#yaaay I missed drawings eye a lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

icequeenbae · 3 years

Text

Desert Flower (m) Ch. 4 [fin] | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~2.1k (Chapter 4)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Yaaay, the finale is here! ✨ Hope you won’t be disappointed [I know it’ll be something you don’t expect, but the end can also be a beginning, right?] Please let me know what you think, I had fun talking to you about the previous chapters!! And thank you for following this story all the way through. Looove 🖤🖤🖤

Tags: @blahblahblah-boo @baeklightsx @wooya1224 @baekklove @usernameloaa @geniusloey

Chapter 4. The end of you and I [Finale]

Stepping out of the room the next morning, you felt like you were walking to the gallows. In a way, that would’ve been less devastating than the reality. The anticipation, or rather a bad feeling, settled in your gut from the moment you opened your eyes and made you feel sick to your stomach.

After declining an offering of food, you were escorted downstairs to a large space, which was essentially a parking lot, cars all around. The premises were dimly lit – some of the lights simply went out, some were flickering as if they were about to. It was mostly dull grey concrete, a few wide columns around the area, just like any underground parking would look. There were still quite a few vehicles left – EXO liked to have a good variety. Especially Baek- No, you didn’t want to go there.

If you were completely honest, it wasn’t like you hadn’t been in this place before. You’d spent quite some time down here when Baekhyun was trying to teach you a few car tricks for fun. Despite your unwillingness to recall any of that, you could almost hear his obnoxious laughter whenever you failed to disable the alarm or accidentally set it off and panicked. Yet now this place became wicked in your eyes due to the new context. Worse than any dungeon in this abandoned building.

Sat on a lonely chair, you had your wrists bound and scotch tape put over your mouth.

‘This is for your own good,’ Baëkhyun muttered as he placed it on you. ‘Just keep quiet and let it play out.’

Huffing, you looked away. Eyes wandering around, you took notice of the absence of windows in the area. They probably chose the most isolated place in the building, luring the opponent in here. Likely to block the exits as soon as they arrive.

You exhaled through your nose, wishing that the boys just didn’t show up. Not really expecting Baëkhyun to protect you in this case, you only hoped for Baekhyun to stay away and be safe. One thing you were sure of, was that your life was not worth that many others.

As you contemplated this scenario, a drop of water fell in your lap. Then another one.

You looked at the droplets in confusion. Then up – locating a spot on the ceiling that was leaking. The intensity increased with every drop, and when you lowered your gaze, you saw the water level rise quickly, creeping at the level of your ankles. This didn’t look like it could be caused by any leakage you could think of. It was like there was an invisible circle around you, that water couldn’t cross. Like you were sitting in a glass tube.

Breath hitching in panic, you fidgeted in your seat, trying to get out of the rapidly growing pool of liquid. You whimpered, drawing Baëkhyun’s attention, and as he saw your current state, he immediately turned to the leader.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘The sun is almost up. I don’t see a sign of our friends arriving,’ he shrugged, tapping at his watch.

‘Stop it,’ Baëkhyun snapped, hearing you squeak as the liquid reached your knees, rising above the ground unnaturally.

Were they going to drown you?

You tugged at your restraints in a poor attempt to free yourself, and Baëkhyun turned around, walking towards you decisively.

Until Chën stepped in front of him.

‘Get out of my face,’ Baëkhyun snarled, but his opponent only laughed.

‘Keep walking. If you want me to electrocute her before you’re done.’

A faint purple lightning bolt appeared around his right fist, and Baëkhyun’s eyes darkened further, sparks of red swirling in his orbs as he gathered his power in his hands. But the fight did not break out, as Sehūn walked between them nonchalantly, shoving them away from each other.

‘They’re here,’ he announced, taking his spot next to Suhø.

The water stopped climbing up, freezing at the level of your collarbones. It pressed down on you unpleasantly, holding you still, but it also allowed you to slowly start slipping your wrist out of the restraint. Baëkhyun left it a little loose, so taking it off was feasible, now that it was wet.

A rumble sounded from behind the farther wall where the entrance was, and a car came in, tires screeching. The yellow sports vehicle took a spot in the middle of the room, drifting and rotating a perfect 90 degrees. Then a van appeared, doing pretty much the same right behind it. The door of the latter flew open, and a blonde head appeared. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He was here, they were here. It was your fault.

Baekhyun’s eyes landed on you, and he examined your state, before eyeing the crowd in front of him and turning to Suhø.

‘Let her go. I’m here to trade myself in for her.’

Your own eyes went wide. Trade himself in? No, no, you could not allow this!

‘Mhm!’ You shook your head fiercely, trying to sound protesting with your mouth covered.

He met your desperate gaze, and his eyes looked so… remorseful, that you froze in place. Turning away, he continued.

‘I’ll surrender to you, but you have to let her go first.’

Suhø hummed, nodding seemingly in contemplation of this suggestion.

‘You know what, I have a better idea. Why don’t you all surrender, and then she walks free?’

He suddenly chuckled, looking Baekhyun in the eye. ‘Or she doesn’t.’

It was a split second later when you finally freed your wrists and ripped the tape off, ready to scream… But the sound didn’t come. It happened faster than you could register – you were underwater. Fully submerged now.

Struggling to float in the mass of liquid, you saw people around start moving. Baekhyun threw a ball of light in Suhø’s direction, presumably missing him since you were still drowning.

A shadow appeared out of thin air behind Baekhyun and you screamed desperately, losing oxygen and trying to rip yourself out of the suffocating pool of water. He reacted instantly to the ambush, as if he was waiting for it, and used his power to defend. On the other side, Baëkhyun blasted Chën in the back, to find his way to you, but got held up by Kāi, appearing now in his way. Your lungs were burning. Realizing that no one would make it to you on time, you lowered your eyes in resignation.

And then you saw it.

A small, maybe the size of an orange, bubble appeared at your feet and made its way up. It reached your face, and you took an incredulous breath. Another one appeared.

‘Sehun,’ you thought, breathing in and out as the bubbles reached your face.

As you were struggling to ventilate underwater, the whole battle was happening on the outside. There was fire, and blood, and flashes of red and white light…

You almost got startled when the water around you subsided, releasing you from its hold. Falling to your knees, you finally breathed in fully and looked around in confusion, noticing Junmyeon closing distance.

But before he reached you, a wall of fire appeared. Turning your head, you saw Baëkhyun, about to hoist you up, when he got an electric shock. Looking over his shoulder, you watched Chën approach.

‘B- Baëk-’ You stuttered as an arrow hit Chën in the side, making him slump to the ground from the impact and proving that Sehun was still watching over you.

‘Run to their van. Along that wall, behind the cars. I’ll give you cover fire as you go, okay? I got you,’ Baëkhyun instructed, tugging you up and shoving you forward. ‘Go!’

You ran towards the wall to your right, feet barely able to move after all you’d just gone through. But your instincts kicked in, giving you the adrenaline high you needed to function. Hitting the wall hands first to change direction, you then ran along the concrete surface, not looking back, only hearing blasts, and swearing, and fighting…

You almost made it to the van.

But the water in your sneakers made you slip as you jumped out of your cover to relocate to the safer spot, falling over and grabbing at your leg. Not thinking more than a moment about the pain, you got on all fours and began crawling towards safety.

‘Y/N, no!’ Baekhyun shouted, and you turned around, seeing lightning paint the room purple for a second before someone shielded you from its reach.

And then he fell on his knees.

Black leather and silvery white head.

‘B- Baëkhyun?’ You muttered as he pressed his hands to his eyes, thick streaks of blood instantly painting his long fingers red.

You gasped in horror, but before you could say a word, someone grabbed you by the waist and dragged you around the car you were hiding behind less than a minute ago.

‘Are you okay?’ Baekhyun looked at you, as he pressed his palms to your body, trying to assess your injuries hastily. ‘We need to retreat quickly, can you walk? Hold onto my shoulder, okay?’

You barely registered what he was saying, the horrible picture from seconds ago still imprinted in your vision.

‘Wait,’ you shook your head, getting up. ‘I need to help him!’

‘What? Y/N!’ You heard Baekhyun call out your name, trying to catch you by the wrist as you ran out into the ongoing fight, limping noticeably.

The silver light appeared, covering you as you reached your target.

‘Baëkhyun!’ You grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Did it hit your eyes?’

He turned to you, eyes narrow as if his vision was blurry, blood running down his entire face. Your hand trembled as he grabbed onto it.

‘What the fuck are you doing back here?’ He snarled.

‘Come on!’ You urged him to circle the closest vehicle, as Baekhyun still blasted the other side of the parking lot with his light.

‘Leave me here and run, while they have the upper hand. This won’t last much longer,’ Baëkhyun gritted.

‘No,’ you stubbornly gripped his leather jacket.

‘Y/N!’ He raised his voice.

You stared at each other intensely for no longer than a second, and then you took a quick breath and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in an abrupt kiss. Tasting metallic and salty from his blood and your tears, it was the most frenetic one in your life. As you broke it, he looked at you silently, eyes dark blue.

‘The next parked car is the one Baek used to teach me how to break in. It’s unlocked, so if you can make it inside, you’ll be able to drive off instantly. We’ll distract them, and you show us the other way out of here, okay?’

He slowly nodded, and you held his stare for another second.

‘Don’t die,’ you told him, getting up as Baekhyun appeared again and took your hand impatiently to finally get you into the van.

‘Go, go, go!’ He yelled at Chanyeol, who grabbed the wheel.

The tires screeched, and a black sports car drove off under your noses.

‘Yeollie, follow him! Baëkhyun knows the other way out,’ you shouted, catching a confused look from the driver, as well as others. ‘Trust me, okay? The one you came through is disabled in some way already.’

He nodded quickly, no time to hesitate, and went after the black car.

Jongin appeared in the crowded van, as an explosion sounded from behind.

‘That should hold them up a sec,’ he sneered.

‘Good job,’ Junmyeon praised, looking in the rear-view mirror, as the van sped up, making it out of the building right behind Baëkhyun.

He then fell back, diverting the attention of the cars that followed you, and driving in a different direction to lead them away. You were glued to the window, watching him being chased by another automobile, and wishing that he made it out safely. If he could manage that – with the horrific injury to his eyes, no less… It would be nothing short of a miracle.

