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lokidiabolus · 3 years

Text

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You�� ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

#newtmas #tmr #the last resort series #the maze runner #izzymultifan #edit 17. 5. 2021

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ma-sulevin · 3 years

Text

12. the one where soulmates can heal each other’s injuries.

The prompt is from @softmillers and Dakota belongs to the light of our life @tommymillers

This is a long prompt (8199 words oops) and it has some TLOU canon-typical violence and some moderately spicy scenes. If this were AO3, I’d tag it as M.

Life inside the QZ was shit, but life outside the fallen QZ is shittier. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was alone, but with Lucy at his side, depending on him, looking up to him, crying every time she has to fall asleep in a place that isn’t the shitty city apartment she grew up in... It’s hard. It’s so hard, and it feels like he’s failing her every day they wake up and walk farther away from the mess in Seattle.

He knows it’s for the best, but he still feels like he’s failing her.

They walk south, out of Washington, away from the rain and the city with all the memories, good and bad, of his life before. Lucy holds his hand as they walk and starts sucking her thumb again at night, but she’s brave, the bravest kid he knows, and he tells her that every morning as he braids her hair again to keep it out of her face.

She deserves a home, and he’s going to find it for them.

Portland is worse than Seattle was, and his hometown doesn’t exist anymore, but they hear a rumor about a town in Wyoming that’s self-sufficient, not run by Hunters or WLF or Fireflies or FEDRA, and even though it’s so many miles away he’s not sure they’ll both be able to walk there... Lucy looks up at him with her big blue eyes and he knows he’d walk clear across to Atlanta if it would keep her safe.

She’s already seen more than she should ever have seen.

If he can just find them a home...

They’re still in Oregon when they find a house to camp in for a couple of days, just to rest. Their walking blisters have long since hardened into calluses, but Lucy can barely stay awake all day and he’s afraid she’s going to get sick if he keeps pushing her. It’s not safe, but this house is the safest they’ve found. There’s no spores or infected or Hunters that he can find on his sweep, and there are still some canned goods that haven’t spoiled.

They eat dinner and clean up with the supplies the house’s old owners left behind, and Lucy falls asleep against his chest as he tells her the story of The Hobbit from memory.

She finds some books in one of the house’s bedrooms the next morning and curls up with her breakfast to read on the couch. It makes tears well up in his eyes, watching her sit on a dusty couch under a moth-eaten blanket, reading a faded book like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

He goes outside and breathes in the fresh air, still crisp this early in spring, and lets himself imagine them staying there forever, being safe without having to walk halfway across the continent. She could grow up in a real house with miles of land around her -- she wouldn’t have had that even if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Morgan never wanted to live outside the city, and they’d been making it work before, well.

Before.

The distinctive rack of a shotgun pulls him from his spiraling thoughts, an intimate reminder of why they’re trying to find a town. He raises his hands and turns slowly, cold sweat breaking out along his hairline.

“You alone?” The Hunter is standing a few feet away from him, too far for him to be able to grab the shotgun away from her, dirt and dried blood smeared across her face and a deadly look in her eyes.

“No.” She raises her eyebrows at him so he adds, “I don’t have any supplies on me, but there’s canned food in the house. If you let me--”

“Daddy?” Lucy’s voice cuts across his and he flinches, but the Hunter does too. She takes a step back and lowers the shotgun, though she doesn’t take her finger off the trigger. “Who’s that?”

“Sweetie, can you go get some of the cans we found and bring them out here for me?” He looks over his shoulder, trying to keep the Hunter in his line of sight at the same time, and sees Lucy hesitate. “It’s okay, just go grab what you can carry.”

She does what she’s told, leaving the front door open as she disappears back into the house.

He turns back to the Hunter. “Take what you need and leave us alone. We’re just passing through.”

“That’s your daughter?” He nods, and she chews on her bottom lip as she stares past him at the door. “How old is she?”

“Eight.”

The Hunter draws in a deep breath, then she flicks the safety on her shotgun.

He lowers his hands.

“I didn’t know.”

He doesn’t say anything even though it looks like there’s real regret on her face. She keeps her shotgun in one hand but doesn’t move otherwise, waiting with him as Lucy crashes through the house.

Lucy comes back out with her arms full of cans and drops one on the stairs. It rolls into the overgrown grass without her noticing, and she marches right up to the Hunter before Tyler has the chance to tell her to put the cans on the porch and go back inside.

“Here you go,” she says, voice strong. She’s always liked to help, and even the shotgun isn’t enough now to make her feel like the Hunter can’t be trusted, not if her dad wants to share their food. Tyler waits to see what the Hunter will do, and he raises his eyebrows when she puts the shotgun in its holster on her back so she can take the cans with both hands. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay,” the Hunter says, shoving the cans into a bag that’s suspiciously empty. “I’m just gonna--”

“If you don’t clean it, you’ll get an infection and die.” Lucy’s very matter-of-fact, parroting words Tyler’s explained to her more than once over the years, though not quite in that order. That she remembers, not the lecture about not trusting strangers. “Right?” She turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, hands on her hips.

Tyler meets the Hunter’s eyes, then looks back down at Lucy. “Yes, but she can clean it later. You need to go back inside.”

Lucy looks back up at the Hunter, who smiles gently, then back up at him. “But we have soap here.”

“Lucy. Go inside.” He thinks she’s going to pitch a fit, just for a second, because she screws her face up at him in a moment of pure irritation. He stares back at her and she deflates. The fight goes out of her and she goes back into the house by herself.

She slams the door this time, so maybe the fight isn’t all the way out of her.

“She’s cute.” The Hunter is still smiling a little, like she wasn’t just trying to rob him blind and probably leave him for dead. “She seems like a handful. Is it… just the two of you?”

“Are you going to bring your group back here?” His voice is hard, anger at Lucy being in danger pushing his words. “I told you we’re just passing through. You got your food, now you need to leave.”

She holds her hands up in surrender, the smile dropping from her lips. “Okay. Okay.”

She walks away and he watches her until he can’t see her anymore, then he turns and picks the dropped can back up. It isn’t dented, isn’t opened at all, so he brings it with him back into the house.

Lucy’s sitting on the couch, fat tears rolling down her face. She runs over when he shuts the front door and wraps her little arms around his waist. He hauls her up into his arms and she clings to him as he carries her back to the couch and sits down with her.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says, voice low, his hand rubbing over her back. “You just have to listen to me, especially out here. Not everyone is a friend.”

“She was hurt.” Lucy’s voice is wet and small, and he heaves a heavy sigh.

“I know, sweetie. She’s okay, though. We gave her some food and she’ll go back to her group and they’ll be fine.”

He waits until Lucy calms down to tell her they have to leave. He doesn’t know where the rest of the Hunters are, but he’s not going to be here when they get back. He wanted them to rest longer, but now it isn’t safe.

They take as much food as they can carry, and he pretends he doesn’t notice Lucy sneaking a few more paperbacks into her little dirty backpack. He’ll probably have to carry them for her later, but right now… if they make her happy, it’s worth it.

They don’t see another human for two more days. This time it’s a man, outside a gas station, and Tyler can smell the trap a mile away. Lucy must be able to too, or she learned her lesson from the house, because she tightens her grip on his hand and lets him keep her on the far side of the street.

The man follows them.

Tyler’s just shifting Lucy so she’ll be behind him when he turns when he hears the sound of another fucking shotgun racking. He flips around, pistol out, Lucy tucked so close behind him she won’t be able to see anything, and he sees the Hunter from before with her shotgun leveled at the new man.

She’s not looking at Tyler. All her focus is on this new guy, anger curling her lips until her teeth are bared in a snarl. “You wanna rethink that?”

The man puts his hands up, keeping his fingers away from his pistol’s trigger.

The woman glances at Tyler. “Grab that.”

He does, tucking it back where he keeps his.

The woman gestures at the man with her shotgun. “Don’t let me see your face again.”

The man spits at her, but she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t lower the shotgun until he disappears back behind the gas station.

“You two good?”

Lucy pops her head out from behind him. “Hi!”

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?”

Lucy nods, but she puts her thumb in her mouth anyway. Tyler pulls it out and wraps his hand around hers instead.

“You following us?”

The woman shrugs and grins a little. “Seems like a happy coincidence. Got here just in time, at least. You two heading east?”

Tyler hesitates, but nods. “We heard about a settlement that’s supposed to be safe. We figured it was worth the risk.”

“A safe settlement east of us? The one in Wyoming?”

“You been?”

The woman shakes her head. “No, but I’ve heard about it. I was thinking about going that way too, maybe… Three of us traveling together might be safer?”

She asks the question confidently, but there’s real hesitation in her eyes. She’s uncertain about his answer, worried that he’ll say no after what happened at the house.

Lucy tugs on his hand. When he looks down at her, he can tell she wants the woman to come with them.

He looks back at her and presses his lips together before he nods.

Her face breaks into a wide smile, and even under the grime and blood, she’s beautiful.

“I’m Tyler,” he says, and he lifts Lucy’s hand a little, “and this is Lucy.”

“Dakota,” she says, looking from him to Lucy and back. “Let’s get going.”

She still has most of the food she took from them, which makes him feel better about a future ambush. She doesn’t apologize for holding him up, but she does pool her food in with theirs when it’s time to stop for the night, and she says she’ll take whichever watch he wants her to so they can all get enough sleep to keep walking the next day.

Lucy loves her, asks her a million questions until she gets tired and wants Tyler to hold her, and then Dakota takes some of his supplies so he can.

He finds himself trusting her faster than he should. He knows better than this. He knows better than to be fooled by a pretty smile and dark eyes, and even though it’s been seven years since Morgan died… it still feels like a betrayal of him, somehow, to look at Dakota and find her beautiful.

He tries to focus on Lucy, on keeping his eyes and ears on the world around them, on getting them safe to Jackson when it’s hard to follow maps that are a decade out of date. He tries to focus on listening for any infected, to make sure Lucy doesn’t have to see them, to make sure none get close enough to threaten either of them.

Well. Any of them, really.

Dakota’s part of the group now whether he likes it or not.

(And he does like it. He just tries not to think about it.)

They find another house a few weeks later, similar to the first one they stopped in, and they set up for the night once it’s cleared. Lucy takes a bath while Dakota goes out to see if she can catch anything to eat, and he brushes out and braids her hair while Dakota cooks up the rabbit she managed to find.

It’s very domestic, very relaxed, and Tyler finds himself drifting closer and closer to Dakota the longer the night goes on, but… she seems like she’s drifting closer to him too, a little smile on her face whenever she catches him looking at her.

Lucy demands a story for bedtime, snuggled up in one of the house’s empty beds, and he tells her part of Star Wars: A New Hope, talking to her in a low voice until she falls asleep.

Dakota is pouring over the maps when he comes back into the living room, sitting on the couch with the coffee table pulled up close, a towel still in her hands to wring water out of her hair. He sits next to her when she smiles at him, and watches as she points at where they are and where they need to be going to get to Jackson.

“This is the best time to be traveling,” she says, voice pitched low so she won’t wake up Lucy. “You don’t want to be out here when it starts to snow.”

“Have you been caught out here in the winter?”

He knows almost nothing about her, not really, but he’s not wholly surprised when she nods and then looks up at him to explain.

He is surprised when her lips part but she doesn’t speak, because she’s too busy looking at his mouth. She shifts toward him, just a bit, and their knees touch.

Had he sat down so close to her?

He’s not sure which of them moves first, but their lips meet and she moans into his mouth. She pushes closer, climbing into his lap, fingers tangling in his hair that’s too long and still damp from his bath, and he pulls her closer, leaning back so she has more room to settle with her knees on either side of his hips.

It’s overwhelming already, her body warm and solid against his, her teeth catching his lower lip as his hands run up the warm skin of her back under her ratty shirt.

It’s a bad idea but it doesn’t even occur to him to push her away, to tell her they shouldn’t do this while they still have months of travel ahead of them, but she’s squirming against him and tugging at his shirt too and it feels too good to do anything but yank her shirt off over her head so he can kiss her breasts while she pulls at his belt.

He leans back when she wraps her fingers around him, biting his tongue to keep from being too loud. She pumps him a few times before slipping off his lap so she can push her jeans down, and she’s climbing back in his lap to sink down onto him before he has a chance to lean in and kiss the tattoo on her ribs.

“Fuck.” He swears against her mouth and holds tight into her hips as she starts to move over him. She’s already so wet and he’s barely touched her, and it’s been so long that he’s even had time by himself that he feels like he’s on the edge after just her first few thrusts.

She moans and bites at his lip again, and she holds onto the back of the couch as she starts to really move. “Wait for me,” she says, cheek against his, lips against his ear. “You feel fucking amazing.”

He can’t talk now, can’t do anything but hold on as she fucks him, barely has the presence of mind to reach between them for her clit, but she bats his hand away anyway. She takes care of that too and she comes around him as she touches herself.

“I’m gonna come,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, hands sliding up her sides and then scratching back down. “Dakota, I--”

She kisses him, pulling on his hair, and he comes still deep inside her. She swallows his groan and then kisses him again, soft, lingering as he catches his breath.

“That was great,” she says, conversationally, like she’s complimenting his cooking. “We should do that again next time we find a house. I feel amazing.”

