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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

YES TO THE SNIPPETS YES PLEASE

Thanks to everyone who asked for this! You're amazing! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

You can find the inspiration/ sequel here! Thanks to AJ and Lev for their hcs about the smutty situations, and to the discord for the last snippet!

Combined with a prompt for some relaxed Coops smut

Remus fell on the bed and immediately yelped as if he’d been hit. “What?” Sirius asked, concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Just bruised,” he said with a grimace, rubbing one thigh.

Sirius frowned and knelt at the edge of the bed. “Why are you bruised?”

“I got checked yesterday, remember?” He winced as Sirius gently prodded the base of the bruise and pulled his shorts off; he made a soft, sad noise, pressing a kiss to the blue-black skin. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Still. I don’t like it.” Sirius’ lower lip stuck out slightly in a pout, and he guided his face back down for a kiss.

“Everything else is a-okay,” he murmured, trailing a path of light bites down the column of his neck as he laid back. “C’mere, I’ll prove it.”

The world was starting to go black at the edges, popping with fireworks as Remus scrambled for purchase on the strong forearms by his ribs. Sirius’ hold on him was firm, and had been for the past—oh, god, how long had he been like this? Ten minutes? An hour? Eternity? Another shudder rocked through him and he moaned around the fabric clenched tight between his teeth.

“Good boy,” Sirius panted as he hiked Remus’ shaking leg up around his hip. “There you go, you’re doing so well.”

An unsteady whine broke through as well; the mattress creaked beneath him, and through his delirious happiness he wondered if this would be the day they finally broke it. Sirius was so painfully close to where Remus needed him most, just a little bit more—

“Fucking hell,” Sirius muttered, wrapping his palms around Remus’ hips and hauling him into the right spot. His thighs clenched around Sirius’ waist as he babbled his approval, no longer registering the damp in his mouth or anything that came out of it. “Come on, just a little—oh my fucking god.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. Remus slammed his hand down on the bed with an embarrassing noise of half-confusion, half-protest. Sirius’ voice had gone up about eight octaves; his gaze was no longer dark with lust, but instead laser-focused on something to Remus’ left. “The fuck are you doing?” he managed to snap when his jaw finally released, though his tongue was mostly blocked by fabric.

“Don’t. Move.”

Fear crept in alongside his frustration as Sirius pulled his arms to his chest and scooted toward the other edge. Something is very wrong. The thought sent a wash of cold through him and he carefully sat up, pulling the gag from his mouth. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Why is it getting closer?” Sirius all but whimpered. Remus steeled his nerves and slowly turned to follow his sightline.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he complained. There was no relief, just building crankiness. “Really?”

“Kill it. Please.” Remus ground his teeth and dug a tissue out of the nightstand, then squished the microscopic spider and immediately chucked the tissue at Sirius. “Remus, oh my god!”

“Please tell me there was something more than that,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do you mean?”

Keep your tone even and calm, no matter how much you want to scream. “Sirius. If you stopped fucking the soul out of my body for a spider the size of a dust mote, you can say goodbye to pre-game blowjobs.”

A moment of silence fell between them. “For how long?”

Remus glared at him and hoped his pink cheeks and shaking legs wouldn’t diminish the threat. “For as long as I see fit.”

“…I love you?”

“Have fun throwing that tissue away. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower by myself.”

“Non, mon loup, wait—"

III

The edge was so close he could taste it. Remus arched his back with a low sound as Sirius’ tongue did something truly fantastic—he might not give blowjobs often, but goddamn was he good at it. “Yeah,” he sighed, combing his fingers through Sirius’ hair. “Yeah, that.”

Sirius’ hum sent shocks all the way up his thighs; it took every iota of self-control not to clamp his thighs around his ears. Remus pushed the side of his face into the pillow, riding the waves of a lazy morning and a warm mouth, when suddenly it disappeared entirely.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Did you let the dog out?”

Remus blinked at him for a long moment, then leaned back and threw an arm over his eyes. “Baby, that’s the third time in an hour you’ve asked.”

“Sorry. Is that a yes?”

“Are you kidding right now?”

“It’s a genuine—”

“Nope,” he groaned, sitting up. “Not doing this today.”

Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “But you were almost there!”

“You don’t say!” he gasped sarcastically as he hoisted himself to his feet and shook off the last bits of thrilled dizziness. “I’ll be in the shower.”

“Wait, no, I can do it!” Sirius’ arms wrapped around his waist and soft lips pressed against his mid-back. “I’m sorry, I was overthinking. Please don’t leave me here.”

“It’s like ten feet, love.”

“And you could stay here instead and get a really nice apology blowjob.” Teeth scraped his wingbone; Remus closed his eyes at the pleasant fizz down his spine as Sirius worked a small lovebite into his skin. “Please?”

“Do you promise not to ask about the dog again? Because she’s fine, and very happy with her new chew toy.”

“Cross my heart.” Sirius turned him around and kissed his nose, tugging him back down.

Sirius was a mess, and Remus was beyond smug about it. A helpless moan was music to his ears as he pulled on Sirius’ mussed hair and attached his mouth to the smooth skin that was exposed. “Please,” he whined, shifting his hips harder onto Remus’ fingers. “Please, please, mon coeur, please.”

“How much time do you have left?” Remus asked, channeling as much patience as he could muster. Sometimes, he wondered who the edging was supposed to punish.

Sirius’ whimper was the only answer he needed. “Fuck, fuck—two. Two minutes.”

“Good job.” He pushed his fingers up and Sirius shivered, knees jerking.

“Je veux—” His plea was suddenly and horribly cut off by what could only be described as a screech.

Remus pulled back in an instant, keeping one hand on Sirius’ hip. “Did I hurt you?”

“Jesus Christ, was that a rat?” he sputtered.

Ice water drenched Remus’ insides. “A what.”

Sirius scrambled to sit up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes as he stared at the corner of their bedroom, squinting slightly in the darkness. “I thought…”

“Baby.” Remus could feel the tremor in his voice. “Is there a rat in our room right now?”

They waited in silence for a few more pounding heartbeats before Sirius sighed in relief. “Nope, sorry, that was my shoe. The lace looked like a tail. Woah, are you okay? You look pale.”

“Uh-uh,” Remus managed, sitting back with a slow exhale. His heart receded from his ears to his throat. “Quick question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you need glasses?”

“No, I have 20/20 vision.” He had the nerve to look confused. “Why?”

Remus stared at him, then shook his head. “No reason.”

Remus could feel Sirius’ heart hammering under his palm, growing steadily slower with each deep breath. He stroked his hair out of his eyes, feeling joy bubble up when a foggy silver gaze met his own. “Hey, you,” he said quietly as he rubbed slow circles on Sirius’ chest. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Sirius’ smile was lopsided and sappy and oh-so-perfect; he bent down for a soft kiss and felt him melt under his mouth. When Remus pulled away, Sirius let out a sigh and snuggled up against his side. “Tu es si beau,” he mumbled, still a little clumsy with his words. “Si beau. Et mignon. Je ne sais pas.”

“D’accord,” Remus said, kissing his forehead, then each of his cheeks.

Sirius suddenly lit up and he touched Remus’ knee. “Pretty! C’est le mot. Je n’aime pas l’anglais.”

“I’m pretty?”

“Mhmm. Like—mmm, starts with a b. Du beurre, but candy.”