The boys around you shouted something about the chase, and that they only needed to take a couple of turns to get to the parking lot where their other vehicles were waiting, so that they could individually shake the clones off their tails...

But you paid no attention to all the tactics. The world around you disappeared, narrowing down to just that one car, fading into the distance. Your bloodied hand left a red trace on the glass you were looking through.

‘Don’t die,’ you prayed, still tasting his blood on your lips as you watched the black vehicle disappear on the horizon. ‘Don’t you dare die, Baëkhyun.’

Masterlist

A/N: This is it! Thank you for reading this entire story <3 Probably not the ending you wanted, my beta was ready to throw hands too lol But it’s a pretty logical conclusion to this scenario, isn’t it? The OC is safe and reunited with Baekhyun... In any case, I hope you enjoyed this little journey and are willing to share your thoughts with me 💌

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #exowritersnet #byun baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfiction #icequeenbae fics #Desert Flower #baekbaёk #exo smut #x exo #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun

129 notes · View notes

olliedollie1204 · 4 years

Text

everything fits (1/8)- the meeting

Single father Patton is utterly devoted to his son Virgil. Recently divorced Logan is utterly devoted to his twin sons Remus and Roman. The pieces come together.

Pairings: Romantic Logicality

Word Count: 3,495

Tags: Single dad Patton and kid Virgil, Divorced Dads Logan and Janus and kids Roman and Remus (their split was mutual and their relationship is good)

listen y’all, i started this AU in January of this year, it is VERY near and dear to my heart, so even though it’s not finished i wanted to make myself happy and post what i have to hopefully motivate me to finish it <333

also a very late shoutout to @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno for reading a few chapters/oneshots for this AU... hm, six months ago? and giving me the best positive feedback i could’ve asked for. she’s a queen and a legend :D

(Read it on AO3!)

“Daddy?”

Patton woke up to two tiny hands pressing into his back. He blinked, fumbling for his glasses on his messy bedside table. As he pulled them on, blinking the sleep out of his eye, he couldn’t help but break into a large smile at the figure standing next to his bed.

Virgil was always small for his age, and the giant purple hoodie he insisted on sleeping in practically swallowed him in its soft, thick fabric. It made him look, in Patton’s professional dad opinion, even more adorable than he already was.

He had obviously just woken up— his dark hair was sticking out in all directions, and there was a small line across his cheek that Patton suspected was dried drool. His oversized hoodie sleeves idly swung by his sides. Patton would give almost anything to wake up to that sight everyday.

“G’morning, stormcloud,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke Virgil’s hair. “How did you sleep?”

“Um, good.” Patton frowned a little at the short response.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

The little boy gnawed on his lower lip— a nervous habit that Patton had never been able to get him to break.

“Um, um, um— I’m sorry I woke you up, but—”

“Hey, Virgil, what’s the sorry rule?” Patton interrupted, grabbing Virgil’s hands to pull him closer.

Virgil looked down at their clasped hands, their fingernails painted a matching shiny purple.

“Don’t say sorry unless something bad happened,” he recited. It was a highly oversimplified rule, but a seven year old could only handle so much nuance.

Patton nodded, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Virgil’s head. “That’s right, kiddo. Nothing bad happened, so no need to say sorry, right? And in a minute I’ll get dressed, and we can go make waffles for breakfast—”

“But that’s on Saturdays!” Virgil interrupted.

Patton frowned again. The words ‘it is Saturday’ were on the tip of his tongue, until something clicked in his sleep-addled brain and— oh, fuck.

“Oh, bother,” he said aloud. “It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

Virgil continued to chew on his lip, nodding. “I woke up and I went to the, the kitchen, and the clock— the big hand was on the nine and the little hand, the little hand was almost on the seven, and—”

6:45. Patton cursed internally again. Virgil was meant to be dropped off at school by 7:00, and although Patton was rarely on time, he was supposed to be at his first job by 7:30. So much for that.

“— so I came, I came in here to wake you up,” Virgil finished, looking at his dad with wide eyes.

Patton took this all in, sighing as he ran his fingers through Virgil’s messy hair.

“Well, it’s a good thing you did, kiddo,” he finally said, smiling softly. “Because somebody—”

He poked Virgil’s cheek, giving a little laugh when his son giggled and batted the finger away.

“—Needs to get to school, huh?”

Virgil eyes lit up, bouncing on his heels. “Dr. Picani said, he said, he said we’re gonna play with clay today!”

Patton gasped as he stood up, reluctantly letting go of Virgil’s hands to get to his closet.

“Oh my gosh, that’s gonna be so much fun!” he cheered, pulling out two polo shirts and holding them up for Virgil to see.

“Grey or blue?”

Virgil pondered, brow furrowed in concentration. “Blue,” he finally announced.

Patton grinned. “I was thinking the same thing,” he whispered with a wink. “Now how about you go get dressed— I’ll help you with your hair and teeth in a minute— and I’ll throw some bread in the toaster, and you can eat it on the way, okay, stormcloud?”

Virgil nodded. He started walking towards the door, but stopped, fiddling with his sleeves.

“Um—” he blurted. “Can I, can I have a hug, please?”

Patton melted a little at Virgil’s tiny voice.

“Aw, Virgey,” he cooed, “you never need to ask me that!”

He scooped Virgil up into his arms, pressing a wet kiss onto his cheek to make him giggle.

“Ew!” He squirmed in Patton’s grip, laughing maniacally. “Daddy!”

Patton laughed, setting Virgil down. “Now go get dressed, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He straightened up and watched as Virgil left the room, his smile dropping almost immediately.

Of course he had to go and forget to set his alarm last night. Ever since Sunday night, when he had picked up a last-minute shift at the bar, Patton’s internal calendar had been thrown off by a day.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing again as he picked up his phone. Today was not off to a great start.

“All good?” Patton asked, twisting around to check the seatbelt on Virgil’s booster seat once more. Virgil nodded, his mouth full of bread and jam.

“Okay, let’s hit the road!”

With that, Patton pulled onto the street a tad bit faster than he normally would, a ‘Best of Disney’ CD playing in the background.

Patton sang along, but his attention was not on the music. Rather, it was on his son, who was getting more and more fidgety the closer they got to the school.

At the next stoplight, Patton turned down the music, catching Virgil’s eye in the rearview mirror.

“Vibe check?” he asked. It was a silly joke, some meme Remy had started quoting that Patton had picked up without even really knowing what it meant, but it soon became his and Virgil’s code word for talking about scary stuff like feelings.

Virgil didn’t answer right away, but Patton was patient.

“I don’t… I don’t want people to look at me when I walk in,” Virgil eventually muttered, eyes on his lap. “‘Cause they’ll think it’s weird that I came in late.”

Patton’s heart sank.

“And… and what if I miss something important, and I won’t know how to catch up, and Dr. Picani will get mad at me—”

Virgil’s voice broke a little as the boy started sniffling.

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton murmured, reaching behind him to grab Virgil’s sticky hand. “Virgil, honey, can we take deep breaths?”

He inhaled loudly enough for Virgil to hear him, and after a few seconds the two exhaled together. They did this for a few breaths, in and out, in and out.

When Patton was confident Virgil wouldn’t start crying, he let go of his hand, bringing it safely back to the steering wheel.

“Are those all the bad things that could happen?”

Virgil nodded in dejection.

“What are the good things that could happen?”

Now the child paused. “Um, um, um, I don’t know.”

Patton thought for a moment. “Well… I think Kai will be pretty happy his best friend came to school, even if you’re late, right?”

He looked to Virgil for confirmation, and after a beat the boy nodded.

“And if you miss any classwork, then maybe Dr. Picani will let you go to the library during playtime to finish it.”

Virgil nodded again, a little more enthusiastically. He hated the chaos of playtime; children screaming and running around and roughhousing with each other— the library would be a welcome boon from all of that.

“And…” Patton racked his brain for a third example. “And you won’t have to listen to the morning announcements, ‘cause they already happened!” he finished triumphantly, knowing that the ancient speaker system was especially grating on Virgil’s ears.

“Plus, have you ever thought someone was weird, just because they came in the classroom late?” he continued. Virgil shook his head. “So I don’t think anyone will think you’re weird.”

Virgil hesitated. “I guess.”

Patton winced.

“I’m really sorry you feel nervous, kiddo,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

Virgil looked up at him, eyes wide. “It’s okay,” he replied automatically.

Pattons smiled a little. “Are you saying that not to hurt my feelings?” he asked, kindly but sternly.

Virgil looked torn. “Well… I mean— I guess I mean I’m not mad at you, because everybody makes mistakes, and I love you.”

Patton gave a surprised laugh. “I love you, too,” he responded, once again thankful beyond words that Dr. Picani was teaching his son healthy ways to express complex feelings.

“It’s very kind of you to be considerate of my feelings,” he continued, pulling into the school parking lot. “But I’m your daddy, and it’s my job to take care of you. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, and I’ll be double sure it’ll never happen again.”

He looked at Virgil in the rearview. “Can you forgive me?”

Virgil nodded, eyes wide. “I forgive you.”

Patton sighed, looking at his son with adoration. How he got such a great kid, he’ll never know.

As soon as he turned off the car, he hopped out to help Virgil unbuckle his seatbelt and get his backpack on. The young boy clambered out of the car, but made no move towards the large school building.

Patton knelt down to his eye level.

“Do you wanna walk in by yourself, or do you want me to come with you?”

Virgil fiddled with the string on his hoodie. “Aren’t you late for work?”

Patton paused, checking his watch. “Yeah,” he admitted. He always tried to be honest with Virgil when he could. “But I called my boss and told him what happened, so I won’t be in trouble.”

He wasn’t gonna get paid for the hour of work he was going to miss, but Virgil didn’t need to know all that.

“Plus,” he added in an encouraging tone, “you can show me that drawing you told me about? The one Dr. Picani put on the wall because it was so good?”

Virgil flushed a little at the praise. “He put everybody’s drawings on the wall, Daddy,” he insisted, but there was a small smile on his face now.

“Yeah, but I’ll bet there was only one person who thought to draw a robot shark and a sabertooth tiger being best friends. I mean, that’s so creative!”

Virgil shrugged, smiling down at his shoes. “I guess you can see it, if you wanna.”

Patton laughed and held out his hand. “Let’s go, kiddo.”