She climbs off of him and pulls her pants back on like nothing happened, and he stands, still trying to catch his breath, and tucks himself away.

Lucy’s still asleep when he checks on her, flat on her back with her arms and legs starfished, and he watches her in silence until guilt creeps in on him. He goes to sleep in the room across the hall, tension creeping back into his limbs.

Dakota grins at him like they have a secret the next morning, but she doesn’t say anything else as they pack up to move along after breakfast. Lucy chatters like she always does, asks a bunch of questions -- this time about outer space since he was telling her about Star Wars -- and they answer what they can. Dakota is delighted to hear they’ve been talking about Luke Skywalker, and she and Tyler compare notes until Lucy gets bored.

It’s easier to walk that day, lingering soreness in his feet and hips all but disappeared. Endorphines are a hell of a thing, and he tries not to think too hard about it.

A glance at Dakota catches her looking back at him already.

She blushes and looks away, so he knows he’s not the only one still thinking about it.

They don’t find a good enough house to give them safety and privacy again that night, or the next, and then they’re not even in a town anymore so it’s hard to find places to sleep at all. It feels like they’re never going to get to Jackson, and Tyler’s still not convinced they’re going to find anything at all when they get there, but he doesn’t know what else to do, so he keeps walking.

He just keeps walking.

They celebrate Lucy’s birthday after they cross over the border into Idaho. Tyler’s not totally sure he has the date right, but it’s close enough, and they find a little bookstore without any Infected in it for her to raid. She wants to sleep there, and they agree, setting up their sleeping bags all in a row in the musty children’s section.

Tyler and Dakota take turns reading from Inkheart until Lucy falls asleep, and then Tyler follows Dakota to the other side of the store where she pushes him into the shadows against the front counter.

She kisses him the same way she did at the last house, deep and desperate, nipping him when she wants him to do something different, and he starts feeling the same sort of energy washing over him as last time, just from wrapping his arms around her, with her lips against his neck and her hands pulling his belt free of its loops.

He has more control this time, spinning them around and then turning her so he can bend her over the counter. She braces herself against the dusty surface and arches her hips toward him, making the quietest moan when he pushes deep inside. She’s tighter this way than she was last time, with her jeans keeping her knees trapped together, but she’s even wetter, and he gives her all he has until she has to bite her arm to muffle her cry as she comes.

He finishes inside her again, pushing in as deep as he can and bending over her to press his face against her back. He shudders through it, then relaxes, pleasure still coursing through his veins in a way that makes a thought tickle at the back of his mind.

He ignores it and kisses her again instead, pushing for that last little bit of connection before she slips away to clean up.

He’s nearly asleep when she makes it back to her sleeping bag on Lucy’s other side. He watches her settle in until he can’t keep his eyes open for one more second.

It takes them a long time to get through Idaho, passing through it at its widest point. They have to travel around infections and cities, avoiding anywhere they might find more trouble than two adults can take on with a child to protect.

Lucy bonds hard with Dakota, enough that Tyler worries about what will happen when they reach Jackson. What if they have to keep traveling? What if Dakota wants to stay but he doesn’t, or what if he and Lucy find a home and Dakota wants to leave?

He needs to ask her, to find out what she’s thinking, but whenever they have enough time and privacy to talk about it…

Maybe they’ve bonded hard too, enough that Tyler worries about what will happen if Dakota wants to leave him behind. Having her in his arms, in his lap, bent over furniture or pressed against a wall is one of the best things he’s ever felt, and he can’t get enough of it.

It seems like she can’t either, because she looks for opportunities for them to be alone. He and Lucy had never found as many safe places to sleep as they do when Dakota’s in charge of navigating across the countryside. It’s like she knows, from being alone all that time, exactly where to find a safe place to bunker down for the night.

Tyler could cry when they pass over the border into Wyoming, and he almost does when he feels Dakota slip her hand into his. Lucy’s on his other side, and it almost feels like…

No.

They’re not a family, and until he talks to Dakota about whatever this is between them, somewhere Lucy won’t hear but somewhere they also won’t get distracted trying to fuck each other’s brains out, he can’t think like that.

They’ve already spent so much time together that no matter what, it’s going to hurt him and Lucy when they have to go their separate ways, but… with her hand in his, it’s easy to pretend that won’t happen. It’s easy to lean into the soft warmth, into the way it makes him forget the aching of his feet, and pretend they’ll keep living like they have been once they reach Jackson.

The same thought that keeps stirring in his head rises up again, the thought that she doesn’t just make him forget the pain, that touching her makes it disappear entirely, but he shakes his head and pushes it back down, deep down where it belongs, and starts walking again.

Morgan was his soulmate. They found out when Tyler cut his thumb trying to cook, and Morgan’s worried fingers on his wrist made the cut fully heal before their eyes. Morgan died, back before the real outbreak started, caught the infection trying to treat the earliest outbreak up at Lakehill, and you don’t get that twice.

Dakota helps, but they’re not soulmates.

There’s not a chance.

They’re actually not that far from where they think Jackson is when they run into trouble.

They’ve seen infected before, mostly around the cities they’ve skirted, usually runners that they’re able to sneak past without trouble. None have gotten close enough to their camping spots to be a threat, and they’ve really only had to worry about packs of Hunters as they’ve walked from Washington.

It’s not easy to forget that the infected exist, but it’s easy to pretend they’re too far away to really hurt them until it’s too late.

Lucy sees them first, because Tyler’s let himself get too comfortable on this leg of the trip. He’s too used to the three of them being together, to letting Lucy walk just a little ahead of them, to letting his eyes drift over Dakota’s body like he has any right to it. He’s gotten too comfortable, and he doesn’t even realize it until Lucy screams.

The sound pierces him, shrill and loud enough to scare birds away from the nearby trees, and he’s pushing past Dakota to run for Lucy before he has time to process what’s happening.

They’ve made it so far.

Lucy’s running back to him before he finds her, appearing from around a car someone abandoned on the side of the road, and she rams full-speed into his legs before he has a chance to grab her. He��s snatching her up so he can press her face against his shoulder before she has time to say anything, but Dakota is already right there with him.

She pushes forward, around the car, shotgun in her hands and a snarl on her face that spells trouble for whatever’s on the other side.

“Are you hurt or are you scared?” It’s a question he’s asked her before, over and over, and she knows she needs to answer. When she squeaks out a tiny scared, he shifts her weight so he can support her with one arm, leaving his other hand free for his pistol.

He can see the top of Dakota’s head as she moves, looking for what scared Lucy, and he moves slower to join her.

There’s a pile of dead infected, clickers, crumpled up behind the car. Dakota meets his eyes and he knows they need to stay quiet now, and he whispers as much in Lucy’s ear as they start following the road again without speaking.

Their guns stay out, and they stay close. Dakota stays on Tyler’s left, covering Lucy for him.

He’s glad she’s with them, has been for weeks, and he needs to tell her when they find somewhere to camp. He wouldn’t have let her travel with him at all if it hadn’t been for his daughter, and now he can’t imagine making this trip without her.

As careful as they’re being, as quiet as they’re being, Tyler can hear it when the forest starts to move on the far side of the road. He hisses a word of warning to Dakota and tightens his arm around Lucy, clenching his jaw when he feels her little hands tightening in the collar of his shirt.

“People,” she says, and the little whisper raises the hairs on the back of his neck.

He squeezes her tighter and whispers, “Do you see the blue car?” She turns her head toward the car just on his other side and nods. “When I put you down, I need you to go right to it and crawl under it, okay? Like we did in Seattle. Remember?”

She nods, and he looks over to see Dakota watching from the corner of her eye. She gives a little nod too, arms tensing on her shotgun, her jaw clenching in preparation of whatever’s about to happen.

“Ready?”

Lucy’s arms tighten around him and he wants to scream. “Ready.”

He presses a kiss into her hair and says, “Now.”

She runs as soon as her feet hit the broken asphalt, right to the blue car, just like they practiced in Seattle, just like she had to do outside of Portland, dropping her little backpack as she goes.

Tyler spins so that his back is to Dakota’s, gun up, facing the two men that were behind them as Dakota faces the men that were waiting in front of them.

Ambush.

Hunters.

“Y’might as well lower them guns,” one of the men says, one of the ones behind Tyler. “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.” Neither one of them moves, and the man laughs. “It ain’t the time to be brave, not with your little girl hiding like a rabbit.”

The men move closer, and Dakota does too. Her hip presses against his as she draws their defensive stance tighter, and just the reminder that she’s with him makes him feel a little calmer, even as outnumbered as they are.

“Just toss the bags and we’ll get out of your hair.”

Dakota moves first, drawing in a deep, irritated breath before she shifts enough to let her backpack slip off her shoulders. She tosses it to the side, well away from the car where Lucy is hiding, and Tyler watches from the corner of his eye as one of the Hunters snatches it up.

Tyler bits the inside of his lip as he does the same, tossing his bag to the same Hunter going through Dakota’s. It hits the man in the leg and he snarls at Tyler.

Tyler ignores him.

“Your weapons too.” The leader sounds so fucking smug, and Tyler twists to look at him over his shoulder. “Ammo’s hard to come by these days.”

“Ammo’s in the bags,” Dakota says, voice rougher than Tyler’s ever heard it.

She’s scared.

The Hunter grins at them both. He’s grimy, just like them, but there’s a feral glint to his eyes that makes Tyler absolutely certain they’re in it worse than he thought.

“You ain’t gonna fight us for a few extra bullets,” he says, moving closer. His fingers twirl a knife around as he walks, and Tyler stares at the motion. “Not with a kid. Not with this many of us. Hand it over.”

He’s close enough to just take the shotgun from her hand, and even though Tyler can feel her tensing behind him… she lets it go.

The Hunter tosses the gun to the side and one of his men catches it, then he turns to Tyler with the same twisted grin on his face. “Your turn now, unless you’re gonna be a man all of a sudden.”

Dakota tenses again, but Tyler hands over the pistol. He still has another tucked under his shirt, the one they took from that other Hunter back in Oregon, but with only a few bullets in it, he’s not sure what he’ll be able to do.

His pistol gets tucked into the Hunter’s belt, then the Hunter turns his attention back to Dakota.

“Maybe you oughta come with us too,” he says. “He obviously can’t keep a pretty thing like you safe out here.” He brushes his knuckles over Dakota’s cheek, and Tyler’s just drawing in a sharp breath when Dakota punches the Hunter in the throat.

Chaos erupts around them as Tyler lunges forward for the leader, tackling him to the ground before he can grab for his weapon. Dakota’s colorful swearing is drowned out by the yells of the other Hunters, the far-off pops of gunfire, and the wheezes of the man under Tyler’s hands.

The Hunter tries to fight back but Tyler has the advantage, and he slams his fists into the man’s face, over and over, until blood starts to splatter and the man goes still.

The pops of gunfire grow closer, and Dakota screams, and Tyler clambors to his feet and turns back to see one of the Hunters shoving her into the dirt with her arm twisted up behind her and the barrel of his gun against the back of her head.

Just as Tyler gets his handgun leveled at the Hunter’s head, there’s another pop and the Hunter falls to the side in a spray of blood. Dakota pushes herself up to her knees but her right arm is at an odd angle that makes Tyler’s stomach twist.

“Stay right there.” The new voice makes them both freeze, and Tyler forgets how to breathe. There’s no way they can fight off another group of Hunters, not with Dakota’s arm broken and Lucy still waiting for them. “Where’d you come from?”

Tyler turns toward him, ready to do whatever he needs to get them out of there alive, but his words fail him when he sees an older man on a horse. There’s a rifle over his shoulder and a serious look on his face, but he doesn’t look angry.

And the horse is unexpected.

“Seattle,” Tyler tells him, holding his hands up, finger away from the trigger. “These Hunters jumped us.”

The man nods and climbs off his horse. “We’ve been having trouble with them lately. Where you two heading?”

“Jackson.”

The man stands still for a second, staring at him, and Tyler stares right back.

Finally, the man nods and whistles, sharp and loud, and Tyler flinches at the noise. Another person on a horse appears, a younger woman this time, and the resemblance is strong enough that Tyler knows they’re related.

He lowers his hands.

“I’m Michael,” he says. “This is my daughter Maria. We’ll take you to Jackson.”

Tyler turns and looks at Dakota. She’s climbed to her feet and she looks pale, cradling her injured arm, but her chin is high and she nods when he catches her eye.

“Thank you,” Tyler says, putting the safety back on and tucking the gun away. He moves to the blue car while Maria starts digging through one of her bags and kneels down to look under it. Lucy is flat on her stomach, her eyes wide, dirty cheeks streaked with tears, and she starts to cry again the second she sees him.

“It’s okay, sweetie, c’mere.” He holds his hand out and she starts crawling forward, and he pulls her out from under the car as soon as he can to pull her into his arms. She clings to him, shaking, and he pushes himself to his feet. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re safe now. We found some good people who are going to show us where Jackson is.”

He rubs her back as she calms down, standing off to the side as Maria bandages Dakota’s arm as best she can, creating a sling for her. Michael collects the guns the Hunters dropped, looks through their pockets for supplies, and then picks up the bags Dakota points out. The horses, unbothered, nibble at the weeds growing high on either side of the road.

“Look, baby, real horses.” Lucy’s sniff is wet and gross, but she sits up and wipes at her nose to look at the horses. “Isn’t that cool?”