Remus bit his kiss-swollen lip in thought. “Butterscotch?”

“Oui.” Sirius nodded decisively and closed his eyes, apparently uncaring of Remus’ vibrant blush or galloping pulse. “Butterscotch. Je t’aime.”

“I love you, too, you muppet.”

As much as Remus loved being railed within an inch of his life, there was something to be said for slow, easy afternoons when the sun was high and they had absolutely nothing to do. Sirius’ hands ran from his hips to his ribs in smooth lines; Remus basked in the feeling and tilted his head when Sirius rocked upward to meet his rhythm.

“This is perfect,” he said, stretching one arm up to brace against the headboard. It was far easier to support himself—and last longer—since he had started working out like the rest of the team. White sparked at the corner of his vision. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“There?” Sirius rolled his hips again and Remus felt his dick throb. “Alright, I’ve got you.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere today.”

“Non, not even—hang on.” Sirius paused and frowned slightly. “Are your arms bigger than mine?”

“What?” Remus laughed.

“Gimme.” Sirius pulled his arm down and he nearly fell over with it, but caught himself at the last second. “Flex.”

“Why?”

“Because your arms are bigger than mine! That’s so not fair.”

Remus snorted, but obliged. Sirius scrutinized him for a solid ten seconds. “I can assure you that your arms are bigger, baby.”

“Hmm.” Sirius nodded and settled onto his back again. “Yeah, I think so. That was close.”

“Would it be such a bad thing if my arms were bigger than yours?” he asked as he began to move again, feeling Sirius’ harden in him. “I thought you liked that I’m stronger now.”

“I do like it, but you already have better back muscles. I can’t let you win that easy.”

VII

Does it count as enemies-to-lovers sex if you’re already engaged? Remus thought as he grabbed a handful of Sirius’ ass and squeezed, pulling a moan from his perfect lips. Because this feels firmly in the enemies territory.

“Are you going to stop saying it?” he asked, struck breathless as Sirius dropped to his elbows and put his face in the pillows.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he groaned, jolting as Remus pressed a hand against his lower belly.

“Where am I from?”

“Wis—Wisconsin.”

“And not…?”

“Fuck me—Minnesota.”

“Thank you.” He slowed his pace by a degree and littered the backs of Sirius’ shoulders and neck with kisses, allowing him to set the rhythm for a moment. “Your accent sounds so pretty right now.”

“So does yours.”

Remus paused in surprise. “It does?”

He sensed his mistake an instant before he saw the grin curling at Sirius’ mouth. “Oh, you betcha.”

And we’re back to enemies. “Where am I from?”

Sirius fell silent as he picked up speed and gripped his hips.

“Where, Sirius?”

“Wisconsin, fucking hell!” He flipped his hair over his shoulder for a second to glare, though the effect was ruined by the clear arousal on his face. “For someone who’s so—merde—laid-back, you’re awfully riled up about this.”

“Look, not all of us can sound like we’re dirty-talking while reciting a grocery list. I can’t let you roast me for that without repercussions.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ voice wobbled. “Oh, oh, oh—”

“Apologize for making fun of me, and I’ll touch you.”

“I’m s—oh.” Sirius’ fingers clenched in the sheets. “Oh, jeez!”

Remus’ mouth fell open. He sat back on his heels in utter shock as his addled brain tried to catch up to the rest of his body. Sirius’ shoulders weren’t shaking from how close he was to tipping over the edge, but from laughter. “Did you just…?”

Sirius flopped onto his back with a smug little smile on his face, still clearly mussed from a roll in the sack but far too aware for it to have been a slip of the tongue. “Oops.”

“You…”

“Oh, no, not the puppy eyes,” he laughed, dragging Remus down to lay on his chest. “I really do think your accent is cute.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“It was kind of funny, though,” he snickered.

Remus socked him lightly on the arm. “We’ll see if you ever get in my pants again.”

“I will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you love me.” He planted a kiss to his lips, nibbling at the bottom one until the frown disappeared. “Even when I make fun of you.”

“You’re mean,” Remus informed him as he kissed the muscle of his shoulder. “And cruel, and completely unappreciative of the Midwest. You don’t even love me.”

“I’m only in it for the accent,” Sirius agreed.

It was another twenty minutes until they finally got off. Remus spent the vast, vast majority of that time drowning in kisses from his deeply apologetic fiancé, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #18+

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rishabh-ghosh · 3 years

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The Apparition

News report. 15.5.2020.

According to the latest reports, the cyclone, 'Amphan' just entered West Bengal and is supposed to crash in Kolkata by 7pm tonight. The estimated speed of the cyclone is estimated of about 80 km per hour. If it doesn’t slows, then it will cause huge damage in the city. Citizens of the city are requested not to get out of there house during the storm and to stay away from electrical devices. We will now have a look on the damages caused by the cyclone in Odisha.

I switched off the T.V . Every channel was broadcasting the same news. About the cyclone. I left the drawing room and went to the kitchen. I took out a bottle of Scotch from the fridge. As it was an off day so I decided to relax. My plan was to drink as much I could and sleep till evening. But before, I have to make some arrangements in my flat so that my rooms don’t get overflowed from rain water like the last time. Oh those fuckers from those I bought this flat scammed me good. The flat is is full of flaws. The walls are damp, the sink was badly damaged and there were numerous electrical leaks. Although I have a shelter above my head. I am looking for a job currently. But I doubt an alcoholic and drug addict like me will get any job. I wish I had never left army . But the scenario couldn’t let me work there. After lunch, I drank 5 pegs of Scotch, as a result I was feeling very warm inside but as I am an alcoholic, I didn’t felt intoxicated that much. So I injected myself with morphine to get a good sleep. I just wanted to sleep till tomorrow. Now I can feel sleepy. Darkness was surrounding me and I was feeling the air around me heavier and…………

2 years ago. – Rajasthan, Indian Army Base. 1000 hours. 15.5.2018

“ Major Sanjay Ghosh, I just checked your achievements , it’s mind blowing. You joined Indian army via CDS in 2015. You were part of various Counter Insurgent operations. Then you voluntarily opted for Para regiment, and you didn’t flinched. Even your training officer told me that you are very tough physically and mentally.” I nodded my head and saluted him. He was Colonel Vipin Sinha. My Commanding officer. I replied, “ Sir, from my very first day in IMA, I wanted to be a para commando. And that’s why I trained myself to be as tough as possible.” He smiled and told me, “ Son, force needs brutal and intelligent officers like you only. You guys are tough as nail and are unbreakable. Just remember, never ever let your emotions work in battlefield. Dismiss.” I saluted him and went to the shooting range. I was just inspecting the skills of new recruits. Suddenly, a lieutenant came and told me , “ Sir, we need to go to the BSF camp, it is under attack.” I took 6 men whom I trusted most and gathered our weaponry and went to the camp. According to intel, there were 10 armed men. They were armed with machine guns. The BSF soldiers were pinned down. I asked a Captain named Laxman to be overwatch. He would coordinate us for enemies and provide sniper cover. It was less than 16 minutes we entered the place and almost all of them were killed. I killed 3 with my Insas rifle that day. When we were moving to the jeep, overwatch said via radio, “ Watch Tango 6oclock.” Which meant, that a target was behind us. I took out my pistol and turned around and killed that bastard. Bur the gun in his hand got misfired and the bullet hit Lieutenant Rajveer in the head.

