#But I feel like Cass will have a headache because of me soon... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvly-writer · 1 year

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"But oh..Cara mia”

Ch. 5: We needed the context

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Dick Grayson x Latina! Reader

Status: Ongoing

Warnings: Toxic Relationships

Author's note: Originally, chapter 4 and 5 were supposed to be one, but it was too long so I have to cut it into two. Enjoy!

Taglist: @lorosette @prettyacademia00 @nanas-teatime

Series Masterlist:

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Babs paused to drink water and take a deep breath. Everyone else stayed in silence, processing what was going on.

They all knew Dick and Yn's relationship was rocky at best. They had their peaceful moments but it was still terrible. Yet with all the context Barbara had provided, the only thought in their heads was "What in the actual fuck?" Stephanie spoke up, "Honestly, I don't know how everyone around them could handle all of this. I'm getting a headache just listening." Duke and Cass nodded numbly. Damian was baffled, how could these two people that were known to be anything but hateful, be nothing but destructive to one another. Jason was just staring into the abyss. He had talked about this before with Barbara and Yn. He knew what was coming next and he knew that what Barbara would tell now, would be the main reason for the present-day issues. Tim was eating everything up. His mind was going a mile a minute. This had been the one question he had never been able to answer and he was anxious to finally understand what went wrong. Finally, Barbara continued. "Like I said, the arguments they had at the moment, allowed me to see details I had missed before. I would see how Yn's distance hurt Dick, how he would constantly search for her everywhere, how his words were the only ones that could bring her to tears. Oh, it was truly catastrophic. You never knew what was going to happen, whether it was Bruce and Dick or Yn and Dick. Finally, Dick moved to Bludhaven at 19 and Yn was allowed space to breathe. One day, however, my curiosity got the best of me and I cornered her and asked her what truly was wrong. I used all the evidence I had gathered and presented it to her. She had no fight left to give me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barbara had invited Yn for a sleepover at her house. They had this a million times, yet this one felt different. Yn was a junior now and was working her ass off for a summer scholarship at MIT before her senior year. They finally had a break to sit down and relax. The day had gone great so far, both went to see a movie, did some shopping, and enjoyed some of their time together. Soon it was nightfall and in normal sleepover tradition, they decide to stay out late. Bruce had given them the night off, wanting the girls to enjoy some me time because they deserved it. Barbara was laying on her bed and Yn sat on the mattress she usually slept on whenever she stayed over. They were both scrolling through their phones. Barbara was working up the courage to ask Yn about all the things she had doubts regarding Dick. Finally, she sat up, took a deep breath, and called out her name. "Yn", The girl looked up from her phone and once she saw Barbara's anxious expression, she climbed up and sat in front of her, "Barbie, what's wrong? Are you okay?"Yn asked worried about her friend, and so Barbara began, "We are best friends, right?"Yn nods, "and you'd tell me everything, right?" Yn nodded again, "Even if it is about a boy you deemed to hate but started to have feelings for and said boy is my ex?" Barbara laid it out there. She knew she should have had a softer approach, but that would have given Yn, time to evade the question and topic like she had so expertly done many times before. Yn tensed up and her eyes widened. She then asked, "What do you mean, Barbara?" and Barbara deadpanned at her, "Yn, you can't possibly believe that me, YOUR best friend in the entire world, wouldn't notice it. You avoid any conversation with him, you avoid him as a whole, you care about him, you care what he thinks of you, you care for him, YN, don't lie to me anymore. Don't carry such a big burden yourself, we are best friends, almost sisters, I'm here for you." Having said that, Yn burst into tears, "I hate him, Barbara, I hate him so much! But I hate even more, that I can't completely hate him because it's him!" Barbara pulled her friend into a hug. "and I tried so hard to get rid of these feelings, I tried Barbara, but they won't go away!" the young girl wailed. Barbara held her friend and allowed her to calm down so that she could explain everything. Once she did, she began her explanation, "It began when he came back from the Teen Titans, he was different, not just physically, but emotionally too, he felt different. I thought of it as just a silly crush because he had grown up and he looked soo good and he had matured. I said to myself that it was all looks and just like the time we met, once he opened his mouth, all the charm would go away. But oh Barbara, it didn't, the feelings didn't go away! We still kept on fighting but he made it nearly impossible to not like him. Do you know how many times we had to be tied together, with me smelling his cologne and just having him near me. And he had gotten smarter too, I never wanted to admit it, but his tactics were amazing. Then one night, I went down to drink water and I heard whimpers coming from his room. He was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him up, and help him. At first, he was disoriented and called me Slade, which I was confused by. I helped him breathe and relax his mind. After he had calmed down, I gave him the water I had taken and stood up to leave but he asked me to stay. He looked so vulnerable and broken so I did stay. I asked him if he wanted to talk about it and told him that most times when you talk about nightmares, they don't repeat themselves. And so he started telling me. He told me about Slade, how he was manipulated by him and taken as his apprentice, he told me of how he put the Titans at risk, and how even after he was defeated he was still hunted by him for some time after and it was killing him from the inside. Thankfully, the Titans were able to find a cure. After he told me everything, we decided to stay there and talk.