“Mhm.” He doesn’t correct her when she puts her thumb in her mouth, not this time. She’ll stop when she’s not scared, and she’ll stop being scared when they’re somewhere safe. She talks around her hand to ask, “Can I ride one?”

He starts to tell her to ask Michael, but Maria answers first.

“Why don’t you ride up here with your mom?”

Tyler freezes, eyes darting up to meet Dakota’s, but she doesn’t do anything more than give a little smile as she settles onto one of the horses with Michael’s help, her arm supported with bandages wrapped around her torso.

“I got room,” she says, and then holds her hand out for them, “and one good arm.”

Lucy leans forward in Tyler’s arms, and he takes her over to Dakota. Dakota hisses as Lucy bumps into her broken arm, but wraps her good arm around her and kisses the top of her head without saying a word about it.

Once they’re both settled on the horse, Tyler runs his hand over its neck. “Are you okay?” He meets Dakota’s eyes, voice low, and she smiles at him.

“I will be once we get to Jackson,” she says. “Bones heal.”

“Y’all ready?” Michael appears on Tyler’s other side, holding the horse’s reins, and Tyler nods.

The walk back to Jackson is slow, but Tyler’s never felt safer during their whole journey. Michael and Maria know what they’re doing, and they fill them in about Jackson as they all walk together. The town was Michael’s idea, they say, and they’ve been working hard over the last couple of years to see it become a reality. They want it to grow, to be a safe haven, to have clean water and electricity and fresh food, and they ask questions about how Tyler and Dakota can help once they’re settled in.

It’s like they took one look at their little group and decided to keep them forever, and Tyler could cry with relief.

There’s a wall around Jackson, tall and strong, and a guard lets them all in the gate. They stop just inside to leave the horses at the stables, and Tyler gathers Lucy back up in his arms as they walk deeper into the town. She lets him carry her, tucks her head against his shoulder and holds on tight, but he knows her eyes are wide open to take everything in.

“We have a doctor’s office set up,” Maria explains, “so they can take a look at your arm, Dakota, and they can make sure none of you were bit. If you have anything else you need them to look at, now’s the time. I’m going to see if I can find you a house to stay in -- we’ve been fixing them up as we have time and supplies -- and I’ll come back to take you in a bit. Okay?”

They nod, because of course it’s okay, and Maria takes them to the little wooden building that’s serving as Jackson’s clinic, and the silence that’s left behind as she leaves is heavy.

Dakota breaks it first. “Tyler, I--”

He doesn’t let her finish, moving before he can think about it, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest. She leans against him, her good arm going around him and Lucy both, and she hiccups a sob when he kisses the top of her head.

She pulls away with the door to the clinic opens, wiping at her face with her sleeve, but Tyler grabs for her hand. He entwines their fingers as he turns to look at the doctor, who smiles when she sees the three of them standing together.

“Hi! We have one broken arm and three new Jackson residents, huh?”

Tyler nods and pulls Dakota’s hand up to his mouth so he can kiss her knuckles before she goes with the doctor. As soon as he sits, he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, exhaustion pressing him down until he feels like he can’t move.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetie?” He turns his head to look down at Lucy next to him.

She’s looking at the door to the exam room, but she turns back to him as she says, “Is Dakota going to live with us?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before he answers. “I don’t know. Would that be okay with you?”

Lucy nods. “I know she’s not my mom like, um, like that lady said. But I don’t want her to go somewhere else without us.”

Tyler’s worry about Dakota leaving them rears its ugly head again. Lucy would be heartbroken, but… so would he. He didn’t think this would happen, not when she stole his food, not even when she climbed in his lap that first night in Oregon, but… he loves her.

“I don’t want her to leave either,” he says. “I’ll talk to her for us, okay?”

Lucy nods and then falls silent. They sit together until the exam door opens and Dakota comes back out with the doctor. Her arm is bandaged again, in a loose sling, but she has a smile on her face that grows when she sees Tyler. He raises his eyebrows at her, but she just shakes her head.

“Your turn,” she says. “I’ll wait out here.”

Tyler stands and takes Lucy’s hand, pulling her along with him into the exam room. They let the doctor check them both for bites, then for wounds, and Tyler lets her clean his knuckles that split during his fight with the Hunters. Lucy’s not hurt at all, and the doctor praises her for being brave, and then they go back out to where Dakota’s sitting with the smile still on her face.

“Maria’s outside,” she says, standing up to meet them. “She says there’s a house we can use down the street.”

The three of them follow Maria down the street to the house, listening quietly as she gives them a tour. They have a supply store and a blacksmith, a town hall, a building where there will be a school soon since they have a few kids now, a little library, and a playground. Lucy perks up when she sees the playground, but Tyler’s more excited about the library than anything else.

He takes Dakota’s hand again as they walk, and she squeezes his fingers when he does.

“And here we are!” Maria walks up the steps onto the porch of a two-storey house and pushes the door open. The three of them trail along inside to find it already full of furniture, a woodpile stacked up next to the fireplace, and several cloth bags in the kitchen. “I tried to find clothes that would fit all of you, but there’s also soap and some food and things in here too. If you need anything else, anything at all, you can usually find me in the town hall or at my house. I’m the one who coordinates most of this, so just ask anyone and they’ll point the way.” She looks at her watch, then back up at Tyler. “I’m going to bring you dinner in a bit, once you’ve had a chance to settle in.”

They thank her, and she leaves them alone in their new house.

Lucy breaks the silence. “Do we have to share this house?”

“I don’t think so.” Tyler finds it hard to speak, dizzy with relief as he is. “It’s all for us.”

Lucy’s eyes are wide as she looks around. “Wow!”

He glances at Dakota, then looks back down at Lucy. “Why don’t you go see what’s upstairs? Maybe you can pick out a room to sleep in tonight.”

Lucy chews on her lip for a second, then she starts to grin as she runs off. Her little feet are heavy as she runs up the stairs, and they can hear her exclaiming over the rooms as she runs from one to the other.

Tyler speaks first. “Will you stay?”

Dakota takes a step closer, a little grin lifting the corners of her mouth. “In Jackson?”

He brushes her hair behind her ear and cups her jaw. “With me.”

Her smile grows, like she knows something he doesn’t. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?”

She pushes up onto her toes and kisses him instead of answering. He tangles his fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck, his other arm wrapping around her waist, holding her close as he kisses her back. It’s deep and it’s heady, and he doesn’t notice when she cups his jaw with both her hands until she nips at his lower lip and pulls away to look up at him.

“Tyler.”

He blinks down at her, then he blinks again, then he takes a step back so he can really look at her. Her sling sits empty against her chest, and she holds both arms out to the side and wiggles her fingers.

“I’m all better.”

“You… we…” His thoughts swirl around him and everything he’s ignored or pushed away as a coincidence over the last months hits him at once.

The sheer coincidence of them meeting, how natural it felt whenever she reached out to touch him, how aches and pains always seemed to disappear whenver they slept together… the way she feels as right in his arms as Morgan felt, even before they knew they were soulmates.

And now, the last fact he needs to accept what he’s known since Oregon… her broken arm isn’t broken anymore. It’s healed, just from the short time they’ve spent in each other’s arms since the attack.

“We’re soulmates?” It comes out more of a question than he meant it too, but he can’t help it. It feels too surreal, too big and out of his control, but she just smiles, wide and open and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I didn’t think it would ever happen again,” she says, and her smile grows brighter when he starts drifting closer. “I thought I had my chance before and that was it, but then…” She loops her arms around his neck and pulls him close. “I found you.”

“I love you,” he says, the confession spilling out of him. “I already knew I loved you. I was going to ask you to stay with us.” He wraps his arms around her too, holding her body against his.

“Is Lucy okay with me staying here?”

“She wants you to,” he says, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. “She asked at the clinic.”

Dakota tilts her chin up and kisses him, and he parts his lips for her. It feels good and right, and when he breaks the kiss to pull her in for a hug, tucking her head under his chin, he notices that the split knuckles on his right hand have completely healed.

“Daddy! I picked out my room!” Lucy’s voice echoes down the stairs, and Dakota starts to pull away… but he tightens his arms around her so she can’t move. When Lucy skids to a stop in the kitchen again, she puts her hands on her hips and stares at them. “Did you ask her to stay with us?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You still okay with that?”

Lucy’s smile is the biggest she’s had since before they had to leave Seattle, and she nods fast, but she’s not distracted from her goal of showing off her new room. She just changes the way she’s going to do it, grabbing both of their hands and tugging until they disentangle themselves and start to follow her up the stairs.

Having a whole house to themselves in Jackson feels like a dream. It feels too good to be true, like Tyler’s going to wake up and find out that this is a fever dream and he’s still back in Seattle, listening to the WLF fighting against FEDRA and hoping his apartment block isn’t going to be the one that has a bomb in it next.

Maria brings them food, and they eat together as a family at a table in the kitchen, just like he did when he was a kid growing up. Lucy takes a bath with hot water in her very own bathroom, and then he tells her the beginning of Harry Potter before she falls asleep.

He and Dakota go to bed together, truly clean for the first time in a while, their breath minty and their skin smelling of lavender soap. She pulls him against her, and he goes willingly, covering her body with his as he presses kisses against her skin. He tangles their fingers together as he presses inside her, holding her close as he finally gets to hold her the way he’s been wanting to for weeks.

She moans into his mouth, tugging at his hair and scratching at his back as he moves over her, his thrusts deep and sure after so long together. It’s so much more intimate than their first times together, and he revels in it, soaks it up until he can’t do anything but press his face into the crook of her neck until she calls out her release and shudders around him.

After, they lay still tangled together, her head tucked under his chin and her hair tickling his bare skin. Her fingers trace over the lines of his muscles as he runs his fingers through her hair.

She tilts her chin up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Tyler?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, just keeps playing with her hair. “Mmm?”

“I didn’t say it, but. I love you too.”

#follow me for more soft dad content #oc: tyler moore #oc: lucy tullis moore #foc: dakota olsen #x: love in the time of zombies #my writing

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thevirtualcanvas · 4 years

Text

You don’t really know someone until you go on a desert island together ~

Steven's birthday aka the time Connie lured Steven to Watermelon island because I don’t want Steven to be sad anymore.

Yesterday was a really angsty piece. Today we get to see how he gets his first kiss. Hope you’re all ready for some proper fluff.

“Cmon Steven! We're almost there!”

They were on Watermelon Island, he knew that much. The first thing that gave it away was, well, he was the one that warped them there. The second was the split mountain that hung over his head behind the now fixed warped pad. The third thing was the party of Watermelon-Stevens that welcomed them with a bubbly joy, dragging him by one hand as Connie took the other.

“Connie, where are we going? There's so much to be done before little homeschool opens. My itinerary is clogged,” he thought of the planner on his phone, full of meetings, and jobs and far too many things to do.

Her laughter was infectious, her bright eyes warmed Steven's cheeks. “Well, Mr. Itinerary, I cleared your calendar for the day. Little home-world will just have to do without you, for a couple of hours anyway.”

“Connieeee,” he whined, haphazardly. It was so nice to see her, between his work orchestrating repairs after Spinel, integration of the gems, and meetings with his space Aunts; and Connie's high workload from school and her Mom they saw each other in glimpses. Mostly through video chats and the occasional moonlit jaunt via Lion. So holding her hand, and being led through the crystal jungle of the watermelon island – he could think of worse days to spend his birthday.

The palm trees gave way, the grass turned to sand and a beautiful cacophony of blues decorated the horizon, Steven had forgotten how nice it was here, relaxing even. On the sand sat a banner – Happy 16th Birthday Steven in Connie's lovely cursive handwriting. Beneath that was a picnic basket, blanket, his ukulele, and her violin and another batch of Watermelon-Steven's completing the finishing touches. He wasn't going to cry. Probably.

Connie held her hand out-stretched. “Ta-dah! Happy Birthday, Steven! You didn't think I'd forget, did you?”

“Connie, this is...this is incredible, thank you.”

He walked, enraptured by his surprise. The Watermelon-Stevens scampered to give them some privacy and peace. Steven kicked off his sandals, wriggled his toes in the sand, plonked himself down on the blanket and picked up his ukulele. The instrument had been sat in a stand on the shelf for months. Since the events of Spinel and her injector, he'd lost his child-like wonder, concerned that another attack could happen any moment, Steven had focused more on growing-up; putting away anything that would deem him childish, expanding little home-world, dealing with actual home-world and the Diamonds. His passion, his music, that had taken an unfortunate back-seat. He plucked at the strings, the sound reverberating through his fingers and up the length of his spine. Steven shivered, he missed this.

He took a deep breath, the first one in a long time, he listened to the sound of the ocean, the rustle of the palms and relaxing sounds of Connie breathing next to him. She plucked her violin first, playing and humming along to a creation of their own design.

The sun is bright, our shirts are clean.

Connie smiled brightly at him, loose strands of her pinned back hair danced among the breeze.

We're sitting up above the sea

Was her voice always this beautiful? It sounded like silk in his ears.

Come on and share this jam with me.

She looked at him expectantly, nodding her head as she strummed and hummed the tune. Carefully, slowly, Steven strummed along. In the back of his mind, he was worried he forgot, or worse, didn't want to. But that worry melted away at her sweet harmony, and sweeter face. As the mismatch of ukulele and violin merged tunes, Steven hummed in time with Connie, pulling up the unforgettable lyrics from his mind.