Present day 6pm

That nightmare again! It spoiled my sleep. What? It’s only 6 pm. I better confront Salim. He gave a low quality drug. I tried to switch on the lights but I failed because there was no electricity at that moment. The storm was brewing up. I didn’t wanted to remain awake during the storm. Because storm brings that gruesome memory back. The reason I had to leave army and have to live rest of my life as a broken man is because of storm only.

2 years ago . Indian Army Base.Rajasthan 20.6.2018

Rajveer's death saddened the whole battalion. He was like a younger brother to me. He was very close to me and Shruti, my better half. I didn’t told Shruti about all these because she shouldn’t get any stress as it can be harmful for her and our baby.

Our C/O, Colonel Sinha instructed me that we got intel about many insurgents hiding in a village in Kuldhara. He added, “ The place is allegedly haunted as a result there are no inhabitants. The operation should be a clean job. No target should be alive. And one more thing, this time kill each target at once.” I understood what he meant. I started gathering best men for this night operation. An elderly Naik named Pawan Tripathi asked me, “ Sir , with due respect I am requesting you to not enter the place. I am local and that’s why I am warning, anyone who goes inside the village at night never comes out alone.” I along with nearly whole battalion laughed at him. I told him, “ If you are not interested in taking part in the operation, I won’t force you. But don’t worry about us.”

Around 7 o clock, with a team of 15 men, I entered the village. Our mission was to check every corner of the village and get back to our base by 10 o clock. I didn’t phoned Shruti because of this crucial mission.

Nearly after 2 hours of moving through the whole village, we finally found those bloody terrorists. They were about 20. All of them were all in a single room and were about to rape a local woman of about 27. The woman was asking for freedom. When they were about to do the heinous act, I ordered to shoot. All of us shot the bloody insurgents but sadly, the woman was also killed in crossfire. I threw a hand grenade inside the house and ran away from it with my sub ordinates. I instructed, “ It’s sad and a war crime as well. But it was done by mistake and moreover we were trying to save her only. But we didn’t had any intel regarding her. None of us will say a bit about the girl in the base.” While we were leaving the place in the jeep, suddenly storm brewed. It was not the weather for a storm a while ago. The driver in our vehicle lost his control and suddenly I saw a pair of red eyes in front of me and then I lost my conscious.

I woke up in the Indian Military Hospital, New Delhi. My C/O was sitting beside my bed and was smiling. I tried to sit but my Medical Officer , Major Vikram asked me to lay. Sir asked me, “ It’s been 10 days you were unconscious. All of your partners died. You were lucky that you got thrown out of the vehicle during the accident, because the car caught fire afterwards. Sad death for a band of brave warriors. But there is another bad news.” I asked , “ Yes sir?” He replied, “ Seasonal thunderstorm took place in Kolkata the same evening you faced your accident. Maybe your wife was near a conducting pole in your house. She and her unborn child died due to lightening strike.” I was shocked by the news and was about to say something , but stopped after I noticed a familiar figure behind C/O. It was the same woman but she wasn’t pretty as she was that night. Blood was coming out from her left eye, there were burning marks all over her body . I collapsed.

After a few days, I left army because of that apparition. I thought that it was my PTSD and guilt for unable to save the life and dignity of a woman being a soldier. After leaving army, I tried to commit suicide many a times but failed. As if someone was trying to stop me from committing suicide. Then I got involved into drugs and alcohol.

Present day

Every stormy night, they come and visit me. They don’t have particular face. Sometimes they look like poor old men, sometimes as voluptuous ladies , sometimes as animals like dogs, cats, rats and bats. They torture me and drains life from me. I wish I had listened to that Naik that day. Then I would have not been so broken and dying every stormy night. This night I tried toby pass by sleeping but I couldn’t. I can hear footsteps in my house. It was coming from near the bathroom. I screamed fear fully, “ Who is this? Leave me alone.” In response a familiar voice replied, “ Dear, won’t you see me again?” It was Shruti, my wife. I ran towards the bathroom and saw the thing which could break even the most bravest men. Shruti was there but she was not like before. Her eyes were swinging out of her eye sockets , her cheek bones were emerging out from her burnt face, blood was all over inside her mouth and there was a lump of red mass on her hand from which, a sound of a crying baby was coming. I tried to ran away from the house and suddenly I saw a bright light and a strange shakiness and pain inside me.

Next day, 7 pm , Lal Bazaar, Kolkata police , Detective department

“ Sir, the guy was definitely sick and became insane because of these drugs.” Sub Inspector Suryasis Mukherjee told this to Investigating officer ACP Abhay Roy. ACP replied, “ Are you sure? The man was a Para SF, those who don’t breakdown easily.” The Sub Inspector replied, “ But sir, these things like ' Swinging eyes, mutilated face, dead wife back to life, red mass crying like baby, are these logical? I am telling you what happened, the guy lost his wife during his time in Army, he might have lost his sense from then and started taking drugs. His love for his wife, the things he have seen during his Army days etc along with his drug addiction made him insane and he could see ghostly things. We found that there were leaks in the main lines. Floors of his room were flooded with water. Maybe he hallucinated all these and while running due to his fear, the main line was connected with the floor and the electricity came back then only. As a result, he died.” Abhay smiled and replied, “ What a coincidence, but there’s one thing which doesn’t makes sense.” Suryasis replied, “ What is it sir?” Abhay replied, “ The forensic reports came a while ago. I was reading it while you were there in the crime scene. Maybe because it is the case of a soldier, they did it faster. Sanjay’s fingerprint matches with that of the prints found on the pen found near the page where he wrote this whole senseless horror story. But that’s not the case. The case is , according to forensic tests, Sanjay died yesterday around 7 pm yesterday because of electrocution only. But the write up was written 11 hours ago, which means around 1 AM today. According to the investigation, he lived all alone in his house. My question is , if he was alone in his house then who had written all these , 6 hours after his death?

#my writing #horror #war crimes #military #psychological horror

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sixfeetbalow · 2 years

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New Projects

My therapist suggested I try to find some hobbies, which is harder said than done. Up until this past May, I had one hobby: softball. Since I was 12, all I ever did was play softball. Where was I pretty much any and every weekend from the months of February to November? You’d find me at a ball field. I missed out on a lot of things, but I didn’t care. Softball was my one true passion at the time. I loved the long practices, intense games, and hard workouts. Even though my love for the game began to diminish in college (that’s a story for another day), I still found comfort being a member of a team. I had accountability and purpose. I’m sure I’m not the first college athlete to experience this, but once you hang your cleats up, you feel lost. The one thing you’ve dedicated 15 years of your life to is suddenly gone.

Now, as an old, washed up DIII athlete, I’m trying to remember the hobbies I set to the side for softball. I started with something I can thank my brother for getting me into many years ago. My brother has always been my hero, and I wanted to do everything he did. More specifically, I wanted to be able to play guitar like him. Several lessons and frustrating sessions later, I’m not a half-bad guitar player and really enjoy doing it. I find it’s a thing I can do when I’m stressed to relax, sad to perk up, and happy to bring even more joy. There’s always a song to fit my mood.

Lately, I’ve been playing nearly every day for an hour or more (picture to prove it). There’s nothing better than coming home after a long day to let myself get lost in the music while also doing something manual with my hands. I can’t say I’ve become any better of a guitar player despite playing so much, but that’s not really my goal.