Hand in hand, the two made the long walk up to the building. As they got closer, Patton squeezed Virgil’s hand.

“What do we say to the door?” he asked— another little ritual between the two.

Virgil giggled, throwing his arms out in front of him like a wizard casting a spell. “Open sesame!”

Patton laughed as he grabbed the handle.

“Thank you, kiddo,” he said, and pulled.

The door stayed shut.

Patton frowned. He pushed it instead. Nothing.

Virgil lowered his arms. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Nothing,” Patton hurried to say. He pulled again, then pushed again. “I think… I think it’s locked.”

Immediately Virgil’s smile dropped.

“Why is it locked?” he asked, a little bit of anxiety returning to his voice. Patton pulled the door yet again, but it stayed firmly shut.

“I don’t know, kiddo.” He scanned the wall for anything that would unlock the door. There was a keycard scanner on the metal doorframe, but Patton didn’t have a clue how to activate it.

He could sense Virgil was about to get upset again, and he rubbed a hand against his son’s shoulder.

“Okay, let’s take some deep breaths. We’ll get you into class, one way or another.”

“Why would they keep the stupid door locked?” Virgil demanded, and normally Patton would remind him to use nicer language, but to be honest, he was thinking words that were a fair bit harsher than ‘stupid’ at the moment. He didn’t look at his watch again, but he knew that he really didn’t have the time to wait around for someone to walk by the door.

He turned around, about to suggest they try to find another door to get into the building, but found himself face to face with… another pair of glasses?

He gasped, hand flying up to his chest as he stepped back from the figure who was suddenly in his personal space. The other man— tall, sharply dressed, with square framed glasses perched on his nose— looked appropriately guilty at Patton’s reaction.

“Apologies,” he commented in a clipped tone. “I was in a hurry and I did not realize you weren’t entering the door.”

Patton was having a little trouble bringing his focus away from the man’s deep blue eyes, until he felt Virgil squeeze his hand, bringing him back down to Earth.

“No worries!” he responded faux-cheerfully, as the blue-eyed man moved around him to approach the door. “We, uh, we think it’s locked.”

He paused, looking back at Patton as he pulled something out of his pocket. “I have a keycard.”

With one swift motion, he swiped the card, pulled on the door, and moved to the side, holding it open as he looked at Patton expectantly.

“Oh, um, thank you,” Patton stammered, gently pushing Virgil through the door in front of him. “Come on, Virgil.”

The two made their way into the hall, Virgil pulling Patton by the hand through the unfamiliar building.

“The office is over here,” he whispered, just loud enough for Patton to hear. Patton nodded, picking up his pace a little bit but still lagging behind Virgil.

They walked a few feet before a voice chimed in again.

“It’s a safety protocol.”

Patton turned in confusion, finding Blue Eyes walking nearly next to him with long, confident strides. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification before he realized that the man was not looking at him— he was looking at Virgil. Patton turned around just in time to see Virgil give the man a suspicious look.

“What?” Patton winced a little at his bluntness, but Blue Eyes seemed unbothered.

“You asked why they keep the door locked. It’s a safety protocol. It prevents unauthorized people from entering the school building during the day.”

Virgil frowned and curled in on himself. Patton waited two beats before realizing he wasn’t going to reply.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense!” he jumped in, not wanting to be rude to the man, who turned his gaze onto him.

“Yes,” Blue Eyes replied after a moment, “although I suppose there should be some way for parents and visitors to enter the building without having to wait for someone with a keycard to happen by. I will be certain to address this in our next staff meeting.”

Patton blinked, a little bit unsure if the man was still really talking to him or just thinking aloud.

“Probably a good idea,” he replied anyway.

He suddenly felt himself jerk as Virgil turned a sharp corner, pulling him into a nearly identical hallway. Blue Eyes continued to walk with them, speeding up to keep pace with Patton.

Patton gave a sheepish smile. “We’re running a bit late,” he said by way of explanation.

“As am I,” Blue Eyes replied. “Almost ten years of teaching and this is the first time I’ve been late to work.”

Patton’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Well, I hope— I mean, obviously, I don’t want to keep you from your class, if that’s the reason you’re walking with us—”

He fumbled through the sentence, trying to politely let the man off the hook if he was already late for work, but he stopped himself as Blue Eyes shook his head.

“No, no, it’s nothing to do with you. I need to pick up some photocopies for my class from the main office. I would be going this way regardless,” he stated. Patton felt himself blush a little.

“Oh, okay. Good.”

The trio arrived at the office, again with the blue-eyed man holding the door open for Patton and Virgil. As soon as they were inside, Virgil bolted to the back of the office where the late entry sign-in sheet lay. Patton meandered towards him, but stopped when he heard the man clear his throat.

“After some… reflection,” he began with consideration, “I realize that my behavior might have seemed off putting, or perhaps even rude. I apologize.”

Patton blinked in surprise at the sincerity in the man’s voice. “No, are you kidding? You definitely saved our butts back there, getting the door and all. You’re my hero!” he joked, choosing to ignore the potential awkwardness of the statement.

Nevertheless, Blue Eyes smiled. “Well, then, you’re welcome.”

Again Patton expected that to be the end of the conversation, especially considering the man apparently needed to pick up some papers for his class, but Blue Eyes continued to look at him.

“Logan Croft,” he said suddenly, sticking out his hand. Patton was picking up on the man’s— Logan’s— tendency to jump between conversation points.

“Patton Hart,” he responded, shaking his hand. Logan’s grip was firm in his, and Patton became very aware of the jam residue Virgil had left on his palm.

Despite this, Logan made no move to pull away for a few more beats, eventually dropping his hand.

“How old is… Virgil?” Logan asked, eyes darting to the young boy again.

Patton smiled on reflex. “Seven.”

Logan seemed pleased with his answer. “Ah. A good age. Hopefully not too rebellious yet.”

“No, no, he’s a great kid,” Patton assured, laughing lightly. The two watched as Virgil stood on his tiptoes to fill out the sign-in sheet, his pencil gripped tight in his fist as he wrote his name in careful, blocky letters.

“Do you have any children?” Patton asked on a hunch. He smiled to himself as he saw Logan’s eyes light up. Bingo.

“Twin boys, age ten,” he replied in a voice full of pride.

Patton laughed again. “Oh, gosh!” That made a lot of sense, given how Logan was currently watching Virgil with a mix of amusement and nostalgia. “Twin preteen boys, that can’t be a walk in the park.”

“Yes, they can be… more than a handful at times,” Logan admitted. “My husband—”

He faltered for a brief moment.

“... My ex-husband handles their fluctuating emotional states much more delicately than I do,” he finished.

Patton knew not to comment on Logan’s slip up, or the change in his demeanor. Instead, he smiled softly.

“Well, you’ve been nothing but kind to me and Virge here,” he said, shrugging lightly. “So I reckon you’re probably a really great dad.”

Logan met his eyes again, giving him a smile that made Patton feel a little flushed. “Likewise.”

Patton felt a tugging at his hand again, causing him to look down.

“You ready, kiddo?” he asked. Virgil nodded, a tardy pass clutched in his fist.

Patton turned to face Logan again, but he wasn’t there. Confused, he looked around, just in time to see the other man duck into a back office space.

That was… surprisingly disappointing, but Patton couldn’t dwell on it. He turned his attention back to his son.

“Let’s get you to class, stormcloud,” he chirped briskly, moving them both towards the door. He had just started to push it open when he heard a voice behind them.

“Virgil?”

The two turned in sync. There was Logan, watching them from the doorway he disappeared through, a stack of papers in his arms.

“I like your hoodie,” he said.

Patton felt Virgil abruptly squeeze his hand tighter, a slight distraction from the way his own heart seemed to skip a beat. He smiled, opening his mouth to respond on his son’s behalf, and—

“Thank you!” Virgil replied.

Virgil… replied? To a stranger? Without Patton prompting? He felt his eyes bug out of his head, and he tried not to openly gawk at his son, who was— oh my Gosh. Virgil was smiling at Logan, and suddenly he raised the hand not holding onto Patton, and he waved!

Patton whipped his head back to Logan, watching in shock as he waved back at his son. He met Patton’s eyes, and his friendly smile turned into one of understanding. Patton couldn’t help but grin a little too wide as he waved as well, the two of them finally exiting the office as the door swung shut behind them.

“Daddy! He said, he, he said he liked my hoodie!” Virgil was practically jumping up and down. Patton didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“I heard,” he finally managed, his smile somehow growing even wider as he added, “And you said thank you, just like you’re supposed to when someone compliments you! You did such a good job, kiddo, I’m so proud of you!”

Maybe he was making this into a bigger deal than it was, but Virgil was almost cripplingly shy when it came to strangers, especially grownups; and yet within five minutes with Logan, he had been able to smile and speak and even wave.

Patton changed his mind. This was one of the best mornings in his memory.

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, urging Virgil to pull him down the hall. “Lead the way!”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sander #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #my writing #my posts #everything fits

46 notes · View notes

84reedsy · 4 years

Text

An Invitation

Characters/Pairings: Severus/Hermione, Violet Snape (OC) Summary: Severus and Hermione have settled into the quietest life they can following the end of the Second Wizarding World. They own a little business and live in their cottage with their daughter Violet. An invitation for a holiday may stir things up a bit, but who says that has to be a bad thing?

Rating: Mature (Suggestive Themes) Word Count: 2125

“Bloody bird,” Severus mumbled as he tried to straighten his now crinkled daily prophet. His lips curled downward as the owl shook its head and tried to steady itself; the letter had planted itself firmly in a stick of softened butter, “You’d think after all this time the Weasley’s would have invested in a halfway decent messenger by now.” His distaste for the family or at least their expansive brood went back years and years to Bill’s early years at Hogwarts. It was mostly harmless.

Hermione hid her smile by turning back to the stove, stirring the morning’s porridge as she added a flavor changing serum to liven it up a bit. She’d never say it aloud, but she somewhat enjoyed her husband’s jealousy towards her high school sweetheart. Ron had been on Snape’s last nerve from the first day of their first year - being friends with Harry didn’t help his cause. But the few years post-war and post-Hogwarts when she and Ron still dated - he’d clearly detested him the most.

