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elsewhereuniversity · 3 years

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About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in? In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

“I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #about face #body horror #of the faceless variety #trans #transphobia #briefly #becca #proto becca #submission

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guiltysecretpasttime · 3 years

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Grey Eyes (2)

This is the second part of a response to a prompt I received:

@camryn-bria I have a Linzin headcanon that there is a secret (airbending) child. Could you write a one-shot of Tenzin finding out Lin is pregnant after breaking up with her.

Lin/Tenzin pre-canon fanfic | 2 of 2

1 of 2 here.

Legend of Korra

---

“Tenzin! What are you doing here?” Lin hissed, tugging at his robes and pushing him away once she regained her balance.

“Someone might see you. I could get fired. Let’s go.” Lin was already rummaging through Jinora’s baby bag. “Why are you here? Did someone follow you?” She tossed a baby towel to the airbender. “Here, use this. Tie it on your head to hide your arrow. You can’t be recognized here.” She was thankful that the bar was empty that early.

She gathered the folders and chucked it in a file cabinet, locking it then picking up the baby bag.

Securing her daughter in her sling, ignoring her seemingly questioning grey eyes (so much like her father's), Lin quickly grasped Tenzin’s wrist and then pulled him to the street.

She had so many questions about the sudden appearance of the airbender.

But first, she needed to get him out of there.

---

Tenzin followed her dutifully as she weaved in and out of the side streets with the expert knowledge of a local. He could not ignore the tingle where her hand held his wrist as she pulled him along.

Before long, they were at an apartment unit.

Lin breathed a sigh of relief only after she had locked the door behind them.

She put up a hand, halting any word that he might say.

"Let's talk later." The baby wiggled in her sling. "But first, Jinora needs to eat."

Tenzin was left to observe and shift around the room while Lin assisted a babbling Jinora onto a high chair. He followed her, trying to find signs in the home that would indicate that another person (that Water Tribe man) lived with them as well.

Lin opened the baby bag and pulled out two containers. She showed them to Jinora, who clapped her hands.

“Na-na-nanana-na!”

Lin chuckled and opened one, revealing the sliced fruit. “Banana it is.” She placed the fruits in front of her daughter.

Jinora happily reached out to grasp one and put it in her mouth while another hand proceeded to turn another piece into mush.

Tenzin was enthralled in watching the child enjoy her fruit that he almost missed the earthbender’s question.

“What are you doing here?”

“So, this is where you’ve been all this time.” He cleared his throat, making an obvious look around the room, biding time.

“Damn it Tenzin,” Lin lowered her voice, tension obvious. “If you had arrived at the wrong time, you could have blown my cover.”

“You’re working?” Was his startled response.

“Yes, it’s classified information. Everything’s on a need to know basis.” She rolled her eyes at him even as she gently wiped off her daughter’s face with a wet cloth. “So, if you don’t know, then you didn’t need to know. Though I expect the chief will be sharing the findings any day now. I’ve sent my final report two months ago.”

“Why are you still here if you’ve wrapped it up two months ago?” Like the airbender that he is, Tenzin was still avoiding asking about the elephant in the room.

“I filed for vacation time, I deserve it, don’t I?” He received a scowl in return.

The airbender nodded but added. “When are you going back to Republic City?” He was already thinking of how he would be renovating part of Air Temple Island – to make it child-friendly for Jinora and to clean up the space that Lin used to stay at the main house.

“Not sure really,” Lin turned to Jinora, who was waving her arms over head, a signal that she was done with her food. “I’m not even sure if I’ll go back there.”

“Wait, what?” He thought he heard her wrong. “What do you mean you’re not sure –but in Republic City, you, the police force, your – your life?” He stammered, trying to make sense of things. He had been so focused on finding her that he did not even think that maybe she did not want to be found. Or that she would not go back to Republic City at all.

“What life? I can easily request for a transfer to the Earth Kingdom for work and Mom can visit Jinora and me,” The metalbender before him focused on wiping off the banana mush from her daughter’s face and hands. “Hopefully, I’ve satisfied your curiosity, Councilman. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you.” It was all he could say amidst the multitude of thoughts and emotions going through him.

“You’ve found me.” Lin crossed her arms as she leaned on the dining table. “You may go now.” She gestured towards the door.

“If you think I'm leaving without you or our daughter -then you're very much mistaken.” Tenzin pulled himself up to his full height. He had missed months of his daughter's life and he was not about to lose any more.

Lin appeared to taken aback. “My daughter,” She bit out with conviction. She noticed Tenzin motion to contradict her. “You're not her father.”

“Lin, you can't be serious!” Tenzin raised his voice indignantly. “You can't deny that your airbending daughter is mine as well.”

“Well actually, they've been speculating around here whose reject I am,” Lin snorted. “That councilman in Republic City or that military man in the United Forces.” She waved a hand between them. “You may have donated genes but you are not her father. You've made that choice.”

“When have I? I only learned about her a few minutes ago!” He felt his blood freeze. “Is there someone else?”

“Funny how your mind draws that conclusion immediately. I should ask you the same -wouldn’t your wife or partner wonder about the appearance of your illegitimate child?”

“What are you talking about - I'm not married! I'm not even in a relationship.”

“Oh I'm sure.” Lin scoffed.

Tenzin could feel his frustration about to boil over. “I'm telling you the truth!”

“And I'm telling you the truth as well -when you decided to disregard my daughter is the moment you’ve lost every right to be her father.”

Said daughter called for their attention at this point, pounding her arms on the table, probably feeling the tension between the adults. “Ma-mama-ma!”

“Yes sweetie?” Lin plucked her out of the high chair as Jinora raised her arms, letting her know she wanted to be carried.

The child pushed herself to her mother's chest.

“You want milk?” Her mother asked gently, cradling the child and then sitting down.

She raised an eyebrow at the airbender who was watching the interaction intently.

Oh, right.

Tenzin turned away, allowing Lin some privacy, realizing belatedly that the previous intimacy they used to share was no more.

“You can turn around now.”

Lin was now suckling Jinora, who was under a baby blanket.

He had to tear away his gaze from them.

“I never rejected Jinora.” Tenzin choked out.

“Oh really? Are you calling me a liar? That I just dreamt up your letter?”

“What letter?”

Lin gingerly stood up, taking good care to secure her daughter in her position, and went to the side table in the living room. Finding herself unable to bend down, she sat on the couch and instructed Tenzin to get the letter in the drawer.

Tenzin riffled a bit until he came upon his handwriting. He felt a coldness run down his spine as he read the words.

“Now - are you saying you didn't write that?” Lin looked at Tenzin intently even as their daughter was cradled to her chest.

“I-I-I did.” The airbender stammered. He recognized it as one of the many generic letters he had his secretary send out more than a year ago. It would seem like Lin's letter got mixed in the mail.

“Well - I don't think your life partner would be delighted to find out that you sired an airbender with your ex.” The earthbender sardonically commented.

He did not know whether to laugh or cry at the misunderstanding. Before the silence could even stretch out, he opted for the unvarnished truth.

“There's no way to explain this without looking like the bad guy,” (“You think?”) Tenzin scratched the back of his head, shame and embarrassment overcoming him. “This is…a generic letter that I had sent out...To multiple people.”

Lin did not even have to say anything regarding what she thought of that; her face said it all.

Her eyes narrowed at him. Tenzin suppressed the urge to look away.

Lin sighed. “As idiotic the idea sounds – I believe you. Only you would have come up with such an idiotic idea just so you can run away from conflict.”

Tenzin released a breath.

“Well now, you know about Jinora and we're doing fine here and we don't lack for anything.” The metalbender ignored the shocked expression on the airbender’s face as she continued matter-of-factly. “When she's older, she will be given a choice when and if she wants to meet you. Though, we’ll definitely seek your guidance for airbending training – when she's of the right age of course. I want her to have a good childhood.”

Tenzin knew what she was talking about – their childhood was anything but normal. “You seem to have given this some thought.”

“Of course,” Lin looked down to peer down at the baby. “Once Jinora exhibited signs of airbending, I knew I needed to be prepared…”

A small fist came up from underneath the blanket. Again, Tenzin saw the smile creep up on Lin’s face, an expression so unusual in the last months of their relationship. What he’d do to get her to smile like that more often...

He did not realize it, but he had reached out a hand towards the mother and child – until the little fist had grasped his pinky finger. A rush of warmth bloomed in his chest: this was the first touch of his daughter.

“Come back with me to Republic City.” The words were out before he could screen them.

A shuttered look came over Lin’s face.

“No, I can’t,” Was the quiet reply. “I shouldn’t.” Lin wetted her lips before continuing. “It’s not that simple. It’s no longer just you and I, Tenzin – that relationship has long gone. We have Jinora to think about and I would do anything to protect her.” She met his eyes. “I want what is best for her.”

And it isn’t you – the subtext was heard by the airbender loud and clear.

“I know I’ve just known about her today and you don’t trust me yet,” Tenzin moved back though loathe to be parted from his family. “But I swear on my life, I’ll make it up to you.”

And Agni knows he will make good on this promise.

But first, he had to make arrangements.

---

An hour or so later, Tenzin was back at the street where Lin lived.

After buying a hat (he was not about to wear the baby towel on his head the entire day), the airbender had secured a phone call to Republic City, effectively filing for a leave of absence at city hall and informing his mother that he would be away for an indefinite amount of time.

He managed to pick up some items and food to bring to Lin and Jinora, a peace offering of sorts.

He knew he had an uphill battle in terms of convincing Lin to trust him once again.

The airbender clung to the fact that she named their daughter Jinora and hoped that it had to mean something at least.

As he turned the corner, he saw Lin’s door open and out came the Water Tribe man from earlier and another man with kali sticks poking from a knapsack.

He hurried forward but the pair had already left when he reached the door.

Tenzin knocked.

He heard Lin’s voice from behind the door as she opened it.

“Noatak, don’t tell me you forgot something again, I swear I -.” Lin frowned seeing him. “Ah it's you.”

“Don't look so surprised, I did say I was coming back.”

“I've learned not put much stock on your word.”

Well, that hurt.

Nonetheless, Lin moved aside so he could enter.

“I brought food.” He halted seeing that there were take out bags on the table.

“You didn't have to. The boys dropped by with some food from the bar before they headed home.”

“That can't be healthy.” He imagined bar chow to be greasy and fatty.

“Don't pass judgment until you've seen it.” She sat down back at the table.

He took off his hat.

There were some folders and paperwork on the table. He saw that one was a menu in Lin's meticulous handwriting. His heart sank. He was sure he had pretty much insulted Lin earlier.

“I help in menu planning, in coming up with the weekly specials.” She said by way of answering his questioning look, then she went back to the paperwork she appeared to be working on before he arrived.

Tenzin was left ignored, standing and unsure what to do.

Jinora was playing with some toys on a mat in the living room, still well within Lin’s view.

He proceeded to unpack all the food on the table instead and was pleasantly surprised to note that…

“Are these vegetarian?”

He was in awe.

Lin did not go vegetarian when they were together.

“I figured to give Jinora a headstart,” The metalbender did not even look from the paper she was perusing. “Though when she is old enough she can make the decision whether or not she wants to push through with it. But I thought that she would at least have that option.” She scribbled a note at the corner of the sheet. “And unfortunately for me, for now ar least, I'll have to abide by that diet until she has been weaned off.”

She might not look it but Lin Beifong did respect the Air Nomad culture a lot.

---

“She’s asleep.”

Tenzin closed the door gently after he had placed his sleeping daughter in her crib in Lin’s bedroom.

After dinner, he spent time getting acquainted with Jinora while Lin caught up with her work.

Lin made a nondescript sound but finally looked up at him. “Thanka for putting her in bed.”

He nodded. What else could he say? I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to put her to bed for the past eight months? “I better go ahead.”

“Where’s Oogi?”

The sudden change in topic took him by surprise.

“In Republic City.” He moved to gather his things.

Lin cleared the table to tidy up her work things. “The last trip of the train going out of the Earth Kingdom has left by now.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “where are you staying?”

“Uh,” Tenzin struggled to answer.

Lin placed her hands on her hips, a sign of her impatience.

“I’m still going to have a look around what inns or hotels are available tonight.”

“What!” The earthbender pinched her nose bridge in obvious exasperation. “Tenzin – you can’t do that here. You’ll get charged triple for that stunt, maybe quadruple when they see your arrows. Do you have enough money on your person for the down payment?”

The sheepish expression on the councilman’s face told her everything.

She looked up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths

Tenzin knew she was counting to five to refrain from scolding him.

Lin went back to her room and was shortly back in the living room. She tossed him two blankets and a pillow.

“If your sensitive back can manage it, you might be safer and better off on the couch rather than wandering in town searching for rooms and calling the attention of all muggers around.”

And that was how Tenzin found himself curled on the couch of Lin Beifong in the Earth Kingdom.

---

Lin fidgeted as she felt the sun on her face. She blinked away sleep as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight that was peeking through her curtain.

It was well past sunrise.

She bolted from her bed, panicking. It was not like Jinora to sleep through the night.

The crib was empty.

Not even grabbing her robe, she hastily opened her bedroom door.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she heard laughter and a baby babbling and squealing happily.

“Ah, sleeping beauty has woken up!”

It was surreaL; she felt her new and old life colliding.

Noatak and his kali-stick yielding boyfriend were seated in her tiny dining area while Jinora was happily squeezing her oranges and giving out delighted squeals whenever she bit into a sour segment. Tenzin was over at the stove, looking ridiculously at her home with her apron tied at his waist.

She sat down, dumbfounded.

Tenzin immediately moved to prepare her coffee. She took a sip.

It was just the way she liked it.

“Oh Lin.” The Water Tribe man pouted at her. “Why couldn't you have slept with the military cloudchild? You cost me several yuans.” The bar personnel have been betting on the paternity of Jinora ever since she started airbending.

“Is that you worry about?” Lin grumbled, inhaling the aroma of the coffee in her mug.

“Oh no,” Noatak waved a hand nonchalantly and waggled his eyebrows. “You know I worry about everyone you sleep with.”

Clang!

They all turned to Tenzin near the stove.

“Sorry, pan slipped from my grip." The airbender explained tightly.

Noatak’s boyfriend shared why they were around. “We were just dropping by to see if you have the menu ready for the week,” At this, Lin stretched behind her to pull out the folder from a drawer to hand over to him at this. “When Mr Airbender here invited us in for a bite of breakfast.”

“Hope you didn’t mind.” Tenzin seated himself beside her after placing down a platter of omelet on the table. “It would be great to meet your friends.”

There was a challenge to his tone that she did not care for.

“Of course,” She turned to the pair across them. “You know you're always welcome.”

“Yeah well,” The other man obliviously continued as he took a bite of toast. “After all that happened between you guys – how can you not make him welcome?” He pointed to Lin and Noatak.

Whether Lin liked it or not, she was still very much attuned to Tenzin’s emotions, being with him for years made her sensitive. He was now restraining himself from making an outburst; she could see a furious blush creeping up his neck.

“Please,” Noatak flicked off crumbs from his top. “Seeing her almost dead is not something I would wish on anyone.”

Lin felt Tenzin shoot her a look.

“You exaggerate,” She busied herself with spooning some egg and trying to get Jinora to eat it. “I wasn’t at the brink of death.”

“Oh no-no-no, I don’t think he was exaggerating – how did you say it went, Noatak? All that blood…” The mustached man nudged the Water Tribe man beside him. “If you hadn’t been there, these two lovely ladies might not have made it.”

Tension radiated from the airbender as he held himself taut, not saying a word but intently looking at his tea.

“Enough of that, it's too early in the day for these discussions.” Lin placidly stated, keen to change the topic.

“I think that's our cue to leave.” The two men gulped the last of their tea.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“We’ll send ol’ lady Jin your regards. The old barkeep wouldn’t care much as long as the food got sold.” Noatak grabbed the folder that Lin put out then turned to Tenzin who had gotten up as well. “Master Tenzin, a pleasure to meet you.”

“I assure you pleasure is all mine.”

---

“What are you playing at?”

“Nothing at all, dear.” Tenzin proceeded to tear a piece of toast for their daughter.

“Don’t call me dear.”

A pause.

Lin could see his knuckles turning white.

“What did he mean you almost bled to death?”

“But I didn't!”

“That's not the point.”

---

The next day, at the bar, the Water Tribe man was surprised to receive a gift basket filled with Water Tribe-originated items and food.

Thank you.

-Lin and Tenzin

“That doesn’t make sense.” One of the other bar staff commented. “What did you do anyway?”

Noatak barked a laugh. “This is a rather passive aggressive exhibit. Well played, Mr Airbender, well played.”

“You mean, he didn’t understand that you and…?”

“Nope.”

---

“How did you ever handle all of these all these months?” Tenzin wondered as he struggled to help Lin with the chores before she went out for her shift at the bookstore.

“I managed.” Alone.

He watched her secure Jinora in a baby sling. “How did you get to be so proficient at that?”

“Your mother.”

“My mother?”

“Surely you didn't think you were raised by acolytes?”

“No…”

“And surely you didn’t think your mother left nation building to your father?” Lin was about to carry the baby bag but Tenzin offered to take it instead. “She regularly held self-defense classes for women (both benders and non-benders alike) who might be interested, and she oversaw the building and training of the hospital in Republic City.”

She snapped her fingers and locked the door. Without waiting for Tenzin, she headed towards the direction of the town square.

He realized with a pang that he had taken his mother for granted.

When he gets back to Republic City, he'll give her a long warm hug and maybe send her off to one of the best spas that city has to offer.

…and maybe have her drag Toph Beifong with her while she’s at it.

---

He insisted joining her in one of her shifts at the bar before opening, when the crew was gathered to have a meal before service began.

She told him he did not have to, and to stop being an annoying gnat-fly that hovered around her.

To her surprise, he fell into easy conversation with the rest of the people she worked with.

Lin found herself quietly observing Tenzin, baby Jinora on the sling he wore, as he listened to one of the bartenders relate a story about some of last night’s patrons.

“So, I take it he will be whisking you away?”

It was old Jin, the owner of the bar.

“No, he won't.” Lin refuted the assumption.

“Famous last words, honey!” Jin cackled, as though in on a secret.

Boisterous laughter erupted from the other side of the room.

“What’s stopping you from leaving with him?” Lin did not answer and so the older lady continued. “He's absolutely smitten by your daughter. I thought you said that’s what you’ve been looking for?”

“Jin, he has someone back in Republic City.”

His life partner.

“You’re afraid that he’ll take her away from you, then? Is he that type of father?”

The thing was – Lin wasn’t sure and she didn’t know. She was scared to find out.

---

It had been quite some time since he left Republic City.

He took a leap of faith and for the mean time turned his back from his responsibilities in the city.

There were more important things now.

He did not know his mother smiled as she read his letter.

---

Jinora flourished under her father's care.

She had always been an easy baby.

Lin was thankful that her daughter took after her paternal grandfather in terms of temperament. Stories about her childhood made Lin out to be a little monster. And there was her experience with Su -which she'd not wish on anyone else.

As much as she did not want to admit it, Tenzin easily adjusted to the role of being a father.

But would it be enough?

If she were honest with herself –

No. Not really.

Looking at father and daughter playing in her cramped living room, she knew that both had been taken with each other. Tenzin would use his airbending to amuse their daughter and Jinora would giggle in response, imitating her father’s actions.

But it should be.

---

“Why are you still here?”

“I told you – I’m not leaving unless Jinora and you join me.”

---

The choice was taken off her hands when she received a letter with the seal of the Republic City Police Department.

“The Chief’s hurt.”

---

She spoke of her career and told them of her surname.

It was the least she could do, she told him. After all, this small community did accept her as their own.

Tenzin was amazed to see how the people did not seem to treat Lin any differently even after her revelation.

No one was currying favor or even batted an eyelash when they learned she was a Beifong.

“Yuan for your thoughts?”

It was the barkeep, Jin.

Tenzin kept an eye out as different people approached Lin at the bar’s small farewell party for her.

“It’s strange that nothing seems to have changed when she’s revealed herself to be a Beifong.” He glanced at the old lady. “Didn’t it matter that she’s a Beifong?”

“So she’s old money,” The old barkeep shrugged. “But she’s still Lin to us. She never lorded over us mere mortals.”

True, Lin looked more comfortable here in this crowd than she ever did on his arm attending galas in city hall.

“I think the better question is – does it matter to you that she’s a Beifong?”

No, it did not, he thought without even contemplation.

At the corner of his eye, he saw Noatak give Lin a tight hug and a quick kiss on Jinora’s forehead. His daughter’s grey eyes sparkling as she reveled in the attention.

The Earth Kingdom elder woman said it best – she’s still Lin to him.

(He did not see Noatak turn and give his boyfriend a peck on the lips.)

---

“Mom, take it easy!”

“Nah, this is not really a big deal.” Toph pointed her thumb at Katara. “Sugar Queen here still does an excellent job in healing me. This isn’t half as bad as how Sparky burned the soles of my feet back in the day.”

“Not a big deal – you’re now blind blind!”

Toph snorted. Lin always did worry a lot. So she had an encounter with a rogue firebender and had burned herself. Big whoop. “Now, gimme my granddaughter.” The older metalbender wiggled her hands forward and was given Jinora to hold, who promptly sneezed at her face, expelling a particularly strong burst of air. “Kid, you weren't kidding when you said she took after Aang.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Her daughter deadpanned as she moved away to assist Katara in arranging some of the furniture in her mother’s house to better help her mobility while recuperating.

The blind earthbender could feel Tenzin nearby, probably glaring at her.

“I can hear you breathing, Councilman.”

“I, for one, am proud of Jinora.” He huffed.

“Airchild or not, I would accept and love my grandchild.” She felt the child poke fingers into her mouth. “How about you? If she were not an airbender? What would you have done?”

Without skipping a heartbeat, he replied.

Toph seemed to have gotten the answer she wanted.

The blind metalbender smiled.

---

“Why are you still here?” Toph was surprised to feel another set of heartbeats at their breakfast table.

Lin rolled her eyes even if her mother can not see it. “Tenzin’s helping out with Jinora while I go to headquarters today. We haven’t established a babysitting schedule yet but maybe next week, she’ll stay with Katara. I can’t bring her to work anymore here, Mom.”

Lin excused herself, carrying Jinora for a bath before leaving her with Tenzin.

Toph turned to the airbender. “I was asking you – why are you still here?”

“F-for Jinora.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you are here night after night. Even when my daughter’s here to take care of Jinora.” The Chief of Police tilted her head. “You could easily stay at Air Temple Island and visit in the morning.”

She was no fool. Her daughter might be oblivious (or unwilling to face the facts) but the way the airbender always (always) finds a reason to be at the Beifong house after dark was suspicious.

There was a late council meeting and he happened to pass by.

He thought it would be nice to give Jinora some fresh papayas he bought from a stall on the way home.

Katara asked him to give Toph the pouch of loose-leaf tea.

There was paperwork from the council that needed Toph’s stamp.

He just missed his daughter and wanted to give her a hug before going home (now he just wasn’t trying anymore, was he? Toph shook her head).

The monsoon season has likewise come and Toph knew that this mean rainfall every night. This made any ferry ride or glider trips to the island unsafe.

Toph and Tenzin knew that Lin would swallow her pride rather than let anyone get into any risky situations.

And that was why, for the nth time, Toph Beifong woke up to the airbender at their breakfast table.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” She perceived him to be stretching his back even as the silence stretched between them as he was unable to answer her earlier question.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, Chief Beifong.”

“That’s Aunt Toph to you.” There was a stunned silence now. “I think you know the answer to my question – make sure Lin does as well.”

---

The airbender knew he had to ramp it up.

Tenzin thought that he had been gaining inroads to Lin’s trust (Lin’s heart). Sure, she had been trusting him more in spending time with their daughter. Jinora was quickly growing up, starting her first few steps and (to her grandmother’s consternation) more frequently manifesting airbending.

Nonetheless, the woman herself seemed to keep him at a distance.

He found it odd, however, that in all the time that they have been back in Republic City, Noatak had not come to visit.

At most, he knew the man would send a letter or two every month. But not much else.

If he were in a relationship with Lin, Tenzin was sure to make sure that his presence is felt in her life.

He puzzled at this.

Unless this meant Lin and Noatak had broken up?

---

“Move in with me.”

“No, I won’t, you idiot.”

Even if she did think she wanted to.

She didn't want to wreck a relationship. He did explicitly write that he already has a life partner.

Even if she hadn’t seen her yet. She figured this elusive being is an Air Acolyte which was why she hadn’t seen her yet.

He did not refute the existence of life partner when he saw the letter months ago.

Lin did have the strength to set foot on Air Temple Island yet. She felt she needed to give Tenzin and his life partner some space.

She wasn’t a homewrecker. She never was and never will be. She would not want to go and drive a wedge in his relationship.

She knew what he was saying by offering to move in.

It was all about their daughter, about him wanting their daughter. His daughter.

Not her.