Along with guitar playing, I’ve taken on a little project that I’m afraid to say might be a bust. A few months ago, I helped my hoarder of a grandfather clean out one of his four shop buildings. I’ve been waiting for the day he was ready to start going through his stuff because no one really knew what we would find inside. After hours of moving tools, car parts, and random assortments of shit, you would have thought I’d struck gold when I found an old record player tucked away in a corner.

Covered in dust and rat shit, I was bound and determined to see if it worked. I stopped all cleaning efforts to find the nearest plug-in, and I was shocked when the local country music station came through clear as day. I asked my mom and aunt about it as they were there as they were assisting with the clean-up job. They told me that was the family radio/record player they would listen to in the 70s and 80s. How fucking cool. I’ve always wanted a record player, but to have one passed down like that would make me feel like less of a hipster.

Knowing it at least turned on, I needed to see how functional I could it. We knew one of the speakers did not work and the eight track player refused to open, but all I was really concerned about was the vinyl player. So one night following a bad weekend, I decided to do something to try to take my mind off of everything. With three damp wash clothes, windex, and a power drill, I went to cleaning my little heart out. For hours, I took the damn thing apart as much as I could and cleaned it inside and out. Fun fact: dirt dobbers are capable of getting inside speakers.

Anyways, despite my best efforts, one speaker still does not work and I am confident any eight track would be ruined. Good news, the vinyl part appeared to be fully operational and only required a new needle and mat. A little shopping trip on Amazon and I was in business. One small problem though. I had no vinyls to test my hard work. I typically would look for vinyls at flea markets and thrift stores, but with my work schedule and the holidays, that was not feasible and I am not patient enough to wait. So this called for a trip Wal-Mart. I was on the hunt for Olivia Rodrigo’s SOUR, but unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. I went with the next best thing and took it as a sign as I was not expecting it to be there: girl in red’s If I Could Make It Go Quiet. Another fun fact: my mom is not a fan of hers just based on song titles. “Hornylovesickmess” and “You Stupid Bitch” didn’t give her a good vibe. Oh well.

I ran straight to my record player as soon as I got home. She would never admit it, but my mom was excited too. I think she’s getting to relive a little bit of her youth. Despite our best efforts, we’ve decided 30 years of sitting in a garage created problems neither of us could fix. We got it to play, but it was rather shitty quality and took a bit of elbow grease. A little upsetting, but I gave it a good college try. I wish it had worked, but like playing guitar, my goal isn’t to be the best, or in this case, get the stupid thing to work. It was the sheer act of getting my hands dirty and giving myself a purpose no matter how small.

#lifefrombalow

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amusewithaview · 6 years

Text

there’s no “I” in “team” (and where I’m going, there isn’t a “we” either) - MCU gen fic

I was about to crash and then @phoenix-173 asked me to break her heart and I saw this post in rapid succession. It was like somebody gave my muse a beverage with 13 espresso shots.

“It doesn’t work!” Jane shrieks, hands clenched around Goon #6′s forearm where he’s got it wrapped across her front. She’s kicking and twisting, fighting to be set loose, but she’s about as effective as a kitten against a bear. “Please, you have to give me more time,” she begs.

“You’ve had time,” Goon #2 points out. “Time, money, all the resources we can give you, and yet...” She tilts her head to one side, her mouth a moue of disappointment. “The Boss’s generosity only goes so far,” she says, spreading her hands and shrugging. She seems genuinely apologetic.

Darcy hates Goon #2 the most.

Goon #1 is grinning at the spectacle, his teeth are white and shiny and so straight that they’ve got to be fakes. He seems like the kind of guy who gets punched a lot, and Darcy’s pretty sure that’s not just her own personal antipathy talking. He’s popping his gum so loudly that she can hear it even over Jane’s not-so-muttered curses and shouts, she can hear it over the rapid tattoo of her own heartbeat. Her pulse is pounding in her ears, at her throat, she can even feel it in her clenched fists. Her hands are slick with sweat, the rest of her feels clammy and uncomfortably damp even in the aggressively climate-controlled lab.

Darcy has been fighting off the impending panic attack ever since the Goons burst in, three hours ahead of schedule.

Two hours ahead of the planned rescue.

“Please,” Jane says again, eyes locked on Goon #2, begging with expression and words, frantically stalling. “Please, just - let me have a few minutes! Just some last calculations, I think I can-”

Goon #1 rolls his eyes. “Look, the Boss-”

Goon #2 holds up a hand, looking hopeful. “Are you close?”

“Yes! I mean, I think-”

The Goons exchange a speaking look.

Goon #2 sighs, stepping back.

Goon #1 cracks his knuckles and steps forward. “Too late,” he says. “Too bad, so sad, hope you’ve made progress since your last little test.”

Darcy swallows, throat so dry it makes a faint clicking sound.

The last test had ended in an explosion. It took two days for the smell of burnt hair and muscle tissue - all that remained of the rabbit’s remains - to fully fade from the lab. The test before that was even worse.

“I need her!” Jane insists. “She’s-”

“Expendable,” Goon #1 interjects. He adopts the same faux-apologetic look that Goon #2 is sporting. “It is regrettable that we must incentivize your research in this manner, but progress must be made,” he intones. “...did you like that? That’s almost a direct quote from the Boss, you know. He’s been watching your progress, or lack thereof, very closely.”

“Please.”

Jane is crying now, and it forces Darcy past her own terror into a state of near-calm. If someone else is panicking, then she has to be strong. If Jane is breaking down, then she has to stand tall. She grabs that flimsy justification with all her might and pushes the tears and her fears far down into her stomach, tightening her core around that repressed emotion.

She can panic later.

If there is a ‘later.’

For the first time, Goon #1 turns to her. “My momma always told me there was no ‘I’ in ‘Team,’” he says. “You’ve been freeloading for weeks, time to pay your keep. After all, there’s a ‘lab’ and ‘rat’ in ‘laboratory, so how’s about you crawl into that transporter like a good little intern?”

“She’s not my intern,” Jane spits. “She’s my friend.”

“That will only make this harder for you,” Goon #2 says sorrowfully.

“Don’t you wish you’d worked a little harder?” Goon #1 says, playing bad cop with relish and gusto. He eyes Darcy for a second and shakes his head, turning to address Goon #3. “Lucky, get on the radio and tell the boys in maintenance to break out their mops, the intern is a damn sight bigger than that rabbit was.”

I’m about to die and he’s making fat jokes, Darcy thought. “You know, nasty little weasels like you-” She staggers to the right, the force of the unexpected blow almost enough to knock her to the ground.

“Rabbits don’t talk,” Goon #1 says. “Get in the transporter.”

Jane is openly sobbing now, fighting so hard that Goons #4 and 5 have moved to stand beside Goon #6, just in case. Darcy sees Goon #6 shift her so he can cover her mouth with one meaty hand, muffling her shouts and screams.

Goon #3 shifts to her left and she feels something hard and cold poke at the small of her back. Darcy tries to turn back to Jane, wanting to say something, anything to make the other woman feel better - offer some sort of closure. They both know there’s no coming back from this.

The Goons don’t give her time, #3 herds her up the ramp, stops her when she tries to turn, wanting one last look at Jane, maybe she can try and communicate something-

Darcy hears the shrill whine of the power cells, a click more physical than audible, and then her world is consumed in vibrant light.

