on my phone. I had three missed calls from two in the morning. All from Michael. I quickly made a mental note to text him in the morning before I left for work.

I sighed as I sat my purse on the kitchen counter after returning home from work. It had been another long day. It didn’t help that that was the night I was going to be flying out to see Michael.

“Leave it to me to wait until the last minute to pack,” I muttered to myself as I headed to the bedroom. Once I got to the door, I hovered my hand above the doorknob. Do I really want to go?

I shook the thought of staying here out of my head. You promised Michael that you’d go.

Without waiting another moment, I quickly opened the door and made my way in. Grabbing my suitcase, I shoved as much clothes as I could fit in it. I was going to be spending the rest of their tour with them, so I needed as many outfits as I could get. I then took a backpack and filled it with the rest of my essentials. As I packed, I let my mind wander. Mostly in thoughts about Michael and trying to figure out what I was going to say to him.

“Shit, I forgot to text Michael about him calling me!” I groaned. “He probably thinks that I hate him.”

A sudden knock at my front door pulled me away from my thoughts. I made my way to it and opened it to find Rosa on the other side.

“Why didn’t you just let yourself in?” I asked.

“With you being so stuck in your head, I didn’t want to scare you,” she shrugged.

“Well thanks for that. My stuff is in my room, let me go grab it.”

After grabbing my things, we took a silent trek to her car. It wasn’t until she started driving that Rosa spoke again.

“Did you talk to him?” she asked.

“No, I forgot…”

“How do you forget something like that?”

“He called me at two in the morning last night. I didn’t hear. I told myself I’d text him before going to work, but I woke up late. And I just kinda forgot,” I explained.

The rest of the car ride was silent until we got to the airport. I thanked her for giving me a ride and we made small talk until I had to go through security. Right before I went though, I took a picture with her and made an Instagram post. I then made my way to the gate and boarded the plane. Michael was always nice enough to buy me a first class seat.

After the flight had taken off, I motioned for the stewardess and asked her to get me wine. To keep the wine coming. My plan was to get drunk enough to pass out. I couldn’t be alone with my thoughts any more. They were all about Michael and what I may or may not feel for him. One thing I knew for sure though, was that I missed him. My body yearned to be held the way he holds me.

When I was half way through my second glass, the person next to me decided to make small talk, “Going to be up all night?”

“Not the plan,” I gestured to my glass. “But, red eyes tend to do that to you.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Just seeing some friends. What about you?”

“I’m going home.”

“That’s nice,” I said before finishing my glass. “I wish we never learned to fly.”

“Fear of flying?” they laughed.

“Fear of what’s to come when we land,” I gave them a tight lipped smile before turning in my seat to end the conversation.

I made my way through the airport begrudgingly until I heard Michael shouting my name. When I spotted him, he was waving his arms in the air to further get my attention. A smile spread across my face at seeing him act like his goofy self. I quickly made my way over to them excited to see him, but as I got closer, my steps felt heavier. Every instinct in my body was telling me to turn away and run.

“Hey!” Michael said, pulling me into a hug the moment I got close. I returned his hug as quickly as I could. Not squeezing hard like I normally do to try and get it over with.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

As we let go, I saw Ashton walk up. An escape! I smiled at him.

“Hey, Ash!” I pulled him into one of my signature hugs.

“Hey, love. How was your flight?” he asked me as we pulled apart.

“Oh, it was great!” I lied. I quickly told him stories of previous flights I had. I didn’t want to admit that I spent most of it drunk and crying.

~Michael’s POV~

“Dude, would you relax?” Ashton scolded, looking at my leg that kept jostling his.

“Shit, sorry,” I mumbled, pressing my palm flat against my leg to keep it from bouncing, but my other leg started it back up again.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ mess, Mike…”

“Well, she hasn’t answered like any of my texts.”

“Did you call her?”

“Yeah, and she didn’t answer. I mean, I realized after that I had called her at like 2 in the morning, but still.”