“You think you won’t, but I swear Lin Beifong – I will convince you. I will prove myself to you and our daughter.”

Jinora.

Jinora will always be her priority; not her own needs and wants.

Even if Tenzin is who she wanted.

---

“Pa-papapapa!” The delight on Tenzin's face encouraged her. Jinora clapped her hands as she repeated to call her father.

Tears fell.

Lin bit her lip.

She did not want to admit it, but he was doing a good job of convincing her.

---

Lin found herself finally stepping on Air Temple Island.

Jinora was spending the night with her father, knowing that Lin would be on duty until the wee hours of the morning.

She quietly slid open the door of her daughter’s room.

After an especially difficult day at work, she wanted (needed) to see her family safe, just to assure herself. She knew that to get home to a family is a blessing, something that is not readily assured.

“Lin?”

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and was surprised to see the form of the airbender getting up from a chair beside the crib.

“Is everything okay?”

Lin swallowed drily and pushed forward, to peer into Jinora’s crib.

Together they silently watch Jinora sleep, with her tiny chest rise and fall with every breath.

She felt Tenzin place an arm around her shoulder, anchoring her to his side comforting and reassuring.

Tenzin knew it was the right time.

“Lin, marry me.”

“You can’t – what about your life partner?” Lin’s voice was uncharacteristically small.

“Oh, Lin,” Tenzin moved to face her. He choked out a watery laugh. “Is that why you’ve been so distant?”

“I didn’t want to overstep.” She tried to look away but Tenzin placed a gentle finger under her chin, making her look up at him.

“Oh Lin.” He shook his head smiling even as moisture leaked from his eyes. “It’s you. You’re my life partner. There’s no one else. I’ve never looked elsewhere.” He took a chance and leaned forward to hug her close to himself, hoping that she feels his heartbeats, steady and true. “Please give me a chance, please let me know that there is still a chance after Noatak -.”

He was interrupted by Lin pushing up and capturing his lips.

“Tenzin – I never looked elsewhere either; it’s only been you.”

---

Note: Sooo there you have it. Let me know what you thiiink. (Also, thinking of changing the title – maybe but let’s see). This was something of wish fulfillment I guess, nothing too heavy and nothing too plot-ty.

#linzin #linzin fanfic #Lin Beifong #tenzin #legend of korra #lok fanfic #prompt #camryn-bria #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina completed

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expectingtofly · 4 years

Text

SPN Stay At Home Challenge

Week 6: Jealous

Picking up right where Season 15 Episode 13 left off...Dean is forced to spend more time with his alternate universe self and gets a little jealous of how well his douche self and his boyfriend/husband Castiel get along.

Words: ~3k

Rating: Teen And Up

Read on AO3

Thanks to @bend-me-shape-me, @helianthus21, and @pray4jensen for creating this challenge :)

In All The Universes

His and Sam’s alternate universe selves were supposed to be on a plane to Brazil right now. Instead, here they are, standing in the bunker once again. Their car, that disgusting small, green joke of a thing, had broken down on their way to the airport and they had trekked back to the bunker because, as Man-Bun Sam had said when Dean opened the bunker door and immediately started to shut it again, “You’re the only people we know and, besides, our cell phones don’t work in this world.”

“We’ll call them an Uber,” Dean says now, watching his other world preppy self and Man-Bun Sam try to get their phones to work.

“They’ve missed their plane by now,” Castiel argues.

Sam shuts his laptop. “There. I booked them seats on a flight tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” Dean says, “So let’s get them a hotel room and,” he lowers his voice, “get them the fuck out of here.” Even just looking at his other world self creeps him out. It’s him, but not him, some ultra douchey version of himself.

“You guys don’t have to do that,” Preppy Dean speaks up. Dean turns to look at him. “We can stay here for the night.”

“If it’s no bother,” Man-Bun Sam says in that pretentious voice of his.

“We do have extra rooms,” Castiel points out. Dean glares at him.

Sam stands. “Right. Yeah, okay. You guys can stay the night.”

“Really?” Dean says. “You too?” Sam shrugs and tells Other World Sam and Dean he’ll show them what rooms they can stay in.

Castiel goes to follow them and Dean grabs his arm. “Those sons of bitches drove Baby,” he says. “Drove her!”

Castiel sighs. “Dean, I know how much the Impala means to you, but they didn’t know.”

“If they touch her again, I will kill them.”

“Fine, I’ll warn them. Though I’m sure you’ve scared them enough already.”

Dean lets go of Castiel. “Damn right they should be scared.” Castiel rolls his eyes.

***

“You guys sure have a lot of books in here,” Preppy Dean says as he and Man-Bun Sam walk into the library. Dean looks up from his laptop where he’s researching new cases, desperately searching for something, anything, to give him an excuse to leave the bunker. So goddamn nosy, he thinks, watching Preppy Dean poke at the books on the shelves. Man-Bun Sam holds his scarf over his nose and runs his finger over a shelf, frowning at the dust.

“You can read them if you want,” Sam says, sitting down next to Dean. Dean points to his laptop screen. “Man Drowns in Bathtub,” the headline reads. Sam shakes his head.

“You actually read these tomes?” Scarf Sam asks, gingerly pulling one from a shelf. He opens it, letting out a cloud of dust, and sneezes.

“Umm, yes,” Sam says. “To research cases.”

“We have secretaries who do our research for us.” Scarf Sam pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose loudly.

“You have—?” Sam cuts himself off and shakes his head. Dean points to another news story: "Woman Believes Vacuum Cleaner is Possessed." Sam sighs. "Dean, no."

"Could be something," Dean mutters.

“Ooh, is this a real sword?” Nosy Dean asks, walking up to the long, curved sword on a stand by the bookshelves. Dean fights back a smile. Maybe his nosy-ness is good for one thing.

“It’s very sharp,” Castiel says before Nosy Dean can touch the blade. Dean turns around to see Castiel and Jack standing in the doorway. Don’t tell him! he mouths and Castiel frowns.

“Oh, I see.” Nosy Dean pulls his hand away from the sword and stares at Jack for a long moment. Then he looks away and studies the other artifacts in the room.

Jack sits next to Sam and Dean and Sam smiles at him. They’d had a long crying fest earlier when Jack had been processing the whole “having a soul again” thing. Lots of I-forgive-yous, hugs—Dean’s glad it’s all over and that Jack looks much happier now.

Nosy Dean gestures to Castiel. “Nice trench coat, by the way. Is that the current style, or whatever, in this world? Besides, I’m guessing,” he glances at Sam and Dean, “flannels?”

“Thank you.” Castiel smiles and looks down at his clothes. “But, no, I don’t know—”

“It’s not,” Dean says. “It’s his trademark look.” He stares his other world self down.

“Alright,” Sam says, looking back and forth between them. “So...Sam. Do you two work a lot of cases in your world?”

“Or do you have a troop of hunters who punch in every morning and do the work for you?” Dean asks. He ignores Sam giving him the evil eye.

“We do have quite a few hunters working for us,” Scarf Sam says. “Angels too.”

“The angels help you?” Castiel asks.

“I mean, some of them are dicks,” Preppy Dean says. “No offense, Cas.”

Dean blinks. Cas? Since when did they start using nicknames?

Preppy Dean continues, “But we’ve reached an agreement with the angels. And Sam and I take cases when our father allows us.”

“When Dad allows—wait, he doesn’t force you to go hunting?” Sam asks.

“No, why would he?” Scarf Sam asks.

Jack pipes up. “Sam and Dean’s dad made them hunt monsters when they were kids. They lived in a lot of motels. Do you guys live in motels?”

“What’s a motel?” Scarf Sam asks. Sam stares at him.

“They have a lot of repressed emotions from their childhood,” Castiel says to Preppy Dean. Kill me now, Chuck, kill me, Dean pleads.

“Clearly.” Preppy Dean sits next to Dean and Dean startles. “So do you work for Sam and Dean?” he asks Castiel. Sam laughs and Dean shoots him a look.

“No,” Castiel begins and Dean has suddenly had enough.

He slams his laptop shut—of course all the monsters take a day off when he needs them the most—and stands. “I’m going to make dinner,” he announces to no one in particular and storms off to the kitchen.

***

Dean sets a stack of plates down hard on the island in the kitchen and turns back to the burgers on the grill he had insisted they buy soon after he and Sam moved into the bunker. Apparently the Men of Letters couldn’t bother installing one alongside all the other useless contraptions and junk in this place.

At the sound of footsteps, he turns and sees his douche self walking into the kitchen. Swearing under his breath, he turns back to the grill, then spins back around to look at Douche Dean again. He’d switched out his jacket for...Dean peers closer. One of his flannels?

“What the hell are you wearing?” he demands.

“Castiel said I could borrow your clothes.” Douche Dean fingers the edge of the sleeve at his wrist. “Very comfy. I can see why you wear these.”

There are about a million things Dean wants to say but he can’t figure out a scenario that doesn’t end without Other World Dean and Sam kicked out on the street and his world Sam and Castiel very pissed off at him.

Gripping his spatula, he turns back to the grill and stares down at the browning burgers.

Douche Dean walks over to his side. “I have a question,” he says.

Why am I such an idiot in another universe? Dean thinks. What did I ever do to piss off God? Plenty, he decides.

“So Cas said you and him are dating, or whatever.” Dean rolls his eyes. “In our world, the angels stay up in heaven unless we need their help.” Fascinating, Dean thinks. Please shut up. “Did Castiel rescue you from hell in this world too?”

Dean frowns and looks at him. “You have a Castiel in your world?”

Douche Dean nods, then adds hastily, “He’s not like your Castiel, though. He wears a black overcoat, for one.”

“Sounds like he’s one of the dick angels then.” Dean flips a burger.

“Yeah, well, at times, but he’s one of the good ones.” He falls silent.

Dean glances at Douche Dean. He hadn’t thought to wonder what Castiel would be like in another universe. It seems strange to imagine a scenario where Castiel rescues him from hell and they don’t fall for each other. Another reason why this whole alternate universe mess is all wrong.

Douche Dean shifts. “Hey, I was looking through the records in your room,” he says. Dean tenses. “I didn’t see a single Beethoven—”

“Out.” Dean points his spatula at the door. “Now.”

Nosy Dean hastily leaves the kitchen, bumping into Castiel in the doorway as he flees.

Castiel looks at him, then back at Dean. “Can’t you try to be nice?” he asks, coming to Dean’s side. “Or at least not actively threatening?”

“My clothes? Really?”

“It’s a shirt you never wear. It’s been in the back of your closet for years.”

“Okay, one, creepy that you know that. Two,” he gestures in the direction Nosy Dean bolted, “it’s him, my annoying clone or whatever, wearing it.”

Castiel raises his hands. “Alright, sorry. I should’ve asked.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around Dean, hugging him from behind. “If it makes you feel better, I made Sam share his clothes too,” he says, his voice muffled in Dean’s shirt.

“First Baby, then staying the night, now wearing our clothes,” Dean mutters. “Asking all these damn questions, touching all our stuff. ‘Nice trench coat, Cas’,” he says mockingly, realizing belatedly that he’s mocking his own voice.

Castiel pulls away from him. “Dean.” He looks at him, tilting his head. “Are you jealous?”

“What?” Dean looks at him. “No! Jealous? Of that stuck-up, spoiled son of a bitch?” He tosses a burger onto a plate. “No! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Alright,” Castiel says slowly. “But Dean—”

“I’m not jealous.” Dean thrusts a plate at him. “Help me carry these. If these assholes eat this shit anyway.”

***

“I don’t like tomatoes,” Jack says, lifting up the top bun of the burger Dean plunks down in front of him.

“I thought everything tasted like molecules to you.” Dean slides two plates over to his and Sam’s other world counterparts. Scarf Sam wrinkles his nose but Flannel-Stealer Dean grabs the plate eagerly.

“Yeah,” Jack says, picking the tomato slice off his burger. “But some molecules taste weird.”

“I think I’ll just have the salad,” Scarf Sam says. He’s lost the scarf and is wearing one of Sam’s shirts, but it only makes his hair look more ridiculous. He pushes his plate back and grabs the bowl full of lettuce Dean has begrudgingly brought over for Sam.

“Well you two are alike,” Dean says, sitting down next to Sam and handing him his plate with the fake, veggie burger hippy nonsense he insists on eating.

“I’m not like that,” Sam protests. He takes the salad bowl as Almost-Sam passes it to him. “I just think we can all stand to eat some vegetables.”

“Salad molecules also taste weird,” Jack says.

“Now that’s true,” Dean says. Sam gives him a look and he rolls his eyes. “But we’re going to eat it anyway because Sam insists.”

“Fine,” Jack sighs, taking the salad bowl from Sam.

“You eat too?” Flannel-Stealer Dean asks Castiel.

Castiel looks down at the plate in front of him. “Not really, but Dean always makes me a serving so he can eat a second portion with the excuse of not wasting food.”

“No,” Dean protests. “I make you food so you don’t feel like a weirdo being the only one without a plate.” Castiel smiles and Dean feels a small satisfaction at amusing him.

The bunker’s lights hum as they eat silently. Dean finishes his burger and Castiel pushes his plate over to him.

“Is there a version of me in your world?” Jack asks Other World Sam and Dean.

They look at each other. “No,” Almost-Sam says slowly. “We killed your counterpart before he was born.”

“You killed him?” Castiel asks, leaning forward.

“Well, he was a threat. He was Lucifer’s child.”

“Does he look like a threat to you?” Castiel asks, pointing at Jack.

Everyone stares at Jack and Jack pauses in licking ketchup off his finger. He stares back at them, seeming uncomfortable. “It’s alright,” he says.

“No, it’s not—” Castiel starts.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, putting a hand on his arm. Castiel glances at him and Dean remembers, painfully, how he himself had once been so determined to kill Jack, had nearly done so on multiple occasions. And locking Jack in the Ma’lak box...he’d feared Castiel would never forgive him for doing something so horrible.

“It does appear that Jack is not the threat we thought he would be,” Almost-Sam says. “Maybe we made a mistake killing Lucifer’s son in our world.” He glances at Flannel-Stealer Dean and Dean realizes his body double has been quiet this whole time.

Not-Dean stares down at his plate, then pushes back his chair. He leaves the room without a word.

“What’s his problem?” Dean asks, watching him leave.

“The decision to kill Lucifer’s son wasn’t unanimous,” Almost-Sam says. “Our Castiel was very opposed to it.” He looks at Dean and Castiel. “In our world, Dean and Cas don’t have what you two have. I always thought they might one day, but they’re both very stubborn.”

“Sounds familiar,” Sam mutters. Dean glares at him.

“But killing Lucifer’s son...Castiel can’t forgive Dean for it. Not that Dean’s been apologetic. And now that our world and Cas seem to be gone…” Almost-Sam looks at the doorway through which Not-Dean left. “I think Dean regrets how things ended between him and Cas.” He pushes back his chair. “Umm, if you’ll excuse me.” He leaves after his brother.

Dean stares at the table, feeling like a dick for how he’d treated Not-Dean. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but...it’s bad enough imagining losing Castiel forever, but to lose him like that? Well, he doesn’t have to imagine. He’s lost Castiel plenty of times, thankfully never permanently, and it’s been hell every time. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even his rich, douchey self from another world.

“Well…” Jack says. “That got awkward.”

“Yeah.” Sam shifts in his chair. “Sorry you had to hear that, Jack, about yourself in the other world.”

“I’m alive in this universe though,” Jack says. He smiles at them and Castiel nods.

“Right,” Dean says and tries to smile.

***

Lying in bed that night, Dean can’t shake what Almost-Sam told them. It scares him, how close he’s come to being in Idiot Dean’s shoes. Maybe he’s a lot more like Idiot Dean than he thought.

Castiel lays pressed up against his back, his arm around him. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever told Castiel how much he loves it that he goes “to sleep” with him despite not sleeping at all. He touches Castiel’s hand.

“You know I love you, right?” he asks.

“Of course.” Castiel shifts and Dean rolls over to look in his eyes. “I love you too,” Castiel says.

“Do you ever wonder...I don’t know. I mean with Jack and all. What if I had—”

“Whatever could have happened, didn’t,” Castiel says. “In this universe, we chose each other. That’s all that matters.” He kisses Dean, then snuggles up next to him and Dean smiles. Another thing he loves about Castiel: he says such sappy things so sincerely that it makes Dean want to say them too.

“I would choose you in every universe,” he says.

***

“This will be our first time flying commercial,” Now-Ponytail Sam says, looking at the flight ticket Sam hands him. He tries to look excited. “What an adventure.”

They stand in the drop-off area outside the airport and Dean pulls Ponytail Sam’s suitcase out of the Impala’s trunk. “What the fuck do you have in here?” he asks.

Ponytail Sam starts to say something about taking care of his hair and Dean cuts him off. “Actually, I don’t care.” He shuts the trunk and everyone stares at each other.

“Well, thanks for letting us stay the night,” Now-Wearing-A-Sweater Dean says. He looks at Jack. “It was nice to meet you. You too,” he adds, looking at Castiel. Castiel nods.

“Listen,” Sam says. “We’re going to try to get you your world back. You two belong there.”

“We appreciate that,” Ponytail Sam says. He and Sweater Dean grab their luggage and Castiel, Sam, and Jack get back in the Impala.

Dean hesitates. “Hey, Dean,” he says. His other world self looks back at him. “Cas—my Cas—has put up with a lot of shit from me, forgiven me more times than I can count...Maybe your Cas will too?”

Sweater Dean stares at him for a moment, then nods. He smiles a little and extends his hand. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean shakes his hand and it doesn’t seem as strange as he would’ve expected.

He gets into the Impala and watches Other World Sam and Dean head to the airport doors.

“I hate flying,” Sweater Dean says, following Ponytail Sam. “Can’t we rent a car?”

“No, hurry up.” Ponytail Sam lugs his suitcase to the revolving doors. “I want to try to upgrade to first class.”

“I really hate that guy,” Sam says, watching them. Dean shakes his head, smiling despite himself.

“For the record, Dean,” Castiel says, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the seatback next to Dean. “There was no reason to be jealous.” Dean looks at him through the rearview mirror. “That Dean has nothing on you.”

“Alright! That’s enough of that,” Sam says. Jack laughs and Castiel smiles at Dean.

Dean smiles back and starts Baby. They pull out of the airport and he glances at Castiel again in the rearview mirror. It’s a nice thought, that he and Castiel are in love in other universes too. He likes to think that’s true in all of them.

Tagging: @spnwaywardone

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in my destiel fics!

#supernatural #spnstayathome #ficlet #fluff #au sam and dean #deancas #i never write short fics #so it was nice to write something silly and sappy #and no angst!#expectingtoflywrites

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that-is-where-they-wait · 4 years

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That is Where They Wait Ch 14: The Letter

previous / next all chapters AO3 FFN

[so funny story I actually posted this on FFN and ao3 forever ago but not here. oops. but posting here is a hassle, in my defense. hope everyone is doing okay? also check the notes for some Haha Funny Jokes because I don't want to add them to the. actual post.]

Perhaps the way to answer the present is with the past.

The metal of the hinge was cool under his finger, intricate design branching onto the actual door. It should've been smooth, but instead it was rough and red.

Rust.

Kai frowned. Rusty metal was usually brittle — but the door hadn't come down, even when he and Karlof rammed into it repeatedly. That plan of ripping at its hinges and hoping it came down was starting to look flimsy.

Ech. Well, they had to keep trying and hope for the best. It wasn't like they could stay in the small, dark room much longer. Kai had cobbled together a makeshift flame with pieces of rope and cloth from his gi, but it would definitely not last much longer.

Plus, he was getting really antsy, and it'd be just plain stupid to be so isolated when they weren't safe. When he'd asked about Lloyd and found out he was, in fact, both inside the mansion and unaccounted for, he had been about ready to knock Karlof's helmet off of his head.

… In hindsight, maybe he'd been a little forceful.

But hey, in return, he'd informed Karlof about everything they knew on the mansion and the spirit so far. So he didn't feel too bad about it.

"Psst." He went over to where he'd left Karlof and poked. "We gotta go."

No response.

Ohhhh, perfect. The guy had to go and fall asleep on him. They'd already spent so much time staying put! He was itching to get moving again, and Lloyd and Skylor were still out there, who knew where! Not to mention, if the others woke up and noticed him missing … (It occurred to him, a little belatedly, that they might blame Jay for that. Another twinge of guilt. But he could apologize for that when they went back.)

But it had been an exhausting trek just to get here. Karlof had endured that, and no sleep to recharge afterwards …

Kai sighed, seating himself next to him. Yeah, they weren't going anywhere until Karlof finished his beauty sleep. But then there came the issue of having nothing to distract himself with. Already he could just feel himself tiredly debating whether to indulge the pessimistic trains of thought forming in his head in all their bleak glory.

Abruptly, something slammed against him. Okay, so it didn't slam into him, but it definitely felt that way, because oof! It was heavy. Kai squirmed briefly, but a moment later, he realized he shouldn't even bother. Instead, he hissed an irritated puff of air through his teeth and tried to pull an overly-cuddly Karlof off of him. Why in the name of the First Spinjitzu Master was he—

An exposed part of his bandaged arm made contact with Karlof's for a second, before Kai drew it away and grimaced at how cold it was.

… Oh.

The way Karlof's arm was draped on him, Kai couldn't reach his face with his hand. He settled for a drawn-out groan instead. Just because he was the human toaster … and now he couldn't move!

Oh well. If nothing else, he could totally hold it over Karlof's head later. Blackmail material or something. But what was he supposed to do now?

A bleary yawn escaped his mouth.

There was one idea.

Nope, he thought to himself immediately. No way, José, someone had to stay awake, and he'd already bailed out on that once. But the door was locked, and the whole day and the effects of staying up so long were finally catching up to him …

Kai tried to debate the point a little longer, but as it turned out, he was pretty tired. Too tired to properly argue with himself, and before he could, he'd already fallen asleep.

The tiny flame winked out and left the room engulfed in black.

Lloyd wrapped up a summary of the search he'd just gotten back from.

Considering that depressingly little had changed since the last time they'd looked, it didn't take very long. The ever-encroaching cocktail of panic and despair clawed at his guts and his chest, made his throat tight, and he could feel it radiating off of Jay and Cole near him, optimistic as they tried to remain. At least Skylor had gotten some work in on fixing her bow while they'd been gone, although she hopefully wouldn't be needing it anytime soon.

The light trickling from the windows had become thin, silvery moonlight and long, fragmented shadows streaking across the floor and cutting into each other. Cole glanced at everyone in the room and declared that it was probably about time they slept; both searches had taken quite a while, even with how much of the mansion was still closed off to them. It didn't seem likely that much more would happen that day.

Zane took in everything they said solemnly, then pulled something out from beside him.

"It's disheartening to know that the two of them are still missing. But perhaps I can offer something else to think about before we rest for tonight?"

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a faded eggplant-colored satchel.

"I found this on the mantle while you were investigating in the tunnels. I didn't want to look through it without you …"

"Can I?" Lloyd reached out, opening the bag and peering into it for a moment. Then, as the rest of them watched, he stuck his hand in and, one by one, set its contents onto the floor for better examination.

On the carpet, there currently sat a small black inkwell, a quill stand, a bound book, a faded set of folded purple clothes, an assortment of large and small weapons, and a few loose pieces of parchment with writing on them. Maybe it all belonged to the person that owned the place, ages ago?

Evidently, they were all wondering a similar thing.

Lloyd set aside the empty bag and stared at the various items he'd placed down. "Hm. They were carrying weapons …"

"Whose stuff is all this?" Skylor finally voiced the question.

"It likely dates back to the Serpentine war," Zane said. "The antiquity of all the items would fit."

"Well, then, we should find out, shouldn't we?" Jay grabbed the book, slowly teasing open the binding and riffling through the pages. Lloyd caught a glimpse of inky letters over paper lightly yellowed with time; all things considered, it was pretty well-preserved.

"Careful, Jay, that looks heavy. Wouldn't wanna pull a muscle lifting that thing." Cole's mouth twitched up in a smirk, Jay briefly peering over the book with narrow eyes.

"… I mishandle an empty packing crate one time."

"Yeah, well," Lloyd huffed. "You nearly dropped it right on my foot. I still get splinters from that crate when I'm not watching my step."

"Thanks, Lloyd!" Jay looked supremely offended. "I didn't ask!" Still a little sullen from the disappointing results of the day, Lloyd didn't bother sassing him back. He scoffed when he noticed Jay looking helplessly at Zane — they all knew full well that never worked, so when the nindroid minutely shook his head there was hardly any surprise.

"Silly zaptrap," Cole shook his head and tsked. "Once is all it takes on this team. You of all people should know better."

Jay hmphed and nearly went back to skimming the book he'd picked up, but his head popped up curiously when Skylor spoke.

"Isn't it kind of late? If we're going to look at anything, maybe we should read one of the loose sheets instead. I feel like trying to get into something that long when we need to sleep isn't the best idea. I want to stay in-the-know, but I'm not sure how much longer I can pay attention to anything right now …" She shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry."