Peach or plum or strawberry.

Any kind is fine you see.

Come on and share this jam with me.

They played together, the simple chord a testament to their friendship, their devotion to one another and the memories of a simpler time. Playing again with Connie, it was the best present he could have ever asked for. To be in her presence, to forget about his responsibilities for just a little while – sure, her laugh, rich eyes, brilliant smile, lithe dexterous hands, and lean figure, made Steven a tad nervous and weak at the knees but it was Connie, his Connie and that was perfect.

I'll do my best to give this jam the sweetness it deserves ~

He sung at her, waggling his eyebrows in time to the vibrato, causing her to laugh, scrunching her nose.

And I'll keep it fresh.

Jammin' on these tasty preserves!

She sung back with enthusiasm, the fine strings of her violin plucking hard at her rocking out.

Steven's heart was racing, he hadn't felt this happy in months. Not true joy, not like this. Connie picked up her bow and slowed the rhythm down, ready for the climax of the song. Waiting on his queue, she watched her best friend carefully.

Ingredients in harmony.

We mix together perfectly.

Come on and share this jam with me.

The tune faded naturally, petering out in the ambiance of the ocean. They both breathed heavily, the duet taking more out of them then it would have done nearly 3 years ago. Steven placed his ukulele down, content, and Connie followed suit, keeping her eyes firmly on him. She moved closer, so their knees and hips were touching as they looked out onto the ocean.

“Jam buds, back in action,” Connie laughed, nudging him in the side. “Not bad, Mr. Itinerary.”

Steven snorted and nudged her back, taking off his sports jacket and wrapping it around his waist before leaning back into her. “I thought you're supposed to be nice on my birthday.”

“I am being nice,” she responded with a giggle. “Besides, this isn't the only thing I've planned for you. We're gonna have dinner with my parents, your dad and the gems later. Peridot is 'constructing' the birthday cake, my present for you is at the beach house and – ” She hummed and cleared her throat. A dusky hue rose on her cheeks.

“And?” Steven asked, curious.

Connie twiddled her fingers, puffed her cheeks and risked a glance at him. Steven had grown so much since dismantling the Diamond Authority. He was taller, give it another few months and he'd be taller than her for the first time in their friendship. His shoulders were broader, the material of the band shirt he wore stretched over his shoulder blades. His arms and legs had elongated, but she loved the way they felt around her. Connie felt a smug satisfaction whenever he would sit behind her, legs outstretched, arms around her neck. He would rest his chin against her shoulder as they watched a movie marathon, or Connie would read her newest book aloud to him. Steven's jaw, while still soft and round showed signs of a beard under the surface, the slightest five o'clock shadow discoloured his lower face. He would scratch absently, as if not quite used to this newfound adulthood. And what could she say, she'd noticed. Her jam bud was growing-up, and so was she.

“And...I have one more surprise. If you want it.”

His eyes lit up. “A secret present, what is it?” Steven pursed his lips and shook with joy. “Where are you hiding it? Do the Watermelon-Steven's have it? Oh man, I love surprises!”

She chuckled at his enthusiasm, this would make the next part of her surprise so much easier. He made everything easier. “Good to know you're not too old for surprise presents. Steven, do you trust me?”

He creased his brow, what kind of question was that. “Of course I do, Con. You're my best friend.”

Not for much longer if she had anything to say about it. This was a turning point in Connie's life. She loved Steven. She'd tell anyone as much. But recently a lot of mature thoughts crossed her mind; and between the trips in the Dondai, visits to the beach house and increasingly more tense sleepovers, Connie realised something. She loved Steven. Which didn't change much overall; she would do anything for him, want to be in his life for the rest of hers and, jam on the beach whenever possible. But she also wanted to kiss that adorable face of his.

“Good, so face me, and close your eyes. Keep 'em closed too. No peaking.” He complied, swiveled around, knees crossed, hands-on lap, and eyes locked tight.

Connie leaned forward, taking a sallow breath. She reached out of him, fingertips connecting with his cheeks warm at her touch. She could feel his cheeks dimple as he smiled, turning his head into her fingers. Connie brought her face closer, seeing the pores on his skin, his long lashes, and his soft pink lips.

His eyelids trembled a bit, like he was trying to search for her behind them. Connie, what are you – ”

“Don't peak,” she whispered, wetting her lips, running her fingers down to his neck and feeling as Steven hitches and freezes.

“Connie...” His breath felt hot against her lips, and name danced across her skin.

“Happy birthday, Steven.”

Her lips met his, certain, lacking confidence but wanting. They trembled against one another, this was new, scary and exciting all at once. Steven's hands mirrored hers, buried into the hair at the base of her neck, terrified to explore and desperate to hold. He turned his head, pressing his face further into hers. Button nose pressing into her cheek, tight curls brushed against her brow.

Connie pulled back, flustered, gasping for breath, hands around his neck, playing with the curls at his hairline. She licked her lips, tasting him against them.

Steven opened his eyes and touched his lips, feeling where Connie had just kissed him. He was shocked, giddy and he really wanted to do it again. He pressed his forehead against hers, interlocked his fingers around her back and grinned. How long had he daydreamed about this moment?

“Connie?”

“Yeah, Steven?”

“That was definitely a surprise.”

She snorted, rubbing her forehead against his. “I'm glad.”

He bit his lip, deep brown eyes reflected into hers. “Can we do it again?”

Their stomachs grumbled in tandem, Connie opened the picnic basket and reached for the sandwich on the top of the pile and shoved it into his mouth. “Maybe, after our picnic, and away from prying eyes.” She motioned to the sheepish group of Watermelon-Steven's half-poking out of the brush behind them. Some gave a little wave, others blew a kiss of their own.

“R-right,” Steven said with a mouthful of jam and bread.

Connie waved back to them before taking a sandwich of her own. She shuffled back up to Steven, her Steven and they enjoyed their picnic in peace and quiet. The tension was gone, replaced by a fondly remembered quiet comfort between them. His hand around her waist, her knee against his thigh, watching as the crystals danced in the shallow waters and the sun changed colour in the sky.

“Thanks for dragging me away from gem stuff,” he said after a while.

“You're welcome, it is your birthday, y'know.”

“I know... Connie?”

She turned to him, mid-afternoon light bringing out the warmth in her skin. “Yeah, Steven?”

His hands found her, connecting perfectly. He should just say it, he'd thought about it a million times before.

“I love you,” it was barely above a whisper, and he couldn't look her in the eyes. But he said it. He'd told her. He was holding his breath and going pink in the face. Thankfully not that kind of pink.

He watched as her face turned the same shade of pink as him, she reassured him with a squeeze of his chunky fingers and gave him the exact answer he needed. “Love you too, Steven.”

Maybe he could keep celebrating his birthday after all?

#steven universe #suf #steven universe post movie #connverse #connie maheswaran #connie x steven #fanfic #first kiss #fluff

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jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

VIII

Pax’s first impression of Tartarus was that it was fluffy. Hot, but fluffy.

When he woke, his throat felt like he had drank a liter of soda, stuffed some Mentos into his gullet immediately afterwards, and leaned back for ensuing explosion.

Someone had his head in their lap and, thus far, he’d give his stay a 6 out of 10 stars, only so low because he was pretty sure each breath was caustic to his lungs. High, because apparently he got to sleep in people’s lap and have that person press a cup to his lips.

Pax was expecting cooling water.

Whatever he greedily slurped down wasn’t water.

Pax, and the whole Pax family, prided themselves in their ability to handle spicy food. People always assumed it came as second nature since they were from Central America. False. Plenty of areas in Belize and Mexico had more savory foods. Their main dish was rice, beans, and chicken with red recado. Not spicy. Pax had trained himself to fit the spice-immune stereotype, mostly to mess with Matthias.

Now, his mouth, throat, and stomach felt like they were on fire. He retched, trying to spit it out. The person holding him clamped a hand over his mouth.

A cooling sensation spread through his system as the liquid settled into his body.

When he opened his eyes, they burned. After blinking a few times, he realized the feeling wasn’t going away. Maybe he’d need to change his rating to 5 out of 10 stars.

Panicked, green eyes gazed back down at him. For a moment, he wanted to sob in relief about seeing Alabaster. Alabaster would know how to take care of him and get them back home. He’d be okay suffering like this for a few moments in Alabaster’s lap.

Upon seeing the dark curls sticking to the girl’s face, Pax felt himself get worried. “Lou Ellen?” he said or tried. His voice came out like crackling rocks. Good to see her alive, but that meant no Alabaster. No Luke. No—Pax seized upon realizing who else they were missing. “Where—”

“He’s up!” Lou Ellen’s voice was just as scratchy.

“’Up’ is a generous descriptor,” Pax said. He should probably save his breath for something other than sarcasm and bad jokes, but what was the point in living if you had to do that?

Relief returned to him when he saw someone limping their way. The closer Axel got, the more Pax’s hope sank.

Axel looked terrible. The blisters that had covered his arm, the one from the fun encounter with the River Styx, had busted. The skin under was raw and bloody. The exposed skin on Axel’s face was cracked and flaking, something Pax had never seen. While Pax and Hiro—his littlest brother—both sunburned and were mocked relentlessly for it in school, he’d never seen Axel burn.

The tension in Axel’s jaw eased when he saw Pax sitting up. He staggered across an obsidian abyss into the white, waist-high fluff that Pax and Lou Ellen were curled on.

He held a travel cup in either hand. Something flickered inside.

“Another for each of you,” Axel said, barely needing to lean down to hand them to Lou Ellen. “Start drinking and don’t spill.”

She traded an empty cup for the two, carefully balancing the handles in one hand. Pax hoped nothing bad had happened to the hand she had propping him up. Lou Ellen made a face, clearly displeased.

Pax sat up to glance inside his supposed cup. He swallowed. There were flames boiling, making the interior of the cup glow. “You know, back in the circus, I never did learn how to properly eat fire—”

“Ajax,” Axel said. The tone was icy, serious, too much like their father’s. From the looks of it, Axel was exhausted, in pain, and, worse, nervous about their environment.

Pax took his cup without another word. The more he sat up, the more he sank into the white fluff around them. “Why are we drinking this?” he asked, his voice shrinking at the enormity of their situation.

“It’ll sustain us, I think,” Lou Ellen whispered. “Alabaster and I have used the River Phlegethon in… in experiments…” Her voice trailed off. Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and the other children of Hecate did experiments that Pax wasn’t allowed to see. Lou Ellen always laughed it off when he asked. He wondered if those laughs had always been nervous.

Pax wanted to cheer up Lou Ellen and find a way to stall drinking this fire or—assuming that’s what he had earlier—stall drinking more of it. He also didn’t want to upset Axel. He hated when Axel sounded like their dad.

He gulped one more time and held the cup out towards Lou Ellen. “To sleeping with the other one’s brother,” he said by way of cheers.

For a split second, he thought Lou Ellen would strike him with her cup. Then, her expression cracked into an anxious grin. She giggled and whispered back, “To sleeping with the other one’s brother.”

Axel kept his gaze vigilantly out to survey the area. However, Pax saw his brother’s tufted ears twitch and his cheeks, if possible in the heat, go redder. The ears dropped low to his hairline.

Making people uncomfortable: the best way to distract from any situation.

Pax and Lou Ellen clanked their cups together. Wisps of fire slipped over the edge. They both made faces before tilting their heads back.

The experience wasn’t better the second time.

Once Pax was done coating his insides with napalm, he winced, rubbing away any residual flame-stache he might have acquired on his upper lip. He glanced around, trying to find something to lighten the mood. “The cotton ball bed is a nice touch. Very considerate for Tartarus.”

Lou Ellen paled. “I—I panicked. I wanted feathers. This was probably safer…” Her hands trembled as she collapsed her cup and shoved it into a travel case at her back.

Pretending Axel hadn’t heard their earlier cheers, he awkwardly patted Lou Ellen’s shoulder. “Lou Ellen saved our lives. If she hadn’t done this, we would have probably died on impact.”

“And now the Underworld has a thousand year supply of cotton balls,” Pax said, giving Lou Ellen a thumbs up.

“The Princess Andromeda might not be happy when their entire stash disappears. I had to pull from somewhere,” she said shyly, blushing at Axel’s touch on her shoulder. “Like I said, I panicked. We’re a long ways away, and Alabaster made me practice with cotton balls for transportation circles…”

Pax nodded. He blinked at Axel, noticing something different about his condition. “You’re looking… visible.”

Axel let his hand fall off Lou Ellen’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened to Hades’ helm. I was a little distracted when we were falling. After I crawled out of the cotton balls—”

“They were once heavily concentrated in one spot,” Lou Ellen supplied, motioning to the twenty-foot diameter dispersal.

“—it was gone.”

Pax was relieved Axel had no intentions of hunting through thousands of cotton balls to find it, if it was even down here. Had Luke been around, or maybe even Alabaster, that would have been the new field trip assignment. Nothing like a scavenger hunt through hell.

Axel offered a hand to Pax. “We need to get moving.” That tone made it clear Lou Ellen and Axel had already discussed their next course of action and that they were either on a timeline or in some kind of danger.