She’d had no idea Severus fancied her at all until the first Order reunion after the breakup. She’d been single all of a month. He’d approached her straight away, which seemed a bit odd at the time. Even more odd was later in the evening when he’d asked her to dance. She sighed happily at the thought of dancing with him. His long legs and smooth movements, his quiet confidence.

“Oh Papa, Errol’s a good bird, just a bit clumsy,” Violet leaned far over the table, having to kneel in her chair as she stroked the greying birds feathers. She offered him a bit of her scone. The bird gently nibbled her fingers, causing her to giggle and her eyes to flash purple. She plucked the letter from the butter, her tiny hands careful as she used her napkin to wipe the mess from the envelope, “See, all’s well, Papa,”

She waved as Errol nearly missed the open window, flying off.

He held out his hand as Violet clammored over the chairs around the table to him. She placed the letter in his waiting palm as she stood on a chair next to him. She craned her neck to see the letter.

“It’s for you,” He said, reading the greeting line, recognizing Molly Weasley’s flowy penmanship. He held the letter behind him as Hermione plucked it from his fingers.

“Oh, how sweet. Molly wants us to come for a holiday. I’d imagine they have all sorts of room in the new burrow with everyone grown and gone. What do you think, Sev? Fancy a drive out into the countryside?” She smirked knowing his thoughts by now. He’d stare off and remind her that apparition was far more convenient than her fossil fuel driven muggle contraption. She’s retort with a defence that it was only mentioned in a cliche’d manner.

“Papa, Papa, Papa, can we go??” Violet now climbed in his lap, her tiny legs with their pointy, jabby knees digging into his thigh as she ascended his tall form, “We ‘aven’t seen Aunt Molly in ages,” She begged, trying not to facetiously pout. Her curly black pigtails bounced as she attempted to contain her squirm of excitement.

His sigh almost sounded annoyed, though both girls knew it was his last line of resistance before he’d give in.

“Will that daft git, Ronald, be there?” He picked his paper back up and shook it to straighten the creases; Violet turned in his lap to read along with him, laying her head back against his chest.

“Doubtful,” Hermione was doing a poor job of hiding her amusement. She placed the bowls on the table, joining them now. She creamed and sugared Violet’s bowl before preparing her own, “He’s travelling with a regional Quidditch team as an alternate. Likely Molly misses the din of people around. That’d be my guess for the invite.” She bit the corner off her toast as his dark eyes peered over the top of his paper to meet hers. Though it was covered by the rest of the Daily Prophet, she knew he held a sour countenance.

“I know you’d rather not be particularly social, but it might be nice to holiday. Just a few days?” She appealed to him with a bit of a compromise from the week long stay Molly had offered.

“Papa, we can get some shrivelfigs! Aunt Molly has that lovely grove in the back. I bet there’s lots of good ingredients we could get for the laboratory!” Violet might have been just a small girl, barely the age of five, but she was clever and intuitive - she knew how to persuade her father in a way that didn’t make him feel taken advantage of, but rather part of the advantageous.

“I suppose there are worse places to take our holiday -” He waited longer than necessary to affirm his participation, “Will the store be properly staffed?” He questioned Hermione, laying his paper down once more. Violet looked back and forth between her parents.

“As if I hadn’t already considered that,” Hermione cocked an eyebrow as she pointed Violet to her seat. She wriggled from her father's lap, but didn’t once take her concentration from the conversation, “We were due for some time away from the apothecary, so I’d already filled any vacancies.”

“Put your napkin over your jumper, little miss,” Severus said just before she was about to blindly scoop a heaping spoonful. She tucked a napkin into her neckline, protecting the green velvet jumper, covering the silvery embroidered ‘V’, “We could use a bit of countryside,”

Hermione knew that was as close to an affirmative answer she’d wrangle from her husband.

“Yaaay!!!” Violet cheered, flinging her spoon in her pumping fists. The porridge on it sailed through the air, landing on her father’s freshly pressed clothing. Luckily his cloak was still hanging by the door, but his trousers and black buttoned coat had a less lucky fate. Violet went wide eyed, covering her gaping mouth with her hand. Hermione’s eyes widened as well, but her hand concealed a smile of amusement more so than a gasp of shock. With Violet being so young and unable to legally practice magical spells, they did a number of things without them. Occasionally they would teach her something or user a bit of magic here and there, but in this moment, Hermione could see that he wanted to whip out his wand and clean the soiled garment, but her eyes warned him not to. He pursed his lips the way he always did that made the corners almost curl upwards.

“I’m sorry, Papa…” Violet seemed apprehensive, worried she might draw scorn. But as always, Severus remained calm with her - Hermione was often amazed at his even temperament when it came to raising their child. She’d witnessed many times where his patience was thin at best and his temper short-fused.

“Violet, you must remember to be aware of yourself and your actions,” He tried brushing away the mess, but the black cloth shown stains all to obviously, “I ought to change again,” His own napkin snapped to the table as he stood. The chair legs scooted against the floor. He glanced back at his daughter whose eyes flashed purple again behind the welled up tears, “I don’t care for this shirt much, anyway,” He did not smile but there was a subtle wink as he excused himself. Hermione wasn’t even sure he really had until the tender smile on her daughter’s face gave him away.

“Finish up and go collect your books, it's almost time for school,” Hermione ushered her daughter to finish breakfast. She finished the last few bites of her own before excusing herself from the table as well.

Severus hadn’t been particularly thrilled with the idea of his child attending a muggle primary school. It took quite a bit of coaxing and outright bribery to win over his agreement.

“Who’d have ever thought that a five-year-old girl would have Severus Snape wrapped around her tiny little pink painted finger?” Hermione teased Severus as she entered their bedroom. He was unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt, stone faced as ever. Though she teased, she still approached him, starting to unbutton the main division of his coat.

“I could imagine you’re somewhat jealous of that fact. So many men are similarly taken with their wives while you lose out to a toddler.” His sarcasm and satire were always so dry and subtle that a less keen ear wouldn’t have picked up on them. But after all this time, Hermione had learned much about being in the affections of Severus Snape. He was clever and funny, but in his own unique fashion. You had to work to understand him and not react with too much impulse. His rapport was challenging and its what Hermione needed to stay engaged and interested.

They were far more of a pair than either of them (or any one else on Earth for that matter) had imagined.

“I’m not worried about my place in this family, not one bit,” She replied with a confidence that matched his wit, “I’m not easily threatened, darling,” Her words sounded sweet, but they were equally venomous.

“Oh?” He cocked his eyebrow, his eyes darting towards their bedroom door, barely cracked open, “Are you also not easily…” His hand slid behind her neck, snaking up into her hair as he grabbed a handful of her curly mane, “manipulated?” He titled her head back as that small gasp escaped her lips. She had to steady her body by pressing into his. His chest and torso were bare as his shirts hung open.

“If I recall correctly, you respond rather well to being told e x a c t l y what to do,” His voice quieted - he leaned forward, letting his hot breath and lips graze the exposed arc of her neck, “In fact, I bet if I slip my hand down your knickers I’ll find a soaking wet cunt desperate for,” he purposefully stunted his words, his eyes drinking in every feature, every instinctual reaction of her body, “Satisfaction,”

“You think so?” She tried to sound contrary, but she struggled, “Cocky sod, aren’t you…”

A chuckled hummed in his throat; that sound alone could obliviate her knickers in an instant.

“I like it when your feisty,” He released her hair and the two stood toe to toe, breath to breath reveling in their own sexual tension.

“I’m ready!!” Violet’s cheery voice called from down the stairs and Hermione tried to unflush her cheeks.

“Perhaps when you return from dropping Violet off, we could start our own little holiday a bit early,” He suggested, his finger tip tracing the line of her lower lip. She’d grown into such an incredibly attractive and desirable witch of a woman. He couldn’t believe how often he was compelled to touch her.

Hermione smirked, kissing the tip of his finger before suckling it, letting her tongue slowly and lazily swirl around it.

“Perhaps when I get back, Professor Snape might feel like putting a naughty little school girl in her place…” She suggested before kissing his lips softly and retreating from their room to leave him with that thought.

She’d been surprisingly open to being sexually adventurous with him; for them roleplaying wasn’t entirely taboo, but considering he had been her professor, this was maybe a little more so. He redressed in something he often wore as a teacher, imagining the way Hermione still fit marvelously well into her school uniform, though she filled out the sweater slightly more now. She’d fashioned the skirt slightly shorter, the v-neck lower; she played the part of a naughty student well considering how well behaved of a student she’d been...for the most part.

Just as he buttoned up his shirt, Violet burst through the door, her arms wide open for her father. He knelt down without hesitation and accepted her into his own embrace. She was a spectacular child and he loved her deeply, moreso than he’d even imagined.

“Love you, Papa,” She whispered, pulling away slightly.

“And I you, my little flower,” He tapped her forehead with his own then gently nuzzled the tip of his nose to hers. As she ran off again, Hermione stood in the doorway smiling. Severus Snape as a doting, affectionate father (at least in his own way) was not a sight that anyone could have predicted, crystal ball or no.

“You know, the two of you can be nauseatingly sweet sometimes,” She ribbed him a little before following their daughter out of the house.

“Disrespecting the faculty,” He murmured to himself before smiling wickedly, “That’s worth at least one detention, Miss Granger.”

#severus snape #hermione granger #SNAMIONE #Post War AU #snape lives au #snape lives #fan fiction #hpfanfic #harry potter fanfiction

40 notes · View notes

ultrakeystotheheartblog · 6 years

Text

The Trees Have Eyes: Chapter 4

New Characters

Chapter 3

A/N: Yaaay, here it is! I’m sorry that this took so much longer than expected. I want to thank everyone for their kindness and patience, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter :D ♥♥♥ We’re finally back in Beacon Hills for this part (what could go wrong, right?) and the madness definitely begins now!

Translation: None.

Warning: A little swearing and images of violence.

*********************************************************************************

Here you go.

You make it back to Beacon Hills in record time, pulling into the front parking lot just as the sun is beginning to set on another day. Chris slides from the front seat--clearly in a hurry--and Kira and Isaac share a look that's hard to understand. They follow though, leading both you and Noori towards the hospital entrance. The front doors swing open on their hinges much too easily, and you all rush in, spreading out among the startling amount of people in the waiting room. It's just as busy as the one back home--frantic hospital staff weaving in and out between patients, desperately trying to find room for everyone.