#amuse writes stuff #darcy lewis #jane foster #darcy & jane #mcu fanfiction #genfic #unnamed goons are probably associated with aim or somesuch #the last thing jane sees of darcy is her back #her hair was super fucked up that day #jane had to help her braid it #two hours later the avengers arrive #thor personally busts jane out #they don't find darcy #they never find darcy

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peppersandcats · 6 years

Text

Eleven questions

I was tagged by both @sophiacfandom and @hotforcaptaincold , and apologize for the slow response. Hey, all!

Rules are:

Post the rules

Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

Write 11 questions of your own

And tag 11 people

The questions I got were:

1. Describe the place you’re at right now.

At home, waiting for a package restore to complete on my remote connection to work and trying to clear out my inbox because I still haven't recovered from NNWM. I'm sitting at a very old desk with a proper hutch, typing onto one screen, playing videos on the other, and burning a ginger pumpkin spice scented candle.

In a broader sense, tallying up the writing I've done this year and being pleased with how much more I've gotten out than last year.

2. The Last Jedi: first in line on the first day, waiting till the crowds clear, see it on Netflix someday, or just don’t care?

Just recently got back from it! The LOML was picking the showtimes, and he had an early afternoon today and we grabbed the 3 p.m. showing. It was pretty good.

3. If you had to give up all your fandoms except one, which would you keep? (If you are not a fandom type, which book would you keep?)

I... I have one fandom? At least in an AO3-geekery and occasional AU and rampant-headcanon sense? That makes it pretty easy.

If you mean "which fandom" as in "which thing I love that it most pleases me to talk about and buy copies of for other people", even if there is no particular head-canoning or fic-writing or fic-reading, the one I would keep would probably be the Fallout games. But I'm not sure what giving up a fandom means if you don't engage with transformative works--I feel like "if you could only consume one set of artistic work for the rest of your life" would be a slightly different question.

If giving up all but one fandom means giving up all fictional artistic and narrative works except those coming from one source, and not just giving up engaging with the fandom community, then I'm sorry, giving up all but one of them is not happening. That's not happening.

4. What’s the most appalling piece of clothing you own and how much do you love it?

I don't know-- I guess my zombie kitten I CAN HAZ BRAINZ? t-shirt with glow-in-the-dark eyes? I got it at the London worldcon and I adore it.

(I suppose it's possible that my "Give me the confidence of a mediocre white man" T-shirt might be considered more appalling by some. But really, it's quite staid.)

5. Cats: yay or nay?

Yay!

6. Describe your perfect walk. (Moonlit stroll? By a lake? Hiking a mountain?)

Afternoon walk on a warm damp windy day, either just before rain or just after, down a sidewalk with a lot of interesting places to stop in on.

7. Who’s the writer you most admire, and why? (Published books, fanfic, screenwriter, any.)

Hmh.

There are a lot of contenders, but today, I think I’m going with Connie Willis. Took me three years to realize that one of her novels was a retelling of a Browning poem, and she was really kind about confirming it was. And there’s this one story she tells...

She used to need to walk all the way out to the post office to pick up her mail, right? Back when you submitted stories by mail instead of electronically. And her story about the day she walked out there just to find out that all of the stories she’d sent out came back with rejection slips at once was... well, horrible and weirdly encouraging. I think there were eight of them. Can you imagine getting eight rejection letters at once?

And she sent them all back out. She used to have her envelopes for the next place she was planning to send a story addressed and done up in advance, so I guess it wasn’t as hard as it might have been, but...

Connie Willis. *hat-tip*

8. Coffee or tea?

Coffee. Sometimes I’ll have tea, I certainly don’t object to it, but coffee is my routine drink.

9. Team Flash, Team Rogues, Team Time Disasters, Team The Dark Broody Kickpunchy Ones, Team Supergirl, or don’t care?

Team Rogues.

10. If you wrote a movie based on your life, what would be your favourite scene?

The rats swarming the lost library, all chittering and aglitter in the rotting green light.

(Look, the question said "based on". I am ridiculously contrary about prompts; I once wrote a story where the only restriction was that it had to begin with "No shit, there I was" and I got really weird with worldbuilding just so I could have the opening line be the speaker referring to a third party rather than to themselves.)

11. And who would direct the movie of your life?

Can I get either Patty Jenkins or George Miller and Margaret Sixel?

And the questions I’m asking are:

1. What was your first favourite book? (If not book, movie.)

2. How often do you light candles?

3. Would you rather go on a road trip or have a party at your house/apartment?

4. What was the last group event (can be ticketed) you went to that you were really happy to be at?

5. What hobby/fandom do you enjoy but not get to talk about much?

6. What’s your favourite breakfast?

7. What helps when you’re feeling sad? (It can be as weird or as small as you like, that’s fine. E.g. I watch the “Tiger Millionaire” episode of Steven Universe. A lot.)

8. What’s the last piece of fiction you read that you’d want to recommend?

9. Zombies or the Cthulhu Mythos?

10. How hard is it for you to declutter?

11. What’s the neatest cryptid you know of? Where did you hear about it?

I got tagged twice, so that means I can tag more than eleven people. With no obligation, tagging: @notsolittlegirlevenmorelost, @eh2zie365, @amber-flicker, @ameliapll1, @luvtheheaven, @ladyofpride, @crimsondomingo, @trufflemores, @kitanomanako, @kariki, @blackbat16, @littleratqueen, @literallyflashtrash, @forthegelt, @acollectionofalpacas, @lessspoons, @middlemarching, @coldtomyflash, @themeddlinggirl, @amuletgays, @sophiacfandom, @hotforcaptaincold, @thornfield13713, and @iguanasanddaydreams.

#ask meme response #personal #ask meme

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exyghouls · 7 years

Text

(you can read on ao3 if you want)

It’s always yes. That was Neil’s mantra when Andrew asked the question. When Neil asked, he still got a one-word answer.

He was happy that he did, that they hadn’t moved past asking for every action. When they were together, Neil stopped what he was doing to ask whether he could move on. It gave him a moment to look at them, look at what they were doing, and appreciate it. Their compatibility, their flow, their music that they make. He could assess every jut of bone, every rounded muscle, every raised scar and swollen bruise, everything about Andrew that he got to keep drinking in.

Sometimes it was no, and that was okay.

Neil could deal with it when it was no, but he couldn’t always be alone.

As a child, he was never touched unless it was necessary or violent. The most loving contact he could think of was sleeping back-to-back beside his mother, waiting for something to hurt them. So now, every time someone touched him–be it a grace of Andrew’s knuckles against his own, a pat on the shoulder from Dan, Allison’s fingers against the back of his neck while she cut his hair–he wanted more.

Neil wasn’t stupid. He knew why, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He hated himself for following after Andrew’s fingers, for wanting to do well so Dan would congratulate him like that again, for feeling empty when Allison brushed off his neck and announced that his hair was done.

Some days were worse than others, when he felt so hollow that he needed contact. He would go to Andrew first, ask yes or no? He got a yes often enough. Even if that yes only extended to kisses and shoulders bumping together as they sat beside each other on the couch, it was enough. When he got a no in response, it was different.

Sometimes their bad days collided. Neil needed touch and Andrew needed not to be touched. At first, on these days, Neil would try dealing with the empty, dreading feeling by hugging a pillow or curling up in his comforter. He even tried the Kevin Day method of drinking to forget, but that didn’t work as well for him. If anything, it made him feel worse.