Oh, right. It was usually Lloyd's job to be one of the voices of reason.

Looking around, he was certain that last sentence didn't pertain to just Skylor, though. The banter was being tossed rather lazily and there was a sluggishness to everyone's movements, even Zane's. As for himself, the temptation to just plonk onto the next piece of bedding he picked up while cleaning up the aftermath of the pillow-and-assorted-accessories fight and sleep on it right there had been overwhelming.

"It's quite alright," Zane reassured her. "You have a point, at that. Perhaps something like this would suffice for tonight?" He held up a messily rolled piece of paper, and pulled it open. Lloyd eyed it and nodded; seemed interesting enough. Most likely, they could learn a thing or two, discuss, and then go to bed without too much further ado.

"Looks good to me," Cole said. "Let's see about this person, then."

Zane's eyes fell to the paper for a few seconds before freezing, glowing ever so faintly brighter, and doing a funny skip between Lloyd and the paper before settling back on the paper. Lloyd frowned, unsure he liked the new furrow in Zane's brow.

"What is it, buddy?"

Zane coughed awkwardly. Amazing how even nindroids did that when they were nervous.

"This appears to be a letter addressed to Garmadon."

Lloyd's eyes widened, breath hitching. Abruptly his heart felt less like it was beating and more like it was trying to break itself out of his chest.

Dad.

It had been, safe to say, a little while since he'd thought about his father. The same father he'd gone through hell and back to finally have by his side, only to banish and then drown for good.

He'd kept himself good and busy, helping the team move base to the abandoned Temple of Airjitzu. Warded off the lingering pain from remembering, during the Day of the Departed, pretty well with dusting and heavy lifting and organizing what needed to be packed.

Lloyd had always done his best to draw strength from his father's memory. Like he'd told his mother during Day of the Departed: "Sometimes it feels like he's still with me."

It sure didn't feel like he was with Lloyd now.

"Lloyd?"

He blinked.

"Lloyd, you good?"

He looked over. Cole and the others were all watching him with concern, trying to gauge his reaction.

Quietly, he took a deep breath. He was supposed to have gotten past this. It wasn't supposed to still sting so much when he'd moved onto something healthier, more bittersweet than the more raw, consuming pain he'd known for a while.

Maybe the mansion's atmosphere was digging deeper than he'd thought, ripping open old wounds on top of slashing new ones.

"Yeah." Then, to ensure they couldn't press him about it, "Are you sure, Zane? Lemme see." Zane obliged, handing him the letter. Lloyd took it and held it up to the firelight, careful not to wrinkle the aged parchment, and skimmed it silently, feeling everyone's eyes still on him.

Having caught his reaction to Garmadon's name, they were probably a little surprised when he chuckled.

"What is it?" Skylor tilted her head. "What did they say?"

"It's just the first paragraph. Listen to this!" Clearing his throat, all too glad to focus on the letter, he read it, the ninja going from attentive listening to confused snickering as he did.

"My dearest friend, Garmadon, it seems fitting to start with the most important subject here—thanks a lot for letting me blunder into that whole mess, you absolute withered honeysuckle. I was delayed two whole days trying to firstly explain how I accidentally deposed a chieftess, and then restore some semblance of normalcy to the village. I don't," Lloyd had to catch his breath, barely managing to stop snickering long enough to finish the sentence, "I don't even know why we're still friends." "What in the world is this talking about?" Cole wheezed.

"Absolute withered honeysuckle," Jay mimicked, cracking up himself.

"Well. They were friends, we've learned that much," Skylor stated, desperately trying to regain a straight face.

"Absolute chums, from the sound of it. Just the best of buddies. Like you and me, huh, Cole?"

"If this whole 'accidentally deposed a chieftess' stuff is anything to go by," Cole said, still laughing, "they were even better."

"I wonder what they got up to if this was forty years ago." Zane set about tidying up the remaining letters and the bound book earlier held by Jay, probably figuring he might as well get it over with while they were all distracted. "Or who this was, to be so evidently close to Garmadon."

"Uh, am I the only one wondering what a honeysuckle is?"

Metaphorical crickets, much to Jay's chagrin.

"Just me? Okay."

A sigh. "They're flowers, Jay."

As the room got quiet enough to hear the crackling fireplace again, Lloyd went back to skimming the letter. The little smile that had lingered on his face fell flat again as he took in the words.

"What's the holdup?" Jay complained after a moment.

"Honestly, with the way this is written, if I read it verbatim you'd probably fall asleep," Lloyd muttered over the page. "Shut up and let me summarize."

"I … okay."

Lloyd squinted at the words. "This is an awful lot to take in. What's a … Shhh … Shuuuuravansha?"

"A what?" A confused chorus met his ears; evidently the rest of the room only knew about as much as he did.

"Maybe the word comes from the local language," Cole suggested. "I did hear a lot of the villagers speaking something I didn't recognize."

"Probably. Zane, you wouldn't happen to have that language in your databases or anything, would you?" Jay asked.

"I'm afraid not," Zane said apologetically. "What is the rest of the sentence, Lloyd? Perhaps the proper context will make it easier to guess."

"'I spoke with the Shuravansha and revised the contingency plans based on the information I got from them, as well as reports from you and our spies on the Serpentine's movement.' How do you even say that?"

"I guess the jury stays out on that one," Cole replied. "But I don't think that's a person. It says 'the Shuravansha'. I don't call Jay 'the Jay'; it'd be weird."

"So a group of some sort?" Jay suggested. "The word 'the' implies more than one."

"But it could be a title," Skylor pointed out. "Like 'the chief' or 'the sensei'."

"Either way, it reveals little about the nature of this Shuravansha," Zane said. "All that sentence gave us is that they had information about the Serpentine relevant to the author of this letter."

"Whatever it is, it's probably important," Lloyd muttered, rubbing his eyes and going back to the letter. "But maybe we'll find more clues about them later."

"Then we should remember it," Skylor muttered. "How do you spell that?"

He spelled it out and kept reading. The room went back to quiet anticipation, until Lloyd sputtered, squinted at something on the page, then looked up at them.

"What the heck, Cole?"

"Huh?" All eyes were now on a flabbergasted Cole. "Wh-what'd I do?!"

"I, it's not you, it's just — since when was the last master of earth a traitor?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, what?" Jay piped up. "That's kinda a heavy accusation to just bandy around!"

"What is this coming from, Lloyd?" Zane asked.

"It literally says right there, 'Earth went traitor on us'! There's only one way to read that!"

Skylor was scribbling like mad.

"Wha—well, don't look at me!" Cole said. "I don't know anything about this!"

"Maybe that's not all there is to it." It was difficult to see Skylor's eyes behind the shades. "My father turned the Anacondrai and the other tribes against humans to start the whole war in the first place. Then he turned the elemental masters against themselves."

"Maybe that was the case here too. Is there anything else about the master of earth, Lloyd?" Zane spoke up.

"Full sentence is 'The Constrictai among them can burrow, and ever since Earth, the weasel, went traitor on us, we lost our best protection against that tactic.' So they're really still talking about the Serpentine."

"Hmm."

"Mmmaybe we should go back to the rest of the letter?" Jay said tentatively.

"I dunno. I kinda wanna hear about this." Cole curiously poked his head closer, wanting to get a look at the letter. Lloyd drew back and immediately felt bad when Cole regarded him a moment before scooting back, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

Right. It was late.

"I mean, there isn't anything else in the letter about them … just the one sentence."

"Fine. What's the rest of it say, then? We really don't have the rest of the night here."

He had a point. Lloyd was pretty ready to be done with the letter and get some rest, by now.

"Wait a sec," Jay said. "'Went traitor on us.' Who's 'us'?"

"Oh." Cole's eyes widened. "Oh my god, you actually have a point. Yeah, that sounds an awful lot like … they called him 'Earth', not his name."

"How do you know that's not his name? Maybe his mom had a weird taste in names."

"... I'm pretty sure that wasn't his name, Jay."

"The word 'us' does seem to suggest camaraderie," Zane mused. "Given that and their knowledge of elemental power, perhaps they were acquainted with the elemental masters, or worked alongside them in some manner."

"That makes sense," Lloyd agreed, not looking up from the paper he held. "Or maybe they even were a master!"

"There's nothing to confirm it yet …" Skylor pointed out. "I'll just write down that they probably knew about the elemental masters. I think that's a safe conclusion."

"Fair enough," Zane said. "I think we should hear the rest of the letter now, before it gets much later. Lloyd?"

"Okay, so. Basically, my dad sent this person, whoever they are, info about Serpentine movement in the area. There were more loose gangs causing trouble than anything, they were just harder to predict because they weren't associated with the Anacondrai commanders. But according to them, the Southern Woodlands were in too strategic a location to risk—"

"Southern Woodlands?" Jay interrupted.

"That's probably what this forest is called. The villagers called it that on our way here."

"Yeah, I think I remember hearing that from someone," Cole said.

"Anyway. Like I was saying." Lloyd coughed pointedly and continued. "The Woodlands were too risky to leave unprotected because the thick plant life would give the Serpentine a naturally-sheltered base to recover and hide in. And they didn't have a lot of time left because … wait." The loopy handwriting in thick black ink cut off abruptly near the middle of the page, the last sentence never to be finished. "It just cuts off mid-sentence."

"Why did I ever think I'd have an easy time of this." Skylor sounded disappointed. "There wouldn't happen to be a name or anything at the bottom, would there?"

Lloyd shook his head. Of course there wasn't; that'd be too easy for them, now, wouldn't it?

"So why didn't they have time, exactly?" Jay said.

"An abrupt end of that nature would suggest some kind of interruption, would it not?" Zane said. "They never had the chance to finish writing this letter."

"If this is from the same era as everything else we've been seeing, then there was a war on. I imagine that'd do it," Cole said.

"Okay, but there's no signs of a fight in this room," Jay pointed out.

"... Ah. That is. Also true."

If he were a little less tired, Lloyd would've chuckled at Cole being caught off-guard without even a witty defense.

"I wonder what they were expecting not to have a lot of time for …" Lloyd wondered. "There's no signs of a fight here, but it's super messy everywhere else, especially downstairs. Maybe something happened there."

"And maybe it's related to the spirit." Cole ran a hand through his thick, messy hair, eyes dark. "There's no way something like that came out of nowhere."

"Given what we know, it is still impossible to gauge exactly what took place in this mansion," Zane said. "It does seem likely that the Serpentine activity this person mentioned had something to do with it, though. The only way to know for sure would be to find more information"

"So we don't know that, either," Jay muttered. "Write that down as a solid 'maybe', I guess."

Skylor nodded. "Anything else I should put down?"

Lloyd shook his head, and Skylor gratefully flipped the notepad closed and set it aside. Her words had actually begun to slur together with tiredness, so even if there were, he wasn't about to put her through writing it.

"Well, if that's all, then." Cole yawned, again. "Let's call it a day. How long's it been?"

"My internal clock is completely frozen," Zane sighed. "And PIXAL says she can't start it up without any connection to the outside world. But according to my timer, it's been approximately 15 hours since Jay woke me and Cole up to inform us Kai was missing."

Yep. Definitely time to wind down.

The mood dipped briefly at the mention of Kai, but Cole determinedly moved on to the topic of keeping watch, and whether they should do it tonight.

Eventually they decided that it definitely needed to stay, but split it up into two equal shifts. Two of them weren't even options to be considered. Lloyd offered to take shift, but given that he'd gotten out of a tough scrape with the spirit earlier and gone on both search expeditions, everyone else refused to let him, arguing he needed the rest. That left just Cole and Jay, but Cole, having gone through the mansion both times, was tired too. Jay would have to keep watch first.

Then came sleeping arrangements, which also worked themselves out quickly enough. Zane, for whatever reason, stayed in a corner to recharge, Skylor was on one bed, and whoever wasn't on shift would be sharing a bed with Lloyd.

"Alright, Jay, don't do anything stupid this time," Cole ribbed Jay, who was shifting around burnt kindling and trying to keep the little bit of fire left alive.

Jay stuck his tongue out.

"You have sooo much faith in me. Come on, I've learned my lesson here."

"Your timer's working, right? Make sure to wake me in … four hours?"

"Four and a half," Jay corrected him. "And yeah, I will."

"Cool. Night." And with that, Cole left him to his current task: striking a match onto a pile of kindling and hoping for a fire big enough to last.

Soon enough, everyone had bid each other goodnight and settled down.

Lloyd pulled his blanket a little closer to himself, still feeling a residual chill seep into his bones. With nothing to keep preoccupied with, ugly thoughts about the mansion, the horrors of its obscure history, their current conditions, his own utter incompetence, the way he'd just let Karlof get lost, Kai came creeping in far too readily. He tried to push them away.

Not now. Couldn't think about all of those things now or he'd never rest. Even tired, falling asleep was a challenge with sore limbs and unceasing nerves scratching away at him and a bitter resentment towards it all beginning to sink into his bones.

Lloyd closed his eyes regardless, trying to empty his mind. He could faintly hear Jay's breathing under the familiar crackle of the flames that were only too reminiscent of their missing piece.

Shadows twisted and danced on the walls.

Exhaustion won out eventually.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #lloyd garmadon #zane julien #kai smith #cole brookstone #jay walker #skylor chen #that is where they wait #I love spamming tags and hoping someone sees them #we also love posting without links and then editing them back in so tumblr lets this post show in tags

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jq37 · 5 years

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The Gary Gygax Job (An Adventure in Two Parts)

I was asked to post my “Hardison forces the gang to play D&D fic” that I wrote for @alexromero so here it is. It’s actually just the set up and not the game itself because that would have been a whole undertaking but, anyway, I hope the anon who asked for it enjoys it.

Part One

BASE. Gyutou. Paris.

It's Parker's idea, surprisingly. Well, surprisingly to someone who knows Parker well but not very well. The team is breaking up, at least partially (though the kids have a secret pool running about how much wedded bliss Nate and Sophie can stand before they're ready to get back into the fight). She's not ready to lose two people from her very small inner circle.

"We should do, like, a girls' night," she suggests out of the blue, over the comms while crawling through air ducts (she has some of her best ideas in air ducts, which makes sense, statistically speaking).

"Girls' night?" says Hardison from the van. "You and what girls?"

"Me and Sophie. But also you and Nate and Eliot."

"Tha-that's just hanging out Parker. It's not a girl's night if there are guys."

She shrugs (tries to shrug. There's not enough space in the air duct). "Whatever. We should do it. I miss Sophie. And Nate," she adds, belatedly.

"Me too."

"Me three," Eliot finally cuts in. He's been providing an ambient background of grunts and things smashing into other things for the past minute or so, but that kind of thing is surprisingly easy to ignore after a while. "But can we do this AFTER THE CON???" They grudgingly decide to put a pin in it while Eliot runs his hand through his hair in annoyance. Honestly.

When they call the "Call us if you need us but please try very hard not to need us," number, they get Sophie, which is good. She'll be easier to convince and if they convince her, they've got Nate too. Parker explains her idea and Sophie is very into it: Group activity, once a month, full team.

Sophie's in so they're in business. Hardison puts all of their names into a randomizer and Parker ends up with first pick.

"Greece!" she says, immediately.

"Excellent choice, Parker!" says Sophie, picturing the food and beaches and museums. And then she remembers who she's speaking to.

"Parker, what are we doing in Greece?"

They find out two weeks later and Hardison thinks that it's a good thing he loves Parker to death, because he's pretty sure she's going to get him killed.

BASE Jumping on Zakynhos Island.

"Oh, come on!" Hardison whines as he's tossed a parachute. Sophie is also not thrilled, but she seems to think that encouraging Parker's social skills is worth 5-ish seconds of sheer terror.

The jump order is Eliot, Sophie, Nate (who is choosing to be amused by this whole thing), Hardison, then Parker. Hardison and Parker are the last two on the cliff.

"Come on you big baby," she says. "You've jumped off of buildings before."

"Not for fun."

She touches his chest very deliberately. "Then don't do it for fun. Do it for me."

He shakes his head and steels his nerves. "Sophie's rubbing off on you and I don't like it."

He is so happy to land in one piece that he immediately drops to his back and makes sand angels. From above, he can hear Parker's adrenaline-high scream. He opens his eyes, sees her parachute explode out, and then closes his eyes again. Maybe if he pretends to be asleep, she won't make him go again.

Somehow, Eliot's pick is worse.

He says they're going for a cooking lesson which sounds safe enough. The lesson is at a tiny sushi place in Brooklyn and the chef is some Japanese buddy of his. They're not allowed to know how they know each other specifically (Eliot says he's a "work friend") and they're not allowed to know his name, so they just call him Chef.

Everyone's having a good time and whatever work Chef did with Eliot before, cooking is obviously his calling.

And then…well, Hardison's not sure. It happens really quickly. The door bursts open and a man in dark clothes bursts in. There's a flash of silver from Chef's side of the room and the man drops. Hardison doesn't even have time to jump.

Chef isn't holding his knife anymore, Hardison notices. He looks across the room. It's implanted in the intruder's chest. A gun falls out of his hand and Nate kicks it away.

"What just happened?" says Hardison, trying to keep his voice level.

"It's a Gyutou," says Eliot. "Sharpest knife in the game."

"I'm not asking ab--why would you think I was asking about the knife?"

"Because the guy's Yakuza. Obviously."

"Wait, Yakuza? Like, Yakuza-Yakuza?"

"No, one of the many other Yakuzas out there. Yes, that Yakuza!" In the time it's taken them to have this conversation, Chef has dragged their attacker's limp body into a supply closet, found a clean knife, and gone back to chopping ginger.

Hardison has so many comments that he doesn't know where to start. He just throws up his hands and goes to stand in the corner for a minute. When he remembers that the corner he's in very recently had a dead body in it, he picks a new corner.

Sophie takes everyone for a weekend in Paris because of course she does.

Paris is great. No one tries to kill anyone in Paris. There's no jumping off of anything in Paris.

But…

But it's a little like being on a three-day date with your parents sometimes. And Hardison has been Team Nate and Sophie since day one basically. That doesn't mean he wants to know every museum in Paris they've done it in. Not that he's asking, for the record. But they'll walk in and give each other this kind of smug smirk and he can just tell. It's disgusting.

So, when Hardison's turn rolls around, he feels exactly zero guilt for choice.

"Dungeons and Dragons?" Eliot says with the kind of scorn he reserves for especially bad bad guys and Hardison.

"Oh, I don't wanna hear that tone from you, alright? I don't wanna hear it from any of y'all. Little miss adrenaline junkie over there," Parker blows him a kiss, "And your crazy Samurai friends," Eliot rolls his eyes, "And y'all two making googly eyes at each other for three solid days."

Nate takes a second from doing just that to say, "You're exaggerating."

"He's really not," says Parker.

"BASE. Gyutou. Paris," Hardison rattles off again. "I did your thing now you're doing mine." He pulls a d20 out of his pocket and holds it between two fingers with a satisfied smirk. "Age of the geek, baby."

Part Two

Nate claims character creation is too complicated for him to understand which is a blatant lie because Hardison has seen him rig an election and manipulate the stock market on the fly and give a guy a nosebleed with his mind like he was freaking Professor X.

"This isn't my thing, Hardison," he says. "Just make a character for me. I don't care about the details. Do whatever you want."

Do whatever you want.

Famous last words.

Hardison makes him a dwarf barbarian character with an intelligence score so low he'll have trouble scratching himself.

Nate texts him a one-word response: No.

Well if you don't like my painstakingly created character you can make your own, Hardison texts back.

Just fix it.

Oh, he'll fix it alright. But first, he has to deal with Eliot.

He tries a different tactic with Eliot.

"Alright," he says when Eliot reluctantly drops in the chair across from him, looking like he's just been plunked into the heart of Gitmo. "You don't have to make a character. I premade one for you. Check it."

He fans out the materials he's printed out that show the character he created--premade for Eliot's approval. He's a human fighter, with a greatsword as his main weapon. He's proficient in several languages, weapons, tools--Hardison had to fudge the rules a little to give him so many skills at level one but it's nothing more ridiculous than what he can do in real life. He even had a sketch commissioned--he knows from experience that Eliot is a sucker for cool artwork of himself.

Eliot's eyes scan the sheets of paper and Hardison thinks he detects that trademark grudging approval he was going for.

"Did I do good or did I do good?"

Eliot looks up, scowls, and then something clearly goes off in his head because a slight smirk replaces the scowl. Hardison doesn't trust it but he doesn't react either.

"OK," says Eliot. "I'll play your character. One change though."

Just one? He can handle that. The way Eliot was looking at him he thought something much worse was coming.

"Sure, what?"

"I want to play as a pacifist."

Hardison's brain BSOD's and reboots in time to see Eliot's slight smirk go full Cheshire cat.

"What?"

"I'll play your guy in your little nerd game, but I want to play as a pacifist."

"You're telling me, you want to play this character, this fighter--a guy whose entire skillset is based on fighting--as a pacifist?"

"Yup."

Hardison scatters the papers in front of him as he thinks of all the high-level encounters he'd planned, counting on Eliot's super buffed fighter to keep the party alive, just like in real life.

"I don't get no respect around here."

While he's reworking the campaign, he gets a text from Nate re: the second premade character Hardison sent him--a sexy tiefling ranger. A sexy, female, tiefling ranger.

You're aware that I know where you live, right?, the text reads.

Not my fault you won't be specific. I'm working on pure guesswork here, Hardison texts back.

Fix it, Nates texts again. Then he adds, Don't forget I know how to hypnotize people.

Hardison snorts: And I can hack your bank account and spend everything on My Little Ponies. Make your damn character Nate.

Sophie is confused.

"If there's no goal, how do you play?" she asks him over Skype.

He never got a chance to really explain how the game worked and clearly, she hasn't looked it up in the meantime.

"There's a goal. There's just not one singular goal. You usually get some kind of quest and then you choose whatever you want to do. It's an RPG, just without the computer." When she squints in confusion he explains. "Role playing game."

Recognition goes off in her eyes and he realizes how he needs to sell the game to Sophie. "You get to pick a character. Well not pick. Make a character. You come up with a backstory and their abilities--"

"It's like coming up with a cover."

"Yes, exactly. It's exactly like that but you can also do magic if you want."

After she makes the connection, she's sold. The next day, she comes over with her backstory prepared. Or, rather, her backstories.

"I made more than one character because I couldn't decide on playing as a bard or a rogue. They're both very me. Oh," she gasps in much more excitement than Hardison thought he would ever see Sophie Devereaux show about Dungeons and Dragons. "Is there any way I could play as a bard and a rogue?"

"I got you," he says pulling out an info sheet he'd printed in anticipation of her request. "Bam. Sophie special."

"Songfilch?" she reads from the top of the sheet.

"It's not an official class," Hardison explains. "It's kind of a homebrew hybrid I whipped up. Half thief, half performer."

Sophie lights up. "You made me a grifter!"

"I told you this was a fun game."

"One more question," she says. "Is it possible I could play as a vampire? They get the thrall ability which would be useful I think."

"Uh, well you could," said Hardison. "But vampires also can't enter homes without being invited. The whole point of being a rogue is sneaking into houses without being invited to steal stuff. You can't expect them to just open the door and let you…" His words trail off as he remembers who he's speaking to. She bats her eyelashes at him, teasingly. "Yeah. Vampire songfilch. Go for it."

Nate texts him again later in the afternoon. He thinks it's gonna be in response to the munchkin baker character he sent (not a real race or class but Nate's not gonna check) but, miracles of miracles, it's a real character. Not a full character, mind you. It's just sketchy notes for a character: A cleric turned paladin. Servant of the god Helm--god of protectors.

There's not a lot there but there's enough for Hardison to know he actually put effort into it. He thinks Sophie must have gotten to him. Either way, it's enough for him to fill in the blanks and make Nate a character he will actually enjoy playing once he gives it a chance.

An enjoyable character who kicks ass since Eliot is still refusing to.

Parker is actually pretty game about the whole thing.

Which she better be, Hardison thinks. You can't force a guy to jump off of a cliff and then get mad about a little geekery.

She picks her class easily (rogue, natch) but she has trouble picking a race.

"What are you playing as?" she asks.

"I'm not playing," he explains. "I'm running the game. I'm like the narrator."

"Oh." She frowns. "That's lame. It would be more fun if you played."

"Someone has to run the game, Parker."

"I guess," she says. "It's still lame though."

He helps her finish her rogue (halfling rogue they decide), but he's only half paying attention. By the time they're done, he realizes there's someone he needs to call.

Hardison arrives at the game sesh with a guest. "Hey guys," he announces. "This is Chris, my foster brother. He's exactly like me, minus the criminal activity and rugged good looks."

He's also white, but no one mentions that.

"What's he doing here?" Eliot asks.

"Hardison asked me to DM for y'all," Chris answers.

Parker realizes what this means first. "You're playing?"

He nods. "Elven Wizard. I'm gonna hack reality, baby."

Chris rolls his eyes. "You can't just use the word hack whenever you want to. It has a very specific meaning."