Isaac collides with a young nurse, who you think could very well be a trainee, and the paper cup in her hand tips, steaming liquid splashing over the rim and against the sleeve of his jacket. She squeaks and begins to stutter in alarm--something sounding like a half formed apology--before she's called away by a tall, goateed doctor with a tired expression. The nurse scurries away through the crowd and Isaac grimaces as he shakes out his arm, the strong smell of coffee wafting up in the air.

"Whoa, can't say I missed the crazy around here." He mutters bitterly.

Kira clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and Isaac shoots her a greatly un-amused look. It takes effort to hide your own amusement, and you look around you for Noori, wanting to see her reaction. But you quickly find that she's disappeared among the panic. You scan the faces around you for her, troubled gaze landing on a young teenager instead. She's slumped against the wall through a gap in the crowd, near a few vending machines in the open waiting room, and straightens casually when your eyes meet. You freeze, as you take in the frosty blue of her eyes from beneath the hood of her gray jacket.

Like Carter, you think miserably, The boy who believed in superheroes. The girl slowly lowers the hood, her hair shaved on one side of her head, a row of gold piercings lining the outer shells of her ears, and she grins. The smile is smug and off-putting, a knowing twitch of her lips that terrifies you--a shock of cold air enveloping your skin. A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, and you tear your gaze away to look at Kira, her expression concerned.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

You can feel Isaac looking at you too, and you glance back to see the girl had vanished. You swallow thickly.

"I...it's nothing."

It's easy to avoid their curious stares by focusing on Chris, who's just a little ways ahead of you all. He's reading the text on his phone again, the one from a 'friend' he'd grunted offhandedly--though you think it might be more complicated than that--judging by the way he broke at least 20 major traffic laws to get back into the city. Much sooner than you expected. His eyes dart quickly across the screen before he slips it back into the pocket of his jeans. He surveys the confusion around him, and then turns to the three of you, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the elevators at the end of the hall.

"This way." He mouths.

Chris ushers you inside quickly, ducking his head to avoid eye contact with a passing doctor who drifts past the closing elevator doors. He jabs the button for the lowest floor of the hospital, hand falling to the back of his jeans and underneath his jacket--where you're very sure a hidden handgun sits, tucked into his waistband--as the elevator jerks and then begins to descend. Kira slips out her katana from under the jacket you'd leant her in the parking lot, sliding it partially from its case as she steadies herself. She steps forward to widen her stance, leaving you partially behind her.

The elevator reaches the basement floor within seconds, Chris reaching out to hold down a button with his thumb--on the very bottom of the panel--to keep the doors closed. Isaac stares attentively at the shuddering metal doors, shoulders squared as he towers over you, eyes flashing gold in the dim light.

Sandwiched between both Isaac and Kira, you curiously look up at him, body tensing as a strange feeling brushes against your skin like a breath of wind--a presence you feel as though you should seek out, an almost familiar echo of energy just out of reach. Somewhere just beyond the elevator doors. It's a warmth in your chest, a hand clamped around your heart as it tugs you forward, fingertips pressed into the flesh at the back of your head. Your skin tingles there, as you take a small unconscious step forward.

Chris tilts his head to glance at Isaac, and the werewolf next to you moves from his frozen position, body relaxing slightly and golden eyes fading as they dart to look at the older man. Isaac nods. You realize that he had been listening for anything potentially dangerous and you wince, disappointed in yourself for not doing something similar.

The doors open when Chris finally lets the button go, his hand drifting away from his hidden gun, and he's the first to step out into the deserted hallway. It's much quieter down here, the air dense with chemicals strong enough to make you heave in revulsion. Then you hear the struggling--bursts of growling, the smell of rot and blood, and the underlying scent of something canine and warm.

You notice there's a spicy edge to the air too--something you'd learned very quickly meant two things--especially after coming in contact with more than one were-creature, and just within days of each other. It was something werewolf. And something angry. You hear a fiercely thrumming heartbeat through the noise, and another two rapidly beating rhythms--including a scent of something smoky, like a campfire--that indicated at least three other people down here. You glance at Isaac to see him listening again, his head tilted, lips curled in disgust when he breathes in the mixture of scents. You watch him piece together the same conclusion you had just come too, a sharp glint in his eyes.

The sounds of thrashing and snarling rises, enough that you're sure Chris and Kira can hear it now too, and their focus snaps towards a door at the end of the hall. Kira draws her katana fully from its sheath, slinging the empty case around her neck and arms. She spins it over the back of her hand in a quick flourish as if testing its weight, before letting it hang at her side. She looks between you and Chris then, mouth in a hard line.

Chris takes the lead, with Isaac on his heel, and hurries to where the sounds are echoing from. Within seconds you all burst into a room lined with metal drawers on one side, metal trays and tables with instruments on the other--a morgue, you think with a queasy flutter in your gut. And the commotion becomes quite clear, as you all stare at the scene in the middle of the room.

There are two people trying to hold down an animalistic, freaking out figure, his body stretched out against the surface of a bare gurney. It's a boy about your age, with glowing yellow eyes and light brown hair that's tousled with what smells like gel and sweat, the beginnings of stubble shadowed along his jaw and chin. He's an average height with a lean, athletic build, dressed in a black v-neck, jeans, and white sneakers--the soles and edges of which are splattered with mud.

The first person you turn your attention to is a woman standing at the boy's feet, who's struggling to hold the shaking limbs down, but losing her grip on them every time the boy kicks up in protest, twisting his body in a way which makes you nervous that he's about to break in half. She seems to be in her early 40s, with warm brown eyes, and long, curly dark hair. She's dressed in pink, pastel coloured hospital scrubs and a gray cardigan, a small pendant on a gold chain necklace swinging out from underneath her shirt when she bends over the boy and gets a hold of his legs again. There's a strength to her that you marvel at--a bravery as she stares down into the furious eyes of the figure on the table--determination in her expression, even as the boy snaps at her in a wild fit of panic. You wonder how often she's had to deal with things like this, in order to appear so calm now. More than once would have been enough for you.

The second person is a tall, muscular, young man with green eyes and dark brown hair, dressed in a deputy's uniform; a collared beige shirt and matching pants, dark boots, the head of a thick, black, portable radio strapped to his shoulder, a seven pointed golden star on the left of his chest, and a glinting gold name plate on the right. He's young for a deputy--strong and unafraid of the gleaming pointed teeth inches from his limbs--and seems much more worried about the situation itself. His own teeth are clenched as he presses down harder on the writhing figure's shoulders, the boy's body slamming back against the metal surface of the gurney.

The strength surprises you, and you begin to think that he has a good enough reason to be unafraid. His eyes are the first to lift away from the figure and meet your gaze as Kira shuts the door to the room, and there's a strange flash of confusion in them as he truly takes in your presence. You feel the prickling sensation too--the tug on your subconscious as though you're supposed to know who he is, but can't quite remember his name, the smell of smoke stronger here as it rolls off him in waves. He shakes himself free from the intense staring contest after a few seconds, his eyes flitting to either side of you to see who else had come. He seems to recognize Chris and Kira immediately. The woman looks up now as well, her gaze jumping to Chris without hesitation.

"Oh, thank god. I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost." She says breathlessly. Her expression flickers from relief to surprise when her eyes trail over to Kira and Isaac, before the expected confusion settles in once her gaze reaches you. Chris draws her attention away though, when he casually steps towards her and the gurney, his smile adorably fond. "Have a little more faith, Melissa." He responds, voice just the tiniest bit softer than you're used to hearing. She smiles back, her eyes lighting up at the subtle edge of teasing in his tone.

"In you? Always."

Okay, that was awfully sweet, you conclude looking between them. Definitely not just friends. Isaac cuts in before anyone can say anything else, eyes narrowed as he watches the boy on the gurney--who begins to clutch madly at the edges of the table, his tight grip leaving indents in the metal. "What the hell." "It's beginning to feel like it." The deputy mutters in reply, adding a little more weight to his hold, the visible muscles in his arms flexing from the strain. "I should know." He adds more quietly, eyebrows raised as though he'd only been meaning to speak to himself, and hadn't meant to say that last part out loud.

Chris takes Melissa's place at the boy's feet, when she gestures to the only open metal drawer from the wall of cold chambers--the sliding table usually meant for a body. It's already extended and littered haphazardly with vials and glass containers, which are filled with what looks like herbs and liquid medication. Among them are also a stethoscope, a strange black cylinder, a white ceramic bowl full of a paste that smells strongly of something sweet like honey, and a silver tray lined with disposable needles.

She plucks the bowl from the mess--along with a tiny spoon you hadn't noticed until now--and retreats back to her patient, stirring the contents inside vigorously. She scraps out a clump from the side of the bowl, and with confident movements, begins to smooth the sticky paste over the painful looking sores scattered up his right arm. As she works, Melissa's eyes flick up towards Isaac, a motherly fondness in the way she smiles at him--gentle and delightedly warm. "Well, look at you." She begins, eyes darting from his feet to his face, her words edged with a quiet kind of humor--not over the top or too obvious, a comfortable one you'd usually reserve for family or close friends. Like an inside joke that's easy to understand with just one look. "I didn't even think it was possible, but you somehow got even taller."

Isaac chuckles despite the strange situation and steps closer to the rocking gurney, lifting his arms and glancing down at himself with a small smirk. "Did I?"

Melissa grins, "Welcome back." "Kira?" The deputy questions next in disbelief, when the girl standing next to you moves to follow Isaac, drifting closer to where he's still hunched over the trembling boy--terrifyingly close to his snapping fangs. She merely flashes him a tired looking smile. Melissa has moved up to the wounds on the boy's neck by now, her eyes trailing over to Kira, then to the katana still hanging by her side.

"Reunions all around today it seems. Hi, Honey." Melissa says with a kind smile--that fragment of earlier surprise and curiosity, that you remember seeing upon first entering the room, glinting again in her gaze--and Kira returns the smile gratefully. It seems that they all know each other--in some way or another--and without realizing it you begin to feel just a little left out at the obvious history between them all, awkwardly hanging back from the others. Chris tightens his hold on the boy's ankles.

"Tragedy has a way of bringing people together." He grumbles wisely without looking up. Melissa rolls her eyes, tilting her head in amusement as she glances at him.

"Lighten up maybe?"