In the middle of his second year, it got bad. Neil wanted more contact and Andrew got further downward swings in the winter. This year it was worse than usual and he said no more often than yes. Neil slept on the couch some nights because Andrew didn’t even want to be in the same room as him.

He sat on the roof sometimes, hoping the colder-that-usual wind would sweep him away. It once started raining with cold, heavy drops and Neil didn’t move. He came back to the dorm soaked and freezing and Nicky dragging him to Abby in case he had hypothermia.

“I know what hypothermia feels like, Nicky,” Neil protested.

“Yes, and you make us all very sad because of it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, we’re going to Abby’s.”

He was dragged along, finding himself in the passenger seat of the shitshow of a car that Nicky had gotten over the summer, despite Neil’s protests that he was capable of driving the maserati. They got to Abby’s fast enough and she didn’t seem to be busy, letting them in and making hot chocolate for Nicky, coffee for Neil.

“What were you doing out in that rain?” she asked, looking out the window at the distant, long-retreated clouds. She went back to examining Neil’s frozen but mobile fingers. He had been wrapped in one of her larger sweatshirts and bundled in blankets. His hair was still a little damp.

Neil could only shrug in response. It was easier than trying to come up with words to describe his feelings of loneliness, of wanting to feel something heavy and promising against his body. The rain provided that but he didn’t want to say it, too busy enjoying Nicky’s knee pressing into his side where he sat sideways on the couch and Abby’s fingers about his wrist. He didn’t inherently trust either of them, but he trusted them more than he did last year and he trusted them enough for this and thinking the word trust so many times when it didn’t apply to Andrew was giving him a headache. Then he was thinking about Andrew and he tried his damnedest to hold back tears, knowing that the other two would say something about it.

Still, Abby noticed his crinkling chin and shaking hands. “What’s wrong, Neil?”

He just shook his head, trying to jostle free the lump in his throat and shake the urge to sob. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just cold.”

Nicky got up right away to get more blankets and Neil wished he hadn’t. His left side was empty now. Abby had moved to checking his toes, which meant removing his socks, which Neil wasn’t a fan of. He grit his teeth and powered through until she put new, dry socks back on his feet. She took his pulse in his wrist before standing up, hands on her hips.

“Well, you don’t have hypothermia or frostbite or anything else that Nicky was panicking about,” she said with a smile. “Not easy to get those in South Carolina, even if it is fifty degrees out with a windchill of fuck it’s cold.”

“It’s a windchill of thirty-five actually, colder than usual,” Nicky provided, walking out with another armful of blankets. Neil refused them, curling into the ones he had already. He hugged them closer and watched as Nicky lay one across his own lap and sipped at his hot chocolate.

Neil thanked Abby and went back to the dorms with Nicky, forcing him into the passenger seat this time.

“Aw, Neil, you don’t like how I drive?” Nicky teased.

“Nope.”

Nicky just pouted and let Neil take them back to the Tower, where Neil fell asleep on the couch instead of bothering with Andrew

He woke up feeling worse. Turns out Andrew did, too. Kevin was blending a smoothie, making himself louder than necessary, and brewing a pot of coffee because he knew Andrew’s nature first thing in the morning. It seemed he was standing in the way too long and turned to see Andrew scowling up at him, five feet of eye bags and bed head. He jumped a little and moved so he could get a mug.

Neil was already sitting at the table with his coffee. He watched as Kevin had the good sense to take his smoothie and leave the dorm. After he did, Andrew collapsed into the chair beside him and leaned most of his weight onto his elbows.

“Feeling alright?

Andrew glared back. It wasn’t genuine. Neil itched to reach out, to brush his fingers across his cheek, to kiss him and see if the painted-on scowl would melt away, but he knew better.

“I don’t know if you’re mad at me or yourself right now.”

“You never know much of anything, Josten.

Neil rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his coffee before looking back over at Andrew. His hands were both clenched around his mug and he was staring straight ahead, unflinching. His face was an apathetic mask.

“I want to touch your hand. Yes or no?

His mouth turned down momentarily. “No.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

This took a second longer. “No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t care.” Andrew didn’t look as Neil stood with his cup, stood by the sink as he took his final sip and put the mug on the edge of it, then walking out of the kitchen. He didn’t watch Neil’s fingers tearing at his already scarred, dry knuckles, slowing coaxing out pinpricks of red.

Neil left. He got dressed now that their room was empty, pulled on his running shoes, and left. He ran and didn’t know where to, didn’t know how far, and he didn’t have his phone or a map or any knowledge of landmarks in the direction he was headed. There was a burn in his chest when the sun was at its peak, but he didn’t stop. They were already near the border, but he was still shocked to see that he had crossed into North Carolina.

He had left around seven in the morning. It had been forty degrees but now it felt like sixty, and his body was burning up from a day of running. He had a faint memory of throwing up on the side of a backroad. He stopped at a fire station in a town that he didn’t bother figuring out the name of and asked if they had a phone.

“You in trouble, kid?” an older man doing desk work asked him.

Neil was panting and sweaty but shook his head.

“I won’t rat you out, I just want to help.” He had a hard but kind face. Neil didn’t like him.

“I just need to call someone to pick me up.”

He nodded and pointed him to an ancient payphone on the wall outside, handing him some change for it. “It’s all yours. Let me know if you need more time.”

Neil nodded and payed for the call, going through to Wymack.

“David Wymack,” he said, answering the call.

“Can you pick me up?”

He just sounded exasperated. “Where the fuck are you, Josten? We have four search teams out for you, myself included.”

He couldn’t make himself feel bad. He looked at the sign on the old brick building. “Oakman fire department.

“Where is fucking Oakman?”

“I’m tempted to say North Carolina.” He tried his best not to huff heavy breaths into the receiver. The phone beeped and he put in more change. He still had a handful of quarters

“And may I ask how you got there?” he asked, sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth.

“I was going for a run,” he shrugged, knowing that Wymack couldn’t see him.

“Going for a run,” he muttered to himself. “You stay put, I think Matt is closest to you. Don’t fucking move or you’re benched until that wood has an imprint of your ass, you hear me?”

“Yes sir,” he confirmed, hanging up the phone. He really wanted Wymack to come get him, but Matt wasn’t the last person he wanted there, at least

Neil went back inside to give the man at the desk the remaining change. “Can I wait on the front steps?”

He nodded. “Don’t want to wait in here? It’s getting cold out, it’s already nine.”

He looked at the analog on the wall. It was, in fact, nine o’clock and dark outside. He had noticed, but now it was like a punch in the gut. He had just wasted a day, running and thinking as little as possible, and he still just wanted to hug whoever came to get him because at least another fucking person would be there with him, at least it would be a fox.

“I’m fine, thanks. Kind of overheating, it’s been a long day.” The day didn’t feel like time at all, just the actions he was taking.

The desk man nodded and watched him walk out the door and collapse on the stone steps. For the first time in fourteen hours, Neil let out a breath and let himself feel. His body was aching, screaming for help. He was hungry but he could ignore that. His feet were numb and swollen and his calves were aching, his lungs wheezing with overuse. Every muscle except his arms were in pain, but even his biceps were tired. He leaned back on the steps and let it wash over him.