Pax took his hand. “Didn’t Alabaster suggest we flee down here because monsters are down here?” When Pax first got to his feet, he almost face-planted back into the cotton balls. His body felt stiff and ached. Axel kept a hold on him while he got his footing.

Once Pax was stable, Axel reached down to help up Lou Ellen. She wavered against Axel’s chest for a moment—Pax hoped so Lou Ellen could curl against Axel a little longer and not because she was woozy. “Not all of them support Kronos, or are my siblings. And, even if they’re both those things, they’re not always friendly,” she said.

Axel helped the two of them navigate the white fluff. The cotton balls were almost up to Pax and Lou Ellen’s chests and nearly impossible to push through with how exhausted they felt.

“Lou Ellen, not that I don’t appreciate you saving our lives and other small things, but what are you doing here?” Pax said, already huffing. He wanted to keep things light, to keep everyone distracted from where they were and how badly they needed suntan lotion in this sunless world.

Lou Ellen’s breath came in tight gasps. She giggled despite herself. “I’m not the best at distance spell casting yet. Conjuring something here is one thing. Keeping you invisible takes concentration.”

They made it through the white fluff and stumbled onto the obsidian ground. Even with his combat boots on, Pax could feel how uneven the terrain was.

Axel checked Lou Ellen and Pax over. She had her arms folded across her chest, like she was somehow cold here. Once Axel decided neither of them had lost a limb, he waited patiently for Lou Ellen.

She gestured downriver.

They began to walk.

“And Witch Boy just let you stay willingly? His little sister on her lonesome to help fight Hades and his army?” Pax asked.

Pax could feel Axel’s glare. This—he and Lou Ellen sneaking down here on their own—was going to be a sore subject for months. It was Axel’s fault for thinking he could sneak into the Underworld on a dangerous mission without telling Pax. The more Pax saw that this place wasn’t exactly Candyland, the more Pax realized why Axel hadn’t said anything. There was no way Axel was finding a girlfriend down here and Pax would have never approved of his vacation choice.

Lou Ellen held up the hand that she’d kept tucked under her armpit. Except, she wasn’t holding up a hand. She was holding up a stump of a hand, the skin looking cartoonishly cut. He could see the clean white of her bones and red of her muscles. No blood. Apparently, she had lost a limb. Her giggle was suppressed by the disgusting toxicity of the air. “Alabaster told Jack to take my hand to keep track of where I was. So, I gave it to him.”

Axel frowned at the stump. “That’s… brilliant and disgusting, Lou Ellen.”

She blushed, tucking the stump back under her armpit. “Thanks. When Al’s invisibility spell wears off, Jack will realize he’s holding a disembodied hand.” She laughed again. “I hope he freaks out.”

“That’s mean,” Axel chided, though a smile cracked along his cracking lips.

“And hilarious,” Pax said, “That’s a really impressive trick of the Mist.”

Lou Ellen’s face fell.

Axel’s smile soured. “It is a trick of the Mist, right?” he asked.

“Um… it was supposed to be,” she said, her voice quiet. “I wasn’t specific in my spell casting… or the time limit for it…”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped the air out. Half-a-second later, he could hear Axel do the same.

“We should get your hand back onto your body as soon as possible, in case the magic keeping the limb and stump preserved starts to fade,” Axel said, gently.

Lou Ellen glanced down. “But, we’re so close. And, it’s not like we’re going to be visiting Tartarus sometime soon on a joy ride.”

From what Pax could see, the landscape stretched on into dismal plateaus of pain for miles, each gradually decreasing in elevation. He feared how they would get out of here if they continued downward.

“A fun side-trip? Where are we going?” Pax asked. Normally, he didn’t scare easy with Axel around. Seeing the look of determination on Axel’s face made him worried about what made Axel so determined.

Axel clenched his jaw, scowling out into the abyss. “To repay one of the biggest debts humanity has ever accrued.”

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :D And I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe. Stay tuned to see which celebrity is showcased in next week’s episode of Cottonballs from Hell.

#Tales from Mount Othrys #PJO #HOO #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus versus Traitors of Olympus #TFMO #Lou ellen #Axel #Pax #Cottonballs of doom #Do you think they all just start setting on fire when they're left exposed to Tartarus for too long?#The Cottonballs.#Not the Pax brothers #they're always hot #XD

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Rising from the Ashes (9/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I’d just like to thank @shady-swan-jones for sending me the prompt that inspired this story. I thought it was simply going to be a one shot, but I’m having too much fun exploring everything as a part of a bigger story! And I know that you guys are really enjoying me ripping your hearts out. lol. ❤️

Double “-/-” around the flashback.

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64

“Momma, do you know where my red jacket is?”

“Is it not in your closet?”

“Nope.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall with Christmas ornaments piled between her legs. She’s been adding back the hooks that fell off while they were all up in storage for the past year. It’s pretty much all of the ornaments, and since she’s tired of doing this every year, she bought the nice hooks that are supposed to stay on. It just means that she has to do them all.

God, she cannot wait to go back to work even if it does mean leaving Ada at nursery because she needs another kind of structure than this.

“Do you need it right now?”

“Yeah. Avery’s mom is going to take us ice skating tonight, and you said the blue one isn’t warm enough.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I’ll go look for it later. Why don’t you go get your dad and ask him to come and help you to put all of these hooks on?”

“He’s napping.”

“Seriously?”

Henry shrugs. “Yeah, he said he was tired.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” she repeats to herself, running her hands through her hair. All she really wants is a nap as well, but she’s got Henry while Killian’s at the grocery store with Ada getting food for this afternoon while they decorate the tree. “Do you want to watch a movie while I go look for it?”

“Can I watch the Grinch?”

She smiles to herself before picking up all of the ornaments and placing them back in the container. “Yeah, I’ll set it up, and I promise I’ll be back to watch it with you as soon as I find your jacket for tonight? Do you also need your skates?”

“Yep.”

“Of course you do.”

She leans down to press a kiss into Henry’s hairline before setting the movie up for him. She’s got no idea where any of his stuff is, especially since they just went through the attic for all of their Christmas decorations, so she assumes it’s all simply somewhere in his closet.

So of course it’s not. His skates are, but she’s stupidly realized that they’re far too small. How did she not think about that? Probably because she’s had two straight days of hell that seem infinitely worse than everything else. She’s trying so damn hard to be positive, to remember all of David’s encouraging words, but it’s difficult when he’s not here reminding her of them in the hard times. And texting him isn’t exactly the same, especially when she’s not sure that she wants him to know absolutely everything that’s so messed up in her life.

It’s a lot.

She’d been so annoyed with Killian yesterday, everything he did rubbing her the wrong way, and she knows that it’s because she’d stayed up all night simply replaying conversations and memories and everything she should have left alone.

She was wallowing. She knows this, but recognizing something and stopping are two totally different things.

Then he’d come home from his dentist’s appointment with a smile on his face trying to talk to her like everything was as it should be, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t, so she snapped. It felt so good to let her anger out, but she knows that she only got part of it released before she pulled back and stepped away, not wanting to take things too far, not wanting to say things she’d truly regret. They’re so damaged right now, and as good as it felt to yell at him, she knows that they’re on the same team despite what she said. Even if they burn down in flames and are left as nothing but ashes, they’re always going to be on the same team because of their kids.

God, she hurts.

And then while they’d been at the Christmas tree farm Killian had pulled her to the side and told her what happened to Henry at school. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, could see how nervous he was scratching behind his ear, but he told her everything. She knows it couldn’t have been easy for him, could see the vein bulging in his forehead as he relayed the story between two duglas fir trees, and as pissed as she was at the fact that there are parents at Henry’s school calling her a whore (which is absolutely ridiculous and takes women back a solid fifty years), she was infinitely more upset that Henry was having to go through something so ridiculous. He’s eight. He shouldn’t have issues like having to deal with his classmates calling his mom a whore.

He’d seemed fine as they walked along the lot, a smile on his face as he talked about how big each tree was to all three of them, but Killian didn’t hold back in talking about how upset he’d been. The words “we need to talk about all of this some more” were on the tip of her tongue when Henry yelled her name as he pointed up at a tree. They’d gotten interrupted, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Killian again as she carried Ada over to where Henry was.

She really needs to talk to Killian because she can’t live like this anymore. She can’t live with her life full of more questions than answers and uncertainties than certainties. She can’t live like this. They have to talk.

And not just about them either. About everything.

Walking out of Henry’s room and down the hall to hers, she heads to her closet and starts going through all of the shirts and jackets looking for Henry’s red jacket. She has no idea why it would be in here, but it always seems like this is the place where things go missing. Sure enough, she sees the box she just marked ‘winter jackets’ sitting on the top shelf on Killian’s side of the closet. She can’t reach up there on her own, so it takes some maneuvering to get a chair out of the bedroom into the closet so she can stand up to get the box. She still has to press up on her toes to get it, and she thinks she’s got it until she stumbles and knocks the box down, having to catch herself on the bar that hangs all of Killian’s suit jackets that she just knocked over, all of the clothes tumbling to the ground with a large thud.

The saying when it rains it pours really seems to be sticking around for her right now.

It’s just raining suit jackets. And Henry’s red puffer jacket that tumbled out of the box.

It takes awhile to get the chair moves back so she can pick everything up, especially in her attempt to make sure all of the jackets are in the order that Killian likes (sometimes he’s so weird about things like this). His old dress whites are the last thing she hangs up, and as she’s straightening out the wrinkles in it, she feels a hard box in the pocket that immediately stops her in her tracks.

Holy shit.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. It’s actually in her ears, and if she was breathing, she’s sure that would be irregular too. Her hands shake as she reaches into the pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box, and she nearly vomits right then and there. She shouldn’t open this. She shouldn’t. It’s not her business. This really isn’t her business, but now that she’s seen it, she doesn’t think she’s going to be able to live not knowing what’s inside.

She knows that it’s a ring, but for some reason she needs to see the physical proof of it.

Her teeth clamp together and her eyes close before she’s snapping it open, opening one eye to look at the diamond that’s in her hands. It’s gorgeous, just a simple oval diamond with a gold band that shines under the light in the closet.

This is – Killian was going to propose to her, she realizes, and her legs shake beneath her until she’s sliding down the wall and curling herself into a ball while she continues to stare at the ring, disbelief that it’s real. They’d talked about getting married. It wouldn’t have been completely out of the blue, but she had no idea that he’d bought a ring, that he must have been holding onto it for months now.

Finding out like this feels wrong, dirty even.

It should have never been like this.

None of this should have ever been like this.

“Hey, Ems, what was that sound?” Neal asks from her bedroom, and she quickly stuffs the ring into her shirt and her bra before he comes into view, half of his face covered in pillow creases. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I, um,” she starts, reaching up to fidget with her necklace, “I accidentally knocked down Killian’s suits when I was trying to get a box off of the top shelf, and I guess I’m on the floor trying to finish the clean up.”

Neal quirks an eyebrow at her, and she has to force a smile onto her face while her heart still beats quickly. That was a bad lie, and even she knows it. “I’m glad it was just the suits. It woke me up from my nap.”

“Sorry,” she cringes, getting up from the ground and brushing down her jeans before she grabs Henry’s jacket and holds it over her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. I’m just tired as all. It’s weird working a desk job again, especially because I stayed late yesterday to finish up some reports.”

“I cannot wait,” she laughs, nudging past him to walk out of the closet. “I love spending time with Ada, but I want to go back to work. Chilling at home isn’t really my thing.”

“Trust me, no one knows that more than me.”

Her steps stop at his words, but she shakes it off and keeps walking out of the room, hoping that Neal will follow her. Having him in her bedroom feels wrong, and all she can think about is the box pressing into the skin of her chest and a similar box that Neal gave her eleven years ago when he proposed under the cherry blossom trees in D.C. when they’d been out on a walk. She was so young then, so in love, and her mind can’t wrap itself around the difference in her life then and the difference in her life now.

“Yeah,” she chuckles awkwardly, twisting her head to make sure he’s following her as she stands in the hallway, boxes of Christmas decorations next to the stair railing that looks over the entrance to the house, waiting for them to come face to face with each other. “So, um, do you want to help out with some decorations? We tend to get really festive around here.”

“The giant tree in the living room tells me that.”

“We always get a big tree. It’s, like, this tradition now because I used to have this tiny fake tree when I lived in an apartment after you…after you died, and, well, um, Killian wasn’t having it. So now we have these giant real trees, and Henry gets to put this swan tree topper on it even though it looks ridiculous now.”

His lips curl up into a smile, his entire face crinkling, and she feels her own face do the same thing. “That’s wonderful. Do you guys do the whole Santa thing?”

“Yep. Santa comes to visit, and he leaves some smaller presents unwrapped on the couch while presents from us go wrapped under the tree. It’s Ada’s first Christmas, so I’m super excited about it. I guess it’s your first Christmas too. With Henry, I mean. So if you need help finding him a gift, I can go shopping with you.”

“He likes trains, doesn’t he? That’s what he said.”

“Yeah, but we have far too many trains in this house. Killian and I, I think, are going to get him a bike as his big gift, so I don’t know. You could get him something to go with that. Or maybe you could get him some more journals or crayons. Uh, books, he likes books. Or games for his Switch thing. We try to go minimal on the games, but he can get a couple. I’ll just have to tell you what games to get. Ooh, or – ”

“Emma,” Neal laughs, reaching over to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing her sweater to get her to stop rambling, “you don’t have to list the entire toy catalog of toys. We can just go shopping or something. Though it’s not like we can go to Toys R Us anymore.”