"I can if I hack the language," Hardison shoots back as he sits down.

Chris grits his teeth like he's had this argument many times before (which he clearly has). "Let's do this before I kill you. Not in the game, in real life. Are you guys ready?"

Hardison looks around the table: Fighter, Songfilch, Paladin, Rogue, Wizard.

It's a weird group.

He grins.

"Ready. Let's do this."

#leverage #alec hardison #nate ford #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #parker #does parker have a last name?#is parker her last name?#idk bro and I need to get to work

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

Text

you’re fuckin (coco)nuts

idek, @suddenly-im-respecsable told me i should become a coconut engineer and then we astral projected for this and somehow it turned into “WRITE A CRACK FIC FOR THIS” and then i did

warnings: dumbassery

ship: platonic sprace, ralbert

editing: nooooo its about FUCKING COCONUTS

word count: 1250 ish

“God this is just what I needed,” Race smiled serenely as he settled onto his towel, handing Spot one of the pina coladas he’d gotten from the small stand by their resort.

A long year spent working extra hours and saving up money had lead the two boys to Oahu, Hawaii for their Spring Break. Admittedly, it’d still put a significant dent in their wallets, which wasn’t entirely ideal considering they were graduating college in a few months and probably couldn’t afford to go bankrupt. But, things had been stressful recently and this was self care.

“Me fucking too, man,” Spot agreed, sitting up and pushing his sunglasses up his nose as he accepted the drink from Race, “and this weather is fucking sexy.”

Race choked on his pina colada, spluttering for a moment before looking at Spot, “Did you just call the fucking weather sexy?”

Spot shrugged, “You got another word for it? It’s sunny and warm with that perfect cool breeze. Sexy.”

Race stared at him for a moment before facing the ocean again, shaking his head, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Spot laughed, shifting around on his own towel to look at the ocean. It truly was beautiful. The ocean was almost impossibly turquoise and the clear water shimmered softly in the sunlight. Palm trees surrounded them on all sides, giving the area a pleasantly enclosed feeling. Like they’d found their own little universe, completely separate from everything else.

Race hummed as he became acutely aware of the sun beating down onto his shoulders and he reached around to fish a bottle of sunscreen out of his bag. He squirted a fair amount onto his hands and began lathering it onto his skin.

“Lil’ bitch,” Spot coughed, clearing his throat.

Race froze in his actions and shot an incredulous glare at Spot, “You think you’re tougher than the sun? The fucking sun?”

Spot pursed his lips, looking like he wanted to make a comeback, but falling short of an intelligent sounding one.

Race sat up straighter and continued to rub the sunscreen into his shoulders, “That’s what I thought.”

The lapsed into silence, drinking in the view and allowing their stresses to slowly drain from their minds. At one point, Spot pulled out a book and Race found himself dozing. They stayed like that for what could have been hours until Spot shut his book pointedly, using it to prod Race awake.

Race opened his eyes slowly, raising his eyebrows, “Can I help you?”

Spot stood up, shaking out his towel and successfully spraying Race with sand, “I’m bored, let’s explore.”

Race huffed indignantly, wiping the sand out of his eyes before standing as well. He rolled up his own towel and shoved it into his beach bag. He hastily slipped on his sandals before shouldering his bag and jogging to catch up with Spot, who’d already set out towards the main street of the resort.

They made it all the way to the path that led them away from the beach when a war cry sounded above them. Alarmed, they froze, heads jerking upwards in search of the source of the cry. Before Race had a chance to see anything, a large object fell out of the palm tree directly above them, nailing Spot in the head.

Spot let out a grunt, careening forwards onto his knees as his hands flew to his head.

“Spottie!” Race exclaimed, rushing forward to kneel next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders.

“Son of a bitch,” Spot bit out, voice gravelly. He lifted his head slowly, unfocused eyes fixating on the ground in front of him.

“What the fuck,” Race muttered, picking up the object that had hit Spot. It was a fucking coconut.

He looked up again, startling as he made eye contact with a guy. He had red hair and was wearing a grass skirt over a pair of floral swim shorts. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but a large lei was secured around his neck, swaying slightly in the breeze. If Race squinted, he could see a small twig crown resting on his head. As weird as he appeared, there was an unconventional attractiveness to him.

“What the fuck,” Race repeated. He raised his voice slightly, “Hey! Who the fuck are you and why did you throw a coconut at my friend?”

The guy smiled and flipped down from the tree, landing gracefully in front of Race, “The name’s Albert, I’m the coconut engineer here.”

Race blinked, completely bewildered, gaze landing on the pair of weed vans that Albert was wearing, “You’re...you...what!?”

Albert hopped down into a sit, crossing his legs under him and propping his chin on his hand, “Coconut engineer.”

“Yeah but what the fuck is that and why did it include concussing me,” Spot snapped, still sounding pained.

“I make sure coconuts don’t fall out of trees and injure tourists,” Albert said matter-of-factly, “But you had a bad aura, so I threw a coconut at you.”

“I had a- wait what?” Spot looked vaguely like he wanted to strangle Albert and Race wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t if he were feeling up to it.

“Bad aura,” Albert said, picking up the coconut that he’d thrown at Spot and breaking it open with his bare hands. He took a long sip of the water inside before continuing, “Looked kinda bruting and I saw you shake sand on Hottie McHottiekins from the spot in my tree. You deserved it.”

Race choked, “What’d you just call me?”

Albert looked at him innocently, “Hottie McHottiekins.”

Race blushed and Spot groaned, “Oh, no no no, please tell me you’re not considering going out with Mr. Coconuts over here.”

Race ignored him and held out a hand, “The name’s Antonio, but Race is what I go by.”

Albert shook his hand, his grip firm and confident, “Nice to meetcha, Race. Wanna go get sushi or something later?”

“Sure thing,” Race said, taking out his phone and handing it to Albert, who put his phone number in the contacts, “text me.”

XXX

Spot blinked open his eyes, the bright morning sunlight bleeding in through the blinds. His head still ached from the coconut fiasco of the previous day, but after icing it for a bit and taking some ibuprofen, it was feeling significantly better.

He rolled over and dragged himself out of bed, stumbling down the hallway a few paces to Race’s room. He knocked once before opening the door.

“Morning, I was thinking we could-” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing when he realized that Race wasn’t in his room. In fact, Race’s bed didn’t look slept in at all.

He pulled out his phone, hurriedly pulling up Race’s contact. Had Race even made it home from his date with Albert last night?

He was about to phone Race when the door to their small beach house opened. Spot whirled around to find Race staring at him, wide eyed with a hand still on the doorknob. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and a few small hickeys littered his chest. His hair was sticking up on top and we was wearing a pair of pajama pants that Spot was certain he didn’t own.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the air thick with anticipation. Then Spot lowered his phone from his ear, which he belatedly realized he was still holding up.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “You fucked the crazy coconut guy.”

Race’s face turned bright red.

lmao welp i told myself i’d finish some greaser au shit and chap 10 of fugitives but this happened instead LOL at least im finally on break and can grind some shit out,,, maybe titanium too o.O

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend

@auspicioustarantula

@faithmil

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

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@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

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@toss-me-a-pape

#newsies #ralbert #newsies fic #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #sprace #chaotic boys #lmao wtf even #al is wild

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phantasticworks · 5 years

Text

Don’t Ask Me How I’ve Been (Fake Happy)

Based on the short film "Papercut" by Omad Productions (Somewhat, I got carried away)

read on ao3

Words: 13.7k

Description: Dan Howell is an up and coming actor in a closeted relationship with a man who isn't ready to admit his sexuality. Phil is their Uber driver for a very important awards show. Things don't go exactly to plan, but maybe that's a good thing?

Warnings: swearing, scenes with emotional abuse (not dnp), some angst, horrible smut scene there at the end that I will apologize for now (pls skip if it makes you uncomfy to read)

“Yeah, we’re on our way. No, I’ve just picked Dan up. He’s-“ A heavy pause fills the air around them, and the brunette nearly rolls his eyes. It’s no use, really, because in the darkness of this car, his backseat partner wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. “He’s here.”

If they weren’t currently accompanied by a friendly-looking Uber driver, Dan might’ve made a bitchy remark. Of course, that would’ve resulted in some sort of argument or lecture and wouldn’t actually be worth it, but he still just barely bites his tongue to keep the words from spilling out.

“Right. Yeah, we’ll see you in, eh, about twenty minutes, I’d say. Right. Yeah. Okay, see you.” There’s an audible click signaling the end of the call, and Dan shifts to cast his gaze on his not-boyfriend-but-mate-that-he-sleeps-with-and-practically-shares-a-flat-with.

“Who’s the booty call?” He asks with a smirk, his voice not quiet enough not to be noticed by their driver.

Cool grey-blue eyes meet his, an unimpressed frown etched onto the man’s face. “That’s not funny, Daniel.” It’s said with an overwhelming amount of disapproval, and Dan can feel it pressing down on him.

With a sigh, he tosses his head back against the headrest and drops his hand onto the seat between them, a small part of him hoping that they might hold hands on the way to the ceremony. He knows it’s a foolish dream, but he can’t help but hold onto some sort of hope.

“Sorry, am I meant to pretend I don’t know that we’re picking up someone to be your “date” for the evening?” Dan mutters, absently tapping his fingers against the leather. It was a surprisingly nice car for an Uber, and the driver had been pleasant enough, quiet and friendly. Even teetering on the edge of what might be a big break in their professional careers, they still couldn’t afford an exuberant ride for the awards show tonight. Not that Dan cared about such materialistic things, anyway.

A huff sounds from beside him, but Dan doesn’t grant him with so much as a glance. “I don’t know why you have to be a prick, Daniel. I really don’t. I’ve already told you, things will be different now.” The words are muttered quickly and quietly, and Dan can tell this is likely some sort of signal for him to keep his mouth shut.

He ignores it in favor of laughing, loudly.

“Right. Different. How different are we talking, Ben? Am I going to start topping?” He taunts, bitterness lacing his words.

He’s not totally surprised when the hit comes, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. He winces, bringing a hand up to rub at his now-sore arm. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Ben hisses, his eyes wide and panicked.

They both glance to their driver, and Dan catches the blue eyes in the reviewer mirror, a look of concern etched onto the man’s face as he studies Dan.

“Everything alright back there?” He asks, cautiously.

Dan shifts and tosses an arm over Ben’s shoulders and sends the driver a brilliant smile. “Oh yeah, everything’s just fine. Just a tiff, you know how it is.”

The driver glances back to the road, but sends a disbelieving look back towards the mirror before nodding.

Ben waits until the driver has refocused on the road before elbowing Dan sharply in the ribs. “Get the fuck off me.” He doesn’t even look at Dan after he’s retracted his arm, staring out the window with what Dan can only assume is a glare, as if the rain itself has offended him. It wouldn’t be a surprise, honestly. These days it really didn’t take much.

“Ouch,” Dan says, a bit belatedly. He rubs pointedly at his ribs where he’d been struck, wondering if the bruise would blossom the same as the others have.

“Oh, come off it. I didn’t hurt you.” The words are wrapped in ice, detached.

Dan stays quiet then, unwilling to open that particular can of worms with the audience they had. After a few kilometers go by in a silence that feels far heavier than it should on a night like tonight, Dan glances over at Ben, a thought bouncing around his head, struggling to escape. “Who was she?” He asks softly, dropping his gaze to stare at his hands, which he’s laced on his lap.

There’s a pause, and Dan doesn’t think that Ben will grant him with any response at all, but eventually an exasperated sigh falls from his lips. “Do you really want to know?” He asks, his tone softer than it had been so far. It was almost apologetic. Almost.

After a moment of consideration, Dan shrugs. “Can’t make that much of a difference, can it?”

Ben finally shifts just enough to look at Dan properly, but the brunette refuses to lift his gaze.

“It was Sophia,” he whispers, almost as if he’d rather it stayed a secret. As if he’d rather not hurt Dan, as if he’d rather lie and pretend that he hadn’t been planning this all along.

“Huh.” Dan clicks his tongue, processing this.

Sophia was a nice enough girl, he supposed. She certainly hadn’t done anything directly to him to warrant the kind of comment he was about to make.

“I guess you’ll have two holes to fuck now. Oh, three, if she likes to suck dick, I suppose. Probably won’t be nearly as practiced as me, remember last night when I-“ before he can even finish his remark, a hand is swiftly coming up to cover his mouth, holding it shut with more force than was necessary.

Dan tells his body not to panic, even when he feels Ben’s hand shift just enough to press right under his nostrils, cutting off any and all air supply. It was a scare tactic, and one he’d dealt with a hundred times before. He clenches his fist and forces himself to breathe slowly, keeping himself from running out of oxygen before Ben drops the little act.

“If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut, I’ll fucking find a way to shut it.” Cold blue eyes stare into Dan’s, the anger bubbling up there making Dan almost nauseous.

Dan waits, counting to himself in his head. 8... 11... 15... 23... and finally, Ben’s hand shoves against his mouth one last time before pulling away altogether, an irritated huff falling from his lips.

After allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, Dan straightens out his suit coat and shoots their driver a cautious look, hoping that he hadn’t seen what had just occurred. He’s relieved to find the driver not looking at them through the rear view mirror, but his eyes drift to his hands, wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, the bones in his hands sticking out prominently against his alabaster skin.

Shit.

A nervousness floods his stomach, and he can’t help but feel almost embarrassed; by his own actions or Ben’s, he isn’t sure. Either way, he glances over at Ben, hoping he didn’t realize that their driver had probably caught on. If he did, he’d likely demand he pull over and call someone else; not out of any concern that the driver might comment on the rather physical aspect of their relationship, but likely out of fear that the driver might recognize them and sell the story of a domestic dispute in the backseat of his car.

Luckily, Ben appears to be oblivious, so Dan forces himself to relax. Suddenly feeling awkward with silence and not wanting another fight with Ben, Dan turns to their driver.

“Excuse me, what did you say your name was, sir? It’s completely slipped my mind since we got in.” He smiles at the driver when he glances into his rearview mirror to look at Dan, surprise on his features.

“Phil,” He says easily, a small smile gracing his lips. He glances back over his shoulder at Dan this time. “And you are?”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get a word out, Ben shifts over and narrows his eyes at Dan, his gaze flicking to the driver. “He’s Daniel, and I’m Benjamin.” He shoots Dan a warning look, as if that’s quite enough idle chit-chat, but Dan pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Dan, actually. But you can call me whatever you prefer.” He doesn’t know why it comes out in a flirting sort of way, but before he has anytime to be mildly embarrassed, the driver, well- Phil, smirks.

“Will I be calling you?” He asks smoothly.

Dan can’t help but laugh at the subtle response to his own unintentional flirting, and he flashes Phil his most charming smile, dimples and all. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

Phil glances back at him in the mirror, and Dan decides to be so bold as to wink, forgetting the grumpy man who’s currently pouting beside him.

That is until said grumpy man whips his head around to glare at Dan. “Stop it,” he hisses, his jaw clenching.

Dan quirks an unbothered eyebrow at him. “Now why the hell should I do a thing like that?”

Without breaking eye contact, Ben tilts his head so his voice carries over the chair in front of him. “Sorry, mate, but we’re professionals in our field. We don’t date chauffeurs.” There’s a glint of challenge in his eyes, as if daring Dan to contradict him.

Flushing from the absurdly selfish and egotistical part of Ben’s statement, Dan shifts to break the eye contact. Looking back to Phil, he gives him a reassuring shake of his head. “That’s bullshit, mate. This one over here thinks that being nominated for an award makes you hot shit, but he’s wrong.”

He can practically feel Ben seething next to him, but he knows that he’s off the hook this time, because not only do they have an audience, but they have an engaged one, and Dan’s decided he’d like to keep it that way.

Phil laughs at his reassurance, shrugging. “I dunno, maybe I could be more easily wooed by someone with an award,” he sends a cheeky smirk to Dan via the reflection in the mirror, and Dan’s grin widens. Ben huffs and pouts next to him, but he ignores it.

“In that case, I actually hope I win this thing,” Dan flirts back. With a start, it occurs to him it’s the first time he’s actually cared if he wins or not.

“So what kind of award are you nominated for?” Phil asks curiously, his hand coming up to drag through his quiff.

It occurs to Dan then that this man seems to have no idea of who they are and what they do for a living. It’s refreshing, and in a way he can’t describe... liberating. To openly converse with someone who has virtually no clue who you are feels better than he could’ve imagined.

It’s not like he was particularly famous- he’d been in four films now, with only one major role between them, and had played various side characters on a handful of tv shows. Really not all that impressive, but it seemed that lately he was only surrounded by people who knew who he was. It was a nice change to finally be among someone who doesn’t, and still, curiously, seems interested in talking to him.

“We’ve both been nominated for Best Supporting Male Lead,” Ben contributes from his pouting position to Dan’s right.

Dan’s teeth grind together, annoyance coursing through his veins as he shoots the blonde a glare. It wasn’t fair for him to sit here treating Dan like shit, and yet forcing himself into their conversation like some sort of interpreter. Dan didn’t need an interpreter, despite what their management thought. Sure he had a tendency to be a little brash and downright rude sometimes, but generally that was only when he was dealing with pricks. Now wasn’t one of those times though, so Ben could honestly fuck off.

“Oh. So you’re both, like, proper actors?” Phil asks, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.

Dan nods, although a prickle of something uncomfortable is starting to form in his chest. He really didn’t want their conversation to go down that route, but now that they’d let it out in the open, he figured that’s the only way it could go. Rather than continue on and have the conversation dominated by his stupid career, Dan goes quiet, turning to look out the window.

“That’s interesting,” Phil comments from the driver’s seat. Dan only offers a hum in response, and then the car falls silent once again.

The silence gives Dan the time and space to revisit his and Ben’s short conversation about Sophia from earlier. The satisfaction of hearing him admit that it was exactly who Dan had thought didn’t lessen the pain he felt now that he realized what that meant. For one thing, it meant that he hadn’t had the exclusivity he’d been promised. Well- not that he’d really expected that to last anyway; Ben was fickle with his promises.

And secondly, it meant that tonight, when they were standing on the red carpet posing for photos, there’d be a hundred photographers screaming for Ben and Sophia to kiss or get closer or anything of the sort, without any knowledge of the heartbroken man just a few feet away, always in the shadow of Ben’s latest conquest.

Except this time, it would be real.

After the show, when Dan was headed back to his flat alone, Ben would be on his way to his own, seldom-used flat, with Sophia. Or maybe he’d just go to hers, instead. Dan’s stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of what they’d spend the night doing, and a dull pain throbs in his heart remembering that only the night before, they’d been sharing that very same thing.

“How long?” He asks into the dark, a question that could really be answered by either member of his company, although the answer he wanted would likely not be the one he received.

“About five more minutes, if traffic allows,” Phil responds cheerfully.

Dan glances over at Ben, waiting to see if he’d catch the undertone in his voice and realize that’s not what he’d meant. The blonde is staring out the window, his arm propped up on the side and his chin resting on his fist. He looked like a model like that, and Dan hates him for looking so subtly beautiful in such a normal setting.

“Ben,” He says softly, shifting slightly closer.

“What?” Ben asks, sounding tired.

Dan swallows hard, forcing the words out before he can lose his nerve. “How long have you been seeing her?”

It feels like a silence settles over the car, thick and stifling. Dan almost fears breathing, as if even the most subtle noise will burst this bubble of tranquility, this moment of calm before the inevitable storm. He forces himself not to panic before Ben has even spoken, but when those cold blue eyes flick over to meet his gaze, he already knows the answer.

“A while.”

A deep breath. Then, “I asked, how long? I need a number.”

Ben sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. “You’re being foolish, Daniel. Why does it matter? You and I aren’t-“ he spares a glance at the driver and lowers his voice. “You and I were never dating. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Dan can feel his breathing quicken, but it feels like the faster it gets the harder it is to feel the oxygen expanding in his lungs. He knows he’s about to have a panic attack, and his fists clench tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. “That’s not fair.” He shakes his head adamantly. “You can’t just erase the past two years of our life, Ben.” His voice sounds as panicked as he feels, and he’s having a hard time controlling the volume.

Ben glances towards the driver, a nervous look in his eyes. “I can try,” He says lowly, his gaze unwavering when he faces Dan.

“Why?” He breathes. He can feel his throat fluttering and he knows he’s close to tears. He’s too emotionally charged about this to control the way his body is functioning, and he hates it. “Why bother with any of this? We could- We can tell people, Ben. No one... no one would care.” He speaks softly, his gaze dropping to his hands so he doesn’t have to say the words directly to Ben’s face.

Ben lets out a harsh, humorless laugh, and Dan regrets ever saying it. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” He taunts. The words make Dan flinch.

“I’m not,” He whispers, finally allowing the tears to fall. He hopes with every fiber of his being that Phil isn’t listening, isn’t noticing the state he’s in right now.

“You are,” Ben confirms. “You’re still chasing after this stupid fucking fantasy, after all this time. I’m straight now, Dan. You’ve gotta just give up this stupid faggot shit. It’s sad, honestly.”

Dan’s head whips up at this, his eyes narrowing as he meets Ben’s unbothered gaze. “Really? This faggot shit? You do realize that your dick was literally in my ass last night, right? It takes one to fucking know one, mate.”

Ben clenches his jaw tightly, his face comforting into a glare. “Not another fucking word about that, got it? I’m not a fag, so you can just keep that shit to yourself.”

Dan stares, disbelievingly, at the man beside him. “Are you... are you even fucking listening to yourself? To me?”

“I’m trying my best not to, your whiny fucking voice is really grating my nerves,” Ben retorts, his gaze returning to the window.

They were currently driving through the neighborhood where Sophia lives, and Dan knew he only had a few more minutes left to clear his head before the evening really begun. He sorts through all the shit swirling in his mind, all the arguments he wants to make, and he settles on the one that feels the most pressing for now.

“We should go in separate cars,” he mutters, glaring out his own window.

“Pardon?” Ben says, his voice holding an air of offense.

Dan rolls his eyes before speaking again, raising his voice. “I think we should go in separate cars. You and Sophia should go in one separately from me.”

Ben seems to take a moment to consider this before speaking again. “Is this your way of pouting? It’s immature, if it is.”

With a huff, Dan turns to face him. “No, you twat. This is my way of being smart. People already think we’re together-“

“Because of your fucking comments,” Ben reminds him.

Dan talks over this. “-So if we show up in the same car, it’s going to look weird, even if Sophia is with us.”

After a prolonged moment of silence, Ben lets out a quiet hum. “Okay. Sure. In that case, I’ll call a different car, you can just take this one.”

If Dan had it in him to care, he’d be annoyed, because he knew the fare would be higher for him, considering a car going from Sophia’s to the awards show would have a shorter distance to travel. Instead, he just nods. His mind is already piecing together a plan for tonight that involves skipping the ceremony altogether, but Ben doesn’t need to know that.

“Alright, here we are, then. Should I wait?” Phil is probably only pretending he hadn’t overheard their change in plans, and Dan appreciates the subtle attempt at privacy.

“No need. My date and I will have another car come fetch us.” Ben moves to open the door, and then glances back at Dan. “Don’t fuck around and be late, okay? And when you get there, go see Annette for a briefing about who we need to speak to and where we’ll be sitting.”

Dan nods obediently, acting as if he plans to do just that. “Sure.” Ben studies him for a moment, rolling his eyes as he moves to step out. Dan watches him go, and just as he steps out, a thought occurs to him. “Ben?”

The blonde leans down to make eye contact with him. “What now?” He groans, clearly annoyed that Dan’s bothering him yet again. Dan hopes this is the last time.

“I want my key back.”

Ben has a look of confusion on his face before the meaning of his words seems to dawn on him. “I still have things at your flat,” he reminds him cautiously.

Dan shrugs. “I’ll drop them off at the office.” He holds his hand out patiently, waiting for the key to be given back. “Sometime today would be nice,” he drawls.

Ben’s gaze flickers to the driver, who seems to be zoned out, waiting patiently for Ben to leave already. “Fine,” he mutters, digging into his pocket and pulling out the silver key that belongs to Dan. He tosses it into the car, disregarding the hand that Dan had held out for it. “There.”

“Thanks.” Dan plucks the key from where it has fallen on the seat and twirls it around in his hand for a moment before shoving it into his pocket. “Might wanna hurry along, now. Don’t want to be late for our first big awards show, now,” Dan says mockingly.

The blonde barely gives him a reaction, just rolls his eyes and slams the door shut, leaving Dan alone in the Uber.

Dan sighs deeply, leaning his head back against the seat and allowing his eyes to close. The returned key sets heavy in his pocket, and for some reason he feels like he’s coming to the end of something. He’s not sure that it’s a feeling he’s entirely opposed to, but it’s one he hasn’t felt in so long that it’s practically foreign.

His swarming thoughts are interrupted by a throat clearing. “Alright?” Phil asks softly, his eyes holding a warmth to them.