We had never really actually had a civil conversation before. I asked him about his life at the circus and if he missed it. He told me about his parents and about everything there and how he did miss it sometimes. I told him about my parents. He asked about Puertp Rico and I told him about every summer when I spend half of it in Puerto Rico and the other half on Themyscira and how Diana always tried to help me maintain both of my heritages alive. He taught me a few words in Romani and I taught him a few in Spanish. It was a great moment. Then The day after, it felt as if something had changed. Whenever he had a nightmare, he would text me or call me and he would tell me about it and we would talk for hours on the phone. Those hours of vulnerability were the highlight of my days. Then both of you became a thing and I didn't want to lose you, Babs. I knew that from his side, there were no feelings aside from a partner in the hour of sadness, but I knew there were feelings on my side and I wanted to end them. So I distanced myself. You must believe me, Babs, I wanted to get rid of those feelings. If I had to choose between you and him, I would choose to stay by your side before anything. Yn said panicked and Barbara reassured her with a smile, "Im not mad, Yn. You never acted on them, On the other hand, you distanced yourself. I know you would never try to hurt me. I'm not mad at that. I'm not angry at you. Well a little, but not because you feel that, but because you felt as if you needed to suffer alone. I'm always here." said Babs and a fresh round of tears overtook Yn, she continued her story, "Then you guys broke up, but I still didn't want anything to do with him, I felt disgusting, liking my friend's ex. By then I still hadn't identified that what I felt was..." YN didn't want to say it, because saying it confirmed it, "Love?" finished Barbara and Yn did a face. Barbara couldn't help but laugh at her friend. "It's not bad! You can say you love him Yn!" Yn looked at her exasperated and said, "No Barbara, we will not confirm this by saying it, there is no it to confirm, it is a meaningless crush, and infatuation at best, IT WILL LEAVE" It made Barbara laugh again and say, "You are so deep in denial, but continue" Yn glared at her, making Barbara laugh once again and continued. "Then, my kidnapping happened and Slade took me and tortured me, Barbara I was so scared cause I knew what had happened to Dick and it was going to happen to me. Slade thought that the only person whomst he was causing damage to was Bruce and I didn't want him to know, Dick was close to me too cause then it would be worse. Yet he still found out, and Barbara that was terrifying. He truly is a monster. When I was rescued, Dick slept by my bedside the majority of the time. He would visit and those moments of vulnerability came back again, this time it wasn't me providing the support. One time, I even expressed that I would sometimes feel used and that he only saw me as a therapist but he reassured me that what was between the two of us was different. He didn't put a name to it, and neither did I but I just viewed it as two people finding solidarity over the same traumas. It was all fine while I was in recovery, but once was done, I distanced myself again. Barbara, I hate these feelings so so so much. Then, he began to fight with Bruce and he took it out on me. I thought we would be past that but we weren't. Even if I knew he wasn't in the right headspace, I was not going to allow him to step over me and treat me like shit, and even if I knew he never meant the majority of the things he said to me, they still cut worse than a knife! Oh, Babs! GOD FUCK NOOOOOO! I SHOULDN'T FEEL THIS WAY!" she said, her final words being muffed by her friend's shoulder as she tried to comfort her. The two girls stayed a while, Yn calming down from the intensity of the moment and Barbara processing all the information given to her.

Finally, Yn whispers, "How'd you know" and Barbara answered, "The change was visible to everyone. We all knew something happened. What exactly? No one knew what to say, but we knew. We could tell you guys had changed." They stayed in silence for a while, but Barbara wasn't going to let these sleepover be ruined by feelings and sadness, so in true best-friend nature, she turned to Yn and said, "Taking out ALL of the trauma and shit, YOU like Dick Grayson! YOU!" she teased. Sensing the teasing tone in her best friend's voice, Yn took a pillow and smacked her, "Shut up, no I don't" and Barbara laughed out, "Oh yes you do! You so do. You don't just like him, yn, you fell IN LOVE with him." Yn, who had opted to stare at the ceiling, widened her eyes in alarm. "oh no...OH GOD NO! I'M IN LOVE WITH DICK GRAYSON! DICK FUCKING GRAYSON!" she said horrified and Barbara laughed so hard that tears came out of her eyes. "Oh my, you love Dick Grayson!" and Yn sat up even more horrified, "This is disgusting!" to which Barbara wheezed out another round of laughter. What a night...

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Barbara recalls the memory fondly, she looks around, to see everyone waiting for her to finish, this is the quietest they have ever been. She continues, "Thankfully, Dicks departure to Bludhaven gave the girl time and space to breathe. Time passed and Jason arrived, stealing everyone's heart with him. Yn adopted Jason as the younger brother she never had. She graduated from high school, high honors the bitch, and entered Gotham University. Most days, she would take Jason with her to the library to study, for ice cream, or just anything. She truly adored Jason, " Jason smiled softly, recalling all the moments he shared with his older sister before his death. "Then, Dick came back and he would fight with Bruce, feeling replaced by Jason and Yn would come to both of their rescues. "

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"Yn, Bruce fucking replaced me! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HIM?!" Dick screamed at the young girl, who was looking at him angrily. "Richard, you CHOSE to leave! Jason earned the mantle fair and square. YOU DON'T GET TO WHINE ABOUT SOMETHING YOU ABANDONED" she responded frustrated