Kira seems a little shy due to the brief--but intense--attention, nodding in turn at Melissa and the deputy. "Ms. McCall. Parrish. It's been a while." She peers down at the boy then, and you timidly approach the gurney, squeezing in between her and Isaac to get a better look at him too.

The first thing you notice is that his face isn't exactly human anymore. He has a ridged brow above his sharp glowing eyes, a short line of course hair down either side of his jaw line and defined pointed ears, long curved claws, and a permanent, ugly snarl etched into his expression. It twists up his face in an angry display of aggression--a partially shifted form between man and beast. It honestly terrifies you, but not in the way you expected, when you had first learned of a werewolf's true transformation. It wasn't the boy and his new, more dizzying, features. It frightened you that this is what you could become, if you ever completely lost control of yourself, or finally did what you'd been avoiding for months--embrace it. What would you become then?

You take a deep breath and push your fears down, wishing them away so that you can focus more clearly. And the next thing you notice is that the boy seems to be in immense pain. He has the same symptoms of the rotting flesh you'd seen before--colourful bruising and flaking skin, and deep open wounds--but what startles you are the thick black veins running up the length of his arms and into the tendons of his neck. There are layers of old and new blood--so dark it's practically black--painted down his chin and chest as though he's been hacking it up continuously. It looks like he's been to hell and back.

Kira pales at the sight.

"What's going on? Is that--"

Melissa nods, "It is."

"I found him while out on a call and brought him in." Parrish explains, flinching at a small sputter of that dark fluid that adds to the mess on his chin, coating the boy's teeth in blood.

"And he's getting worse by the minute." Melissa adds, sighing in frustration at the increasing jerking and convulsing of his body. Her eyebrows are drawn together as she thinks, looking to Chris with a troubled expression. You realize that the sweet smelling paste must not be doing its intended job.

The boy arches his back and tries to surge up, lips pulled back over his teeth as he snarls. The echoing sound is gurgled, the sharp points dripping with saliva. His golden eyes are practically on fire with rage, but glazed over with a dazed look of panic that tells you he has no idea where he is or what's happening. Melissa swears harshly under her breath when he stares her down, lunging to snap at her face with a growl.

She's just out of reach though, jerking away in time, and Parrish pulls him back down against the gurney's surface with a grunt. Kira throws out her free arm in front of you, forcing you to take a few steps back, and lifts the katana up to get a better grip on the hilt. Melissa hurries to return the now useless paste to the cold chamber sliding table, making eye contact with you as she takes a syringe from the silver tray and a half empty vial of clear liquid.

"Hi there, I don't think we've met before." She says casually, stabbing the point of the needle through the top it, and drawing out a large amount of what you hope is some sort of sedative. You shake your head, unsure what to say in response.

"Uh, no. I...I'm (Y/N). I'm kind of new--to all this."

She nods in understanding, flicking the body of the syringe to release any trapped bubbles. "Melissa McCall." She offers as a quick introduction, straightening the boy's flailing arm with a small smile. "Not so new."

And with that, Melissa sinks the needle into the inner crease of his elbow, pressing down quickly on the plunger. The boy has an immediate reaction--howling out like a wounded animal, twisting and arching away from Melissa and the syringe. Chris' grip on his legs is loosening dangerously, and Isaac jumps in to help. He slings an arm across the boy's knees so that he's facing Parrish, pressing his forearm down with enough werewolf strength, until he's completely pinning down the boy's lower half. Isaac leans in with his full weight and growls in warning at the boy, trying to get his attention--but it doesn't do much. Chris nods at Isaac gratefully though, turning to Melissa as he begins to pant in exhaustion, struggling to keep the boy in place.

"How long has it been like this?"

"Weeks." She answers without hesitation. You look between your new friends, wondering if you should ask the question that's been burning on the tip of your tongue, and you touch Kira's arm to get her attention. Her gaze darts to you expectantly and you vaguely gesture to the figure of the boy, leaning in to whisper.

"Who is he?"

Kira casts a glance down at his face, a flutter of indecision in her expression--as well as a shadow of resentment that surprises you, especially after seeing such a kind personality in her--as if she's not sure what she should tell you exactly. She looks up to see that the others are watching her with varying degrees of hesitation--including Isaac, curiosity lacing his features at the sudden change in the room's atmosphere. Finally, Kira turns back to you, knuckles white on the hilt of her katana. "His name is Theo," She simply states. "He's a Chimera."

"Not a very friendly one." Parrish cuts in, fingers curling into the fabric of the boy's shirt for a better grip.

"More like psychopathic." Chris adds. You arch an eyebrow at Kira, "Chi--what?"

Melissa is quick to explain, depositing the empty syringe back on the silver tray. "It means he has genetically spliced DNA--at least two or more sets. Those being a werewolf and were-coyote."

"Oh." You say in shock, staring at her in confusion.

Is that what you'd become after waking up under the tree? A Chimera? You wonder fleetingly, feeling a little optimistic that you might finally be close to understanding more about your recent supernatural change. Were you two parts of a whole?

"How did he get like that?" You question more eagerly, wanting to piece together if it was at all possible. Chris doesn't seem to think so, his expression knowing--like he'd been following the same flow of thoughts. He shakes his head at last, but answers your question anyway--briskly and straightforward.

"The Dread Doctors."

Isaac purses his lips at the strange name, eyes lifting to the ceiling like he's desperately wishing to be anywhere but right there. "Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"It was...they experimented on kids from the high school." Kira clarifies uneasily, an obvious twinge of sadness in her eyes that Isaac seems to understand. He goes quiet, eyes dropping to study the fabric of his jacket in an attempt to avoid her gaze. Parrish clears his throat to speak, the sound barely audible above the continuous symphony of sharp growling and violent struggle--the jolting sounds punctuating the air of the enclosed room--as well as the whining of the shuddering metal gurney.

"And a lot of people lost their lives." He says softly.

There's a lull in the conversation, and Melissa is pressing two fingers to the inside of Theo's wrist. She stares at her watch, trying to feel the rhythm of his pulse, all the while looking increasingly frustrated. You can hear it from where you stand--a hammering heartbeat that sounds as if it's about to break free from his chest at any moment. And you see the change in Theo's body before the others, the way his limbs lock--straight and taught--and the widening of his eyes until they bulge. You don't have a moment to warn them before his back snaps up and arches off the gurney's surface, a deafening roar ripping through the room. The metal cold chambers rattle in the shockwave, and the fluorescent ceiling lights spark, exploding from the force of it.

You clamp your hands over your ears just as the others do, and they release Theo's limbs in alarm, stumbling back from the gurney. Tiny pieces of glass shower down upon you, and you shake the fine glass dust from your head and clothes, staring as Theo remains arched for a few seconds before flopping back against the surface again, the force of the thump making you wince.

He's back to rolling around again, unable to get any sort of comfort from the pain racking his body, and moans out into the dark that settles over the room. Isaac's golden eyes begin to glow in the darkness and he scans the room, two dots of light hanging like ghosts. Then two other sets appear, both of them orange and bright--from where Kira and Parrish stand. You find you're not very surprised about the deputy, and you wonder if this means that he's also a Kitsune. Isaac merely glances at them and then hurries around you, hand gently brushing against your upper back as he passes and heads for one side of the room.

He finds a mobile surgical light on a set of wheels and drags it over to the gurney, leaving it at Theo's head. There's no verbal exchange between Isaac and Kira, but they seem to have had some sort of conversation in the time it takes for them to switch places. Isaac retreats to stand next to you and you peek around him to watch, as Kira lifts her hand up to touch the hanging bulb. Arcs of pretty blue electricity dance across the glass in waves of energy, and then the bulb flickers, electricity snapping in the air before it comes to life.

So cool.

It offers a little spotlight of brightness, and Melissa thanks her with a smile, adjusting the head of the lamp to shine directly down onto Theo's face. His features are pinched in agony, skin damp and heated. The glowing sets of eyes fade as everyone circles around the gurney again--Chris, Parrish, and Melissa on one side, leaving Kira, Isaac, and you on the other--closest to the door. Melissa shakes her head in defeat, and Chris places a hand on her lower back in some semblance of comfort, as she stares down at her patient in frustration.

"I don't know what else I can do for him. I've tried to sedate him and use the nine herbs for his wounds, but it's not exactly taking." She explains, wiping away a clump of paste she'd applied earlier with her thumb, exposing one of the smaller wounds of Theo's arm to better see the extent of it. "They're not surface level."

Kira looks thoughtful as she watches Theo's stuttering breathing, gaze scanning the length of his body. "Maybe we need to calm him first." She offers. Isaac plants the palm of his hands on the metal surface, leaning onto it with a sigh.

"How are we supposed to do that?"

"You're a werewolf." Chris reminds him, sweeping a hand over Theo's form before mimicking Isaac's position--leaning forward to stare him down, eyebrow arched as though he were daring Isaac to refute his logic. "He's basically a werewolf. Try to connect with him, tell him to calm down."

"I'm not an Alpha." Isaac counters sourly, his jaw clenched. Melissa reaches out across the gurney to touch his hand, curling her fingers around it.

"You don't have to be." She sternly tells him, waiting until he's looking back at her. And then she smiles, bright and full of certainty--a mother reassuring a son. "You just have to act like one."

Parrish has to quickly reach for Theo's shoulders again, as the boy begins to writhe more violently in another bought of panic and try to sit up, pinning his top half to the gurney's surface with a look exhaustion. "I hate to ruin the moment, but...can we hurry this up a little? Please?"

Isaac hesitates, seeming uncertain how to even go about calming down an angry, panicked wolf, but he steps closer to be near Theo's head regardless. He takes a deep breath before gripping Parrish's wrist, gesturing for the deputy to let go and move back. Parrish pauses, evaluating the situation with a quick flick of his eyes, and then nods, slowly loosening his hold. The second Parrish's hands leave Theo's shoulders, the boy bursts up into a sitting position--staring down Isaac with a venomous growl.

Isaac stands his ground, peering into Theo's face intensely, and flashes his matching glowing eyes. He narrows them, squinting hard at Theo, but the boy simply snarls without much care, and abruptly lunges for Isaac's throat. But Isaac is faster, striking the boy with a hard blow to the face. Theo inhales sharply in shock as his eyes roll back--a gruff snort that almost makes you laugh despite the horrible state he's in--and he slumps back like dead weight against the gurney, completely out cold and finally still. Melissa's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Well that works." Isaac shrugs and shakes out his hand, not sounding at all apologetic. "I panicked."