Dan smiles at him and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Phil bites his lip and nods slowly. “I’m sorry for coming across so... bold, earlier,” he apologizes, his cheeks flushing slightly with the admittance. “I kind of, well... I kind of thought maybe you needed someone to be a buffer, but I do apologize for seeming so forward and pushy.”

The surprise on Dan’s face probably doesn’t go unnoticed, and it takes him a minute to gather his thoughts enough to properly respond. “Oh, um, it’s fine, really. I... yeah, I probably needed that, so... thanks.”

Phil nods, and slowly pulls away from the curb, moving down the road at a leisurely pace. “I assume we’re off to the O2?” He asks politely.

Dan raises an eyebrow, feeling a little more than confused. “I don’t believe we actually got around to telling you where the awards show was,” he says cautiously, trying his best not to sound rude.

Mischievous blue eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. “C’mon, mate. Did you really think I didn’t recognize you when you got in my car?”

A brief feeling of unbridled panic rips through Dan’s chest, a result of his countless media training sessions that taught him to keep his private life completely separate, especially his sexuality. He stomps that feeling down, hard. There was nothing to be ashamed of, and he’d spent years learning to be proud of himself for who he was. He wasn’t about to let that be taken away from him all because a nice Uber driver had seen an insight to his domestic life.

“Well, I guess I’d hoped you didn’t,” Dan finally says. He sighs and then glances out the window. “But, to answer your question... I think it’s back to my flat for me.”

There’s a moment of silence before Phil speaks again, timidly. “Are you sure, Dan?”

Hearing his name fall from this stranger’s lips twists something in Dan’s gut, and he isn’t sure if it’s the newness or the comfort of knowing that this stranger had seen a part of his life he hadn’t meant to share, and still seemed to have no problem speaking to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

His PR agent would be absolutely pissed, and he knew he’d have a hundred missed calls from his manager by the morning, but he really didn’t care. He’d had a rather shit evening so far, and he really just wanted to go home. Part of him almost wished he could go on Grindr and let out some of the pent up emotion, but the more intelligent part of his brain reminds him that it probably wouldn’t be a great idea.

“Are you sure about that?” Comes the quiet response of his driver.

It takes Dan a second to rememberer his earlier words, and when he does, a flush crawls up his cheeks. He wasn’t positive it was flirting, but part of him, the lonely, horny, just-got-my-heart-broken part, was absolutely going to take it that way.

“I suppose that would depend on who’s asking,” he says slyly, sending Phil a smirk in the mirror.

The bright blue eyes twinkle with excitement, and Dan can’t help but find it endearing. “How about your neighborhood friendly Uber driver?” Phil jokes. “What if he asked?”

Dan gums as if he’s considering it. He’s undeniably interested now that the option is there, and to say he wasn’t would be a lie. He realizes then that they’ve turned around at some point, headed back the way they came. “I reckon if he was fit I could be swayed a certain way.”

“Yeah?” Phil responds with a laugh, his tongue poking out between his teeth in a way that’s just too endearing.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees, smiling. “Come back to mine?” He asks after a moment of quiet contemplation. If he was rejected it really wouldn’t be the worst part of his day, and if he wasn’t- then, hey, at least he’d get laid, and by someone attractive, no less.

Phil smiles back at him through the mirror. “Well, if you insist.”

The rest of the ride goes by quickly and considering Phil had just made the same trip from Dan’s flat, he has very little problem making the trip in the reverse order. Having sat in the backseat stressing for the past hour or so, Dan finds himself absolutely vibrating with nerves by the time they pull up to his building. His palms are sweating with the nerves he feels, and he can’t tell if he’s just excited or if he’s just genuinely nervous. It had been a very long time since he’d slept with someone that wasn’t Ben; well over a year, probably closer to two. He barely knew Phil, and he felt what he was doing was stupidly reckless, but that didn’t stop him from grinning when Phil killed the engine and looked back at him.

“Here we are,” He says slowly, his eyes studying Dan’s face in the darkness of the car. A single lamppost close to the doors of his building allows a little light to flood into the car, and it’s just enough for Dan to see the nervousness he feels reflected in Phil’s eyes.

“Yep,” Dan says quietly. He nods to the building. “You coming?”

Phil tilts his head and studies Dan for a moment, and his gaze makes Dan squirm nervously. “Lead the way,” he says with a smile.

Dan hides his grin as he steps out of the car, shivering slightly against the chill of the wind. He digs his keys out of his pocket as he steps around the car, waiting for Phil to do the same.

Dan stares unabashedly as Phil climbs out and shuts the door behind him. He’s tall, probably as tall as Dan, and without the barrier of the car seats between them, Dan has a better look at what he’s wearing. Black jeans cling to long legs, and under a stone washed denim jacket, he’s got a black T-shirt. Dan doesn’t even bother pretending he isn’t staring, and from the smirk he catches on Phil’s lips when he meets his gaze, the man isn’t even bothered by it. He looks good, and he obviously knows it.

“Uh, this way,” Dan says dumbly, cringing inwardly as he waves Phil over to follow him. Phil does so dutifully, his hands going into his pockets as he trails after him.

After fumbling with his keys for a moment, Dan finally manages to get the door unlocked and he shoves it open without ceremony. He hesitates, wondering if maybe he should let Phil in first, but that seemed weird; Phil didn’t know the layout of his apartment, he’d just be left to stand awkwardly in the foyer.

This in mind, Dan leads the way inside. “Just close the door behind you,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Want me to lock it?” Phil asks.

Dan shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it onto the rack near the door, considering. “I mean, if you’re sure I’m not going to peel your skin off and wear it like a coat, then yes. But if going into a random stranger’s house isn’t something you do often, you can leave it unlocked.”

Phil quirks an eyebrow at this, and Dan nearly swears. He really hadn’t meant to be so weird, it just sort of happened. Ben always said he didn’t have a filter, and well, maybe he was right about that.

Instead of being disturbed, though, Phil only smirks before flicking the switch and locking the door. Dan swallows hard, meeting the other man’s gaze across the few feet that separated them. He hadn’t even considered how he’d start this- it wasn’t everyday he brought someone home to screw. He hadn’t the faintest idea about how to proceed from here.

“Erm.... I don’t... I mean, obviously, Ben- well I mean, maybe not obviously, but, I don’t-“ he’s rambling, twisting his hands together awkwardly as he struggles to explain that he’s really not the type to do this sort of thing.

“Relax, Dan.” Phil’s voice is soothing, with no judgement in it. “Tea?” He asks, gesturing for Dan to lead them out of the foyer.

Nodding quickly, Dan turns and makes his way into the kitchen, the sound of Phil’s footsteps trailing behind him.

“Um, I’m more of an herbal tea person... is peppermint okay?” He shifts awkwardly in his kitchen, feeling ridiculous. He was usually so well put together. He was Dan Howell, for fuck’s sake! He did films, and interviews, and press releases! He could handle some awkward chit-chat with a hookup.

There was just something different about Phil, something almost unnerving about the way he looked at Dan. Especially when he smiled at him and nodded, his tongue doing that cute thing from before. “Peppermint sounds great.” He moves to sit on one of the barstools situated at the island in the center of his kitchen, and Dan just stares at him for a moment, a little entranced by how at home he seemed in his little flat, after only five minutes.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Dan quickly moves to begin preparing the tea. “I have some mugs in that cupboard,” he gestures off to the side. “You can look through and find one, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Phil chirps before sliding off the chair. Dan can feel his presence pass behind him as he moves to the cupboard. The sound of the mugs moving against the shelf is interrupted by a quiet gasp. “I have one just like this!” Phil says gleefully.

Dan glances over after hearing the words, his heart dropping when he sees Phil holding out a Mario Kart mug. Ben had gotten him that as a joke a long time ago, claiming it was a symbol for Dan being such a nerd, and he’d honestly forgotten about it. That is until now, at least. He wasn’t about to try and tell Phil he couldn’t use it though, so he only smiled and nodded, trying to keep his hands steady as he waited for the kettle to boil.

Ben was right about one thing. They were never official. Although Dan had pledged his loyalty and had stayed exclusive to Ben, the blonde had not done the same. And Dan knew that at the time, and he knew it now. It didn’t make his earlier goodbye any less painful, though.

“I think I prefer this one, though,” Phil’s still speaking, and Dan has to force himself to pay attention instead of dwelling on his stupid ex… whatever he was.

Dan nearly chokes when he sees the mug Phil’s holding now, a mischievous look in his blue eyes. He had been given the “Daddy” mug as a joke, but he’d kept it because it was big and held quite a lot of liquid. Right now, though, there was nothing more embarrassing that Phil could have pulled out of the cupboard.

“It was a joke!” He nearly screeches, hoping that Phil doesn’t think he’s some kind of weirdo now.

Phil hums, disbelief clear in the sound. “Sure, Dan.” He places the mug on the counter before turning around and searching through the cupboard again.

“Er- are you going to use this one?” Dan asks in confusion, holding a tea bag over the mug uncertainly.

With a glance over his shoulder, Phil nods. “Yeah, I’m just finding you one.”

Dan’s a little surprised at this, but he tries to hide it. “Oh. Okay.”

He drops one tea bag into the mug Phil had selected, and then waits patiently with the other tea bag, watching Phil’s face contort with concentration as he gently lifts the mugs, one at a time, carefully looking at their logos before putting them down. Eventually, he finds something that piques his interest, and he pulls it out with a grin. “Here’s yours,” he says proudly, handing Dan the white mug with a black pixelated heart on it, their fingers brushing as Dan takes it.

Glancing at it, Dan quirks an eyebrow up. “Thanks? Is this your way of saying you think I have a black heart?”

Phil’s face drops into an unimpressed look, and he crosses his arms. “No, it’s my way of suggesting that I like Undertale, too. And maybe hearts are just cool, okay?” If Dan’s not mistaken, a tinge of pink is blossoming on Phil’s cheekbones, but before he gets a good look, the electric kettle beeps and he has to turn around to finish the tea.

“So,” he starts. “Undertale?” To his surprise, Phil laughs. “What?” Dan asks, incredulous.

“You’re cute,” Phil says simply, taking the mug that Dan holds out to him.

Dan can feel heat flooding his cheeks, and he hopes and prays that Phil doesn’t notice the shift in his complexion. “Erm- thanks?” It sounds like a question.

“You’re welcome,” Phil smiles over the rim of his mug, blowing air gently to cool the tea down faster.

Dan fixates on his lips, not even processing that he’s staring until Phil speaks again. “Hm?”

Phil smirks. “I said, did you want to go sit down? Or do you usually chill in the kitchen with your conquests?”

The reminder of what he’s here for is like a slap in the face, and Dan quickly nods, although he can feel the nerves creeping back in. “Yeah, lounge is this way,” he leads the way out of the room, flicking the light on as he walks in.

“Nice place, by the way,” Phil compliments as he goes to sit on the sofa.

Dan shrugs as he sits beside him, leaving about a foot of space, but turning so that he’s properly facing Phil. “It’s not much, but I’d rather save my money than shell out an arm and a leg for a proper London flat.” He follows this with a sip of his tea, burning his tongue a little in his attempt at a distraction.

Phil studies him for a moment, a very calculating look on his face. “You’re unhappy,” he says finally. He sounds so sure of it, so positive, that it takes Dan aback.

“Sorry, what?” Dan splutters, trying to laugh. It sounds more like a cough.

Phil places his drink on the coffee table and moves to mirror Dan’s stance, so that they’re both facing each other, knees pressing into the back of the sofa. “You just… I dunno, Dan, but you don’t seem happy.” He sounds worried, as if this is something he’s really concerned with. Dan figures that it’s likely just because Phil knew he was an actor; he had no reason to care about Dan as a person.

“Well, that’s one way of flirting, I guess,” Dan jokes awkwardly.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says quietly, glancing down. “That was rude of me. But… Can I ask you a personal question?”

Dan lets out a deep breath before moving to set his own drink down, leaning against the back of the sofa with his arm propped up. This seemed like a conversation he needed his hands empty for, even if it was a conversation he wasn’t particularly keen on having. “Sure. Go for it.”

Phil licks his lips, completely distracting Dan from whatever it is they were trying to talk about. “Did you invite me here as a rebound? It’s fine if you did, but I want you to be honest with me, before anything else happens.”

Dan’s mouth drops. He hadn’t been expecting the question so bluntly, or really at all, if he’s honest. It takes him a moment of fumbling around in his own head before he’s able to form a proper answer. “Um… well, I suppose, in a way, but-“

Before he can finish, Phil cuts him off. “Okay. That’s all I needed to know.”

As he’s trying to wrap his head around the answer he’d given and Phil’s response to it, Dan’s thrown off yet again by Phil shifting closer. Dan swallows hard. He knows what’s about to happen, and he knows he wants it, but he’s undeniably nervous. After having sex with only one person for so long, he had no idea how to get back into the world of learning a person for the first time, especially physically.

“Is this okay?” Phil whispers, his hand coming up to rest at the nape of Dan’s neck.

Swallowing hard, Dan nods. “Yes,” he breathes.

Apparently, that’s all the encouragement Phil needs, because then he’s leaning forward, pressing their lips together. He’s gentle at first, not timid exactly, but cautious. The hand not pulling Dan in moves to rest on Dan’s waist, and Dan finds himself dropping his arms across Phil’s shoulders, his hands dropping to play in his hair. Dan hums into the kiss, and Phil responds by pulling away. “Good?” He asks, his lips barely an inch from Dan’s.

Dan nods, his eyes drifting shut as he leans forward again. Phil laughs softly before bringing their lips together again. This time, Dan has some sort of confidence boost, parting his lips a little, swiping his tongue across Phil’s bottom lip. Phil’s hand on his waist squeezes, and then Phil’s opening his mouth up to him, allowing Dan’s tongue to dart inside. He tastes like the peppermint tea, and something else, something sweeter. Dan wants to ask if he’s been eating sweets or if he just naturally tastes like sugar, but his mouth is otherwise occupied.

An unmeasurable amount of time passes before Dan pulls away for some air. Phil breathes hard against his lips for a moment before suddenly Dan feels himself being tugged. “Come here,” Phil whispers softly, sitting back and dropping a hand to Dan’s leg to drag him onto his lap. When Dan is situated with a leg on either side of Phil’s, now an inch or so taller, he looks down at Phil with a smile.

“Hi,” he says, his voice almost shy.

Phil smiles back, his hands running up and down Dan’s back in gentle sweeps. “Hi,” he parrots.

“I-“ before Dan can even finish that statement, his phone begins ringing in his pocket. He frowns, already knowing that it’s likely going to be his agent, pissed at him for missing yet another event. He shifts enough to tug it out of his pocket, silencing it before tossing it onto the sofa to the left of Phil.

Blue eyes follow the phone as it crashes onto the cushion, flickering back to look at Dan with an uncertainty in them that hadn’t been there before. “Ben?” he guesses, his mouth twisting into something like a grimace when he says the name.

Dan shakes his head. “No, just my manager. They’re probably mad that I missed the awards show. Again.” He rolls his eyes, but a smile graces his lips as he looks back down at Phil. He brings both hands up to cup his neck, his thumbs brushing over his Adam’s apple in feather-light strokes.

“Will you get in trouble?” Phil asks, looking guilty.

“Nope,” Dan lies. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Sure, he wouldn’t get dropped from the agency or anything- he was their prize client right now. But he would get a very long lecture come Monday, or whenever he called them back. Whichever came first.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, seeming to pick up on the lie Dan’s just told. The brunette just shrugs it off, but Phil shakes his head. “I probably should’ve just taken you to the O2 like I was meant to.” He stares past Dan, at something he can’t see, and Dan notes that his hands haven’t stopped their gentle movements against his back.

“And miss out on this?” Dan asks softly, gently pressing forward to press a kiss to Phil’s lips.

Phil smiles when they’ve separated. “I don’t want you to get in trouble,” he tells him, his voice sounding sincere.

Dan smirks, ducking his head down to speak into Phil’s ear. “Would you have to punish me? If I got in trouble?”

Instead of the sexy response he figured he’d get, Phil laughs, loudly. Dan’s cheeks flush, and he sits back, barely able to meet Phil’s gaze now that he’s embarrassed himself. “Aw, Dan,” he giggles, tugging the brunette closer to him, hugging him to his chest. Dan drops his forehead to his shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ve got to be honest and say I’m not, um, quite into that. But if you are, that’s-“

“I’m not either. Not really,” Dan admits, lifting his head to gaze up at Phil shyly.

A curious look settles onto Phil’s face then. “Oh. So, we’re you-“

“I was kidding. Mostly.” Dan rolls his eyes and sits up, putting a couple inches between them. “Ben was into some strange stuff, so I just thought… I don’t know what I thought. Can we pretend that never happened?”

“Pretend what never happened?” Phil asks with a small smile.

Dan grins down at him. “I knew I liked you for something.”

Phil laughs. “For something other than my devishly handsome good looks? Preposterous.”

“That’s a big word,” Dan giggles, dragging his hands down the front of Phil’s t-shirt to play with the hem. He was still wearing his jacket, Dan noticed. That needed to change.

“That’s not all that’s big,” Phil says in a low voice.

It’s Dan’s turn to laugh, tipping his head back and letting the sound echo around the room. “That’s- oh my god, you- Phil,” he whines, rolling his eyes back to catch the other man’s gaze.

Phil’s looking at him with the softest gaze, his lips just barely curved up. “You’re beautiful when you laugh. Especially right here.” He drops a finger to Dan’s cheek, right where his dimple lives.

Dan can feel his cheeks flushing with heat, and he knows that there’s no way Phil hasn’t noticed. He ducks his head down, trying to hide how pleased he is by the compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “You don’t have to sweet talk me, though. I’m literally sat in your lap, waiting to be ravished. I don’t need to be buttered up.”

A quiet laugh falls from Phil’s lips as he reaches up to tuck a curl back into place. Something in Dan’s chest flutters at the intimate gesture. “I’m not trying to butter you up. Although, if that’s a euphemism for lube or something, then you probably ought to reconsider that, unless you’re just already prepared.” His lips curve into a smirk.

It takes a moment for Dan to register what that means, but when he does his mouth falls open in surprise. “Phil!” He shouts, scandalized. And then he can’t help but laugh, because such bold innuendos are practically foreign to him now. He loved a good cheeky dick joke here and there, but Ben said they lacked class, which Dan figured was code for “I’m not comfortable enough dicking down a dude to make jokes about it.” It was refreshing to joke around like this with someone who was obviously perfectly comfortable in their skin.

Phil laughs along with him, his hands roaming down to rest against Dan’s hips. “I’m teasing, obviously.”

“I know,” Dan says sarcastically. “If I thought you were serious, I’d be slightly offended.”

Shrugging, Phil pokes his tongue out in that cute way. “But you’re not, so here we are.”

“Here we are,” Dan echoes, shifting to enunciate his statement.

Phil’s eyebrows raise, and he watches silently as Dan slowly drags his hands back up, tucking them under Phil’s jacket as he goes. He holds Phil’s gaze as he slowly pushes the fabric off his shoulders, watching his eyes for any sign of discomfort. Phil only shifts forward a little and moves his arms to allow Dan to remove the jacket. The minute that piece of fabric is no longer on Phil’s body, Dan leans forward, capturing his lips yet again.

Dan’s hands grip Phil’s shoulders, gently kneading the skin there as one of Phil’s hands comes up to cradle his jaw. It’s nearly perfect, aside from all the layers of clothes still separating them, and Dan lets his problem with this be known with a whine against Phil’s lips.

“What do you want?” Phil asks gently, pulling away from Dan’s lips to trail kisses down his jaw.

Dan drags a hand up to tangle into Phil’s hair, messing up the perfectly styled quiff that was there. “You,” he groans, slowly grinding his hips down into Phil’s. The man beneath him stutters to a stop against his throat, and Dan can hear a soft curse fall from his lips.

“Do you have a bedroom?” He asks, his lips tickling Dan’s neck.

Something about the way he’s phrased the question makes Dan snort out a laugh. “No, I sleep in the bathtub. Yes, Phil, I have a bedroom.” He can’t help but roll his eyes.

Phil sits back and gives him an unimpressed look. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious,” he deadpans. Dan grins at him, and something shifts in Phil’s expression. He sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss to Dan’s dimple. “You’re well lucky you’re cute,” he breathes against Dan’s skin.

Dan laughs but he can feel that giddy feeling from his earlier compliment making a return in his stomach. He wasn’t used to being so openly appreciated, and he honestly could say that it was quite nice. “C’mon, then.” He climbs off Phil’s lap and holds a hand out to lead him into the bedroom.

“Our tea-“ Phil begins, giving the mugs a wary look.

Rolling his eyes, Dan picks up his hand and pulls him to stand. “It’s cheap tea, it’s fine.” He begins making his way down the hall, turning the lights off as he went.

Phil makes a humming noise. “I can’t believe you gave a guest cheap tea, mate,” he teases.

Dan glances back at him with a mocking smile. “I don’t shell out the good stuff for just anyone, you know.”

There’s laughter as he drags Phil into his bedroom, releasing his hand the minute they’ve stepped into the room. He immediately turns to face Phil, reattaching their lips in the darkness of the room. He gently steps forward, inching Phil back just enough that he can close the door, pressing him against the wood until a click is heard. Phil responds to the kiss easily enough, his hands coming up to wrap around Dan’s hips as he had earlier. The little circles he’s tracing with his thumbs drive Dan insane, but in the best way.

Phil pulls away eventually, panting against Dan’s lips. “Should we turn the light on or something? It’s dark in here,” His voice sounds joking, but something about his words makes Dan freeze. A memory of something that happened long ago and that had long been forgotten, prods at the back of his mind.

“Shh!” Ben hushed him loudly, covering his mouth.

Dan gently pulled his hand away, looking up into his eyes curiously. “Why? We’re the only ones here. No one can hear us,” he laughs, but uneasiness sets in when Ben sets him with a glare.

“I don’t want your neighbors getting the wrong idea,” he explains, shifting so that he’s holding himself away from where he’s pressed Dan’s body against the door.

Confused, Dan brushes Ben’s hair back. The blonde flinches at the action, swatting Dan’s hand away. “Babe, they don’t know-“

“Don’t,” Ben warns, his eyes darkening. “Don’t call me that. I’ve told you.”

Dan swallows. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Can we just-“

“Turn the light off,” Ben mutters, gesturing to the light switch as he moves to lay on the bed.

A frown etches its way onto Dan’s lips. “It’s like half midnight, Ben, and I can’t really see-“

“Turn the fucking light off, Daniel, or just forget about it.”

Dan stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly, moving to flick the switch off. He knew why Ben didn’t want the light on. He just thought… Well, maybe someday he’ll want to see him in the light.

“Dan? Are you okay?” Phil’s voice reaches his ears, and Dan snaps himself out of his thoughts.

“I want the lights on,” he blurts, rather than answering the question.

Phil sends him a strange look, but nods before leaning over to flick the switch that would turn the light on. “There we go,” he says, voice soft. He’s still got a strange look in his eyes, as if Dan’s some kind of injured animal and he’ll hurt him if he moves too fast.

Without waiting for anymore questioning, Dan grips Phil’s t-shirt and drags him close, kissing him deeply. Phil doesn’t protest, wrapping an arm around Dan’s waist and holding him close. Dan carefully begins walking backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed. He allows their lips to part, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He tosses it somewhere else, not paying attention to where it lands as he takes in Phil’s reaction.

Phil’s expression has shifted into something hungry and wanting, and Dan couldn’t be more thrilled by the look on his face as he studies Dan. Ben never looked at him this way. He certainly never looked at him this way in the light and for such a long time. “Dan.” Phil’s voice sounds almost choked.

“Can I...” Dan trails off, slowly bringing a hand up to the hem of Phil’s shirt. “Can I see you too?”

“God, yes.” Phil quickly tugs his own shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Dan immediately drops his gaze to his chest, and he swears he can feel his heart beating out of his chest when he sees the chest hair there. Ben had chest hair as well, but he didn’t like to be ogled.

Phil didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Dan slowly drags a hand down Phil’s chest, his fingernails lightly scratching down as he traces a path to the top of his jeans. “Fuck, Phil,” he groans. Without waiting for a response, he drops to the edge of the bed, giving him the perfect opportunity to begin peppering kisses across Phil’s chest, loving the way the hair tickles his lips as he makes his way down.

“Oh,” Phil lets out a soft sigh, his hand falling to Dan’s hair as he works. “Dan, will you-“

Before he can finish, Dan drops a kiss right over the zipper on his jeans, effectively cutting his words off. “Yes?” He says sweetly, looking up at Phil. The height difference with him sitting on the edge of the bed does something funny to his stomach, and he finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he was shorter.

Phil chews on his lip for a moment, studying Dan, before gently pushing him back. “I wanna suck you.”

There’s not a lot of things that make Dan nervous about sex. Having his cock in another man’s mouth, however, was one of those things. Ben preferred to be the receiver on that end, naturally, so Dan hadn’t had a proper blow job in what felt like forever. So, to say that his stomach was swarming with nerves was an understatement.