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"Yn always stood up for both of them. Bruce, being the only father figure she had, even though it was sometimes dysfunctional, they both care for one another, and seeing as she never left Bruce for long lapses of time, they had formed a bond. And Jason, well that was her little brother, he had no fault in any of this. Finally, Dick came around and started treating Jason and Bruce better. Finally giving in to the brother figure. Dick and Yn went back to civil terms, even to the point that Bruce's PR decided to pull a move and have Dick and Yn play the two happy young lovers at a gala. Each was set to take waltz classes growing up and had been taught by Bruce and Diana how to behave at galas, so this small mission wasn't too bad for them," Jason's eyes lit up in recognition, he then said, "I remember that, Alfred told both of them to teach me how to waltz!" and Barbara laugh, "OMG! Yes! I remember that

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They were standing in one of the living rooms, Jason and Barbara on the sofas and Yn and Dick, standing in front of them. Yn began explaining, "It is said, that when the perfect waltz is danced, both people can have a candle in their hands and it won't blow away because of how smooth the dance is." she explained, lighting a candle and getting into position with Dick. Barbara whispered to Jason, "The real phrase is when you dance the waltz with the perfect partner, but neither of them would ever EVER admit that they are each other's perfect waltz partner" making Jason giggle. Finally, Yn and Dick began counting the steps, "Ok, pay attention, Jason, Babs, stop distracting him. And one, two, three, one, two, three..." said Yn, and at some point, Dick, whispered at her, "Stop looking at your feet, you have to look at me. We need to sell it, plus, looking at you feet makes you not dance with fluidness" making the girl look up and glare at him, "I'm making sure that I am teaching the correct way, Richard." This made the boy laugh and retort, "how will you teach him if you aren't being natural. Relax, we'll do great" Truth be told, Yn didn't want to look at him for fear that she would get lost in them, those baby blues had a hold on her. Finally, she did end up looking, and just as she had thought she got lost in them. She stopped counting and just kept dancing. Both too busy and lost with the other person failed to see, a. Barbara looking at Jason and telling him that she told him so, causing the boy to laugh, and b. the candle that never blew away.

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"Unfortunately, good things can't last forever. Yn and Dick would return to their bickering yet this time it was a whole different reason than the other times. Yn would always tell me that this whole relationship of solitude never ended. On the contrary, anytime Dick or her needed comfort, they would always turn to each other. Late-night calls became a constant, and that created another problem. You see, every time Dick left Gotham he reunited with someone. Kory. They dated when they were back on the Titans but by then Yn wasn't an issue since they still despised each other. Then, the second time he left, Kory felt something had changed but having assumed that Yn was still an annoying kid to him, she directly assumed it had something to do with me. Then The third time he went back, her attentions were on YN. After the publicity stunt, many arguments between Kory and Dick had Yn as a topic. She would scream and fight that he was falling for her and he would defend that they weren't even friends, to begin with so how was that possible. Then she would ask him to cut ties with her and he would explain that he technically couldn't because they worked together every time he was in Gotham. Then, frustrated with his relationship falling apart, Dick and Yn would argue again.

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"We can't have contact anymore," said Dick looking at the girl. Yn didn't understand the problem, she didn't want to cut ties with him. "Richard, we literally have never had a romantic sentiment between us, what the hell?" A lie. She knew it was a lie on her behalf, but he didn't need to know that. "We are coworkers, only that. Tell her that," she said and Dick brushed his hand through his hair. "I did, YN! Don't you think I haven't fucking tried!". He was frustrated as fuck, "Then try harder, Richard, because I'm not compromising a team dynamic just because some girl wants you to quit with someone who has NOTHING TO DO WITH THE RELATIONSHIP!" From there, the fight escalated and it could be heard by both Jason and Barbara who looked at each other and shrugged.

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"Time passed and they grew distant again, much to Yn's dismay, who still had feelings for him. Like all the other times, she still believed that this time apart would help her get rid of her feeling, yet it didn't. Then well...Jason died....and it absolutely destroyed both Dick and Yn. Yn was torn to pieces. That girl was devastated. Dick, Yn, and Bruce constantly blamed themselves for Jason's death. It was horrible," Jason, cleared his throat, trying to hide the tingling feeling he had in his throat, "Each of them did things in the midst of their grief. Bruce almost killed the Joker, but was held back by Superman, who heard his cries all the way from Metropolis, Dick hunted Joker down and tortured the Joker to the point where he would have killed him if Bruce hadn't pulled him away, and Yn? She gave up her mantle. Yn didn't want to live in a world where she was a vigilante yet she couldn't save Jason. Even more, fights began between the three of them. Dick blaming Bruce, Bruce lashing out and blaming himself, and Yn blaming both of them. It took a while before they all calmed down and per Yn's request, sat down and talked about it. It helped them heal. Their relationships mended, but Yn never took the mantle again, she focused on science. By that time, Tim had arrived. Yn was no longer a vigilante, but she still helped around. That's when she began what she does today. Her one motivation being that as long as she made sure you all were in optimal condition, she wouldn't lose someone like she lost Jason. She made sure our weapons and suits were the best and that our health was at its peak. Exactly what she does today. Then Joker kidnaped Tim and created Joker Junior. Yn worked her ass off in order to save Tim and bring him back to health. Reverse all the trauma Joker had inflicted. Thankfully, she succeeded, " At that, Jason looked at Tim who smiled fondly at the thought of the girl. They both adored their older sister. " Just like she did with Jason after the pit and with me after my Joker attack. Yn threw herself to her work and she thought that everything with Dick had left, yet every time he came back? It was everything all over again. The bickering, the longing looks from both of them, the soft words, the caring for each other, and inevitably a fight that would make them go back to square one. It was all the same every. single. Time! And you all know that cause you see it every time. No matter how many times either of them leaves, they always come back for the other. It's a cycle with no end." finished Barbara as she leaned back.