“Hey, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not hanging out outside an airport just for fun, are we? Like, (Y/n) got on the plane?”

I nodded. “Yeah. She made a post about catching her flight. I just don’t get why she can tell me that she’s still coming and then fuckin’ ignore me. Like I know she’s coming out to be with all of us and shit, but…”

“But we all know who she really comes for, and if she’s been ignoring you, then why is she bothering?” Ashton supplied.

“Exactly…”

“Well… maybe whatever she wants to say, she wants to wait to say it in person.”

I sighed, hoping he was right. “Shit, I see her!” I scrambled out of the car. “(Y/n)!” I shouted, waving my arms over my head to get her attention.

Her head lifted at the sound of my voice and she quickened her pace.

“Hey!” I smiled, pulling her in for a hug the moment she was close.

Her arms wrapped limply around my shoulders. “Hey…” she mumbled.

I felt myself deflate as I let her go. I bit my tongue when she noticed Ashton, perking right up. “Hey, Ash!” she beamed, giving him the hug that held all the warmth in the world.

“Hey, love. How was your flight?”

“Oh, it was great!” She started prattling off every detail of her travel, which sounded more like a mixture of other stories she had told us. I paid special care to pick up on any new details, wondering why she was hiding the truth of her most recent flight experience as Ashton and I took her bags and placed them in the trunk before we all climbed back in the car.

When her leg pressed up against mine, I was willing to believe that she was just nervous about being around me given everything. But when I rested my hand on top of hers, she not only moved her hand away, but crossed her leg, shifting in her seat to give Ashton her full attention and effectively shutting me out.

“Mate? Mike? Michael!” Ashton shouted in my ear.

I flinched away, swatting at him like I would an annoying fly. “Fuck! What?!”

“You’ve been sulking all night. The last three days, really.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious…”

“Have you talked to her?”

“She doesn’t wanna talk to me, Ash.”

“How do you know that? She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Because I just do, alright?!” I snapped, slamming the beer bottle I’d been spinning in my palm down on the table and rising to my feet. “You think you know everything, but you don’t! You don’t know her! I do! And she doesn’t wanna fuckin’ talk to me because she fuckin’ hates me! Because the last guy who told her he loved her was a fuckin’ liar and that’s all she knows! All she knows to associate with those words is hate! And since I’m the one who said ‘em, guess who’s on the receiving end of that hatred? Me! Can’t you see that I’m losing a whole lot more than just some girl?! So, yeah! Sorry if my sulking is bringing you down, but I think I’m entitled to sulk when my world is fuckin’ fallin apart!” I knew people were turning their attention to watch me scream at Ashton, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the tears streaming down my face either. All I cared about was the pain in my chest threatening to break me wide open. Hell, if I had just yelled at Ashton in public, maybe I already had.

To Ashton’s credit, he just stood there, letting me go off. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice terrifyingly calm as I stood in front of him, my chest heaving.

“Yeah,” I answered, keeping my voice low as I felt the shame wash over me. Ashton was only looking out for me, and I knew that. “Sorry for yelling…”

His hand clapped on my shoulder. “Aw, it’s alright, buddy. C’mon, I’ll round everyone up and we’ll head back to the hotel.”

I nodded, watching him turn to leave me at the table. “Hey, Ash?” I called out.

“Hmm?” he asked, turning back around.

“Thanks. For listening and stuff. I know I’m getting on everyone’s nerves.”

“You’re not getting on anyone's nerves, Mike. You’re just going through it. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

I chuckled a little, shaking my head. “Well, forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”

~Y/N POV~

“I’m going to get another drink,” I told Calum and Luke before standing up from our table and heading towards the bar.

I only took a few steps when I suddenly heard Michael yelling. I frowned and took a few more steps to get closer to hear better.

“You don’t know her! I do! And she doesn’t wanna fuckin’ talk to me because she fuckin’ hates me!” he snaps.