“Look at you all up and current on the news,” she sighs, reaching up to quickly pat his shoulder before moving her hand back down to keep clutching Henry’s jacket to her chest.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to talk to my coworkers about shit when I don’t know anything that’s happened for years.”

“True. You want to go help set some decorations up now?”

“I’d like that. But, I, uh,” he mumbles, his feet staying put while he smiles with that crooked smile of his that she always found so charming, “I was wondering if you were okay, Ems. I know it’s been a lot of changes, but you’ve seemed a little frazzled over the past few weeks.”

“I’m fine,” she lies, pressing her lips together in what she hopes looks like a genuine smile. “You’re right that I’ve been a bit stressed, but we do have a lot going on.”

“And you and Jones, you’re fine too?”

“Yeah,” she spits out, knowing that she can’t start crying now. “We’re great. Like I said, even with how absolutely thrilled I am to have you back, it’s been a lot on me and Killian. I’m happy to do it, though.”

“I understand. It can’t be easy to have your husband living in your house with your boyfriend.”

Well shit. She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but she might as well tell him now. She’s going to start telling people how she feels today, and it might as well start with Neal. Maybe not everything, but she can start.

“We’ve divorced, Neal,” she mumbles, hoping that he can hear her as her eyes look at the light fixture just behind his head. Someone needs to dust that. “I don’t – I know that it’s not fair to you, but we are. I signed the papers last year to have you officially declared dead and us divorced. So technically we’re not married, and as much as I will always love you, I’m not sure that I see us ever getting back together or contesting the papers or whatever. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze falls back to his, and she can see a storm rage behind the brown of his eyes. They’re widened for a moment before he closes them, lashes landing against his cheeks while the corners of his lips curl up into a small smile that makes all of the lines on his face appear, the lines that she’s still getting used to.

She really did just blurt that out, didn’t she?

It feels damn good.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he begins, his voice as soft as she’s ever heard it, and she’s not sure if her heart breaks or heals as he opens his eyes again, water pooling in them that makes him look like Henry. “I mean, I kind of figured. I’ve been a little scared to talk about the legalities of it all, but I’ve pretty much known since you told me that you and Killian were together. You’ve been my wife in my mind for over a decade now, so I guess I’m still going to refer to you that way. I’ll try to work on it.”

“Neal, it’s fine,” she promises, stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug, hoping the Henry’s jacket will keep him from feeling the ring box. “It’s okay for you to need to adjust. You’ve been through hell, and you came back to an entirely new world. Henry and I, Killian too, we’re always going to love you.”

“I love you guys too,” he whispers as he buries his face in her hair.

For all of their problems, both past and present, she knows that nothing could ever change that she does love him in a way. He was her best friend for a long time, and he gave her Henry. For all the bad, there’s still good, and right now she can’t find it in her to dredge up all of the bad when having to tell Neal that she legally took him out of his own family.

But maybe that’s what she’ll work on next.

After they pull back from each other, they walk downstairs and turn to go back to the living room where Henry is still perched on the couch watching The Grinch, and she tosses him his jacket, listening to him murmur a “thank you” before she plops down next to him and pulls a box of ornaments toward she and Neal so he can help her thread all of them with the new hooks. It doesn’t take long with help, and they get everything done before the movie is over. Neal asks her if she wants to go ahead and start hanging the ornaments, but even with how upset she is with him right now, it doesn’t feel right without Killian. He should be here.

She wraps her arm around Henry’s shoulder and pulls him into her side, kissing his hair even if he protests a little bit. One day he’s going to be too cool to be affectionate with her, but today is not that day. He’s her little boy, and all she wants is for him to be happy. His day yesterday was so rough, and he doesn’t at all deserve anything that he’s had to go through because his parents’ lives are difficult and because other parents don’t know how to have private conversations. He deserves to get to watch Christmas movies and go ice skating with his best friend. He deserves for his parents not to be separated and moping despite how hard they’re trying not to seem upset.

She’s a mom. She’s been a mom for eight and a half years, whether she was ready for it or not, and life doesn’t stop for her no matter what’s going on. She has to keep going.

-/-

“Neal, I’m serious,” she groans, quickly twisting her hair into a braid so that her hair will stop falling in her face while she looks over her notes. “I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“Come on, babe,” he smiles, walking over to her and tucking her bangs behind her ear before she can pin them back, “it’ll be fun. You’ve been studying for days. It’ll be nice to get to go out.”

“I’ve been studying because I have finals coming up in two weeks, and I’ve got to keep my GPA up for my scholarship. It’s not like I’m going to make enough when I graduate to pay off loads of debt. Plus I still want to get my Masters and – ”

“Ems,” Neal whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on her cheek, “it’s okay. You work so hard, and I love you for that. But sometimes it��s good to take a break. Besides, when we get married, you can use my grant for your Masters. It won’t cost you any money.”

“Really? You’re sure that I can use it?”

“I’m positive. I looked into it and everything. I know your mom doesn’t have much money, but we’re going to be set.”

“I know you’re good at your job, but I don’t think it’s going to set us up for life.”

He shrugs before walking back to his dresser and pulling on a flannel shirt over his t-shirt. “I’ve got savings. I’m twenty-seven and have some leftover stuff that my mom left me when she died. It’s not like I’m just starting out. So we’ll be comfortable.”

She brings her bottom lip between her teeth, biting a bit while she weighs the pros and cons of going out tonight. It’d probably be fun. It’s been awhile since they’ve gone out.

“Okay, I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to drink tonight, okay? I’ve got to wake up early and go through my notes again since I only got to section three.”

“That sounds perfect.”

After she changes into jeans and a sweater, throwing her red jacket on to combat a bit of the cold, they go to Oceania, which is Neal’s favorite bar. She’s never seen the appeal of it, but it’s apparently where everyone here in the military goes on their nights off, no matter the branch. So she’s been here a few times, and it’s that fact that has her moving away from the bar and going to get a booth in the back. They’re much more comfortable, and she’s less likely to get hit on by random guys. She’s fine with it if only because she can take care of herself and it rarely goes too far, but when Neal has had a few beers, he doesn’t think the most rationally. She loves him, but sometimes when he pulls shit like that, she wants to tell him to fuck off.

It’s not often though. He’s a good guy, and she’s so happy that she’s found him. He’s probably the first person besides Ruth and David to really care for her, and he makes her feel like she’s found another home. A really good one. She spent most of her life alone, and while sometimes she still prefers it to be that way, it’s good to have a family.

She twists the ring on her finger, looking at the large diamond, and fiddles with it until she sees Neal coming back with their drinks. He’s just got a water for her, but she can see his almost empty glass of whiskey. She can also see that he’s bringing a group of people with him, guys following around him and talking to him, and she braces herself for the introductions. She’s always been so bad with names, and it doesn’t help that they always all look alike.

“Babe,” Neal greets, sliding into the booth next to her and giving her the glass of water, “I want you to meet a couple of guys. That’s Scarlett, Whale, and then you know that guy Jones I’m always talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s him on the end there.”

She waves to all of them since she can’t reach over to them, and they all wave back. She’s never heard of Scarlett and Whale before, but she knows a bit about Jones. Killian. His first name is Killian even though Neal prefers last names. It’s a military thing, she guesses. Neal is always talking about him because they watch soccer together and sometimes train together outside of their units, but she doesn’t really know a lot about him. He’s not really how she pictured him either.

His hair is a little longer than a crew cut, his face not exactly clean shaven, and even in the dim lights of the bar she can see the blue of his eyes. He’s attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that, and the fact that he’s dressed in tight black jeans and a fitted t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s fit. But all of these guys are fit. It’s the nature of their jobs.

What she really doesn’t expect, however, is the accent.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, lass,” Killian greets, sliding into the booth across from her and flashing her a toothy grin. “Cassidy’s not one for talking too much about you, but I already know that you are far too good for him.”

“Undoubtedly,” she teases, laughing a bit at his joke while she pats Neal’s forearm. “But you can’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be between us, love.”

“I’m literally sitting right here.”

“I was enraptured by your fiancée’s beauty, mate,” Killian sighs, winking at her before looking at Neal. “Can you blame me?”

“A little bit yeah.”

“Hey,” she laughs, slapping his arm, “this is prime time where you say the same thing happens to you.”

Scarlett and Whale both whistle at that, and she turns to look at them still standing until they both squeeze into the booth next to Killian. She kind of forgot they were there.

“Cassidy, you’re supposed to compliment your lady.”

“Scarlett, you are the last person who should be giving me advice on this.”

“Hey, I dated Anna for years. I just fucked it all up.”

“Exactly,” Neal sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder while he chugs down the rest of his drink. “I’m not going to fuck this one up. Emma’s great, and she’s graduating from college soon, unlike every single one of us.”

“What are you studying, love?” Killian asks her, and everyone else at the table groans, much to her confusion. “Bloody hell, it’s not bad to ask someone what they’re studying. If you don’t want to hear about school, you can go sit someone else.”

“I know all about this, so I’m going to go get another drink,” Neal states before unwrapping his arm and getting up from the table. “Do you two want to come and join me?”

“Yep. It was nice to meet you, Emma,” Whale mumbles, smiling at her before getting out of the booth.

“Yeah, it was”, Scarlett adds. “I’m sure we’ll be back later. I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the music tonight.”

“It was nice to meet you guys too.” She watches them all walk away, their conversation fading the further they get and the louder the music playing over the speaker becomes. She’s never been great with small talk, so she’s a bit hesitant to be left with this stranger. He’s not really a stranger. She knows a little about him, but still. She wasn’t really prepared to be having a conversation with just him. “So, yeah,” she starts, focusing her eyes back on Killian as he taps his fingers on the table, “I’m getting my bachelor’s in psychology. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, but I was always somewhere between social worker, therapist, and guidance counselor for high school kids. I’m leaning more toward counselor because I think I’ll enjoy it while also helping out. My counselor is the one who encouraged me to go to college when I didn’t think it was a possibility for me, so yeah.”

“That sounds brilliant,” he tells her, and she’s not sure why she feels relieved hearing it, but she does. “I never went to university, as you heard. I’d always wanted to, but after I was unexpectedly moved here when I was twelve, things were a bit crazy and money was tight. And by the time I’d turned eighteen, the Navy was my best option. And if I really wished to, I could always go back to school.”

“It’s not for everyone, but I definitely think it’s worth it. So you’re from – ”

“England,” he finishes for her. “I grew up south of London, and my brother has moved back there since he married a woman from home. But I like it here, have citizenship and all that, so I decided to stay. Though I do like to go back every now and then to make sure I don’t lose my accent. It makes people think I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I really am.”

“I was thinking it probably helped you get girls.”

He smirks at her, actually smirks, and she feels a shiver run down her spine. “That too, but I find that I actually have to be interesting to keep a girlfriend.”

She laughs at that, especially with the way that his brows move over his forehead. He’s funny, and even though she barely knows him, she has a gut feeling that he’s one of Neal’s better friends. They’re not all bad, but some of them are assholes.

“I mean, looks only get you so far, so I’m glad you realized that.”

Killian leans forward on the table and props his chin up in his hand. “So you think I’m attractive then?”

“That is not what I said,” she protests, blush rising on her cheeks.

“It’s what I heard. It’s fine, love. I know that life is unfair for other men when I’ve got the looks and the personality.”

“And you’re humble.”

“That I am,” he sighs, leaning back and wiping the smirk off of his face to show a soft smile. “But seriously, I’m most definitely kidding. It doesn’t hurt to be confident, but I don’t want you to think I’m some undeniable asshole.”

She hums, trying to think of what to say in response. She has a feeling that he’s quick on his toes and can turn any conversation on a dime. He’s kind of a mystery to her, but then again, he might be an open enough book for her to figure out. “Well, I just met you, so I’m thinking you’ll have to prove it over more time than just now. But, fair warning, I consider all people to be assholes until they prove themselves otherwise, so you have the tide working against you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Yes.”

One side of his mouth ticks up before he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I like you, Swan. I have a feeling you and I are going to be good mates.”

“Really now?”

“Yep. Now tell me all of the weird things you can about Neal so that I can mess with him later.”

“You want me to help you mess with my fiancé?”

“I do indeed.”

“Okay, but only if I get to help. What is love if there’s not a little teasing involved?”

“Really damn boring.”

-/-

The front door opens, and she reaches forward to pause the movie, much to Henry’s dismay.

“Why are you pausing it?”

“We’ve got to go help Daddy bring in the groceries.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch before he’s scrambling up and walking out of the room with she and Neal following right behind him.

“Don’t look so excited to help,” Killian jokes as he watches Henry walk through the front door. “Hey, Swan. Ada has been a bit cranky, and I didn’t have a bottle so – ”

“So she needs me,” she sighs, stopping her steps toward the front door and turning to get Ada from her car seat on the floor. “Got it.”

“Thanks, love.”