“Dan?” Phil calls softly from his position at the foot of the bed. He’d settled himself on his knees there, staring down at Dan with a soft gaze. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Dan had no clue how Phil just seemed to know just what he was feeling, but he was so, so grateful. He shakes his head once he registers his words, though. “I want you to. I just...” He gestures vaguely, not finishing the sentence.

Phil sends him a confused look, and Dan’s reminded that although it might feel like it, Phil can’t actually read his mind. “I don’t know what you want unless you say it, babe,” he says gently, the pet name seeming to fall out with ease.

After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Dan manages to answer him. “Ben didn’t like going down on me, so I just... I’m not sure if I, um... I don’t know. It’s dumb. Just, go ahead.” He gestures down to where the bulge in his pants is slightly softening from all the talking they’re doing.

“Dan,” Phil sighs. He moves to crawl up the bed, placing an arm on either side of Dan’s head to hold himself up over him. “I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But if you’re holding back because your idiot ex-boyfriend didn’t know how to treat you right, then I want you to just let go of that. I’m not him. This is different. You can be someone different with me.”

Dan considers his words as he stares up into his blue eyes, pondering for a long time what to say to that. Eventually, his mouth moves before he’s even really made his decision. “What if I want to be just me?” He whispers.

Phil smiles sweetly before ducking down and pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “I’d love nothing more than to spend the evening with just you, then.”

A shy smile works its way onto his lips then, and Dan quickly captures Phil’s lips with his own in an effort to distract himself from that giddy feeling in his stomach. They kiss languidly for a while, and then slowly, Phil makes his way down, trailing kisses along his chest as he goes. He seems to consider stopping at Dan’s nipples, but he simply drops a sweet kiss to each before continuing down.

When his hands reach for Dan’s belt buckle, the brunette’s stomach swoops in arousal. Phil’s deft fingers work quickly in undoing it, moving right along to the button and zipper. “Lift up,” He pats Dan’s thigh gently, waiting until Dan’s done as instructed before he tugs the dress pants down his thighs, sitting back to pull them off his legs entirely. “You’ve got such gorgeous legs,” he murmurs. As if to prove his point, Phil takes one of Dan’s calves in hand and begins pressing kisses down, making a path to his black Calvin’s, which are straining tightly over his throbbing cock.

“Please,” He whispers, having very little patience for the teasing way Phil’s kissing up his thigh.

Those blue eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, and Dan swears he stops breathing for a moment. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

The nickname causes a swirl of emotions in his chest, and he tries hard to hide his ridiculous smile. “I like- oh, fuck,” he interrupts himself when Phil’s lips finally ghost over his cloth-covered cock.

The sensation doesn’t last long, as Phil pulls away to shoot him a self-satisfied smirk. “What was that you were saying?”

“I don’t-“ Dan means to say he doesn’t exactly recall, but then Phil’s hand is squeezing his hardness and he’s certain the air in his lungs is gone. “I don’t know!” He whines, nearly thrashing against the touch he’s being granted. It’s not nearly enough, but it just feels so good, especially with all the buildup.

“You were saying you liked something, I believe. Was it...” Phil ghosts his lips over the material again. “This?”

Dan fights the feelings of lust and pleasure to try and recall what exactly he was trying to say, because it might have been relevant. As soon as he realizes, he spews it out, no filter whatsoever. “I like when you call me sweetheart, it’s-“ a whine when Phil removes his touch. “I really like it.”

It’s quiet in the room for a moment, and it gives Dan a moment to come down from the cloud of lust a bit. He raises his head just enough to shoot Phil a look, surprised when he finds him staring down at where he’s tracing patterns onto Dan’s thigh, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Phil?” He calls softly.

The man in question glances up at him, a soft smile on his lips. “Hm?”

“Are you... is this okay?” He’s a little unsure now that they’ve paused.

“Yes, of course it is,” Phil says quickly, easing Dan’s doubt a bit. “I just...” He trails of as he leans his head to the side, resting his temple against Dan’s thigh. “You deserve something good. I want this to be good for you.”

Dan blushes, but manages a small laugh. “It’s perfect. This is perfect, I promise.”

A smirk crawls onto Phil’s face, and he slowly drags his fingers to trace over Dan’s hardness. “Just this? Do you want to just do this, or would you prefer something a little...” he leans down then, pressing his lips to the material and sucking gently through the fabric. It’s just enough friction to have Dan bucking his hips.

“More,” he pants, shifting around. “God, please, more.”

“My name’s Phil, but I guess you can call me God, too,” Phil teases, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Dan’s pants.

“Shut up,” Dan groans. “You should be doing something with your mouth that isn’t talking.”

Phil giggles, like actually giggles, and Dan doesn’t even try to hide the grin on his face at the reaction. “How very bold of you, Daniel,” he murmurs, dragging the material down slowly.

Dan doesn’t have the heart to respond with any sort of joke, especially not when the material is gone and there’s nothing separating his cock from Phil’s view. “Please,” He whispers, unable to help himself from begging.

“You’re so gorgeous, Dan,” Phil gushes before dropping his head down to press a kiss to the head of Dan’s cock. Dan squirms under him, searching for more. “Ah, sit still, Dan. Good boys sit still.” He’s clearly teasing and referencing their earlier conversation, but Dan can’t help but gasp at the way the words seem to just turn him on even more.

“Fuck,” Dan groans when Phil’s lips finally wrap around him, properly blowing him now. He drops a hand to Phil’s hair and begins dragging his fingers through it gently, not forcing his head down but just feeling the softness of Phil’s hair as his head bobs. “You’re so good,” he mutters, incoherently, as he allows his head to fall back, just taking in the sensations.

Phil only hums and continues his movements. It’s not long before Dan can feel it becoming too much, and he knows he doesn’t want to finish this way. He gently tugs Phil’s head away with his hair, and those blue eyes flick up to look at him questioningly. “Okay?” He questions softly, his hand stroking Dan’s thigh.

“Mhm. I want…” He trails off then, a little embarrassed to finish that particular sentence.

A sweet smile graces Phil’s face, and he props his head up on his hand, his elbow digging into the mattress on the other side of Dan’s thigh. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Dan allows a breathy sigh to fall from his lips before gesturing for Phil to come closer. “C’mere. Wanna kiss you.”

“Your wish is my command,” Phil grins as he crawls up the bed, settling himself between Dan’s legs and bringing their lips together.

They lay like that for a bit, Dan trailing his fingers through Phil’s hair and finding the feeling so pleasant he just doesn’t want to stop. Eventually, though, he does, as Phil has begun lightly grinding down on him, making it impossible to ignore the arousal coursing through his veins. Pulling Phil down with his hair, Dan ghosts his lips over his jawline, making his way up to his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers hoarsely.

Phil groans at this, and Dan smirks at the way the other man ruts down against him. “Condom?” He breathes.

Dan nods to the bedside table to his left. “Top drawer,” he instructs.

Phil ducks down to press another kiss to his lips before pulling away and moving to rummage through his drawer, coming back with a foil packet and a bottle of lube. “This is the same brand I use,” he informs him with a concentrated look on his face as he begins unscrewing the cap.

Something about this makes Dan giggle, but he tries to cover his mouth when Phil looks up at him. “Sorry,” he says behind his hand.

“What?” Phil asks, an eyebrow raised.

Dan shrugs, spreading his legs apart as Phil moves down the bed to settle down there. “I dunno. That was just a cute thing to say.”

Phil sends him a gentle smile then, and Dan can’t help that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest again. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone in so long, and as much as it scared him, he never wanted it to go away. “You’re cute,” Phil tells him quietly as he pours the liquid onto his fingers.

“No, you,” Dan protests softly.

A finger gently pets over his rim before slowly sinking in, and Dan can’t help but let out a small breath. “Relax, Dan,” Phil says gently. He strokes his unoccupied hand over Dan’s thigh. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm. You can-“ He breathes out again, trying to keep still as he adjusts to the feeling of Phil’s finger sliding inside him. He was definitely not used to going this slow, and something about how gentle Phil was being made him squirm uncomfortably. “You can add another.”

Phil frowns at him then, and it’s the first time Dan’s seen a real, proper frown from him all evening. “I don’t do that,” he says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Dan.”

Something in the way he says that has Dan feeling his eyes fill with tears. He takes in a shuddering breath, struggling to keep it under control, but Phil’s going so slow and his hands are so soft and gentle, and before Dan knows it he’s crying, big, messy tears streaming down his face.

“Dan?” Phil calls in alarm. “Dan, what-“

“I’m sorry!” Dan cries, covering his eyes. He barely notices when Phil pulls his finger out, but he is fully aware when the bed shifts, and strong arms are wrapping around him, pulling him to rest against a warm chest.

“Shh. It’s okay. Please don’t cry, Dan. I’m sorry about… whatever I did.” Phil strokes his hair gently as he speaks, his fingers soothing against Dan’s scalp.

“It’s not you,” Dan breathes.

There’s a pause, before Phil speaks again. “I don’t… I don’t think I understand,” he admits.

Dan sighs, pressing his face to Phil’s chest. “It’s fucking Ben.”

Phil hums at this but doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, however, his words surprise Dan. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chewing on his lip, Dan actually considers it. He feels stupid, but at this point he’s certain he’s ruined the mood, so he’s not sure how bad he should feel about sharing his trauma with this man who’s seen his dick but is still a stranger, in most senses of the word. “Can I?” he finds himself whispering.

“Course,” Phil replies. “If you want to. I’ll listen.”

Dan doesn’t speak for a long time. He tries to collect his thoughts, tries to bring something to the front of his mind that seems to be worth talking about. When it came to the relationship he had with Ben, or the lack thereof, he had a hundred things to say, but being faced with saying them- well he didn’t know where to start.

When he finally speaks, he surprises himself when he answers. “I used to think I was in love with him.”

Phil hums, probably indicating for Dan to continue. It feels strange having such an intimate conversation with a stranger while he’s naked, but he decides it’s probably worth continuing.

So, he does. “I used to sit up all night, waiting for him to text me that he was horny, so I could offer to help out, just so I could see him for a little while. I didn’t even care if I finished, I just… I wanted to see him so bad. And when we’d go out together, I’d see him flirting with other people- it made me sick, that did. I’d go to the bathroom and just sick everywhere. I hated it.” He can feel tears streaming down his cheeks, but when he notices, Phil’s fingers come down to gently wipe them away. “I’d watch him go home with someone else, and I’d cry myself to sleep. But then the next day when he wanted to go for lunch or something, I’d go, because I couldn’t put any distance between us. I just couldn’t.”

Phil doesn’t answer, his hand still gently stroking through Dan’s curls.

“But that’s not love, is it? Loving someone who makes you so sick that you can barely move, or who calls when they need you but don’t pick up when it’s two am and you’re sitting on the fire escape thinking about jumping-“ he releases a shuddering breath, and he’s almost positive that Phil tightens his grip on him. “That’s not love at all. Is it?”

It’s mostly rhetorical, but when the silence is interrupted by Phil’s soft tone, Dan doesn’t hesitate to listen.

“I don’t think…” he starts out slowly, sounding cautious. “I don’t think someone else can tell you that what you feel isn’t love. But, when the person you’re in love with treats you that way-“ his voice sounds choked, and Dan hates that he’s the cause of it. “-Then I think it’s safe to say that the person doesn’t love you back.”

His voice is so, so gentle, and so are his hands, but Dan can’t help the sob that escapes him. “I know,” he says wetly, closing his eyes tightly in an effort to stop the tears. “I know, and I hate it.”

They sit there for a while without talking, and eventually Dan realizes how stupid he feels. “God. I’m sorry,” he groans, disentangling himself from Phil and looking down at him with an apologetic grimace.

“For what?” Phil asks, sounding genuinely perplexed.

Dan gestures around them helplessly. “For being so… I don’t know. You don’t go to hook up with someone and expect them to just spill their fucking problems, you know?”

Phil frowns at him then, tilting his head as if he hadn’t understood. “You know I didn’t just come to hook up, right?”

Then it’s Dan’s turn to act confused, because he’s fairly certain he hadn’t misread the situation that much. “What?”

With a small smile, Phil tugs his arm so he’s laying against him once again. This time, though, Dan rolls onto his stomach and props his chin on Phil’s chest to meet his eyes as he speaks. “I would’ve offered to come in and chat if you hadn’t invited me, Dan.”

It takes a long moment for Dan to process this. When he does, he shakes his head. “But you- we were about to have sex!” He protests.

Phil shrugs. “That was just a bonus.” A cheeky smile frames his lips before they shift into something more serious. “But honestly, Dan. I was in the car with you and Ben for a while tonight, I saw what happened. I’m not blind, you know.”

Dan flushes, his mind going back to when Ben had covered his mouth to whisper-yell at him. He shivers involuntarily at the reminder. “I hadn’t thought you noticed.”

A snort falls from Phil’s nose. “Of course I did. There I had Dan Howell and some twat sitting in the back of my car arguing, naturally I tried to pay attention.”

“Oh,” Dan nods, suddenly getting it. “Of course, yeah. Actor, drama. Got it.”

Phil sends him a confused look. “No,” he says slowly, his blue eyes narrowing. “That’s not what I’m saying, Dan. No one deserves to get treated that way. The fact that I recognized you just meant that I felt closer to the situation and wanted to make sure you stayed safe. It had fuck all to do with the fact that you’ve got a day job as an actor.”

Dan’s gaze falls down to where he’d tucked his hands under his chin, and he studies his fingernails carefully. “Oh,” he repeats. “So… You just… What, you were just going to pop in for tea and ask how my relationship was going?” Something about it bothers him, but he can’t put his finger on what.

“No. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out. You seem like a genuinely nice person, and honestly, you seem like you need nicer friends. I would’ve asked if you wanted to play some video games or something, and if later on you decided you wanted to talk about it, I would have listened, just like I did now.” Phil reaches a hand up to pet Dan’s hair. He lets out a sigh, and his breath fans across the space between them and lands gently on Dan’s face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about telling me. I genuinely just wanted you to feel like you had someone to listen, if you needed it.”

Before Dan can really consider it, he’s moving, shifting closer and pressing his lips to Phil’s. There’s a brief second where he’s not sure if Phil’s going to reciprocate, but then his hand is on Dan’s hip, and his other his resting in Dan’s curls, holding him closer. Dan tries to put all his gratefulness, all his relief into the kiss, showing Phil how glad he is that he met him tonight. It had only been a few hours, but Dan had never felt so bonded to a person in such a short period of time.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Phil’s lips when he finally pulls away.

“You’re welcome,” Phil whispers back.

He doesn’t ask what Dan means, and Dan’s grateful for that. He wants to have a moment without talking, or maybe several, and now that he feels an emotional weight has been lifted off his chest, he feels that maybe they can finally have that. But first, he wants to check and make sure that he hadn’t fucked it up already.

“I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” he asks with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Phil pulls away enough to smile. “Nah. You’ve changed it, but I think in a good way. Are you still-?”

Dan slowly drags his hips up, and although his cock had started to soften, this new simulation causes a new swell of arousal to rush through him. “Yeah, are you?”

“Mhm,” Phil presses a kiss to his lips again before gently pulling away. “Still want me to top?”

Dan chews on his lip for a moment, but nods. “I really just-“ he flushes as soon as he processes what he was about to say.

“What?” Phil asks gently, dragging his lips down to kiss along Dan’s throat. “What do you need, babe?”

The pet name has him ducking his head to hide his smile, but then he’s feeling embarrassed all over again over what he was about to admit. “I want you to take care of me,” he breathes.

Phil doesn’t pause his movements, dragging his lips from the base of Dan’s throat and back up to his lips. He presses his lips to Dan’s softly for just a moment before pulling away. “Lay down.”

Dan immediately obliges, rolling over onto his back and watching as Phil moves down the bed to resume his earlier position. He spreads his legs again, only feeling slightly embarrassed about how on-display he was. The lights being on didn’t help how nervous he suddenly felt, but he preferred being able to see the way that Phil tugged his own pants off, finally leaving both of them naked. Dan was impressed, to say the least, and there was absolutely nothing else he wanted to do tonight other than Phil.

“I’m going to go slow, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, so we’re starting slow, alright?” Phil looks down at him with a raised eyebrow, squeezing the lube out onto his right hand.

“Alright.” Dan nods in understanding. He could handle that. He’d had his breakdown, but now he was certain that he’d be alright.

“If you want me to stop, at any point and for any reason, you have to tell me, okay, Dan?” Phil’s voice is serious, and the authority in his tone does something funny to Dan’s stomach.

“Okay.”

Phil nods, satisfied with that answer, before he moves his hand down to Dan’s most sensitive place. He tugs at Dan a few times before dropping his hand down to stroke his fingers over Dan’s hole. He meets Dan’s gaze, waiting for him to nod before he slowly slips a finger inside, pumping in and out gently.

Dan sighs, dropping his head back. “Good?” Phil asks softly.

Nodding, Dan murmurs out, “So good.”

Phil lets out a soft laugh at this, and true to his word, he works slowly, eventually adding a second, and finally a third finger, moving them apart and stretching Dan open as gently as possible. When he finally pulls them out, Dan’s sweating, his hips grinding down onto nothing as soon as Phil’s hand is gone. He lets out a whine, unable to stop the noise from falling from his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Phil whispers.

Dan opens his eyes, not even aware he’d closed them, to find Phil hovering over him. “Yes,” he breathes. He leans up to capture Phil’s lips with his own, pleased when Phil swipes his tongue over Dan’s bottom lip. “Phil, please,” he whispers.

Phil sits back on his heels, nodding as he finds the foil packet in the sheets and rips it open, rolling the condom on with quick fingers. He moves to hover over Dan, pressing their lips together again. When he pulls away, he murmurs, “Ready?”

“Mhm, yes,” Dan mumbles, tossing his head back as he waits, impatiently, for Phil to get inside him already. Phil chuckles softly at this, and Dan can feel the mattress shifting as he moves down to sit back on his heels, pulling Dan’s legs up and wrapping them around his back. The way he’s positioned them has Dan arching his back up a little, and Phil grabs a pillow and quickly pushes it under his lower back. Dan hates himself for it, but the sweet, thoughtful gesture makes him blush.

Surprisingly, Phil doesn’t speak again as he gently pushes inside. It’s almost as if they’re both holding their breath, the room gone silent aside from their heavy breathing, as Phil gently presses in, inch by inch. Once he’s finally bottomed out, Dan opens his mouth and pants. The stretch feels amazing, but it’s undeniably painful. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad that Phil had taken his time to stretch him so thoroughly, but even with it, he felt like his eyes might start to water.

“Let me…” Phil cuts himself off with a groan, his head dropping as he pants. “Tell me when I can move.”

It takes a few moments, but eventually Dan nods, reaching forward and patting Phil’s hand that’s wrapped around his hip. “You can move. Please, please, move.”

His plea is answered, Phil sliding out before pressing back in slowly, the slide feeling like one of the best things Dan’s ever experienced. “You feel so good,” Phil groans, lifting a hand from Dan’s body to push his messy hair back out of his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes.

Dan whines, lifting his hips up to meet his thrusts. “Please, Phil,” he begs, trying his hardest to make him go faster.

“What do you want? Use your words, sweetheart.”

The name has Dan’s eyes rolling back. “Faster, please. Please, fuck, Phil.”

Phil responds to this by shifting a little, the movement causing him to slide impossibly further into Dan’s willing body, and the brunette swears he’s going to faint. Before he even has a moment to wonder over how impossibly close he feels to Phil right then, Phil is moving faster, just like Dan wanted.

“Oh my god, fuck, oh- Phil,” Dan babbles, tossing his head back and forth as he feels Phil press against his prostate with every thrust. He knows this is going to end too quickly, all the buildup from this evening having his stomach tightening already.

“Dan, Dan, oh fuck.” The words seem to fall from Phil’s lips without any thought, and Dan’s intoxicated by the sound of his name falling from Phil’s lips.

“Please.” Dan has no idea what he’s asking for, but he can only plead for something to bring him over the edge he’s on. Phil doesn’t disappoint, his hand coming up to wrap around his length and pumping in time to his thrust the best he can. “Phil, oh god, gonna-“

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” Even now, Phil’s voice is gentle, and with that nickname falling from his lips, Dan doesn’t stand a chance. He comes quickly, all over Phil’s hand and his own chest, whines falling from his lips even after he’s finished.

Phil thrusts into him a few more times before he stills, a drawn out swear leaving his mouth as he releases, his thumbs stroking circles onto Dan’s hips as he does. He slowly eases out, pulling the condom off and tying it. He looks a little unsure at first, and Dan nods to the trashcan beside the wall. “Over there,” he says tiredly, tossing an arm across his forehead as Phil climbs off the bed to dispose of it.

Dan closes his eyes for just a moment, just to catch his breath, but they snap open when he feels something soft running over his stomach. “Shh. Just me,” Phil soothes him quickly. Dan glances down to find him gently cleaning up the stickiness on his chest with a tissue, one he’d probably found on his nightstand.

“Thank you,” Dan murmurs, watching as Phil gently wipes him down before moving to toss the tissue into the trash.

Phil shrugs, coming back over to sit on the edge of the bed. “So, um…” He looks awkward, for the first time this evening, and Dan wonders how often he does the whole hooking-up-with-strangers thing.

“I have some pj’s in the second drawer of my dresser.” Dan gestures carelessly over at the piece of furniture, his limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion and the relief of a good orgasm. “If you want to sleep in something, that is.” His words are punctuated with a yawn as he climbs under the cover.

A look of shock is on Phil’s face. “Oh, um… What?”

Dan lifts his head to give him a confused look. “Aren’t you staying the night? It’s awfully late to be driving home.” Phil doesn’t seem sure about what to say to that, so Dan turns the blanket on the right side of the bed down. “C’mere. I’m a cuddler.”

Carefully, as if he’s unsure what he’s allowed to touch post-sex, Phil settles onto the bed beside Dan, laying stiffly beside him. “Are you…” He swallows hard, and Dan watches the way it moves his Adam’s apple. “Are you sure you want me to stay here?”

Dan nods, moving closer and tossing a leg over Phil’s. “Mhm. I don’t want you to drive home so late. Oh, by the way, I’ll pay you for the Uber in the morning. I completely forgot about that earlier.” He feels like he’s already half asleep at this point, so he’s not sure how coherent he’ll be if Phil decides to respond.

“Okay. Night, Dan.” He whispers softly. Dan feels a hand gently card through his hair, and the thought of waking up next to this gorgeous man makes him smile.

“Night, Phil,” he mumbles, hoping that it sounds semi-intelligible. He quickly drops off into a deep sleep, his mind swirled with thoughts of black hair and blue eyes and tongues between teeth and sweet nicknames. He works himself into a proper good dream starring the man he’s sharing a bed with, for once feeling content enough to sleep through the whole night without stirring.

When he awakes the next morning, he’s alone.

#phan #phanfiction #this is based on a short film but i got v carried away with the angst and backstory #fluff #angst #smut #au #some emotional abuse but not dnp #dnb

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thewritewolf · 5 years

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Fictober Day 29 - At Least It Can’t Get Any Worse

Fair warning, this is a late-teens sleepover drabble, so be prepared for slightly more mature content than I usually post. Or, perhaps more accurately, slightly more immature content.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“At least it can’t get any worse,” Marinette sighed as her turn came up. It had been an... interesting game of truth or dare so far. Her sleepovers tended to be fairly small affairs. Usually just a guest or two, almost always Alya. But this time...

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, pigtails.” Alix watched her with an evil grin on her face and Marinette felt fear despite the fact that she wasn’t the one about to give her dare.

...This time the entire girl squad was here. The same team that she’d made it to their last year of school with. A pang of sadness went through her as she considered that this was probably one of the last times they’d get to hang out like this.

Marinette felt fear even though Alix wasn’t the one about to give her the dare. Which honestly was for the best, given her impact on the game thus far. Alix had turned the game from Truth or Dare to just Dare and her orders have all been extraordinarily embarrassing. She set the bar fairly high for dares and everybody had been struggling to one up each other. There was an out, of course, a way to avoid the dare, but each person only has so many articles of clothing on before they don’t have any left to protect them.

“Alright, Rose, it’s your turn to spin.” Alya was talking, but Marinette was thinking back to the dares she’d already been forced into.

Even the tamest of them had caused problems. Sure, screaming ‘penis’ might not seem that bad on paper, but then there are the fears about accidentally waking up parents, or even if neighbors overheard her. How can she possibly explain without sounding immature or insane? ‘Well what was I going to do papa - not accept the dare?!’ Yeah no. Thankfully, no one had come knocking on her door.

She watched the bottle (itself a relic from their movie binge) spin as she remembered the dare after that. They’d really caught her in a pickle with that one. She was going to lose an article of clothing either way, but she figured that if everything went well, then removing her bra without taking off her shirt wouldn’t cause any problems down the road. She was already out of tertiary clothes, so now she was down to her pajamas and shirt. A very breezy shirt, she had come to realize.