It turned from waves of pain to tingling numbness. He knew he would feel it soon. He quickly became aware of his dry mouth and sticky skin and how uncomfortable it was, how bad he probably smelled, but it distracted him from any other thought. The only things close to a saving grace were the leggings he was wearing to keep his thighs from rubbing together every time he moved.

Neil lost track of time. He hadn’t fallen asleep, but he dazed and went between seeing if his legs still worked and breathing in the cool night air. He was surprised that Nicky hadn’t magically shown up by now to tell him that he was getting some illness. He was still too warm, so he stayed outside.

Matt showed up within forty minutes, he later learned. At the time, he didn’t know or care how long it took.

“Thank you. Sorry,” was all he could think to say when Matt came to pick him up. Matt was standing over him because he couldn’t move his legs to get up.

“Don’t be sorry. But Neil, you scared the shit out of us. Carry a fanny pack with your phone or some shit, okay?” He waved to a fireman who was walking outside. Neil couldn’t see whether it was the man from the desk. “Thanks for letting him stay here,” Matt said.

The fireman nodded. “Not a problem. Drive safe, okay?”

Matt nodded before picking Neil up and getting him situated in the front seat of the truck. Neil buckled himself in as Matt went around to the driver’s side. He was disappointed that he was let go, because the tingling had long worn off.

They spent the first fifty minutes of the hour-long drive in complete silence as Matt let him stew and quietly listened to some trashy bubblegum pop station. At some point, Matt held his hand open over the console in invitation and Neil took it, playing with his fingers more than holding his hand.

“Any reason you decided to go on this little adventure?” Matt asked, not suddenly but unexpectedly.

If anyone understood, it was Matt. “I’m just frustrated.”

“The baby foxes getting in your way? School? Boy trouble?”

“You make it sound stupid when you say boy trouble like that. It’s more like Andrew trouble.”

“I thought you two were good. I an fight him if you want? Do you want to switch back with Aaron?”

Neil kept his gaze on the road ahead. Matt had turned down the radio and he liked the sound of the tires on the gravel and Matt’s steady breaths.

“He’s not feeling great and it might be messing with him that Betsy is too busy for him to see her whenever like last year. I needed to blow off some steam and ended up running all day.”

Matt stayed quiet for a second before he said, “I understand.” Neil looked over as he continued. “You’ve both had some hard balls thrown at you in life and it’s easier to cope with them together but it isn’t always easy. You and Andrew both need to do some things on your own, have some time to work through it. That’s how relationships of any kind usually go.”

“No, I know.” Neil rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and saw colors swirling in his vision before he stopped. “I don’t mind that he needs some alone time. It’s my issues.”

“What, you suspect he’s up to something?”

“No.”

“Well, Andrew is in Columbia now that Wymack told him I was coming to get you and Aaron is with Kaitlyn and we’re only an hour or so away from Sunday, so what do you say we get you back to the Tower and clean you up and we can spend however long you want together? Napping, movies, video games, whatever?”

Neil nodded. They pulled into the lot a few minutes later and Matt carried him from the car to the door, taking the elevator up to his room. Neil hugged around his neck as he was piggy-backed into the bathroom and sat on the sink top. Matt disappeared and came back with a clean shirt and a pair of Dan’s shorts for him. He was thankful they had figured out that he and Dan were the same size.

“Can you take a shower?”

Neil grimaced at the thought of standing. He didn’t want to inconvenience Matt like this, he could maneuver cleaning himself, but he couldn’t stand up for a shower.

Without another question, Matt grabbed washcloths from underneath the sink and bar soap from the shower tray, motioning for Neil to tell him what to do.

“I can clean myself.”

Matt nodded and put the soap down, helping him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Holler if you need anything.”

Neil nodded and watched as Matt closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh. Maybe it was relief, but it was also him being angry with himself. He didn’t care who saw him shirtless anymore and Matt could keep more contact with him and dear god why was he thinking like this? This wasn’t rational, this wasn’t like Neil.

He got to work cleaning himself as best he could. He shimmied out of his clothes, wiped the sweat off his skin, and pulled on Matt and Dan’s clothes quickly. He tried to help himself up but ultimately had to lean completely on his elbows over the sink.

“Matt?” he asked, his voice not willing to raise itself over talking volume. There were footsteps and knocks before Neil called him in and was helped to hobble into Matt’s bed. His legs were almost completely blown out; the “almost” came from the fact that he could put weight on them, but he was sure that would change come morning.

Matt had the whole setup: water bottles, pain medication, the television turned to ESPN as background noise. Neil curled into the sheets he was placed in and Matt kneeled beside the bed. “Do you want me to sleep here or in Aaron’s bed?”

Neil flipped the blankets over for Matt to climb in, loving the feeling of arms wrapping around him. His body warmed nicely as he was held close against Matt’s chest.

“I told Wymack that we were back and you were alive. He wanted to come give you the speech now but I told him to save it for tomorrow. He’ll be less heated by then.”

Neil nodded. After nearly a week of Andrew’s rejection, he was being touched and held and he was relishing in it. He didn’t care what hell Wymack had to rain down on him. He could take it, just like he did every other time. He suspected that Dan and Kevin would have something to say too, and maybe Andrew if he was doing better, but he didn’t care for now. Matt was too warm for him to care.

His arms were heavy and firm and wrapped around him, grounding him to the bed. A soccer game or something equally irrelevant was playing softly, giving just the right background noise for him to drift off and sleep comfortably for the first time in a week.

Neil didn’t think he would be content like this with anyone but Matt. With Andrew, yes, but not right now. Not while they were both unstable and constantly on edge. Matt was solid, more or less over the trauma that made him a fox. He was willing to hold Neil up when Andrew couldn’t and Neil wouldn’t trade one for the other at the moment. He also indirectly drew Neil out of sleep with the smell of coffee and pancakes, which he couldn’t be mad about.

He felt incredibly rested for eight in the morning. He thought about going for a morning run, but he felt like it would be unappreciated. Besides, he couldn’t walk. He stayed in bed for a moment longer before attempting to get up, collapsing on the hardwood floor immediately. The noise must have alerted Matt, who nearly fell through the door in his haste and smiled when he saw Neil in a rumpled pile of blankets.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling. “Coach is going to be here in ten minutes so we’re going to get you to the living room and eat, okay?”

Neil nodded and Matt helped him up. Neil tried to stand on his own but his knees collapsed immediately and Matt caught him. His calves burned and the calluses on the bottoms of his feet ached. It hurt to bend his legs but turned to a pleasant burn soon after. Matt sat him on the couch and Neil pulled his legs up so he was cramped into a cross-legged position.

He was drinking coffee, too nauseous from pain to eat, when Wymack came in. He seemed less angry than he did on the phone the night before.

“Can I ask why nothing gets through that thick head of yours?” he asked after Matt let him in. He had shoved a bottle, what Neil later learned was whiskey, into his arms. It was a thank you.

Neil looked up from his coffee. “Good morning Coach. I’m doing well, yourself?”

Behind Wymack, Matt was trying not to lose it. He had a hand held tight over his mouth to hold in a laugh. Wymack didn’t notice, stepping closer to Neil.

“Do you hold yourself and your team in such low regard? We thought someone took you. No one knew what had happened and we were fucking panicking. No more fun runs, do you hear me?”

Neil nodded, took a long sip, and said, “Loud and clear, Coach.”

“Good. I trust Matt to take care of you. I’ll see you both at practice.” He turned and walked out, fuming the whole way.