She smiles tightly at him before she’s adjusting Ada on her hip and watching everyone else go outside to get the groceries. It won’t take all three of them, but they’ll learn that when one of them is coming back empty-handed. “Alright, bug,” she sighs, walking back into the living room and settling down in a recliner so she’ll be comfortable. “I’m sure you had a good time with your daddy, but you are fussy and need me, which is both reassuring and kind of annoying. Imagine what life would be like if Daddy could breastfeed.”

It’s a weird thought, but it’s a valid one nonetheless.

She moves to roll up her sweater and unsnap her bra when she’s suddenly reminded of the box she has hidden in there, the box that no one else can see right now.

Shit.

This day has been an absolute rollercoaster.

Quickly, she pulls the box out of her bra and stuffs it into the waistband of her leggings, the bulge obvious under the material, and gets Ada adjusted as much as she can, hoping that no one will pay her too much attention for the next few minutes before she can return the ring to Killian’s uniform jacket and stuff away all of her thoughts.

Or maybe not. Maybe she should talk to him. That’s what she’s been thinking all day. Now that she’s calmed a bit, she respects his choice of needing time, but she doesn’t respect his choice of not listening to her and her feelings, of not giving her an option. It’s selfish, but she can’t live in this sense of limbo. And it’s not like Killian hasn’t been selfish too. It’s too hard to act like she and Killian are okay when they’re not. It’s too hard to have to balance her crumbling relationship and her children and her ex-husband.

God, her chest feels lighter now that she’s not harboring that secret from Neal anymore.

She and Killian are going to talk. They have to. She has to take her life back because she has fought too damn hard for things to be okay for everything to fall apart because her kid got his dad back.

She’s going to get her life back if it kills her.

It’s going to kill her if she doesn’t, if she can’t. She has to get her life back.

She’s been so damn hurt by Killian, but honestly, all she wants is to be with him as long as they can work everything out.

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he runs into the room, “We’ve got cookies, but you guys can’t make them tonight because what if Ada eats them all while I’m with Avery?”

“Ada can’t eat cookies, kid.” “But what if you put them in the blender so she can?”

“We will not make the cookies without you, and Ada will not eat them. But, you know, when she’s older she can eat cookies, and you have to share.”

“I know. So you promise you won’t make the cookies without me?”

She sticks out her pinky, and Henry intertwines his with hers. “Promise.”

They spend their afternoon decorating the tree and the house, bright lights and ornaments adorning nearly every room. Killian puts Henry on his shoulders, and Henry puts the swan on top of the tree, completing everything in the house down to the wreath on the door that has a monogrammed “J” on it despite the fact that their household is made up of two Joneses, two Cassidies, and one Swan.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Or a swan in a Christmas tree.

She doesn’t know. She’s lost her mind.

But for a couple of hours things seem normal again, and she feels her face hurt from smiling. It’s been a long time since that’s happened, and as she sends Henry off to go ice skating with Avery, money in his pocket to rent some new skates, she lets herself revel in it for a moment before she deals with the box that’s still pressing into the skin of her hip.

Before she takes her life back.

Once she gets Ada down for her nap, she take a deep breath (and then a couple more) and walks back into the living room where Killian and Neal are watching TV. She doesn’t understand how he can spend time with Neal and not her. Why does he need a break from her but not from Neal? Why doesn’t any of this make sense?

“Hey, Killian,” she asks, and he twists his head to look at her as he taps his fingers across the back of the couch, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

His eyes slant for a moment before they open back up, and he presses his lips together before nodding his head and rising from the couch. “Tell me if they catch the guy, yeah?”

“Sure thing, man.”

Killian walks over to her, and the moment he opens his mouth to say something, she nods her head and moves around the corner to that she can walk up the stairs, knowing for sure that Killian is following behind her, his footsteps heavy on the wood as it creaks beneath his weight at the same time that the weight in her shoulders begins to increase, her body humming in anticipation of laying all of her cards out on the table. She’s been through too much shit to have to go through more of it.

“Okay,” she sighs as they both walk into the bedroom, Killian closing the door behind him.

“You said you wanted to talk,” he asks calmly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as his eyes glance over to the chair that’s sitting in the closet. “What’s up?”

Her stomach churns, but she pushes it down, shutting her eyes for a moment before she’s lifting her shirt and taking the ring box out of her waistband and placing it on the bed right next to Killian. She opens her eyes to watch him, but all he does is widen his eyes before his hand is reaching out and thumbing over the velvet, caring for it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Maybe it is to him.

Maybe to him it’s a physical representation of how their life should be.

“Emma – ”

“No,” she starts, straightening her back and crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen, okay? And then we can hash it out. We haven’t talked in months, and I’m sick of it. I can’t do it anymore. So you’re good to listen?”

He nods his head and presses his lips together again while his knuckles go white around the box.

“You are an idiot. Do you know that? You are an idiot, Killian. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts, and I thought that you felt the same way about me. I thought that you wanted a future with me, and finding that box today made me think that maybe you’ve changed your mind after all that we’ve been through. The damn break makes me think that too. I still want a future with you. I have never not wanted that. Do you understand me? Neal coming back is supposed to be a blessing. It’s not supposed to be something that’s going to tear us apart.”

“But what about him? What about your family? What about Henry?”

“You think that I want to be a man who accused me of having a drunken hookup with you and implied that that’s the only reason why I have my daughter? You think I want that? You think I want to be with a man who I don’t even know anymore? Who I barely knew then when I really think about it? Killian, I loved Neal a long time ago, still love him in a way now, but I was young. He was older. I thought he knew everything, that he could help me finally have the life I never got growing up.”

She shakes her head back and forth as the rage runs through her. She’s not even sure that it’s rage. It’s likely just the release of her emotions and of everything that’s been bottled up and festering below the surface.

“I was so bitter about my childhood still, about how no one wanted me for so long, and he did. He wanted me. You know all of this. You were there for a lot of it. But you weren’t there for the way that he would sometimes dismiss my feelings, for the way he would laugh at me when I got excited at things, for the way he wasn’t happy when I told him I was pregnant with Henry. I loved him, I thought the world of him, and I know that I’ve glossed over so much of that shit because I thought he had died and wanted Henry to think his dad was a hero. You thought he was a hero. And he is. But he is not the man I want to be with. So if you could get the stick out of your ass and just stop feeling guilty like I did and love me like you’re supposed to love me, I feel like we won’t have to play this stupid game anymore. I can’t...I can’t do it, Killian. I can’t hang on your string too.” By the time she’s finished talking, her chest is heaving, her shoulders moving up and down, and she can feel her heart beating between her ears. That’s not how anatomy works, but she can feel it. She can hear it. It’s also what causes her to start laughing, for laughter to bubble up and rise through her chest before it escapes past her lips in a sound that she would describe as insanity in the form of laughter. There’s no other way. She’s lost her mind. She really has.

“Are you okay?”

“No, no,” she laughs, a hiccup escaping her as she tries to see Killian through the tears that are pooling in her eyes. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I’ve lost my mind, and I’ve lost my life. I’ve lost everything.”

The tears that stemmed from laughter suddenly sting hotly behind her eyes, and something shifts behind her as her legs become shaky and she moves to sit on the ground, her back resting against the dresser, a knob digging into her skin that might as well be cutting into her.

“You have not lost anything,” he murmurs, and she can see the blur of him as he squats down next to her and pulls her into an embrace that she doesn’t fight. She encourages it, wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing into his shoulder as she can feel his hands moving up and down her back, tracing her spine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I fucked up, that I didn’t listen to you, that I wouldn’t talk to you, that I thought that I knew best. I don’t, Emma. I don’t. I love you, and I was terrified to lose you. I am always terrified to lose you, and I shouldn’t – I don’t know how to fix us when I’m the one who broke us.”

“I just want you to talk to me. I just want you to stop sleeping in the nursery and to come back in this room. I want you to stop feeling guilty. You are not keeping me from being from Neal. If I wanted to be with him, I would be. I love you, you insufferable jackass,” she sniffs, leaning back as much as she can with how their limbs are twisted so that she can look in his eyes, the blue cloudy enough to nearly look gray. “I love you,” she whispers, reaching up to caress his face, to feel his scruff against her fingertips, “and I want to have our family back. Isn’t that what you want? We were so happy. Don’t you want to go back to how we were?”

“More than anything.”

“Then stop being stubborn and talk to me so that we can be us again.”

He nods his head up and down before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers, the heat of his skin comfortable and familiar and wonderful. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“We need to talk about what’s going on with Henry at school.”

“We need to talk about a lot of things.”

“Aye, it’s just – ”

“What?” she smiles, her fingers still tracing his face, running over the scar on his cheek that he got when a mirror shattered on his ship and cut his face. Her heartbeat has calmed, the regularity of it returning, but all of the sudden it starts up again. This time not in fear, but in anticipation.

“I just really, desperately need to kiss you for a minute before we talk some more about how much of a jackass that I am and all of that other stuff.”

She laughs again, but this time it’s not quite so insane. It’s watery, but it’s happy. And instead of talking, she slams her lips forward to capture Killian’s lips with hers, and the softness is exactly like coming home after searching her entire life.

The kiss lingers for longer than she expects, a gentle caress turning into a desperate slow dance. She thought it would be frantic. In all of the nights that she allowed herself to imagine them coming together again, she always thought it would be frantic, but she should have known better. Sometimes they can be rough and hurried, coming together so quickly and harshly that they’re both left with bruises, but usually it’s soft and slow.

It’s like this.

It’s not frantic, but there’s still an urgency, a need, and she revels in the way that Killian’s nose presses heavily into her cheek, into the way that his scruff burns her as much as the heat of his hands snaking up underneath her shirt while her hands cup his jaw, feeling each movement of his mouth on hers.

The weights that have been on her shoulders, the ones that are lessening and gaining and changing every day, disappear into a lightness that she can’t explain. It’s giddiness and desire and love all wrapped up in one. They have so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but they need this. She can’t speak for Killian, not really, but somehow she knows.

When you love someone, you know.

Clothes are shed as the stand, and for the briefest moment she remembers Ada sleeping in her crib in the nursery and Neal watching television downstairs, but she really doesn’t need to be thinking about Neal when Killian’s hands are fumbling with the clasp of her bra, releasing it and letting her feel free as the rough pads of his thumbs ghost of her nipples while heat simmers under her skin. Ada, well Ada will sleep for another hour, maybe two, and if she wakes, they have the monitor.

It’s all a blur. She wants to remember it all, wants to memorize things like she did the first time they slept together, but the awkward fumbling and uncertainty are replaced by sure hands and even surer movements as they both rile each other up, metaphorical flames flickering across her skin as Killian hovers above her, teasing her until he slides in and begins rocking against her, full and thick and…like home.

She wishes she could think of something else, some other way to consider it, but Killian has been home to her for a long time, even longer than they’ve been together. He’s a steady partner for her, the person who often keeps her from spiraling, and he understands her. Maybe it’s that they both have some not so stellar childhoods. Maybe it’s that they have both been through great loss. Maybe they simply work in a way that she doesn’t need to dissect.

“Emma,” he whispers, his thrusts coming to a sudden halt and making her whine out in frustration. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” “Then why are you crying?”

He releases her hip to thumb away at the tears that have apparently fallen. Oh. She didn’t…she didn’t even know or realize, too caught up in the ecstasy and emotion of it all to notice that she’s crying.

She didn’t know.

“Do you not want to do this?” Killian asks her, the concern evident in his eyes, and she can feel him retreating until she moves her hands from his back and cups his cheeks, running her own thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the scar again.

“No, baby, no,” she promises, pushing back her frustration of having Killian still inside when he was just deliciously hitting all of the right places so that she can focus on what’s actually important right now. “I want to do this. I do. Don’t think otherwise. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I just – I love you so much, and I can’t…I don’t know how to express that with just my words. I think my body is letting out months of anxiety and sadness and relief over finally feeling like something in my life is right again.”

“For someone who claims not to be good with words, you were pretty good with them there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, slowly moving inside of her again, just a simple push and pull. He’s got this affection in his eyes, this life, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the way that he looks at her like she hung the moon and created the tides of the ocean. Her breath always catches when it happens, her heart swelling, and she never wants it to stop. “That was really good, Swan. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. Let’s just…you want to have this conversation a little later? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Killian chuckles, something deep and throaty, before his lips are consuming her and his hips are snapping into hers. She’ll take that as a yes.

There’s a heaviness to his body over hers, a meaning to each snap of his hips, but she can’t explain it. She can’t think about it too much. They’ve fought before, absolute blow outs, but it’s never been like these past few weeks. Joining together has never been quite like this. It’s not that the sex is better or worse or different. They’re both still just as skilled and as in tune with each other as they’ve been for years, but it’s different.

She’s been craving normalcy, but she’ll gladly take this different, gladly take getting her life back.

She’ll take having them back.

And as she violently trembles beneath him, everything becoming too much for her and the emotions spilling over once again, she knows that she’s got them.

#rising from the ashes #captain swan #captain swan fic #cs ff #cs fic

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navpike · 5 years

Text

cry out what you need to: chapter 2

“Okay, so, you know my partner, Amy Rohrbach? She died, on Sunday. And she had a daughter. She’s five years old and she had no other family and they were going to put her in the system and I just felt so--” “Dick, did you adopt the kid?” “I adopted the kid.”

Or, the one where Dick adopts a child, learns to balance parenting and superheroing, and falls in love, not necessarily in that order.