“Marinette! Okay, Rose, what is your dare for our brave, brave host?”

Her cheeks reddened when she spared a glance for the forgotten box of condoms. She had (truthfully) told her friends that her parents had gotten them when she first started showing an interest in boys (or, rather, ‘boy’), but they insisted on wild speculation, like if she had gotten them thinking that she’d get with Adrien any day now and get right into… business. Not far from the box was the dare associated with it - her failed attempt at a condom balloon animal. Her nose wrinkled at the memory. Embarrassing, but not the worst event of the night.

The sweet blonde girl tapped at her chin, deep in thought. Marinette sighed in relief. Rose was innocent and didn’t have a malevolent bone in her body. After whatever tame dare she gave, Marinette would be safe for a few rounds more. Maybe by then, they’d be done with this game.

Rose’s eyes landed on a spot of the wall and lit up. “Marinette, I dare you to call Adrien and confess your feelings for him!”

Marinette screeched. “What?! No - I’ll make ten, twenty condom balloon animals, just please-”

“The rules are the rules,” Mylene said. She added under her breath, “No matter how much we wish they weren’t.”

An arm wrapped around her shoulder and she was pulled closer to Alya. “Sorry, girl, but hey! This has been a long time coming and you’re running out of time to make your move. You don’t want Adrien to slip away, right?”

“No… but-”

Alix made a slashing motion with her arm. “No buts, although you’re getting close to showing yours.”

That was true. She couldn’t afford to lose any more clothes. Besides… maybe Alya was right? Maybe she should take this opportunity to confess her feelings before it was too late. Better to know for sure one way or another if her and Adrien were possible before he vanished from her life forever.

Just as she mustered her courage, a phone - her phone, she belatedly realized - was tossed at her and she juggled it in an attempt to catch it. It was ringing. They’d already dialed his number while she was busy psyching herself up. She was just about to glare at them, or maybe berate them, but then… he answered.

“Hello? Marinette?” His voice was deep from exhaustion and he didn’t sound more than a hand’s breadth from sleep and boy was it hot in here. Had they woken him up? She winced after glancing at the clock. One in the morning. Sure, it was the weekend, but knowing Adrien’s schedule…

“Uh, hi! Adrien! Marinette! That’s uh, that’s me. Marinette? Class we go to together. Your classmate?” There was a chorus of heads shaking and facepalming around the room.

Thankfully, he just chuckled. “Hey, Mari. You don’t usually call me this late at night.” There was a pause and she could faintly hear him yawning. “Or at all, come to think of it. Something wrong? Do you need to talk?”

“N-no, no, nothing’s wrong, I just, uh, I needed to tell you something.” Her friends gestured for her to continue, but she clammed up, absolutely terrified.

“Are you okay? You sound scared.” Even through the fog of terror, she was touched by the genuine concern in his voice.

“Y-yes, I’m fine.” She bite her lower lip, lowering her voice to a whisper, she added. “I am scared though.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, as if she never showed fear and was the very face of bravery. Even after all these years of running from him in panic every time she tried to strike up a conversation with him. “Talk me through it.”

“I… I can’t! I’m too scared.”

“Then we don’t have to just yet, okay?” There was a shuffling on the other side of the line, presumably as he sat up in bed. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

She took a few deep breaths. It wasn’t fair of her to wake him up and keep him waiting like this - she realized that. But his calm patience was doing wonders for her nerves. Maybe that’s why she never gave up on this crush. No matter how many times she’d embarrassed herself in front of him, he never thought less of her and never made fun of her for it. It was something she was endlessly grateful for.

“Okay… I, I think I’m r-ready.” She looked around the room for support. Rose was bouncing with excitement, barely held in check by a smiling Juleka. Alix gave her a thumbs up and a half grin and right beside her, Mylene was watching with wide eyes and half buried in her blanket. Alya gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Do… do you want to go out with me?”

There was a long pause where all Marinette could hear was the pounding of her own heart. The seconds dragged on and tension was thick in the room as they all waited on Adrien’s reply.

“Like… on a date...?”

“YES!” She blurted out. “I mean, yes. A date. With me. Please?”

Another long pause. “Sure.” The tension exploded into just barely silent commotion and cheering. “Nineteen hundred tomor-” He interrupted himself. “Er, later today, work for you?”

“Yes…?” She was only just barely able to respond, fairly certain she was having an out-of-body experience right now.

“Awesome! I’ll swing by around then. Wear your best and I’ll wear mine. Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Uh… no, I uh, I think I’m good.” Her body responded automatically, high functions shutting down from the sheer wall of joy and happiness that had landed on her. Years of build-up tumbling down on top of her.

“Cool! See you then.” He yawned again. “Get some sleep, alright? Night.”

“Night…” She muttered as they hung up.

Silence.

Alya grinned from ear to ear. “Well, I guess our game is over since Marinette needs her beauty sleep for her date.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Alix Kubdel #Rose Lavillant #Alya Cesaire #Juleka Couffaine #Adrien Agreste #Adrienette #Mylene Haprele #Fictober18 #ml fanfiction #my writing

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rainbowpaladins · 5 years

Text

Untitled ABO fic pt10

Lance woke with a jolt, his daughter's piercing cries more effective then any alarm clock. For a brief moment, his sleep addled brain failed to recognize his surroundings. He was supposed to be in a room with purple highlights and the bare minimum furniture. So why was he in a room with blue highlights and a comfy bed?

And then it clicked.

Lotor. The lies. Running into Keith. Escaping and returning to the team.

And Shiro. Shiro who wanted to try to have a relationship with him.

Shiro who was also lying stock still with his arms full of a distressed infant. The Black Paladin shot a distressed look of his own at Lance, unsure what to do. "I think she needs to be changed."

Lance did a check of his own, before coming to the same conclusion. He rolled out of bed, limbs unhappy with the demand they function before he'd gotten enough sleep. He wasn't sure if there were any supplies to be found in any of the places he'd hid them, but it didn't hurt to look. Maybe he'd get lucky, for once.

He did a once around, as Shiro sat up and came to sit on the edge of the bed. Lance was just about to throw in the towel, when the universe decided to give him a break after all. Victoriously, he held up a the space equivalent of two diapers and a small container of wipes.

"Looks like I missed some, after all." He grinned, placing the items on the bed. "Give me a sec to grab a towel and then I'll get her changed."

"How did you get baby supplies onto the ship without us noticing?" Shiro sounded like he was seriously rethinking Lance's sneakiness.

The Cuban teen was almost sad to give away his secrets. He shrugged as he came back with the towel. "Sometimes I bought them and just stuffed them in my pockets."

Shiro squinted at the little packet of wipes, judging them to be about the right size to fit in someone's pockets without drawing attention.

"Other times," Lance went on explaining as he laid out the blanket and then reached out to take Izzy. "I pretended to buy a game or something but had supplies in the box instead."

Shiro watched the ritual, taking note on what he was doing to learn what all went into changing an infant as much as he was using the impromptu lesson to buy himself time to think. "We thought you were buying a lot of games."

Lance finished the clean up, redressing Izzy as he did so. He handed their daughter back to her other parent. Instead of addressing the trust issues between them (just yet), he asked, “How long was I asleep? I could definitely go for some of Hunk’s food just about now.”

Behind him, Shiro glanced at a plate of food that had appeared while he was asleep. “A few hours. Hunk brought you some of those finger foods you like, since he didn’t know when you’d be up.”

Lance dropped the trash down the disposal, eyeing the food like he’d just won the lottery. By the time his hands were clean, he was more than ready to dig in. “I need to talk to Allura when I’m done,” he said, after he’d stuffed a few more filling choices down his throat. “Izzy’s going to need everything.” Lance took the plate with him as he took a seat next to Shiro. “A single diaper won’t last long, and I’d like to get us both some new clothes.”

Shiro eyed the clothes he was wearing. Lance didn’t know how much he paid attention to the former Blue Paladin’s clothing, so it was a toss up if he’d notice they weren’t one’s Lance had owned before he left. When he spoke, his tone was gentle. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Lance leaned into Shiro’s shoulder, drawing strength from the presence of family. “I’ll talk, I promise.” He picked at the remaining pieces of food on the plate. “But I’d really rather only do it once.”

There was a long silence. When Lance peaked up at him, Shiro’s gaze was distant. He suddenly felt guilty for making it sound like it was worse than it was. Here he was, complaining about his ordeal to someone who had been held prisoner and forced to terrible things for the sick pleasure of others. “None of that, whatever you’re thinking.” He leaned back so he could place a hand oh Shiro's shoulder. "It wasn't that bad."

The prompt worked, but not in the way he thought it would. "What?" Shiro's attention snapped back into focus, eyes boring into Lance's as he frowned at him. "No. 'None of that' back at you." Shiro poked him in the forehead, perhaps a little too hard as it actually rocked Lance back a bit.

"This isn't a competition." In apology, that same hand came to rest on the side of Lance's face. "Don't think you have to down play what happened because you think someone else has it worse." Shiro shifted so they were facing each other, rather than sitting side by side, making certain Lance was paying attention. "Lance, whatever happened, whether it took place over an hour or a year or longer, if something bad happened to you, it matters. I, and the others, want to help you. Please tell me you understand that."

Lance blinked, vision blurred and stinging. He wasn't going to cry (not yet). He nodded, taking a shaky breath as he did so. When he felt more steady, he poked Shiro back, albeit with much less force. "That goes for you, too, oh, brave and fearless leader."

Shiro gave a noncommittal 'hm,' adjusting his hold on Izzy as she squirmed about. It wasn't a 'yes', but Lance was going to call it a victory, since it wasn't a 'no' either.

Needing to do something before he made a bigger fool of himself, Lance stood up, showing off his empty plate. "Well, I should get this back to the kitchen. See if Allura is awake."

Shiro rose to his feet as well, careful with the bundle in his arms. She was getting fussier with the high level of emotions, and starting to move around more. "I'll come with you."

Lance paused, searching his face. Did Shiro still think he needed to be baby sat? He supposed he did kind of deserve some level of caution, it was just going to take some getting used to.

As if reading his thoughts, Shiro shook his head. "It’s easier if I go with you, then if we wait for Allura to call everyone.” He raised an eyebrow at him as he walked passed on the way to the door. “One less person to track down.”

Lance still felt he was getting off far too easily, but he was going to take his good fortune where he could. The trip to the kitchen was silent. Since it was in that nebulous time period between meals, no one was in. Lance was almost sorry he’d put the plate down, as it left his hands feeling empty. In the two months he’d been on the run, with the exception of a few instances here and there, Lance rarely wasn’t carrying Izzy, so it felt odd to have his arms empty.

A glance up at Shiro and Izzy and he knew he couldn’t ask for her back. The older man had that stupidly adorable look on his face again as he entertained the infant with the patience of a saint. Izzy was fascinated with Shiro’s metal fingers, attempting to put them in her mouth. He was thankfully keeping them out of her mouth, but she had her determined face on, so it was anyone’s guess how that would go.

Instead, Lance crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits in a sort of pseudo self-hug. He should have brought his jacket, even if it looked hideous with this outfit. At least then, he’d be able to put his hands in his pockets and keep up the nonchalant illusion.

They found Allura (back in her dress with her hair down) on the bridge, along with Coran. It sounded like they discussing how best to deal with the new, temporary passengers, before they broke off at the sound of the doors opening.

“Shiro. Lance!” Under her pleased-to-see-them expression, Allura looked like she hadn’t slept in over a day. Lance felt a wave of guilt as he realized far too belatedly that by selfishly asking Shiro to remain by his side last night, he’d deprived Allura of some of her own support system. There was no accusation, however, when she turned to him. If nothing else, there was only more of that relief she’d had when she’d first laid eyes on him in the Blue Lion. “How are you feeling.”

“Nothing like a little beauty sleep couldn’t help with.” Lance mustered up the energy to give one of his more winning smiles, beating down the urge to shift awkwardly. “I was wondering if I could put in a request for a pit stop.” He swallowed, fingers curling into a fist. “I had to leave my bag with all of my supplies behind on that station.”

Allura blinked, processing the information. Lance had never been more grateful for her intelligence and her discretion, then he was when she put that together and didn’t comment on it. “Of course. We can also pick up some more supplies for ourselves as well, as we are a little low due to our unexpected guests.”

Shiro reached out with his free hand, placing it on Lance’s shoulder. Two pairs of sharp eyes followed the movement, before those same sharp eyes glanced over to Izzy, who was peering over at them with the same curiosity she gave everyone she met for the first time. Lance watched their eyes flicker between her eyes and Shiro’s, and knew they had to have put it together, although there wasn’t a shred of judgement in their expressions. They seemed to be waiting for an explanation before drawing any conclusions.

“Before we head to the mall, I think we should talk.” Shiro’s hand tightened, although Lance wasn’t sure if it was for his own sake or Lance’s. “As a team. What happened this past year shouldn’t have happened and I think it’s important we figure out why it happened and how best to keep it happening again.”

Allura and Coran nodded in agreement. Lance thought they were all being way too kind by not calling out how royally he’d messed up.

“I’ll go call the others.” Coran spun on his heel in his extravagant manner, as went to go make the P.A.. “We might have to retrieve Number 5, though! I know saw her going for her lab earlier...”

Lance watched him go, unable to quite shake his sense of foreboding. He was not looking forward to this meeting, nor to how his other pack mates responded to the mess he had created. He could only hope that when the dust settled he and his new little family weren’t totally alienated from the pack.

-tbc

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grandthorkiday · 5 years

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Mob AU “Playthings” Part 19

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

~2011~

Ashley was a sweet girl, if a tad annoying. She had a laugh that was a little too high and made her sound like she was going down a bumpy road. She wore too much jewelry, make up, and perfume, and when she talked in her thick Jersey accent she had tendency to smack her lips and talk with exaggerated gestures. But Mario didn’t keep her around for her conversational skills, as he was fond of saying when he smacked her large bottom as she walked by. Of the frequent hanger ons who came and went from the penthouse, she was Thor’s favorite.

“I brought yah something!” She called as he returned from working out in the hotel gym.

“You really didn’t have to,” he said, but was still excited to see what it was. He looked around. “Where’s Loki?”

“Oh he went with Gast somewhere. Focus!” She snapped her fingers and her rings clanged together. She tossed her overly large purse on the table and pulled out two large books. “Told yah my cousin went to college for this crap. Never finished, and tell him, Jay if you don’t finish sell yah books. Nah, Ash, I’m gonna finish. My ass he’s going to finish. He’s making enough doing the rackets. But here, you take ‘em!”

Thor took the books like they were precious treasure. ‘Medieval European History: An Introduction’ and 'The Viking and Their Legacy on the Early Modern World’ were heavy volumes. But there was art within the pages and most of all, it had nothing to with his current circumstances. He opened the page of one of the books to a picture of a war hammer and spear being laid out on a table by an anthropologist, showing the ceremonial markings and and decoration on both.

“This has some examples of actual art, right?” he asked, feeling a twinge of guilt at being so greedy with his desire.

Ashley didn’t seen to care. “'Course it does! You know, you can go to a bookstore and get a book on that! You already go and get your art stuff there.”

“I-I don’t want to ask,” he said, placing the book down. Asking was not the right word. Gast would want him to beg, for every cent and dollar. To leave the penthouse and get a book from the chain store two blocks away. He would have to debase himself. He already did that for art supplies, he didn’t think he could do it for a book. Maybe, if he was good, he could simply ask for a few books. If he was really good, Grandmaster would just shower him with whatever he asked for. He had to be good.

[read more cut]

“You draw anything new?”

He blinked a few times before answering. “Oh, uh, yeah. One moment.” He never left his sketchbook too far away from him. The penthouse crew had a 'habit’ of going through it and doodling over some of his sketches if he left it out of field of vision. Sometimes, Gast would have them punished if he caught them. Sometimes he would ask for a pen and make his own drawings. Thor really didn’t want to risk it.

He handed the sketchbook to Ashley who greedily snapped it up and opened it. She squealed in delight. “These are amazing!! Seriously, this hand and flower! I would totally get this done! Well, if Max let me get a new tattoo. But,” she turned the page and sighed, “oh this is just fucking gorgeous. You drew a cat and it looks so cute I wanna eat it up!”

“It’s Paul’s cat.”

“I know! And you should show him! He loves that thing. You never considered going into making tattoo art?”

Thor shook his head, trying not to laugh. Before he and Loki were kidnapped, he was an Econ major, desperately wanting to change his major to Medieval History. His Father would never expect anything less than him, though. Sketching and drawing was a hobby done behind closed doors, never encouraged except by his brother. He couldn’t even tell his mother that most of his drawings were tattoo inspired.

After they were taken, his education had stopped. Gast had floated the idea of letting them take online courses, but that was snatched away during one of their 'bad’ periods. Drawing became an escape. Grandmaster was his gentlest when he found him drawing and most people in the penthouse wanted a sketch, either for a tattoo or to just keep. Mario even turned one sketch into a shirt that he wore fondly during football season. Thor doubted Gast, however, would see the use or have the desire to put him through the training needed to be an artist.

As though summoned by the mere thought of him, Gast appeared with Mario at his side. Mario had a strange look of barely contained rage. Thor shrank instantly onto himself, gathering his new books closer to him. Suddenly Ashley having his sketchbook felt dangerous and he wanted to reach out and snatch it back. But he didn’t dare do that. That would bring attention to himself, and he wasn’t the one Mario was angry at.

“Hey, Ash!” the thug in question barked out, flexing his muscles as he crossed his arms. “Gotta sec to talk about the 'girl’?” They talked like this, even in the safety of the penthouse, most often. This vague way of speaking about their dealings. There were times, late in the evening and the dead of night when they would be specific. Old superstition someone once explained to him: the dark remains in the dark.

Ashley barely glanced up at him. “What about her?”

“She didn’t make it to the 'drop’. She and her 'merchandise’ are fucking gone.”

“Well she was on her way when I put her and the baby in the cab this morning.”

Mario rolled his neck in irritation and Gast chuckled darkly. “You didn’t go with her?”

The woman frowned and finally passed back the sketchbook who Thor nearly all but hugged when it was returned. “I ain’t going to see a kid sell a baby! I got betta things to do!”

“Like what?!”

“My hair for one!” She flicked her fire red curls over her shoulder. “And my nails! You want me pretty don’t yah baby?”

“I WANNA BE PAID TOO SWEET FUCKING HEART!”

“What you got there, Sparkles?” Gast asked. Naturally, this was directed at Thor and was said conversationally. Like there wasn’t a feeling of apprehension in the air.

Thor nervously showed his new books and sketchbook. Grandmaster waved him over and plucked them from his arms to examine them from his arms. He thumbed through one book before return them with a hum of mild interest. “You like this stuff?”

“Y-yeah,” he waited to see what happened. He ignored Ashley and Mario having a stare off.

“You know, there’s going to be a Medieval exhibit at one of the museums uptown. Forget which ones, but they want me to come by and throw some razzle dazzle on it. Maybe if you’re good, we’ll go.”

“Really?”

“Sure! Hey, sugar,” Gast leaned over and spoke to him like he was speaking to a child, trying to distract him, “how about you go to my bedroom and hang out with Lo Lo. I bet he could use the company.”

Maybe it was the idea that Thor was leaving that finally made it click in Ashley’s mind that she was in trouble. “Hey, he and I were talkin’!”

Thor was slowly already moving to the bedroom, however. There was still a morbid curiosity that made him want to turn back as Ashley called after him and Mario shouted her down. There was a human emotion to turn around and take one last solid look at what had been a friend and occasional ally. But if he looked back, would he still be good? No, it was better to be good and do as Grandmaster suggested.

The bedroom was large with a king sized bed and huge television built into the wall. Loki was laying on the bed in one of Gast’s robes, watching a period piece half-heartedly. He brightened though when Thor entered.

“Hey, how long have you been back?”

“Fifteen minutes. I got caught up talking to….someone.”

There was a sound of two people shouting from out in the living room.

“O-oh.”

“Hey, I got something.” He sat down on the bed and handed the books over to Loki. The younger man took them and began to thumb through them, smiling more with each page that turned. “I already got some ideas for sketches, but the information also looks really interesting.”

“Yeah,” the other replied, having to tear his eyes away from a sub chapter on the order of succession.

Thor took one of the books again and thumbed to the page with the hammer and spear. “I was thinking of sketching these two first. Make it look like heraldry.”

“Heraldry! Already talking like a professor!” Loki giggled.

“I was thinking of designing it as a tattoo…for you.”

The younger man blinked at him, taken aback. “For me? A tattoo? I don’t…”

He uncovered Loki’s left thigh. There were faded pink lines and crosshatches. One still looked red and recent. He reached out and touched the cut before the robe was yanked back into place. “I doubt it hasn’t crossed his mind the reason why you-”

“I don’t want to hear about-”

“I understand. I know. I know. Trust me…I can still feel where he touched me on the back the first time… in the shower….. But this,” he waved a hand to the scars under the robe, “This will not help.”

Loki laughed bitterly, “And a tattoo will?”

“Maybe. Think about it like this…he touches us now. It’s okay now, we’re used to it. We’re good. We…enjoy it now.” Admitting it out loud made him want vomit out every last trace of bile. But his brother was showing understanding and sympathy, so he pressed on. “But that first time. That first time was awful. Wouldn’t be easier to….edit what happened?”

“Edit?”

“He didn’t touch you here, Loki.” He gripped the other’s thigh. Green eyes began to tear up and he realized a little belatedly he had gripped too hard. He hoped the cut hadn’t opened and was bleeding in the Grandmaster’s bed.

“But he di-”

“No. Don’t think like that. Thinking like that makes it harder, doesn’t it? He touched your tattoo.”

“My-”

“Yes, your tattoo. I designed you an amazing tattoo and you have it and that’s what he touched.”

Loki looked at him for a moment with doubt before there was a female scream from the living room. He recoiled, his face looking full of terror. Thor gathered him in his arms and laid them back onto the bed, shushing his noises of distress. He found the remote and switched the television to something else, a random cartoon show. He turned the volume up and rocked the younger gently.

A few hours later, when Grandmaster would return, he would find his boys with the television still on to cartoons. Loki would be asleep using the robe as part blanket part teddy bear and Thor would be drawing the first draft of Loki’s new tattoo.

~2019~

“I know it’s stupid, and I never realized how much he took it to heart, but he was happy when I finally got it done. We saved so much money to get it,” Thor looked nostalgic for a moment.

“What happened to Ashley?” Tony asked, writing down a few things on his notepad.

“Well, once her hair grew back and her fingers healed, I think Mario sent her to one of the brotels. I mean,” he shrugged, “it was either that or she’s fish food.”

It was the casualness of how it was said that haunted Val for days after that.

#thorki #frostmaster #thorloki #thor #loki #GrandthorkiB #sfw #fic #cw noncon implied #cw self harm #cw mental illness #playthings #submission #playthings part19

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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years

Text

The Airbender’s Wife (Chapter 5)

Fic update :)

Summary: Korra arrives in Republic City to reside at Air Temple Island to begin her Airbending training. As excited as she was to leave the compound in the South Pole, she was wary of living with her Airbending Master and his mysterious wife. The airbender’s wife, who, Korra realized, she has never met before.

The one where Tenzin throws caution to the wind and chooses Lin over repopulating the Air Nation.

===

Korra disliked lots of things – from the odd (she did not like to brush her teeth before taking a shower – she preferred to do it after) to the passably logical ones (when dining out, she did not like sitting with her back to the entrance door).

But one of the things she abhorred is feeling weak. She hated showing any sign of weakness. For Spirits’ sake, she was the Avatar. She cannot be weak.

(Granted, this was probably ingrained on her based on repeated feedback from the Order of the White Lotus. Despite what her parents say, Korra did not think she had a childhood that was even remotely normal.)

Therefore, her inability to airbend and her recurring Amon nightmare plagued her. It was not right for the Avatar to be weak, to have these insecurities, to have these fears.

Tenzin had approached her already, asking if she was alright – he mentioned having fears and how it was okay. He was there to listen; however, she was unwilling to talk about it.

Korra glumly reflected to herself as she sat at the steps on one of Air Temple Island’s pavilions.

What kind of Avatar was she if she couldn’t airbend? If she had fears? How can she rightly defend the city (or the world, for that matter) if she was scared of Amon? These fears are her blockers from airbending – she just knew it.

She looked across the bay to the large statue of Aang, realizing, not for the first time, the large shoes she needed to fill.

Speaking of shoes…

Korra recognized the metal clicking sound coming her way.

Without turning to face the newcomer, she muttered exasperatedly. “I know, I know, Tenzin already told me. You’re here for me if I need to talk to someone.”

“Uh, actually no.”

The Avatar-in-training swiftly turned around, seeing confusion on Lin’s face. The teenager blinked. “Oh.”

“I mean, I’m here to give you an errand.” The metalbender awkwardly held her own arm, one hand holding what appears to be a carton of something heavy.