They all stayed in silence, processing the information. Yn loved Dick and he loved her back, so what the fuck were they waiting for? Soon, they all began to stand up and to their rooms in order to get change for patrol. They had all agreed to not speak of this with anyone aside from this group. Damian had a lot to think about. He had one last question, a curiosity that sparked there, and asked Barbara before she left, "Gordon, you said Yn worked on getting rid of your trauma because of Joker. I knew he helped with Drake's and Todd's, but those were psychological. What did she do to you?" Barbara in return smiled at him and answered, "She reconstructed my spine. After Joker's torture, I was left in a wheelchair. Because of that, she was motivated to help me, and a lot of time after, she helped reconstruct my spine. I have my ability to walk, run and fight, thanks to her." Finally, having cleared everything up. Damian went to his room. It was a lot of information to process. They hated each other because of how much they loved each other? How was Gordon so sure Grayson loved Yn? I mean, she obviously had confirmation that Yn loved Grayson, but did he love her back, or what he just fond of her? Too many questions surrounded Damian. It was a lot to process and because of so, Damian told his father he would tune in for the night. His investigation had gotten 10 times more interesting.

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isolavirtuosa · 3 months

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That River in Egypt 1-7 of 21

[fanfiction] Dean / Cass

canon divergent AU from 15x19, Dean being Dean

- 1 -

“Mistakes were made,” I mumbled into the warm back of the stranger I was naked in bed with. I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that my head was gonna explode, so I decided not moving was the best option.

The warm body shifted.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” I hummed, hand running down an impressively toned tummy, enjoying the feel of soft skin over hard muscle.

My partner let out a contented sigh, and I found my hand moving lower.

Fingers moved through coarse hair before idly stroking.

“Dean,” she breathed out, but there was something not quite right.

I started stroking with more intent, feeling her thicken. My breath started escaping in heated pants.

“Dean,” she moaned, and there was definitely something not right.

My eyes started to flutter open, pain shooting through my head.

The familiar feel of memory foam under me, the dark lighting of the bunker...

My hand slowed.

I would never bring a stranger here.

I would never bring a...

I let go, skittering out of bed like a frightened child.

“W-who...” I started to stammer, but I already knew the answer.

Women didn’t usually have low, gravelly voices.

Or dicks, for that matter.

Cass sat up, looking at me with a weird mix of confusion and arousal.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I blurted out, continuing to back away from the bed until I hit the wall.

“Do what?” he asked, his voice coming out almost like a growl with how rough it was.

“Uh… you know, uh…” I trailed off, before squeaking out, “why are you in my bed?”

Cass frowned. “Do you not remember last night?”

“Not really, no.”

His frown deepened. “Dean.”

I stared at him helplessly, feeling his disappointment in me like it was a physical thing.

“You assured me-” he started to say, then shut his mouth and looked away, clenching his jaw.

Oh, fuck, what had Drunk Dean done? Because Hungover Dean had a headache and a pissed off naked angel in his bed with no idea how any of this had come to be.

That wasn’t entirely true.

I was trying to tell myself that there was a reasonable (a.k.a. non-sexual) explanation for all this, but…

There were flashes.

There were also a number of used condoms tied off in the trash can.

Jesus Christ.

“We didn’t…” I tried.

“We did,” he replied flatly.

“Okay, but we didn’t…”

“We had sex, Dean.”

“Okay, but… why?”

Cass threw the covers aside and got out of bed, gathering up his clothes from the floor.

He was pissed.

Also, he was very naked.

Not that I was noticing how fantastic his ass looked as he bent over to grab his shirt.

The guy was in great shape; who wouldn’t want to look like that? That’s all I was doing, experiencing a little body envy and all that. The burgers and the booze hadn’t been kind to my waistline lately, but Cass could put away anything and still look amazing.

You know, amazing in an objective kind of way.

In the blink of an eye, Cass was fully clothed, and I finally realized that I’d been naked the whole time, too, which had been fine when we were both naked, but now that it was just me, it seemed kind of awkward.

I subtly rested my hands in front of my junk.

Couldn’t really hide the love handles.

Not that Cass would notice. Or care.

Except that we apparently had sex last night, and regret seemed to be the opposite of why he was pissed.

Cass was attracted to me.

Cass thought I was fuckable, love handles and all.

It was kind of a nice thought, besides that fact that it was terrifying and something we just needed to not bring up ever again.

Because this was definitely not going to happen again.

I’d been drunk, and I was always flirty when I was drunk, and one thing had led to another, but-

“I’m leaving, Dean.”

I was startled out of my denials by reality. “What?”