Chapter Two: pulling your last thread [on ao3]

Friday rolls around faster than Dick expected it too. For all that Thursday seemed to drag, it seems like it passed far too quickly at the same time.

Rona seems to be settling in to living with him fairly well, though she’s still having trouble sleeping at night. Wednesday night, after the funeral, Rona hadn’t been ready to sleep even after Dick had read through three different books with her. Every time he’d gone to leave, she’d panic and her lip would tremble like she was going to cry. Finally, Dick, utterly exhausted from the day, had come up with an idea. He’d darted back to his room and come back with a battered stuffed elephant that hadn’t left his side since he was a child.

“This is Zitka the Elephant,” Dick had told Rona in a soft voice. “Do you remember when your mommy told you that I grew up in a circus?”

“It was just a joke,” Rona had said, her nose wrinkling in disbelief.

“But it wasn’t!” Dick had replied in his best storytelling voice. “I grew up in a circus until I was ten years old, and my mommy and daddy and I used to fly! We’d go sailing through the air, but we would never fall, because we were the best at what we did. The best trapeze artists ever! The Flying Graysons! And when I was in the circus, there was an elephant, and her name was Zitka, and she was my best friend in the whole world. When I was about your age, I got this little stuffed version of Zitka, so she could be with me even when I wasn’t around her. She was always there to look out for me. But I’m big and grown up now, so I’m a little better at looking out for myself. Maybe, Zitka can hang out with you and look out for you for a little while, instead? She’s real good at keeping away all the spooky things at night.”

Rona had nodded, a little reluctantly, and taken the stuffed elephant, and when Dick had gone to leave that time, she’d let him go without complaint, but that didn’t stop her from waking up with nightmares that night and the next. This whole parenting thing is turning out to be just as tiring as being Nightwing is.

Which is why late Friday morning has him yawning as he drives through midday Gotham traffic, hoping that Alfred will make him a strong cup of coffee when they get to the manor. Maybe he can dip into the stash of really strong stuff that Tim keeps around for when he’s pulling an all nighter or two. He’s sure Tim won’t mind.

Rona’s quiet the whole ride there, up until they reach the manor grounds.

“Hey, Dick, is this a palace?” she asks, squishing her face up against the window, her expression morphing into something like awe.

“It’s not a palace,” he says through another yawn. “This is Wayne Manor. This is where I grew up after I left the circus.”

“So your parents live here? You’re like a prince!”

Dick laughs. “I only have a dad, and an Alfred. Alfred kinda like my grandpa. You’ll like him. He makes the best cookies and hot chocolate. I bet if you ask him really nicely, he’ll make you some today.”

“Hey if you’re a prince, does that mean that your dad’s a king?”

“I’m not a prince. It’s not a castle. Just a big old house,” he says, and Rona crosses her arms and pouts.

“That’s not as fun.”

“There’s still a couple suits of armor in the hallways. I’ll show them to you if you’re good.”

Rona’s face lights up. “Really? That’s so cool! This place is definitely a castle!”

Dick shakes his head a little exasperatedly, and a lot fondly. This is that happiest Rona’s looked all week. He can indulge this. “You’re right, kiddo. It’s kinda like a castle.”

“Then you’re definitely a prince.”

He stops the car at the end of the manor’s long driveway, and notes the car parked next to him, and then Rona gets tangled in her seatbelt and he’s distracted by needing to help her out.

Alfred answers the door before they even need to knock.

“Ah, Master Dick, and this must be the lovely Miss Rona,” he greets as he ushers them inside. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young miss.”

“Hi Alf. Rona this is Alfred. I told you about him in the car.”

“You make the cookies!” Rona exclaims, and Dick smacks a palm to his forehead.

Alfred chuckles. “I do, indeed. In fact, I’ve got a batch fresh from the oven. I’m sure a taste of one won’t spoil your lunch.” He gives Dick a look, and even without it, he would have gotten that something was up. Alfred never allows sweets before a meal.

“I trust your judgement.”

“I know you do, my boy. I’ll take Miss Rona down to the kitchen, if she’s alright with that.” Rona nods, enthusiastically. “Master Dick, you’ll find your father and your brother and sister in the den. We’ll be there shortly.”

Ah. That’s it. Jason and Cass are home from Star City early.

Shit.

Well, at least Damian and Tim aren’t there, so there’s no one for anyone to start fights with. Jason and Cass are a fairly tame pair of siblings, when they need to be. This’ll be fine.

He hopes.

Jason and Cass are in the den with Bruce as Alfred said, and Jason wastes no time commenting on how tired Dick looks.

“You look like shit, dude.”

“Language,” Bruce chastises half-heartedly. Jason plows right through that.

“And what are you doing here? Don’t you have a real job to be doing?”

Dick slumps into an armchair and lets out a long groan.

“Being a parent is hard, Bruce, why did you decide to do it five times?”

Jason chokes on a sip of water, and nearly spews it all over the room.

“Excuse me?”

Dick sits up very abruptly.

Cass and Jason are both staring at him with wide eyes, and Bruce is very obviously enjoying this. It occurs to Dick then that maybe he should have eased his siblings into this a little better.

He flaps his mouth like a fish for a second, trying to figure out how best to explain this, before Bruce takes pity on him.

“Dick has taken it upon himself to adopt a child.”

Okay, maybe he doesn’t take that much pity on him. Maybe he’s just trying to make things worse for Dick, because he’s just like that.

Cass furrows her eyebrows, and signs What?

Jason voices the same sentiment.

Dick sighs and covers his face with his hands. “My partner was killed in the line of duty last weekend. Her kid was gonna go into the system and I just couldn’t let that happen. I already had my foster license, and she already knew me, and I just thought it’d be best for her, instead of being tossed into some random foster home. So I adopted her. Or a judge awarded me custody of her. I have to talk to her and file paperwork and-- that’s not the point. Point is, she’s my kid now, for all intents and purposes.”

Jason’s eyebrows creep towards his hairline.

Cass breaks out in a grin, and signs, Can we meet our niece?

Dick lets out a breath he wasn’t really aware he was holding. He knew, logically, that none of his siblings would reject Rona. She’s just like all of them, after all. But there was still a lingering fear that something would go wrong. He supposes he’s just been a little stressed out lately.

“She’s in the kitchen with Alfred. They’ll be up soon.”

As if on cue, as soon as Dick says that, Alfred steps into the den, Rona clutching his hand, half a cookie in the other. She’s standing half behind Alfred, like she’s nervous about all the people in the room, so Dick stands and crosses the room to her.

“Is it cool if I pick you up, kid?” he asks, and she nods once, and shoves the rest of the cookie into her mouth, and lets Dick pick her up and carry her to a couch with room for them both. She tucks herself into the corner of the couch when Dick lets her go, and flits her eyes nervously around the room. “Everyone, this is Rona. Rona, this is my dad, Bruce,” Bruce smiles and gives her a little wave, which she returns hesitantly, “and my sister, Cass.” Cass swipes her hand from her ear out in front of her to say hello, and Rona does something like a half salute to try to return the gesture. Cass signs almost back at her, and Rona’s brow furrows in confusion.

She leans in close to Dick and whispers, not at all quietly, “What is she doing?”

Dick stifles a laugh, not wanting Rona to feel bad for asking questions. “Cass speaks in sign language, not with words, like we do.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, that Cass doesn’t like to talk too much, so when she needs to tell us something, she uses her hands to say it. Each sign has a meaning, and when you put a bunch of them together it makes a sentence. It’s just like talking, you just use your hands. See?” he says, and then finger spells her name for her. “That’s how to spell your name in sign language!”

Rona cocks her head to the side and tries, and mostly fails, to replicate Dick’s gestures.

“I like that! It’s cool,” she declares and Cass beams.

Dick breathes a sigh of relief, for what feels like the billionth time in the past week. He was worried when they met that Rona wouldn’t understand Cass’s need to use sign language. Seems like Amy did a pretty good job with her kid.

He shoves that thought to the side and gestures to Jason.

“And this is my brother Jason. I have two more brothers too, but you’ll meet them later, okay?” Rona looks a little relieved at that, and tries to replicate Cass’s greeting at Jason too.

Jason actually smiles, a genuine smile, not the kind he forces when he needs to, and Dick is reminded, rather surprisingly, how much his brother really likes children, and how good he is with them.

“You’re almost there, pipsqueak,” Jason says, and Dick almost takes back the kind thoughts he had about him. But then he continues, “You’ve gotta tuck your thumb in to your palm a little more, almost like you’re trying to hold your own thumb, and then you put your hand by your ear, and swing it on forward.” He demonstrates, a little slower than Cass had, and Rona mimics him, and his smile only widens. Dick watches the whole thing in disbelief.

He hasn’t seen Jason look so laid back since before he died. Maybe this whole situation will be good for more than just Rona. Dick doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high, but he indulges a little. A tiny bit of hope never hurt anyone.

Rona giggles a little when Bruce and Jason both praise her for getting the sign correct, and though she’s still tucked into Dick’s side, like she’s too scared to part from him, she looks the happiest she’s been all week. Alfred comes back into the room then-- Dick hadn’t even seen him leave-- to call them all to the dining room for lunch, and Rona seems pretty enthusiastic about that too. Dick’s going to count today as a win. Whatever else happens will happen, and it may be bad, but this, right here, is enough to call today a good day.

Lunch goes by without incident, and Dick thinks that this is the longest he’s been in a room with more than one of his siblings without it devolving into some form of argument, which only adds to the ‘positives’ tally for the day. Rona does tell Jason and Cass that Dick is a prince, because his dad lives in a castle, and that makes them both crack up, and that isn’t a really a positive. But then, Rona says that since Jason and Cass are Dick’s siblings, that means they must be a prince and a princess too, and they get very serious, very fast. Cass spends the rest of the meal drinking with her pinky up, snickering all the while, and Jason tries to put on a really terrible British accent for a second before Rona makes a face at him that has him breaking out in a grin again.

It’s right then that the universe decides that it’s had enough of them having a good day, of course.

As soon as Alfred clears the dishes away, Rona turns to Dick with a miserable look on her face, and tells him she has a stomach ache. She didn’t eat much of anything, which is pretty on par with how she’s been acting the past week, so it’s not lunch disagreeing with her, and he’d read that physical complaints are common in children going through the loss of a loved one. So he decides that it’s probably time for them to call it a day and head back to the penthouse.

He thanks Alfred for the meal, and tells Bruce and his siblings he’ll talk to them later, and tucks Rona into the back seat of the car-- which Bruce teases him for taking-- and he takes them home.

It’s still strange to think of it as home for him and Rona, Dick thinks as he carries Rona into her room and settles her under the covers on her bed. She’s his kid, now, but he’s definitely not her parent yet, for all that he is the one parenting her now. He feels like he’s walking a fine line between being a good parental figure and replacing her mother and he doesn’t want to tip the balance the wrong way. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to appear distant to her, just because he’s a little paranoid about how he’s taking care of her. He wants to be there for her in every way she needs, but he doesn’t want to be overbearing to her.

He has no idea how Bruce managed to find that balance for five very different kids, who each came to him at a different age, from different familial situations.

He thinks he should buy Bruce a gift, just for being a halfway competent parent. He deserves it.

Dick’s startled out of his thoughts as he boils water to put in a hot water bottle by his phone ringing. He answers without checking the caller ID, because to be honest, he’s a little out of it.

“Grayson.”

“West,” comes the reply, and Dick can actually feel the tension leave his body at the sound of Wally’s voice. He didn’t know who he was expecting on the other end of the line, but the fact that it’s Wally relieves him to no end.

“Hey, Wall, how’s it going?”

“I was gonna ask you the same. You’ve been kinda radio silent in the groupchat, even though Roy was telling us a bunch of ridiculous stories about your siblings. I just wanted to check up on you. Everyone was asking after you.”

Right. The groupchat they were in with the rest of the original six members of the Titans. Dick had turned off the notifications for it, because he didn’t want the constant buzzing while he was trying to establish some kind of real relationship with Rona, and a little because he didn’t think he could handle their antics at the moment.

“It’s been a crazy week. Even by Gotham standards.”

“You want me to come over tonight? I’ll bring a six pack and pretend to get tipsy with you and we can talk about it?”

It takes every ounce of willpower in Dick’s entire body for him to decline the offer. There is nothing he wants more than to have his best friend there right then. Wally always knows how to make him feel better, he knows Dick better than even his family does. But Rona doesn’t need another new person today, doesn’t need yet another change right now.

“Sorry, Wally, it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Dick, come on. Tell me what’s up. You’re kinda worrying me.”

Dick tells him everything, about Amy and Rona and how terrified he is about the fact that he has a kid now, the words leaving him in such a rush that he’s done explaining by the time the kettle goes off. He sets it to the side to cool to a more reasonable temperature, and heaves a deep breath. Fuck, it felt good to get that off his chest.

“Jesus, dude. That’s intense,” Wally says, when Dick’s finally done. “Definitely not whelming.”

The use of that word is what finally breaks Dick, and he bursts into peals of hysterical laughter. It’s right then and there that he decides that everything will be okay. He has his family and he has his friends and he has Wally. If he has them all, then Rona has them too.

It’s all going to be okay.

#dickwally #dick grayson #wally west #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #cass cain #dc #dc comics #nightwing #batman #fic #mine

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