Melissa looks amused, hunching closer to Theo in order to check his condition. She pulls up the lids of his eyes, to see them move in a REM like state under the light of the surgical lamp--as if he had begun to dream. It's then you happen to look down at the metal surface of the gurney--at the shadow of Theo's body cast along the left side of it, closest to you. It's different than it should be, malformed as though it's a melting picture, the paint bleeding as it collapses in on itself--rippling like smoke.

Fuck.

How can you help him now?

Your chest feels tight at the sight, heart jumping in fear, and you're more than sure that Isaac heard it, his eyes darting to you immediately. You grip Kira’s bicep, leaning into her as you stare down at the strange shadow amalgamation.

"Kira--look. Can you see that?" You say quietly. She follows your gaze and blinks in surprise at the new development, the grim expression on her face telling you that she understands exactly what's happening.

"It's attached itself."

Isaac peers over your shoulder to get a better look, his nose crinkling in disgust. "That's so gross."

At least it's not just you seeing it this time.

You swallow down your panic, and lift your hand as though you're about to touch it, racking your brain for some way to help free Theo from its clutches. But you hesitate before making any kind of contact, remembering the awful searing pain the last time you had--blinded by the agony and drowning beneath it's weight--when you were cornered by that nightmarish shadow in Mexico. And almost died....for a second time. Parrish looks hastily between the three of you, quickly stepping around the side of the gurney to see what you'd been talking about. He studies the moving shape--shaking his head slowly as he tries to understand--and then turns to you and Kira, green eyes alight with confusion.

"What has? What's going on?"

Chris seems to piece everything together rather quickly by the terrified look on your face, his hand drifting back to his holstered gun. "The short version is a supernatural doomsday." He tells the deputy, eyes dropping to carefully eye the shadow. Isaac catches on, gently taking a hold of your shoulder to draw you back from the gurney.

"That bad?" Melissa asks, her hands resting on her hips as her gaze sweeps over each of your faces, finding her answer before Chris speaks.

"It's not good."

Parrish casts one more look at the shadow, before reaching down to pat the gun holstered at his hip, as if reassuring himself it's still there. "And what's the long version?"

"That's not something I can really answer." Chris says, fixing you with a knowing look. Everyone else turns towards you, and you feel your stomach flip nervously from the sudden attention. But Kira saves you from having to explain, which you think you'll be forever thanking her for--if you're able to survive the next few hours.

"(Y/N)?" She begins carefully, eyes flitting over your hesitant expression. "You looked like you had an idea or something earlier. What is it?"

"The shadow in the desert." You remind her, brushing your fingers reflexively over the skin of your neck. "It touched me--before the pain came."

Isaac stares at you in surprise, "Pain?"

"It felt like it was ripping something from my body. Like a...second layer of skin I didn't know I had."

"Your soul." Kira concludes, eyes widening with the realization. You flex your hands and nod at her, heart thumping away in your chest.

"Maybe it works both ways."

Kira lets that sink in, as she mulls over the situation. And then seems to agree after a moment--however uneasy she appeared to be about the idea at first--dropping her hand onto your shoulder. She squeezes it, nodding back at you with a more confident smile that helps to calm your racing thoughts. "Okay."

"Wait, hold on." Isaac says, mouth parted in barely concealed shock. He runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment, gripping loosely on the tiny curls at the top of his head. "I'm I the only one that sees about a hundred things that can go wrong with this plan?"

"No." Chris grunts, sighing at the look Melissa gives him in response. She's no longer amused, mouth pressed in a tight line as she regards him.

"Well, we won't know until we try." She argues, turning to face you with a much softer expression. More reminiscent of the mother figure you'd seen earlier--especially in her interactions with both Isaac and Kira. "Are you sure?"

You nod slowly and pause, "I am. I think."

"Oh my god." Isaac mutters, supporting himself with one hand as he leans back against the gurney, hanging his head to take a deep breath. Kira rolls her eyes at him, turning you around to face Theo.

"You can do it. I'll be here." She assures you.

Parrish smiles, "We all will."

You follow Isaac's lead and take a steadying breath, circling around Kira to squeeze between her and Parrish--right at Theo's head. You gesture for the others to move back, unsure of what may happen and they do as they're told, taking a few large steps back on either side. You sweep your gaze over the moving shadow, studying the wriggling motion of the smoke-like wisps as they dance across the metal surface. You suck in a breath, hoping above anything else that you'll be able to make this work--some way or another. It would really suck to die again.

Your hands sink in like it's a pool of water when you finally touch it, dipping alarmingly in about an inch into the gurney itself. It's heavy and cold and surprisingly wet, but you feel as though your skin it still dry. You spread your fingers at the sensation and then close your fists, expecting to only find air. But instead they close around something slimy, though there's nothing actually physical between your fingers.

As you take a hold of it, there's a breath-stealing surge of energy like a punch to the gut--one that rushes up into your arms and them the rest of your body, feeling like pins and needles in your limbs. You gasp at the sensation, and feel the heat rising behind your eyes, tendrils of heavy dark smoke curling up your arms before stopping at your elbows. You find you can't pull your hands back and try not panic, repeating the special mantra in your head as you regulate your breathing. There's a sharp jab at the back of your head, pressure following--like something is trying to bury itself into your mind--and it burns, echoes of fear and sadness dancing just at the edges.

You push harshly back in alarm, closing your eyes to focus on locking away the entrance to your thoughts. It feels weaker than the one in Mexico, and you wonder if that's because the connection to its host is temporarily cut off, but it seems to work regardless after a few more violent shoves--the pressure lifted away and the burning gone. You're eyes flutter open, the heat in your eyes intensifying until they begin to glow purple in the dim light. Everyone is quiet, as though they seem to know you're trying to focus. Kira moves closer, raising her katana. Chris slips out his gun at the same time Parrish does in case something goes wrong, the both of them locking gazes. Melissa reaches for that odd black cylinder among the vials. And Isaac elongates his claws, fangs growing in his parted mouth.

You pull, drawing your hands back while still locked together with the shadow, and it begins to move with you. It struggles, stretching and twisting, making the first few tugs slow like you're meeting some resistance. It builds up a tense pressure, until suddenly it lets go too quickly for you to comprehend, like a popping a cork on a bottle of wine. You release it without meaning to, the abrupt force of its release sending you stumbling back, flailing, and Isaac is there to steady you from behind, his hands on your shoulder and arm. The smoke creature slams into Kira first, sending her flying back. Her katana hits the floor, sliding to the other side of the room as her head thwacks hard against the door. She slumps to her side with a groan of a pain, and Parrish drops down next to her, checking her head for any damage.

The creature ricochets around the room--bouncing off the ceiling, against the metal cold chambers, and the sliding table, knocking everything off. The silver tray clatters to the tiled floor, vials and bottles smashing against the ground, as it careens like a pinball against the door and surgical lamp, which falls over onto its side. The lamp illuminates Chris and Melissa as they dive to the floor, their shadows like giants against the wall behind them. Melissa's arms are thrown over her head, Chris shielding her with his body as the shadow circles them a few times before taking off again, a gust of air kicking up around them.

Melissa is the first to stand, gripping the end of the gurney to drag Theo backwards and away from the middle of the room. Chris takes the other side, and together they manoeuvre it out of harm's way, standing by it as some sort of line of defense for the unconscious Theo. She slides open the black cylinder and you realize that it's a large taser, electricity sparking against it until the smell of it permeates the air. Chris lifts his gun and starts shooting, but it seems that they can no longer see it--now that it's been released from Theo's body. They're searching wildly around for the creature as it demolishes the room in a violent whirlwind, its noisy gurgling sounding more like growls of anger.

"(Y/N), where is it?! " Chris exclaims, voice rough and booming, his gaze following the messy trail it makes. But his aim is never close enough to hit it--either too far ahead or too far behind. A few times he gets surprisingly close, but you doubt it will actually have an effect on it. "We need a little direction!"

Isaac growls from beside you, craning his neck to try and see it. "That would be nice!"

You gulp and trace it's fanatical path the best you can, "To-to your left! Left! My left!"

"Left!" Melissa repeats, and Chris grunts in acknowledgment, re-directing his aim with a frustrated sigh.

"I heard."

You glance over to see that Parrish has helped Kira sit up buy now, and you breathe in relief that she's conscious--though she seems dazed from the blow still, her head hanging between her knees. He's mumbling to her quietly, asking if she can understand him, and she merely groans again--at what you think is a wave of nausea, judging by the way she's clamped a hand over her mouth. Parrish has his gun trained in the air as well--as he stays hunched next to Kira--but he's not shooting. He's only carefully following the trail the shadow makes, his eyes narrowed and gun moving with it, but it seems too fast for him to get a shot off. You're glad he's staying near her though, offering a little protection until he knows she's okay. You hope she heals fast.

At this point, you're back to back with Isaac, and he swings at the shadow with his claws whenever he feels it blow past him. You desperately want to help him, and feel a cold spike of fear when you realize that you'll have to break your one rule for the supernatural.

Let go.

You breath in through your nose and do just that. Your gums sting as the fangs begin to grow, a jolting prickle of your claws as they extend from your fingertips. You stop even though they're not fully done growing, too afraid of completely letting go, and use what you have to swipe at the creature when it circles back around to you. You catch its tail-end as it tries to surge above you, and it howls in agony, writhing as though throwing a temper tantrum in the air and swirling in haphazard circles. Parrish seems to have had enough and calls out to Chris, rising to his feet and tossing him his gun. He's staring at the creature intensely--directly at it.

He can see it too, you realize in surprise, watching him with growing disbelief. Chris catches the gun easily and ceases fire, lowering his own as though he knows that the deputy was about to do something rather magnificent. Parrish spreads out his arms, and to your shock the skin of his hands catch fire, the flames licking up his arms--until they circle up across his neck and down into his chest, burning tattered holes in his deputy's uniform and beginning to melt the radio head on his shoulder. The smell of flaming plastic fills the room. His eyes are a blazing orange, the glow brighter than before.

Holy shit.

The flames stop there--but you think that they could probably spread out more, and grow brighter and hotter if needed. Regardless, the room heats up quickly, and you feel beads of sweat collecting at the nape of your neck.