“I do not stay where I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted!” I blurted out, then immediately backtracked. “Sam-”

“Dean,” he said, and oh boy, was he disappointed in me.

“No, look man, I didn’t…” I trailed off, having no idea where I was going. “Let me get dressed and uh take a few Advil, and then, you know, we can… talk?” I suggested, trying not to cringe too hard at the word.

“If you can fit me into your busy schedule,” he said coldly.

“It ain’t like that,” I complained.

“I didn’t mean to inconvenience you,” he continued, relentless.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to get my shit together. Then I realized I’d left the family jewels on display.

“I’ve had it in my mouth, Dean,” Cass said, sounding very unimpressed.

I blinked at him slowly.

He shot a look towards my crotch area before letting his eyes drag back up my body to meet mine. He raised an eyebrow, still frowning.

I had one of those flashes, and it involved Cass’s mouth stretching wide and blue eyes staring up at me, and that just wasn’t something that I should be thinking about. Ever. It wasn’t hot. It absolutely wasn’t. Fuck. Change the subject. “Did you like it?” I blurted out, and then wanted to kick myself.

He squinted at me like I was an idiot. “Yes.”

“Oh, uh…” I trailed off. “Did I?”

“Yes,” he said, exasperated, because yeah, okay, who wouldn’t like a mouth on their dick? A mouth’s a mouth and all that.

Something occurred to me.

“So did I…” I hesitated. “What did I… do?”

There was that squint again. “You ejaculated.”

I sputtered at that word picture. “No, uh, no, I mean… to, ya know, pay you back.”

“No money was exchanged.”

I was pretty sure he was fucking with me now. “I’m asking if I…” I trailed off, making a vague blow job gesture near my mouth.

“No, you did not sing karaoke.”

“Castiel.”

“Are you asking for a… ‘play-by-play’ of our sexual encounter?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure, that’s one way a puttin’ it.”

Cass sighed loudly. “I performed fellatio on you. I found it enjoyable. You enjoyed it to the point of ejaculation. Then you proceeded to ‘jerk’ me ‘off’. We both found it satisfactory.”

“Oh,” I said. ‘Satisfactory’ wasn’t very high praise. Then again, repaying a blow job with a hand job didn’t seem very… gentlemanly. “I didn’t…”

Cass waited for me to continue.

“I mean, that’s it?” I asked, rubbing my hand along my jaw. I’d thought it was kind of sore, but that was probably my overactive imagination, trying to create boogeyman where there were none.

“No.”

Now it was my turn to wait for Cass to continue.

He did not.

“Ya gonna keep me in suspense here?”

“Do you really not remember?” he asked with a frown.

“I uh….”

He stared harder. “Sam? The nachos?”

“What the hell does Sam have to do with it?!” I asked nervously.

“We had fallen asleep, and then Sam dropped the plate of nachos in the kitchen,” Cass explained, which explained nothing.

Except…

The crash startling me awake.

Cass laughing as I suggested stealing Sam’s nachos.

Sam yelling at us groggily, friggin’ lightweight that he was.

Then…

Oh…

No, that couldn’t be….

“After we absconded with the bag of tortilla chips and consumed a large amount, we resumed love-making and performed mutual fellatio on each other.”

“You could just say ‘sixty-nine’.”

“Sixty-nine.”

“See? Much better.”

Cass’s squint seemed to intensify.

Kinda reminded me of his o-face.

Oh, fuck, there were visuals. Lots and lots of visuals.

Cass sighed loudly. “Dean. Get dressed and take your Advil.”

I bit my lip, very confused about how I was feeling but definitely worried that Cass was going to leave mad and never come back again. “So you’re just gonna leave,” I said, and it came out sounding more like an accusation than the plea it actually was.

“Yes, Dean, goodbye.”

I had my mouth open, ready to stop him, but he was already gone.

“Sonuva bitch,” I muttered, starting to hunt around for some clothes to put on before it all seemed like too much effort and I just threw on the dead-guy robe. “Fucking Cass,” I muttered, but suddenly that took on whole new connotations. With visuals.

Nope, nope, nope.

I found a bottle of pain relievers and dumped some in my hand, swallowing them dry before tossing the bottle back on the floor. I dragged myself to the kitchen, found I had no desire to continue moving, and flopped down at the kitchen table.

“You’re an asshole, you know,” Sam grumbled as he came lumbering in.

I tensed. What did Sam know?

“Corrupting Cass like that,” he continued, opening the fridge but then groaning as the light met his eyes.

Oh, Jesus, he knew. He knew, and he was gonna-

“He doesn’t even eat food, so clearly he took my chips for you,” he complained, grabbing the juice and quickly closing the door.

“Who says Cass took your chips?” I asked, feeling like I was on more even footing now.

“The flap of his wings while I was cleaning up the floor.”

“Coulda been a bird.”

“Really, Dean? A bird? In the bunker?”

“Crazier shit has happened,” I said with a shrug.

“Not cool,” Sam grumbled, clunking a cup on the counter.

“He was probably just trying to help you,” I said, going for another tactic. “I mean, eating nachos at 3 a.m., man? Think of your girlish figure.”

“Not cool,” Sam repeated, then ended up spilling half his juice on the counter in a failed attempt to pour it in the cup.