Is he talking about me? I take a few more steps until he’s in sight. In front of him, I see Ashton whose jaw is set as he just let’s Michael continue to yell at him.

“Because the last guy who told her he loved her was a fuckin’ liar and that’s all she knows! All she knows to associate with those words is hate! And since I’m the one who said ‘em, guess who’s on the receiving end of that hatred? Me!”

He’s definitely talking about me…

“Can’t you see that I’m losing a whole lot more than just some girl?! So, yeah! Sorry if my sulking is bringing you down, but I think I’m entitled to sulk when my world is fuckin’ fallin apart!” he finished. His chest was heaving as tears trailed down his face.

My heart felt like it was ripped in half. Tears started rolling down my own face. I turned on my heel and ran out to the patio of the bar. I didn’t want to become part of the scene that Michael just created. The air outside was nice and cool. I tried taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, but they ended up more like hiccups. I leaned over the railing, feeling sick to my stomach.

“(Y/n)?” Ashton’s voice called out for me after a few minutes.

I turned back to look at him and the frown he was wearing deepend in concern as he walked up to me. I leaned over the railing again.

He started rubbing my back and asked, “Are you okay?”

“No!” I cried. Tears started falling faster.

“What’s wrong?” he pulled me into a hug. I buried my head into his shoulders and cried on his shirt. He continued rubbing my back as he held me.

“I don’t know what to do!”

“Are you talking about Michael?”

I nodded my head and Ashton let out a heavy sigh, “You need to talk to him.”

“I can’t!”

He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me out an arms length away. With his hands still on my shoulders, he looked me in the eyes, “You have to.”

“I know,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “I know I have to, but I’m just so scared.”

“Why are you scared?”

“I hurt him, Ash. I hurt him bad. I don’t know how he’d ever forgive me.”

“He will-”

“Let’s say he does. Then what? He thinks I hate him. He’s always going to wonder if I do or not. Which I don’t. I could never hate him. When I’m with him, it’s like nothing else in the world matters. My heart races and I get butterflies in my stomach, yet I’m so happy and comfortable at the same time. I like him, Ash. I like him so much it hurts. It’s killed me not being close to him this past month. I want him in my life. I can’t imagine a future without him! I even had a dream that I married him! And that scares me. What if he doesn’t want the same thing? What if it doesn’t work out? What if I can never differentiate between him and my ex?” I cried.

“Have you ever thought about the fact that he’s probably just as scared as you?” Ashton asked. “He cares about you a lot, (Y/n). You’ve known Michael for years! He’s not like your ex, and I know that you know that.”

“Michael’s the first man I trusted after him…”

“Just talk to him.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered.

He let out another sigh, “Come on, everyone is waiting for us. We’re going back to the hotel.”

~Michael’s POV~

I ducked into the bathroom as Ashton went to round everyone up. I gripped the sink as I peered at myself in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and the tears I had shed had left track marks down my cheeks. I splashed water in my face to try to clear some of it up, hoping to pass for drunk rather than someone who had just sob-screamed at his friend in a public space. A feat that probably would work out better if I had actually gotten drunk. But I’d been scared to have anything beyond a single beer because I was afraid of how I would feel in a drunk state. I was already drowning sober, I didn’t want to risk hurting more than I already did, or confessing more things I was better off not confessing.

I gave myself one good last stare before I threw on my sweatshirt, pulling up the hood to hide more of my face.

I found Calum and Luke towards the front of the bar, waiting expectantly. “Where’s everyone else?” I asked.

“Ash is getting (Y/n) from outside,” Calum answered. “You alright?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

Calum and Luke shared a look, before shaking their heads. “No, you’re not. But, whatever it is, you and (Y/n) will figure it out. You’ve been friends for too long to not bounce back from this,” Luke told me.