"What--"

"Hellhound." Kira heaves from behind you. Even feeling sick, Kira is quick to answer your question, and you hope this means that she's almost done healing if she's becoming more aware of her surroundings. You go to move towards her--to see if you can help--but Isaac stops you, gripping your wrist to keep you by his side. You round on him to tell him off, but see he's watching Parrish with great interest now, and you curiously follow his gaze.

The deputy holds out a hand, his palm facing the shadow, and releases a stream of red waves--heat, you think--that swirl and close together to create a sort of container, the hot torrent trapping the creature in a smaller area of space above him. But it is still moving too fast and too high for Kira to reach it--like a darting bee trapped in a glass cup....more than eight feet in the air. You try to sort through your whirling thoughts and catch the glint of her katana in your peripheral, and suddenly you think you've got a good enough idea on how to finish this. You reach up and shake Isaac's shoulder, his eyes jumping to you in question.

"Her sword!" You cry over the creature's droning noise, and Isaac turns his gaze to search for it without a moment's hesitation. He locates it quickly, and bursts into a run across the room, dropping to his knees and sliding to pluck it from the ground--hilt first. He collides harshly with the wall of metal cold chambers before he can stop himself, shoulder striking it first, but shakes off the shock from it, bracing a hand against one of the bottom metal drawers. He rises to a kneeling position and spins, tossing the katana back across the room to Kira.

At the same time, you hurry towards Parrish and the creature, gliding to a shaky stop on your feet once you've passed though the outside layer of red, undulating waves. He locks eyes with you through the wall of supernatural heat, and you blink at the extreme warmth and dryness washing over you, hoping he can understand your motive as you look expectantly between him and the creature. You breathe out deeply, willing your eyes to glow that haunting purple.

It happens more naturally this time--and the reaction is immediate. His eyes flash brighter for a moment, an unspoken conversation flaring through your mind in a rush of static that you can actually hear--like recognizing a long forgotten Morse code. It seems to startle you both, but he manages to calm the shaking in his hands and nod at you in understanding.

He slowly moves the container of heat low enough, guiding the creature closer to you, as you stretch and lift up your hands--reaching out and above your head--before hooking your hands around one of its low hanging arms. The smoke is heavy from the amount of heat it had been absorbing, and is easier to get a hold of, the wetness all but dried up--the texture like steel wool now, course and dry.

You drag it down with a hard tug, drawing it closer to your body in order to hold it in a better position, and Parrish drops the container of heat, letting it fade away into the air like the flames covering his skin--just as Kira rushes forward. She's gripping her fiery katana tightly and slices diagonally through the smoke--from the top of its head down. It shreds into wisps like in desert, but the momentum of her swing doesn't stop. In the adrenaline of battle, she almost slices clean through your head, but Isaac is suddenly there blocking your vision. He's standing in front of you and facing her, the blade caught forcefully in his grip--an inch from your throat. You choke on a gasp, eyes wide. He makes a sound as the katana cuts into his skin, rivets of blood dripping from his closed hand.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" He quips through gritted teeth.

The hardness of Kira's expression melts away quickly--the twisted, unnatural looking snarl falling slack in shock, the anger in her glowing orange eyes draining until she just looks so tired. She shakes herself free of any lingering fury, blinking fast until her dark eyes return, and seems absolutely horrified with herself. She jerks back with wide eyes, and Isaac releases the blade with a hiss, letting her pull it back and sheath it hastily.

"I'm so sorry--" Kira starts in a hurry, tone pitched in distress. The disappointment in herself is obvious in her expression and body language, and she curls in on herself slightly, avoiding the burning eyes of the others.

"It's okay--Kira, I'm okay." You assure her, poking your head around Isaac's tall frame. You smile through the slight trembling of your body--purely aftershocks of near death trauma--in hopes of comforting her, and hop around Isaac when he doesn't move. You're not afraid of her, and you don't think you ever could be. "Are you?"

She notices the shaking at once and frowns miserably, touching a hand to her forehead. "Yes--I...yes." she says quietly.

"Isaac?" Melissa asks. She's helping Chris wheel the gurney back to the middle of the room, returning her deactivated taser back to the extended cold chamber table on the way. She eyes him anxiously, but Isaac just grins in reassurance, wiping his bloody palm across the fabric of his shirt. He holds it up to show her. There's barely any mark left from the blade, only a thin pink line spanning the width of his entire palm.

"I'm fine--see, look. Already healing."

You bump your arm against his and wait patiently until he looks to you, his eyebrows raised. You shuffle awkwardly in place. "Thank you." You tell him sincerely. He shrugs and jams his hands into his jacket pockets, looking oddly unsure of himself.

"We still need you to stick around." He says, lips quirking up into a half smile. "Head intact."

"Preferably." You agree, feeling shy at the pleasant warmth it gives you.

Chris clears his throat, and you both turn back to face him and an unconscious Theo, wishing for the heat in your face to die down when Melissa--very unsubtly--looks between you and Isaac in interest, propping the battered surgical lamp back up for a little light. Parrish and Kira follow you to the gurney, and you all circle around it for a final time, staring down at Theo's motionless figure.

He's breathing and very much alive, but is not as peaceful as you would have thought--especially after removing the creature from his shadow. You can tell he's healing now, though it's happening much too slowly--the skin of the ugly, scattered wounds on his arms closing in varying states, most of them still looking pretty sore, the black veins beginning to retreat from the underside of his jaw. His face is drawn in anguish--tiny trails of tears sliding down his cheeks--and you think that it's going to take him a much longer time to completely let his werewolf healing take effect. You flinch at the rattling, gasping sound he makes--the agonized noise hanging in the silence of the room--his body beginning to stir ever so slightly.

"He still looks like he's in pain." You say softly, gripping tightly at the edge of your shirt.

Melissa gently touches the arm closest to her, bending it up at the elbow to more carefully examine his wounds under the surgical lamp. "He's not healing very fast either." She adds.

"Can we do anything else?" You ask, glancing up at her with a hopeful expression. "To help?"

"Take it." Isaac quietly suggests from beside you--before she can offer any other idea--and you look to him sharply, not quite understanding what he means by that. Take it?

"What?"

"The pain."

"We can take away pain?"

"You've never done it before?" Isaac sounds surprised at your inquiry and turns to face you, his eyebrows raised. "But you said it yourself--you're part wolf, aren't you?"

"I said I think."

He rolls his eyes at the subtle bite in your tone and then continues to regard you openly, eyes flicking from your face to a still suffering Theo. He gestures to him with a tilt of his head, "Give it a try then." He offers. You shake your head hastily, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

"I...don't know how. I haven't exactly been hanging around other werewolves--I haven't...wanted to learn about all this." You burst out in a rush of long buried emotion, the words pulled from your throat before you can really think about them. You pause and suck in a short breath, trying to collect yourself. You duck your head, evading the sympathetic stares of the others around you.

You never liked that kind of attention.

"It's been...a little overwhelming," You conclude. "Obviously."

"Obviously." Isaac agrees softly, a flash of emotion in his eyes--so quick it's hard to really tell what it was--and his mouth twitches as though he's about to smile. "Do you still want to?"

You hesitate, but he must see the curiosity that flickers to life in your expression, and he reaches out to take your hand. "What are you doing?" You say breathlessly, hoping he doesn't hear the edge of fear in your voice, as he gently draws you closer to Theo. He laces his fingers through yours--his palm to the back of your hand.

"Teaching." He answers simply. He places your hand on Theo's forearm, giving it a tiny squeeze before letting go and stepping back. Theo's skin is damp beneath your palm and you slide your hand down to his wrist, curling your fingers around it. You look to Isaac nervously, and he leans in to whisper.

"Think about how you want to help him."

And you do, staring down at your hand intently. It happens instantaneously--thin black veins branching up your arm in a spider web pattern that takes you by surprise. And then you feel the pain--a biting stab that feels like a spike driving itself through your chest, all aching limbs and burning muscles, a dizzying nausea that slams into you. You lose your breath for a moment and wince, the soreness fading within seconds.

Theo breathes out in a quiet, content sigh, body going slack in relief, and you watch as his face falls into a picture of serenity. Your heart is hammering away again--this time in excitement--and you lift your hand from his arm, spinning to face Isaac with a look of delight. He's already smiling at you, mouth moving as if he's about to say something. But he's suddenly turning to watch Melissa instead, as she begins to check on Theo's condition, her stethoscope in hand. Kira grips your shoulders with an animated gasp, and you turn to her in astonishment, watching her eyes light up as she bounces a few times in place.

"You did it!" She exclaims, looking immediately embarrassed by her reaction. She lets your shoulders go, stammering through her own shock. "I mean, I knew you could do it, I didn't mean to sound so surprised--I just....I got excited."

You chuckle warmly and rest your hands on her shoulders, just as eager and sincere. "Thank you, Kira."

Parrish tugs at his burnt shirt with a sigh, reaching up to check if the radio attached to his shoulder still works. He presses the button on its side and gives it a little shake, frowning at the whine of stuttering static. You don't think that it survived. "I have to update the Sheriff on what's going on." He says, gaze already trained on the door to the room.

"Alright." Chris concurs, handing Parrish back his gun, as he tucks his own more snugly into his waistband. He looks to you then, eyes sweeping over to Kira and Isaac on either side of you. He motions to the deputy with a nod, "You three should go too, give them the long version."

Before anyone can move, Theo bolts up on the gurney with a strangled groan, blue-gray eyes wide and aware as he jerks abruptly to face you. You're so startled that you don't even think about it, drawing your arm back for enough momentum to punch him solidly in the face. It was a defensive instinct, and you gap in stunned silence as Theo slowly rocks forward, his eyes fluttering closed, before he slumps back against the gurney for a second time--knocked out cold. You clamp a hand over your mouth, unsure what to even say.

"Nice." Isaac supplies for you, seeming impressed at your strength.

Chris nods in agreement, "Good instincts."

Melissa struggles to hide her amusement, shaking her head at the equally bewildered expressions on Parrish and Kira's face. She takes a hold of one end of the gurney, gesturing for Chris to do the same. "Chris and I will get Theo out of the hospital--preferably before he wakes up again. You four should get going." She says.

"Yes Ma'am." Parrish answers, already turning for the door, and you hurry to follow him in his haste. "Let's go."

32 notes · View notes