I snorted, but that made my head hurt more.

“Where is he anyway?” Sam asked, wiping the counter with a sponge. “Figured he’d be just as miserable as us this morning after that liquor store he drank.”

Oh, yeah. How this whole damn mess got started.

“So you wanna say that I’m ‘corrupting’ Cass, when you’re the one who got a friggin’ angel drunk.”

“I didn’t think he would take me literally-”

“He takes everything literally, Sam!”

Sam had been sipping his juice slowly like it pained him to swallow, but he took the cup from his lips, looking thoughtful. “Okay, fair enough,” he agreed. “I shouldn’t have carelessly suggested that Cass drink a liquor store.”

“You’re damn right ya shouldn’t of.”

“You seemed to enjoy it.”

Goddamn it, did he know?

“You better send Cass out to buy more Tostitos,” he added.

I mean, all three of us had been drunk off our asses. Some grateful richy rich couple had lavished us with bottles of champagne after we rescued them from the monster of the week, and apparently it really did get you drunk fast, even when you may have previously believed you were no longer capable of getting drunk…

Anyway it was a nice kinda drunk where we were all laughing over anything and everything, and then Sammy said he was going to bed, so Cass said… something about watching… cat videos? On YouTube? So we went to my room and…

Blue eyes staring up at me, mouth stretched wide, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sam was giving me a weird look.

“Cass’ll get right on those nachos,” I said smoothly. Nothing to see here.

Sam looked at me for a long moment, then shrugged and took his cup to the sink.

He didn’t know. How could he know? If he knew, there’s no way he would play it this cool.

We were safe.

We’d gotten away with it.

Everything could go back to normal.

- 2 -

Cass didn’t come back to the bunker for almost two weeks.

Not that this was anything new; he was always pulling a disappearing act. Though apparently he was texting Sam.

He just wasn’t texting me.

So it was perfectly justifiable that I jumped out of my skin when he appeared beside my recliner in the Dean Cave.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, making my name sound like a curse.

“Hello yourself,” I complained, trying to play it cool like I hadn’t just leapt from my seat and made an unseemly shriek.

“Were you not expecting me?” he asked, sounding a little too sassy for my liking.

“You haven’t been here for weeks!”

“Since we had sex?” he suggested, the sass just sassing up to whole new levels.

“Cass!” I protested, eyes darting around the room nervously even though I knew Sam was out with Eileen.

“I’m sorry, are we still not talking about it?” he asked.

He was definitely not sorry.

“I mean, ya don’t hafta go announcing it,” I complained.

The little shit actually cupped his hands around his mouth and boomed, “we had sex!”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I feel like that’s my prerogative.”

“Okay, Bobby Brown,” I muttered. “Live your life.”

“Dean,” he said, and it came out long-suffering.

I finally dared to look him in the eye, and that was a mistake.

He looked weary, and I was the one who put that expression on his face.

“I missed you,” I blurted out.

His eyes softened. “I missed you, too.”

“So can we just go back to normal?”

His expression darkened again. “‘Normal’,” he repeated like it was a dirty word.

“What the hell’s wrong with normal?” I shot back.

“I’m not going to pretend that nothing happened.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to.”

“That’s exactly what you’re asking.”

“I’m not…” I tried, and gave up. “Fine, maybe I am. But what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with how things were?”

He just stared at me, all frowny and disappointed.

I knew that I was messing this up, I just didn’t know how to not mess it up. “Cass,” I said, giving him what was probably an incredibly pathetic look.

He scowled at me, then looked away. “It meant something to me.”

Oh, shit, oh, shit, he was gonna leave. I had to say something, something not stupid or offensive, or he was going to leave and not come back.

I was maybe starting to panic a little.

Or a lot.

“Dean.”

And I had maybe been sitting there not saying anything for a while. My eyes snapped to Cass’s.

He cupped my cheek with his hand and then he leaned in.

Oh shit was he gonna…?

He pressed his lips to my forehead.

That felt… nice.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

He gave me a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” I asked, squinting at him. “Pretty sure I��m the asshole here.”

“Probably,” he agreed, a little sparkle in his eyes. At least we were back to joking. “But I should have… it was wrong of me not to speak to you all this time.”

“Oh.”

He ran his thumb down my cheek before pulling his hand away.

His hand was kinda big. Solid. Comforting.

Not that I wanted to follow after it.

“I was hurt, but… I understand,” he finally said, and he looked guilty now. “The things you said when you were intoxicated were simply ‘the alcohol talking’, and I should not have taken… advantage of you.”

What the hell had I said to him that made him think I wanted to have sex? With him? Multiple times?

And yet as much as I wanted to claim that I didn’t remember anything, okay, that was actually a complete lie.

Dean Winchester didn’t get blackout drunk. And I’d had plenty of time over the last couple of weeks to think about that night.

About how I’d thrown myself at Cass.

I want you, I’d whispered into his ear when all we’d been doing was watching stupid animal videos on YouTube.

There was no spark, no cause, no reason at all, just me being drunk and horny.

And Cass, drunk as he was, had tried to stop it.

Cass, with his feelings.

Cass, who was completely unused to being drunk, being out of control, had pushed against my chest, said something along the lines of, I don’t want this if you don’t feel the same, and then…

Well there was no use dwelling on it, right?