“I hope you’re right…” I sighed. Unfortunately, I had the sinking feeling that the conversation that would need to happen for me and (Y/n) to “bounce back” wasn’t one with a happy ending. Sure, the regression to basic pleasantries was killing me from the inside out, but at least it meant we were still in each other’s lives. Which, come to think about was how I had gotten into this mess in the first place. Wanting whatever part of herself she was willing to give me no matter how badly I wanted more because it was better than not having her at all. And yet, I still couldn’t bring myself to regret saying “I love you” to her. That was the one small comfort I could take away from all this pain. And all I could do was cling to the hope that she believed me.

I felt what small composure I’d been able to reassemble crack when I saw (Y/n) walking towards us with Ashton, and the wave of shame washed over me again. It wasn’t fair how the sweetest arrangement of eight letters had completely shattered us both.

Ashton kept nudging me into her as we walked the block and a half back to the hotel, constantly clearing his throat as obnoxiously as possible. “Alright, I get it…” I growled at him under my breath, knocking my shoulder roughly into his.

“Then fuckin’ do something,” he muttered back, practically shoving me into her.

“Shit, sorry,” I mumbled, my hands going to catch her as she stumbled, throwing a glare at Ashton.

“Ss fine,” she sniffed, moving a step out of reach from me. “Sidewalk’s really uneven. Dark. Hard to see.”

“You okay?” I asked stupidly.

“Are you?” she countered. She drew her jacket tighter around her and picked up her pace to hurry into the hotel with Calum and Luke.

“No…” I answered, and my feet stopped carrying me forward.

“What the fuck?” Ashton questioned, hands going to my shoulders to keep pushing me forward. In front of us, Calum raised an eyebrow in silent question as an elevator arrived. Ashton waved him off.

“I tried…” I told him, tilting my head upwards like gravity would keep new tears from spilling.

“Try harder!” he hissed, as we waited for another elevator.

“Try harder how, Ash?! Talking things out doesn’t work if she doesn’t talk back! In fact, the only thing that’s kinda working is keeping my mouth fuckin’ shut. Like I should’ve to begin with…”

“Oh, don’t pull that shit! It wasn’t a slip of the tongue when you told her you loved her and we all know that. You meant to say them because you meant for her to hear them. You two just need to stop acting like you can sweep this under the rug.”

I shoved him into the elevator as the doors dinged open, hard. “We need to stop acting like we can sweep this under the rug?! You’re the one who keeps forcing our hands!”

“I’m not forcing shit! I’m trying to help you guys ‘cause I care about you!”

“Well I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Ask me if I give a fuck!” He slammed his fist into the buttons and the elevator started moving upwards. “Look…” his voice was soft when he spoke again. “You can hate me if you want to. This shit between you and (Y/n) is between you and her. You’re both adults. But you told her that you loved her for a reason. And she still came here for a reason. And if you two want to keep pussyfooting around the truth until one of you dies, that’s your choice to make. But you’re both my friends, and I’m not just gonna sit in silence when you’re both hurting.”

“It’s not you I hate, Ash… it’s him. I hate him so much. I hate what he did to her. And I hate that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough. I’m not good at a lot of things. I know that. I’ve accepted that. But the one thing... the one thing I know I’m good at is loving her. It’s the greatest thing I’ll ever do.”

“So, tell her that,” he said as we stepped off the elevator and walked towards our room.

“Ash, you don’t get it… my greatest isn’t enough. I’m not enough. And I can hate him and blame him all I want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t good enough to be hers before him, and I’m still not good enough now. All I am is a distraction. So, I guess I’m good at two things...”

His jaw set as he pulled out the key card to let us into the room. “Well, lucky for you, I’m good at a few things myself.”

The look in his eyes frightened me. “Ash… what are y-”

He held up his hand, cutting me off. “(Y/n)?” he called out.

“Yeah?” she asked, poking her head out of the bathroom.

“Could you c’mere a second?” he asked as he opened up the closet and hung up his jacket.

“Ash, what are you doing?” I asked again as she came over to us with a confused, “What’s up?”

“Remember,” he said, grabbing our arms. “It’s not me you hate.” Then, he pushed us both forward, quickly shutting us inside.