“Bye, Coach,” Matt called out the door before shutting it. He put the whiskey on the counter before he returned to the couch to sit beside Neil, arms going around him in an instant. He leaned into the touch, ending up slumped against Matt and practically in his lap.

“Still tired?” Matt joked.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be. You had a long day.” Neil could feel the vibration of his voice in his shoulders, his chest. He felt alive and real and not anything like heavy rain or burning lungs. This was a thousand times better. Matt was warm and heavy and there.

Neil wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually Matt was laying on the couch and Neil was draped on top of him, drifting in and out of sleep. Matt was playing with his hair silently. It was ambient and calming and Neil wanted this so much more than he wanted Abby’s fingers on his or Nicky’s knee to his side.

His legs still ached and Neil was surprised he could feel them at all. He had shin splints and his knees and ankles were throbbing from the constant battery. He just wanted to sleep. That’s all. His body needed to recover and he needed to gain back some energy but the thought of food still made him sick.

At two, Matt declared that they needed to get ready for practice.

“I can’t,” Neil said, frowning when Matt stood and stretched, leaving him to lean on the couch. “I blew out my fucking legs.”

“Then you get to watch us and talk about captain stuff with Dan. I think you’ve done more than enough training for now but you still have to show or Coach’ll shit a brick.”

Matt texted Aaron to ask him for Neil’s clothes, going to get changed himself. Aaron showed up a couple minutes later, evidently back from Kaitlyn’s.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Aaron said after throwing a pile of clothes at him. He had brought sneakers too, graciously setting them down on the floor instead of lobbing those at Neil as well. “Andrew tried to kill Kevin, thought he knew something.”

Neil looked down, thinking back. He hadn’t seen either of them since the morning before, when he decided to go for his run.

“I don’t know how many times people are going to make me apologise.”

“You shouldn’t stop apologising,” Aaron shot back. “You’re being reckless. We already lost you once, don’t let it happen again.”

“Didn’t expect something so heartfelt from you,” Neil teased.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Don’t think it’s for your sake.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him as Matt walked out, dressed with shoes in hand.

“Drama?”

Neil shrugged and took off the shirt he was wearing, pulling his own on and relishing in the familiarity of it. He had to lay back to properly change into his shorts while Matt got on his shoes. They were ready to go in time, but Neil still couldn’t walk right.

“Want me to carry you?”

Neil shook his head. “Just help me. I need to stretch my legs out anyway.”

His arm was around Matt’s middle, hoisting himself up and staying there as they left the dorm. He caught sight of the elevator closing, Andrew inside. Their eyes only locked for a half second, but it was long enough to know what Andrew wanted.

They got to the court unscathed. The monsters were already inside, by the looks of it. They went to the locker room so Matt could pick up his gear, but Neil stuck around. Andrew was sitting on the end of the bench opposite him, and Matt knew when to leave.

“I know you’re mad,” Neil said as soon as the door closed.

“Do you?”

“I left. I promised no more running. But I got frustrated and left.”

Andrew fixed him with a hard stare before getting up, sitting down right across from him this time. “What was frustrating?”

“You were. I knew you wouldn’t want to talk and we didn’t need to.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t expect me to care that I’m putting myself first. My concern isn’t whether you’re getting off every night.”

“That isn’t the problem.” The problem was that he was greedy, that he had issues, that he’s the opposite of Andrew and it isn’t okay.

Andrew leaned back against the lockers, arms crossed. “Enlighten me.” He had gotten freer with his words lately, but he still had something of a block with expression and looked insanely bored with all this.

At first, Neil couldn’t make words. He was holding back word vomit, trying to come up with an intelligent explanation rather than just throwing a jumble of feelings at him. Andrew waited, watching him open his mouth before changing his mind a few times. They had been trying to talk about things instead of assuming, which Neil would later find out was not Andrew’s idea but rather at Betsy’s suggestion. He felt like it wouldn’t last long, but Andrew wanted to try.

“I don’t like being alone,” he decided. It was unfair to say he wanted to be touched; it was unfair to go into his childhood, because his and Andrew’s lives were tough in different ways and he couldn’t compare them. “We were both having bad days and I snapped and I wasn’t thinking.”

They were sitting so close in the cramped aisle that their knees were touching. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Neil closed his eyes and felt a hand on his cheek. He pushed into it without thinking, looking up to see Andrew leaning closer to look at him.

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You don’t care about being alone.”

Neil narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“You need contact, you don’t give two fucks about being alone. But you knew that.”

He just nodded.

“Forever a lie.” He stood and held a hand out. Neil let him hoist him up. Andrew wordlessly moved Neil’s arm around his shoulder to bring him out of the locker room. He went the opposite direction of the court.

“Where are we going?”

“The Tower.”

Neil narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He got in the car and let Andrew drive as he closed his eyes. He opened them to see Andrew killing the ignition in front of their dorms, letting himself be helped out of the car.

He didn’t say anything until they were in the monster’s dorm, sitting on the bottom bunk of their beds. It was Neil’s, but they usually both ended up there. Andrew was just staring at him as he tried to decide what he wanted to do; he wasn’t sure what Andrew would be okay with.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, unflinching. He was firm, not moving as Neil took his hand, looking into their laps as he played with his fingers. “That’s all?”

“Like you said, I just want contact. So unless you want to do something, I guess this is all.” Andrew didn’t have to move much to shut him up, kissing him slowly after they had spent so many days apart.

Neil kept his hands wrapped around the one of Andrew’s he had taken, the other wrapping around the back of his neck. Neil forgot to breathe for a second, fingers tightening around Andrew’s in a plea to stay.

He drew away but Neil kept their foreheads pressed together, not wanting him to leave yet. “Still yes,” Andrew muttered before he kissed Neil once more, quicker this time.

“I just want to sit here for a while,” Neil muttered. “Tired.”

He let Neil organize them so he was free to go anytime, but Andrew let him wrap him up in a hug anyway. The pressure was nice, the feeling of another body beside him, and it was better because it was Andrew. They lay there for a while–Neil didn’t care how long–just trading kisses and sitting in silence.

Neil liked the tactility of people. He liked the feel of Andrew’s hair, the ridges of his scars once he asked to touch them, the bumps of muscle, the warmth of his skin. It was all good, it was all grounding. Even the scratch of stubble on his chin was enough to bring Neil back to earth.

The pain medication had long since worn off but he had endured far worse. Still, Andrew noticed the way he winced when he moved and got up for more medication. Neil felt the empty space next to him, but he had spent a long time with Matt and now Andrew, so he didn’t mind so much. If it was a bad day for Andrew, he didn’t mind being left alone. He just couldn’t keep to himself for a week; it drained him mentally.

Andrew returned, had him take the medication with water, and put the glass on the nightstand when he was done. He promptly lay across Neil, half on the bed and half on top of him. Neil made a happy hum and relished in it as Andrew picked up a book he had been reading from the floor. He ignored the way Neil tangled their limbs together, leaving his hands free to turn the pages.

“Still yes?” Neil asked.

“Yes.”

He didn’t say, It’s yes until it’s no. He didn’t need to remind him, just like Neil didn’t need to remind him that it was always yes.

#this took too long #i hate that it's so long but whatever #tfc #thetfcnet #*mine #neil josten #andrew minyard #matt boyd #abby #wymack #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #andreil #mattneil #tfc fic #tfc hc

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