Yeah, Cass, yeah, me, too…

Lying to an angel. I was going to hell.

Again.

‘Lying’.

Nope, nope, nope, we just needed to forget this whole thing and move on.

“Look, man, it’s cool,” I informed him magnanimously.

His gaze narrowed.

“I got an extra brew,” I said, reaching into the cooler next to the couch and pulling it out. “The Untouchables is on,” I added, gesturing towards the TV which I’d been watching before Cass had shown up. “Movie night?”

Cass didn’t answer for what seemed to me like an uncomfortably long period of time.

The bottle started to sweat in my hand as I continued to hold it out to him.

“Dean, do you understand that I want you sexually?” he finally asked.

I tried to come up with something clever to say, came up blank, and I was pretty sure my face was beet red. “Yeeessss?”

He breathed out a loud sigh. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“…nooo…?”

“So sitting next to you, watching a movie together will not make you uncomfortable?”

Now that one I could answer. “Of course not, Cass. You’re my best friend, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that, okay?”

He looked like he was having some kind of war inside of himself, but he finally took the bottle from my outstretched hand. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And everything went back to normal.

- 3 -

“How the hell does this keep happening?” I groaned incredulous.

Cass growled something unintelligible into my back, his arms wrapped tightly around my middle.

Thing was, I knew exactly how it happened.

You’re not drunk, Dean?

I ain’t drunk, Cass.

You seem vaguely inebriated. I do not wish to have sex without full consent.

Then use your mojo to sober me up, Jesus.

And I had continued to do with my hand exactly what I’d been doing previously, sober as a judge.

“Go back to sleep,” Cass mumbled, kissing the back of my neck.

It gave me goosebumps.

Fuck.

“Gotta pee,” I said, shoving out of his hold and throwing my feet over the side of the bed.

Naked again.

I grabbed my robe and made my exit as quickly as possibly, slamming the door behind me in my haste.

Goddammit, how had this happened again?

We’d been watching The Golden Girls for chrissakes. And yeah, I’d had more than my fair share of that bottle of bourbon, but Cass? Really? I mean, was my right hand not sufficient? I needed a dude to jerk me off? Was I that friggin’ lonely?

No, that wasn’t what was going on.

I wasn’t going to think about what was going on.

Instead, I peed.

Then I realized that I’d left Cass in a panic.

After I had promised him…

He was going to be so mad at me.

He was going to leave.

He was absolutely going to leave.

I was running down the hall before I could really think about it. “Cass!” I called as I threw the door open again.

He was sitting on my bed, fully clothed now, trench coat and all, and looking just about as pissed as I expected.

“Hey, there, buddy,” I said, not knowing what to say now that I was actually here.

“Hey, pal,” he replied, dripping with sarcasm.

“Look…” I tried.

“I think you’ve made yourself quite clear, Dean.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “Cass, c’mon, man…”

“Fool me once, shame on you,” he said, shaking his head. “Fool me twice, and I am the one who is shamed.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What is it like then, Dean?”

“I dunno, man,” was all I could come up with.

“I see,” Cass said, standing up brusquely.

He was gonna go and he was never gonna come back.

My hand was gripping his shoulder tight before I’d even told myself to move. “Don’t go,” I said, which might have come out a little like begging.

Cass didn’t soften at all. In fact, his eyes turned hard as steel. “Have you been having sexual relations with me so I won’t leave?”

“What, no,” I said incredulously, my hand still gripping him tight and trying to save myself from perdition. “Why would you think… I’m not… I don’t think I’m… am I…?”

“I don’t know, Dean, are you?” he asked, unrelenting.

“No,” I decided. Sleeping with Cass so he wouldn’t leave? That was a little extreme.

So why was I sleeping with him then…?

Look, that wasn’t important. What was important was smoothing things over and making sure this never, ever happened again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You did.”

I stopped mid-speech and swallowed. “Yeah, but-”

“I can barely look at you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as his eyes flicked away from mine.

Oh, shit.

No, no, no.

“I’m sorry,” I whined pathetically. How could I make him understand?

I didn’t even understand.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, brushing my hand away and moving past me.

All I could think of was that stupid fight, why does that something always seem to be you?, Cass walking out of the bunker while I just sat there. Stood there? Leaned there.

What did any of that matter?

“Don’t go!” I blurted out. Again.

Cass sighed loudly but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“I dunno what’s up with me, okay?” I tried to explain, stepping closer to him. “I dunno why we keep ending up in bed together, but what I do know is that you’re important to me. I can’t… I need you, Cass. I need you.”

“That all sounds rather selfish to me,” Cass ground out, not looking at me.

And that punched me in the gut, because as much as I acted like a selfish douchebag, in reality I…

I held back the sob that seemed to come out of nowhere. “I hate how I treat you,” I whispered. “It’s fucked up,” I tried to explain, my voice cracking. I took a breath, trying to push it all back down.

Cass’s head tilted in profile, still not quite looking back at me. “I understand, Dean. It’s because I allow you to treat me this way.”

A tear escaped its way down my face. I quickly rubbed it away, not wanting to deal with it. With what it meant.

“I’m indulgent with you,” he continued, “in a way that no one else in your life is.”