Is Lin embarrassed?

“Listen, kid, talking isn’t my thing – that’s more Tenzin’s expertise. I’m more likely to say something wrong, offensive, or abrasive – or all three combined.” That’s for sure, Korra thought with a hint of affection. “So if you’re looking to be coddled or – Spirits’ forbid - cuddled – I’m not the right person.” Lin tilted her head, seemingly trying to make up her mind about something. “But since you opened it up –.”

Oh Spirits, no. I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart talk.

Lin probably saw the horror on Korra’s face and held up her hand as though to stop. “I’m not going to be all spiritual or mushy about it but maybe – just maybe –just a thought, you could try and write to your mom?”

Whatever Korra expected, it was not that.

“What – why? Did she write to you about me?” Korra’s eyes widened but the earthbender shook her head. “Did you use to write a lot of letters to your mom when you’re apart or travelling?”

“Huh, no,” Lin released a sigh. “There’s this problem that we have, apart from being emotionally stunted – she’s blind, you see.”

Ah, right. Korra wanted to hit herself; she definitely would not have passed the police department’s sensitivity training.

“But no, while my mom and I aren’t really pen-pals,” Lin continued speaking. “I do know that Katara and Izumi dearly looked forward to hearing from their sons in the United Forces. I mean, sure Tenzin writes to his mother often, but it doesn’t quite have that is-he-dead-or-alive suspense in between.”

Or maybe there isn’t any sensitivity training to begin with at RCPD.

Korra mildly wondered if the eldest Beifong daughter worried the same way of her younger sister, who apparently had travelled prior to settling down. She did not think they were at that level of relationship yet to pry so the Avatar just nodded.

“You said you have an errand for me?”

“Right,” The metalbender thrusted the box to her. “There will be a Southern Water Tribe ship arriving this week in Republic City. Can you make sure to have this box of preserves included in their next shipping? I’d like to send these to Mother, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have some time off in the next few days.”

“Oh sure, no problem.” Korra readily agreed; she also supposed that she would have a letter ready by then for her mother.

Maybe Lin was right – there might be some wisdom to talking to her mom. After all, Korra figured, she did usually turn to Senna when she had nightmares as a child.

Lin must have seen something on her face. The older woman thanked her then quietly added. “But seriously, Korra,” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I know it’s not my place – but if there’s anything really, don’t hesitate to approach - .”

“Tenzin. I know I know.” The teenager interrupted, sensing the discomfort across her.

“I was going to say Tenzin for spiritual stuff,” The metalbender deadpanned. “But if it can’t be avoided, I’m here as well.”

Korra’s mind briefly went to the time that Tenzin compared her to his wife.

The airbender’s wife took a deep breath. “Pretending something doesn’t exist, or rejecting its existence, won’t help you.” Lin chose her words carefully. “You can’t find the solution to a problem if you don’t think that problem exists.”

That made the Avatar think. True – how can she face her fears when she didn’t even want to admit she had these fears?

Belatedly, Korra realized that while the airbender might be speaking of theoretical and philosophical platitudes he read from books – the earthbender before her might be speaking from experience.

Who knew what situations the scarred chief of police has faced – both in her professional capacity as a member of the force and in a personal capacity as the daughter of Toph Beifong and the wife of the currently last airbender?

Her tired green eyes were reflecting some invisible strain. The Avatar could not fathom if there were matters that the city’s defender kept to herself, matters that not even her husband knew.

“Anyway, Avatar, try to think about what I said.” The penetrating voice broke into her thoughts. “Check-in with your mom and don’t forget to send the preserves to Katara.”

Korra peered into the box, curious about the preserves that she recalled were served whenever she took her snacks at Master Katara’s house.

“You and Tenzin have your own stock in the house,” Chief Beifong called behind as she strode off to wherever she needed to be. “You can get some from that stock to send to your parents – so don’t even think of getting one from that box.”

Korra looked up in mild exasperation, catching the smile on the metalbender’s face.

Spirits forbid Lin Beifong would come across as caring.

---

And that was why Korra found herself arriving at city hall late one afternoon that week. After making sure her letters and Lin’s package were part of the Water Tribe ship’s cargo, she figured she had enough time to explore the city before meeting Tenzin. This time she made sure to wear an ordinary Earth Kingdom outfit so as to not draw any untoward attention to herself. Then again, she thought, maybe she should not have bothered as Naga padded beside her, causing people to double-take at them.

Upon entering Air Nation councilman’s room, the Avatar-in-training sensed the agitation from her teacher.

The usually calm airbender was going through books and documents, poring on each text silently with a frown marring his face. Upon finishing each document and apparently not finding the answer he needed, his frown would go deeper (any deeper and the teenager thought his face would collapse in its own) and he would toss the document to a side table that was pulled to his desk for that specific reason.

Korra scratched the back of her head, stretched then placed her feet on the coffee table in front of her. She tossed a look at the Tenzin, awaiting the scolding that she was bound to receive.

Hmm, nothing.

She tapped her pen incessantly on the edge of the book she was supposed to be reviewing today (Air Nomad history, published during the time of the previous Avatar), making sure she was being obnoxious and distracting.

No reaction. Tenzin continued to flip through his files with what Korra deemed as his Resting Frustrated Face™ (scowling lips and reddening ears at the tips).

Thank the Spirits that she did not have any tell like Tenzin that would alert the world to what she was feeling.

Fate was funny in how he married the most poker-faced woman that Korra had the misfortune to have met.

She continued to tap the pen on her notebook.

“Hey, Tenzin?”

No response.

“Tenzin?”

Still none.

“Master Tenzin?”

Why isn’t he responsive?

Korra strode to the door and knocked. “Councilman Tenzin, you in there?! Hello?”

Tenzin was startled, several loose pages fluttering as a gust of wind was produced. “What is it, Korra?”

“Are you okay?” She tilted her head, one hand on her waist, and looked at him questioningly. “You seem…off.” Korra moved her hand from side to side to indicate this.

The airbender ran a hand on his face.

“Tough council meeting?”

He nodded, drawing his hands to his head, closing his eyes in recollection.

---

“I will not be the prized metalbender for your pet project, Councilman – for the reasons I’ve shared earlier.” The caustic tone matched the statement of the metalbender. The Chief of Police stood up, dislodging the councilman’s hands on her shoulders.

“Oh come now, Chief Beifong – I’m sure this would delight the masses.”

“Fortunately for me, I do not care about delighting the masses.”

“Nonetheless,” The Water Tribe councilman smoothly went back to this seat and used the gavel. “All in favor of -?”

As expected, all of them, except Tenzin, approved the creation of a task force to be headed by Councilman Tarrlok and Chief Beifong.

“Any reason for your disapproval, Councilman Tenzin?” Tarrlok eyed the airbender beadily.

Tenzin knew the younger councilman was baiting him. He had to fight this with logic rather than any emotional outburst; otherwise, his credibility on the issue would be shut down as being made by an indignant spouse of the Chief of Police.

“Are we sure that the Chief of Police is allowed – by law – to co-head a task force with a councilman, a task force created by the same councilmember?” The airbender knew it was a risk to bring up, since he did not know if such law exists but he had to try. “Wouldn’t that be problematic?” He pushed forward, seeing the doubtful expressions of the other councilmembers. “Shouldn’t we check first?”

“Very well then, Councilman Tenzin - you now have 24 hours to present the City Council with a copy of that law. Once the time lapses and no documentation surfaces, we will proceed in introducing the taskforce, myself and Chief Beifong to Republic City.” With some final closing words, the head of the council banged the gavel, signaling the end of the session. The Fire Nation councilwoman proceeded to thank the Chief of Police and read out the next item in their agenda.

Tenzin felt sick to his stomach. His wife’s flashing eyes cut to him. Her knuckles were whitening with how tight she held her fists.

The Chief of Police now excused herself from the meeting as the session proceeded to other matters. The heavy metal of her soles clicking ominously on the marble floor, door banging as her metal cable swung it shut.

---

Korra stared thoughtfully at the book she was holding and made her way to the airbender’s desk to help him. “So, what exactly are you looking for?”

“There has to be a documentation here in city hall,” Tenzin replied in a tired voice. “About involving the Chief of Police with Council task forces.”

“There’s none that would help you– Sokka made sure that the laws would allow a councilman to head a task force alongside the chief of police,” Korra snorted. “Primarily because he thought he and Toph as task force leads would be bad-ass.” She continued to thumb through a stack of binders.

Tenzin faced the teenager abruptly. “What did you say? How did you know that?”

“Councilman Sokka told me the day he was going to have the paperwork approved…” The Avatar trailed off, eyes widening as realization dawned on her.

“Did I just -?”

“Did you just -?”

Master and student looked at each other with the same epiphany.

“Korra, is this the first time you’ve have any form of connection to the previous Avatar?”

“I think so…”

The Airbending master’s face lit up. “This is good news!”

“But we didn’t even know what I did!” While elated, the young Avatar was panicking. She did not want to get Tenzin’s hopes up.

“Little steps – but this is a good sign; it’s progress! We can try connecting then entering the spirit world soon.”

Korra tuned out the airbender’s words as he began to talk about all the things that they will do next. She pulled a bound tome from one of the stacks on Tenzin’s desk.

“I think what we need is here.”

Tenzin took the book gratefully and scanned through it.

True enough, as Korra said – there was a section on police involvement with the council task force. The Chief of Police may lead a task force created by the City Council alongside a councilmember or whoever the council appointed as lead.

“Chief’s not going to like this, will she?”

Her teacher shook his head and continued to drag his finger across the page, reading the text line by line. “This must be what Uncle Sokka used to tell Bumi long ago, that he could create a task force and work with Lin. He correctly assumed that Lin would be following in her mother’s footsteps.”

“So Bumi was to be chief of the Southern Water Tribe?” This was news to Korra.

“Well, it was an option – he could be chief and/or the council representative.” Tenzin stroked his beard absentmindedly. “Even Kya could have led the tribe if she wanted to. It was Bumi’s choice whether or not to take the opportunity. He had a choice…we all did.”

Korra felt the subtext was lost on her, the meaning behind it at the edge of her consciousness but still not quite understanding what the last airbender meant.

Instead, she went back to the topic at hand.

“If Chief is anything like her mother, wouldn’t Toph challenge this law or at least make sure that she had an out?”

And there it was on the next page.

---

Within the next hour, the city council re-convened and a phone call was made to the police headquarters.

The ad-hoc meeting resulted in Chief Beifong being granted eighteen hours provide a replacement lead from her police force as well as the names of those who would be serving under the task force. The council likewise could accept or reject the candidate as well as present their own candidate.

Korra made herself scarce at one of the benches at the back of the meeting room, barely meeting Chief Beifong’s tight nod as she left the room with her deputy. Tenzin was about to follow but was intercepted by the Earth Kingdom representative.

Before Korra had the chance to sidle out of the room unnoticed, the Water Tribe councilman she saw on her first day approached her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet – I am Councilman Tarrlok,” The braided man bowed. “Head of the city council and representing the Northern Water Tribe. Pleased to meet you Avatar Korra.”

Korra acknowledged him guardedly. There was something about the man that wasn’t quite right but she cannot put her finger on it yet.

Tarrlok eyed Tenzin quickly heading their way. “Looking forward to working with you soon.” With a small bow, he went towards the exit.

“Korra, was Tarrlok bothering you?” Tenzin asked, concern lacing his tone.

She shook her head no.

“Be careful around him.” The airbender said but offered no additional explanation. He looked at the main hall’s clock, indicating the end of office hours, and looked at the documents at his hand.

Both of them knew fully well that Lin would not be joining them at the island for dinner today; the timer has been set by Tenzin and Korra’s discovery of the full implementation guidelines of a city-led task force.

“Korra, why don’t you go visit your pro-bending friends?”

“What?” The Avatar blurted out before she was able to check herself. Don’t get her wrong, she did want to meet up with Bolin and Mako. They still have not resolved the issue about the championship pot.

“To take your mind off things.” His grey eyes peered at her in concern.

The man was more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

“Don’t forget to go home before the last ferry leaves.”

“What about you? Is Oogi with you?”

She noticed him gripping the folder tightly. “I think I’ll stay with Lin tonight at the city house.”

---

While waiting for Lin who was at the shower, Tenzin sat cross-legged in their living room, examining the metalbender’s armor for dents and polishing where necessary.

The strategist that she was, Lin already had a short-list of people from the force who could be leads with Tarrlok. The rest of the afternoon (and early evening) was spent finalizing the plans with her team as well as reviewing the names who had signed up for the task force.

Tenzin did not have to wait long until Lin met him at the lobby of the police headquarters.

She had grumbled on the way home that, as she expected, the benders who disagreed with her non-bending/bending patrolling protocols had signed up. Nonetheless, she would be submitting their names tomorrow to the council and Tarrlok.

Tenzin was pleased to see that they still had time for a quick dinner; Lin, on the other hand, just wanted to go home and rest.

Arriving at a compromise, Lin conceded to taking out dinner but if (and only if) she gets to take a shower first before going out again. Her husband readily agreed – armor or not, that slimy Tarrlok did place his hands on her.

The phone cut through the sounds of running water. Tenzin put the armor down and reached over the table.

“Hello – ah yes, Yao. Good evening to you too – yes, Korra would be having dinner in the city. What – Tarrlok? Did he say why he wanted to cross to the island?” He vaguely heard Lin finishing her shower. “Good, please keep him off the island unless I or Lin were there. If he tries one more time, make sure to call the police station to lodge a formal complaint. Thank you, Yao. Have a good evening.”

“I’m ready, let’s go.”

Tenzin looked up at his wife, who had changed into a simple tunic top and gray pants. He placed the phone back in its cradle. Lin raised her eyebrow in askance as she bent to take her armor.

“It was Yao – no, you’re not wearing your armor tonight,” He pulled the armor away from her arms. The chief of police’s armor weighed heavily on her, both literally and figuratively. He did not want her to be burdened tonight, at least for a short while. He placed it in storage beside the front door.

Lin frowned but did not argue. She put on a coat and helped her husband into his. “What did Yao say?”

“Yao called because apparently, Tarrlok was attempting to board the ferry to the island. He can’t take you saying no for an answer, can he?” The airbender huffed in annoyance, shrugging into the outdoor coat, more to satisfy Lin that any need for it.

Lin locked the house behind them then looped her arm into Tenzin’s proffered one as they strolled.

“It’s not me he’s after now, it’s Korra.”

“Korra? But – why –.” Tenzin sputtered indignantly.

“She’s the Avatar.” The metalbender nonchalantly stated. “What better way to make a statement than get to get the Avatar at his side.”

Tenzin considered. “Well, he is all about reputation and PR…”

The rest of their walk was spent debating on where they were going to pick up their food.

Eventually, Lin recognized that the airbender had led them to Little Water Tribe.

Her husband could feel her looking at him questioningly. He simply patted her hand, still hooked around his arm.

Tenzin could not forget the words that the Northern Water Tribe representative had dropped earlier that day. While Lin Beifong remained impassive as ever during the ordeal, he knew better. He did not want her to wallow in those thoughts alone.

“Here we are.” He stopped at the window of the take-out nook of a noodlery.

It was an affordable place, newly opened under new management in the recent years, offering fare that reminded him of his mother’s home in the South Pole.

What drew him here, however, was not the promise of his mother’s cooking or even the warm atmosphere. It was a sense of nostalgia, of recreating simpler days.

Back when they were starting out, Lin and Tenzin used to frequent food stalls around the city. Most of the places they patronized have either shut down or been upscaled. The experience just was not the same.

They had stumbled upon Narook’s a couple of months back, when Tenzin insisted waiting for Lin to go home after a long shift (never mind that he had fallen asleep in her office while waiting). At two in the morning, Chief Crankypants was making herself known (last meal eaten was a steamed bun at brunch) and a sleep-deprived airbender was questioning each decision that brought him and his wife to this moment: walking around the city in search for any open establishment that could feed them.

It was by chance that they came upon Narook’s Seaweed Noodlery tucked near a dark alley– unassuming and still open. The food was cheap, tasty and filling. It also reminded them of a Water Tribe eatery they used to go to when they were younger.

Needless to say, the place became a favorite between them, particularly on late nights or when they were too busy to cook dinner.

Tonight, however, Tenzin had another plan in mind; something he quickly thought of as he was polishing Lin’s armor earlier.

His wife narrowed her eyes at him as he rattled off their order for their take-away to the staff at the window, trying to figure out what he was up to when a recognizable voice rang out.

“---Pretty boy?”

The two of them rounded the corner to look at the front door and saw the polar bear dog sitting outside, confirming that it was Korra’s voice they heard.

The Avatar appeared to be in an altercation with a group of patrons in the restaurant. No one was attempting to stop them.

“We got to stop them.” Lin was about to head into the eatery but was stopped by a gentle grip on her wrist.

“No, let her handle it.” Tenzin signaled the metalbender to remain unseen and observe.

“But Korra -.”

“Shh, let’s wait what they’ll do.” He glanced at her face, green eyes darting between him and the situation in the eatery. “Also, didn’t you know how Suyin and I felt whenever you or Bumi or Kya would swoop in to protect us from playground bullies?” He got her attention this time. “We didn’t like it.” He had to hide a smile though, for all Lin’s abrasiveness, she truly did care for the teenage Avatar.

“Why not? We were simply looking out for you.”

It’s what siblings do, Tenzin recalled Bumi and Kya telling him again and again. Truth be told, there were also a handful of times that Lin (despite being a bit younger than Tenzin) faced Tenzin’s bullies herself.

“We eventually figured that out, but it made us feel…” Tenzin opened his hands, palms up in vague explanation. “Inadequate, weak. Like we’ll always need someone to bail us out.”

The softening in her gaze made him realize that she never did think of it that way.

“Oh, I’ve never...” She trailed off.

Whack! He should have expected it; her fist hitting his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me that? That could have saved me a lot of yelling matches with Su.”

“I thought it was obvious!” The airbender rubbed his arm.

They were distracted enough from Korra’s situation but then heard the polar bear dog give a roar in the window and laughter coming from her group.

Tenzin waited a moment to check that there was no ensuing commotion. When the restaurant went back to its usual bustling noise, he led Lin back to the take-out nook before anyone noticed them.

As they waited for their takeaway, he drew his wife close to himself by putting an arm on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you or Su to feel that way,” The earthbender leaned on him and he looked at her. “I suppose it’s part of my nature, you know and…”

He interrupted her with a kiss on her forehead. “I know, dear. You don’t have to explain yourself.” He tightened his grip a bit and ran his hand on her arm, in what he thought would be in an assuring manner.

The staff put out a large paper bag from the window and placed two covered cups of cold barley tea (new on their menu). Tenzin thanked the man and paid for their meal.

Lin reached for the drinks and Tenzin tucked the paper bag under one arm.

---

Lin headed to the direction from where they came from, to go back home.

“Not yet,” Her husband gently guided her to the other pathway.

They walked to the edge of the neighborhood where a small park with benches facing Yue Bay was located.

She smiled as she understood what his intention was.

Selecting an empty bench, apart from the other visitors of the park, Tenzin placed the paper bag and began to bring out their food.

Lin put down their drinks and, using earthbending, made a small table for them, keeping in mind to level the ground before they leave.

Together they moved the food and drinks on the table and sat beside each other.

They ate in comfortable silence, Lin occasionally picking mushrooms from Tenzin’s carton and Tenzin rolling his eyes but letting her get away with it.

The meal was reminiscent of the times that they would head to the docks when they were younger, looking over the same bay with Air Temple Island at the horizon. Many late afternoons were spent there, feet dangling above the water as they ate questionable street food. They talked about everything and nothing; both of them enjoying these moments when they could get away from their responsibilities and their parents’ names.

Tenzin leaned back on the bench, sipped his tea and enjoyed the play of the moonlight on his wife’s hair.

“He’s right, you know.”

Tenzin’s gaze moved from the moon to the earthbender, who was calmly poking her noodles with the chopsticks.

“I did end it.” Lin focused intently on her food carton; it had been at the back of her mind the entire day even as she was strategizing with her team about the task force. “What if I did let you go – what if we let each other go all those years ago?” She faintly heard him placing his cup on the table. “What if, instead of being stuck with me – maybe you should have gone around the Air temples and selected perfect mother of the Air Nation?” She flicked a chopstick at him. “Then maybe, just maybe, you would not be dealing with this.”

“Lin – no.”

She pushed on, swallowing tightly. “You probably would not be having difficulty teaching airbending to the Avatar as you would have likely taught your children ahead of Korra. By now, you wouldn’t be the only airbender. You might have, I don’t know, four or five kids? Maybe even more.” Her husband took the utensil and carton from her hand, transferring them to the table as she became agitated. “Then, you wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Tarrlok using it as leverage against you.”

He pulled her in his arms, embracing her tightly, her protests muffled against his chest. “Don’t say those things. And Tarrlok, pfft, never mind him – it’s not the first time he did that.”

“And it certainly won’t be the last.”

“He had no right to bring that up – that was between you and me.” He sounded as though he was more offended for her than for himself.

“Tenzin, I’ll never be enough.” For the Air Nation was unsaid.

“But you are. You are who I need and who I want.” He attempted to raise her head, still hidden under the flap of his coat. “My father -.”

“Your father’s time has passed; it’s yours now.”

“Lin – even if I ended up not being an airbender,” He pulled away, tilting her face to his; one hand holding hers. “I don’t think my father would have left my mother.”

“You can’t know that.” The metalbender stubbornly stuck to her statement.

“Though to be fair, I don’t think my mother would let him leave him either.” Tenzin stroked her cheek tenderly.

“Yes,” Lin released a choked laugh, a cross between someone trying to stop from crying and laughing. “A water whip would probably hit his behind faster than he can say monkey-feathers.”

Her husband acknowledged with a nod. “And, of course, they loved each other.”

She looked pitifully at him in the eye, communicating wordlessly.

What if love wasn’t enough…for them.

Times change after all. It was no longer the early post-war era where rebuilding was the main priority. Today was about marrying tradition with modernization to ensure progress.

Lin Beifong knew how much preserving the Air Nation’s culture was to her husband. Everything and anything he did likely had a link to the Air Nomads, to his father.

They both knew that he would need to ensure his political viability – otherwise, it would be fairly difficult to carry out the restoration for all the air temples, what more of reviving the expertise of the culture, drawing in more Air Acolytes and maintaining all the heritage projects.

Lin was not simple-minded. She figured out what the major attraction was for some of the Air Acolytes; her mother-in-law did repeatedly point out in their youth that the acolytes started as Aang’s fan club.

While most of the Air Acolytes truly wanted to promote and live out the tenets of the Air Nomads, there were those which were impelled by less than altruistic motives (oh, several names instantly came to Lin’s mind…). Sometimes, Lin questioned herself if preserving the culture and traditions would have been easier if Tenzin had married one of them (and she always ended with a resounding ‘yes of course’). She was sure that there were those who would be interested in being the mother of the Air Nation (she was also aware that there were also other willing volunteers outside of the Air Acolytes, if Kya’s accounts from the Water Tribes were to be believed).

Even Tenzin’s duty to training the Avatar was a tad strained by her association with him. The Order of the White Lotus had been put off by anything Beifong ever since her mother vocally opposed their decision.

(“What? You’ll lock her up – in a compound in an isolated icy tundra?! I don’t think that’s what Aang had in mind in letting her have a childhood and preparing her for the world.” The great Toph Beifong had yelled at the meeting where the Order had insisted that protecting Korra would mean training her in the South Pole. This was contradictory to how all the other Avatars had travelled to hone their skills with the elements. It also heavily grated on the first metalbender, who spent the first years of her life isolated from the world. “Oh yeah, sure – who am I anyway to voice my opinion? I just was the former Avatar’s earthbending master. What do I know?” She had scoffed and proceeded to tear apart what she could of the frozen ground of the meeting hall. Needless to say, the Order of the White Lotus selected another earthbending master for Korra.)

Even before the breakdown of the relationship during Korra’s childhood, Toph had not been cooperative with the White Lotus, particularly after the passing of all the members during Iroh’s time as the Grand Lotus. She did not see the point sometimes of their directives. The animosity of the White Lotus carried over to Lin, seeing that she was following her mother’s path (disrespect for tradition, disrespect for the way things are done, disrespect for the continuity of the Four Nations – they had written to her then father-in-law-to-be, in an attempt to dissuade him from letting his only airbending child from marrying the metalbender; said man scratched his head, lit the paper in flames and winked at her).

She knew that they will be checking in on the progress of Korra’s airbending training soon. More pressure would be added on Tenzin’s already weighted shoulders.

Looking straight at his concerned grey eyes, Lin Beifong knew she would do anything to alleviate her husband’s burdens; all and each one of them, especially those which would not have been there if it were not for her.

===

Previous chapters linked below:

Prologue (Contentment) | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Cross-posted in AO3 - same title :)

#linzin #lin beifong #tenzin #linzin fanfic #legend of korra #cross-posted on ao3 #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina wip #toccatina airbender

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