“Ashton!” she gasped in surprise.

I rammed my shoulder into the door, but he must have been sitting in front of it because it didn’t budge. “Ashton! Open the bloody door!”

“No!”

She pounded her fists against the wood. “Ashton! This isn’t funny! Let us out!”

“I will once you two figure out your mess! Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop. Just text me when you’re done.”

“ASHTON!”

~Y/N POV~

“It’s no use (Y/n), he’s not going to let us out if we’re struggling,” Michael said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, stopping my banging on the door.

“That makes two of us,” he sighed.

We moved so we were facing each other, leaning against either side of the closet. Even in the low lighting, I could still make out Michael’s figure. I could tell he was looking at me too.

“Do you think there’s a light in here?” I asked, breaking the silence that engulfed us.

“I don’t think so, and if there was, I think the switch would be on the other side of the door,” he answered.

I sighed and started feeling my pockets for my phone, coming up short. I let out a huff of annoyance.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just breathed,” I shot.

“That’s not how you breathe. That was you huffing about something.”

A small smile crept onto my face. “I can’t hide anything from you, huh?”

“Nope.”

“I was going to pull out my phone and use the flashlight, but it got left out there,” I gestured to the door.

I watched Michael’s figure shift around until he pulled something out of his pockets. Suddenly a screen lit up, indicating that it was his phone. He quickly turned on the flashlight and shined it at me.

“Is that better?”

“No,” I giggled, blocking my eyes from the light. “Now I can’t see you at all.”

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, pointing the light at the floor.

Michael shuffled to his left before sliding his back down the wall until he was seated on the floor. I mimicked his movements and shuffled the opposite directions until my shoulder was pressed against the door frame. Michael then placed his phone on the ground between us.

With the light, I was then able to see his face. His eyes were glossed over with red surrounding the green. There were tear trails on his cheeks. I absentmindedly reached a hand over and cupped his cheek.

“Crying isn’t like you,” I murmured.

“I couldn’t help it,” he whispered, leaning into my touch.

I stroked his cheekbone with my thumb a couple of times before pulling my hand back. Michael appeared to deflate at the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry,” We both said at the same time.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked.

“Because I scared you off. I put a stress on us, that never should’ve been an issue,” he explained.

“Don’t be sorry. You only said the truth. I should be-” my voice broke. I cleared my throat as tears started to roll down my cheeks. “I’m the one who ran. I’m the one who created all of this drama because of something we both felt.”

“You mean that-”

“Yes,” I cut him off. “At least I’m pretty sure.”

He nodded his head, asking me to continue.

“I really like you a lot, Mikey. When you’re not around, I feel like I can’t breathe. Whenever I imagine my future, it’s always will you. I’ve been having dreams of us getting married, for crying out loud! And that scares me. I don’t know what to do. You said those words, and I panicked. For a moment all I could think about was him.”

Michael’s fists clenched the moment I brought up my ex. I put my hand on top of his before continuing.

“But you’re not him, and I know that. I fucked up and ran. I hurt you so bad and that hurt me. Because I was hurt, I got defensive, and I continued to hurt you. And I am so, so sorry. Michael, I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”

Tears were now streaming down my face. I looked up at Michael to see that he was crying as well.

“You’re already forgiven,” he said, grabbing my arm to pull me closer.

I shifted my body to allow myself to be pulled closer. Michael wrapped his arms around me. We wept into each other’s shoulders.

After a little bit, I pulled away slightly to get Mikey to look at me. The moment he was looking at me, I smashed my lips against his. The kiss was salty from our tears, and held so much emotion. My heart started racing as butterflies erupted in my stomach.

We kissed until we were out of air. With our foreheads pressed together, a smile spread across my face.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I admitted to him.

“I’ve missed you too. Now, let’s get out of this closet.”

~~~~~~~~~

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#michael clifford x reader #michael clifford #5sos x reader #5sos

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