I caught the sleeve of his trenchcoat, clutching the material between my fingers.

“I think you need it, but you don’t know how to accept it,” he said. “Love, compassion, sincerity. These things, they all… ‘rub you’ the ‘wrong way’. You reject them even while you’re reaching out for them, longing for them.”

I tasted blood, realizing I’d bitten my lip so hard it was bleeding.

Cass turned around, his eyes finally meeting mine. “And I’ll let you do it every time,” he said sadly, thumbing over my lip and healing the cut, “because I love you, Dean.”

I wanted to tell him to stop. That he deserved better. He wasn’t stuck with me, he could let go and move on and I kissed him instead.

And instead of telling me to fuck off, Cass used all that angelic strength of his to lift me off the fucking floor and take me back to bed.

- 3 -

I’d figured out the problem.

“We’re in the Dean Cave,” Cass observed from his chair next to mine.

“Yes,” I agreed, not looking away from the TV.

“We always watch Dr. Sexy in your room,” he pointed out.

“Sometimes it’s good to change things up.”

Cass seemed to accept that at face value. He stopped bugging me about it, anyway.

And here we were, a couple of dudes sharing some pizza and some beers, watching TV, and not having sex. As two dudes usually did.

See, it was obvious now.

No one else ever came into my bedroom. Sure, Sam stuck his nose in if I was sleeping late or if I was playing my records too loud for his delicate womanly ears, but he never actually came in. We didn’t hang out in there. A bedroom was a man’s sacred space. It was a space for a man and the person he was about to have sex with. Er, woman. The woman he was about to have sex with. Well, when talking about me personally. Other dudes might have sex with men. I had sex with women. And okay, yeah, the two (do we go by days or number of orgasms because then it was five) times with Cass. But that was because he was in my sacred space when he shouldn’t be.

Sacred space was not a euphemism.

Anyway, problem solved, everything was back to normal.

“This episode is less plausible than usual,” Cass commented.

“Really? Are you a medical professional now?”

“I don’t need to be to know that no hospital would allow a surgeon to operate on his own brother when he has a potential head injury from being in the car accident with said brother which caused him to need surgery.”

“Just don’t think about it,” I said, waving off his very boring criticism. “Look at the sexy doctors and enjoy.”

“The plot is distracting me from the sexiness,” he complained.

“Oh my god, you’re the guy who watches porn for the plot,” I groaned.

“I always find the plot difficult to follow,” Cass said, turning his squint on me. “The leaps of logic that the characters make rarely follow an understandable path.”

“I think the path is ‘we wanna bang and any flimsy excuse will do’.”

“I still find it most perplexing.”

“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t help my grin. “You’re supposed to get off to it, not write essays about it.”

“I’m just trying to understand…” he started, then trailed off, his expression going completely confused. “Why is Dr. Sexy taking his shirt off in the middle of an operation?”

“Don’t question it, just enjoy,” I assured him. I sure was.

“You realize that the admiration you feel for Dr. Sexy is actually lust, right?” Cass asked, staring at me hard.

“What, no,” I protested, though for some reason I still couldn’t quite remove my eyes from those pectorals.

“I think you would find a sense of peace if you just admitted it,” Cass said with a shrug.

“What’re you, the closet police?” I grumbled.

“Are you in a closet?” he shot back.

“Shaddup,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my chair.

He did so.

I tried not to think about it and instead focused on all the important action happening on the television. All the hospital monitors were beeping and alarming and basically going nuts, so Dr. Sexy was about to do Something Drastic to save his brother.

Fuck, he was hot with no shirt on, body sheened in sweat as he dared to do the operation that everyone said was impossible.

“I have a crush on Dr. Sexy,” I muttered.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Cass said, smiling at me warmly before turning his eyes back to the TV. “Dr. Wang is more my type.”

That jolted me upright. “You have a type?” I asked incredulously.

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I suppose it is more a turn of phrase. People I am attracted to certainly vary with their physical and mental characteristics.”

“But you’re into Dr. Wang?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him.

“She is… assertive and driven, yet has a vulnerable side that she tries to keep hidden which I find… endearing,” he decided with a nod.

“And she’s got nice tits.”

Cass sighed loudly.

“Are they not nice?” I asked.

“They’re lovely,” he assented. “I just wish you wouldn’t boil people down to their physical attributes.”

“She’s a character on a TV show, man…”

“So you don’t do the same thing to the waitress at the diner? The clerk at the gas station? The ‘damsel in distress’?”

“We’re talking about how you wanna bone Dr. Wang, not fighting the patriarchy or whatever,” I complained.

“Sorry, dude,” he muttered sarcastically. “She’s so hot, I desire frequent intercourse with her.”

“Don’t be lame,” I protested.

“My legs are fully functional.”

I threw a pillow at him.

Cass just glowered as it bounced off his head.

I snorted.

“At least I don’t want to ‘bang’ that imbecile shirtless doctor in cowboy boots.”

“He’s a brain surgeon!”

“A terrible one,” Cass muttered. “He always disregards appropriate scrubbing procedures, he speaks to other doctors about his patients in defiance of HIPAA, he has sexual relations with interns in closets-”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.”

He huffed out an annoyed sound.

I waggled my eyebrows at him.

His glare got very… sexy.

I swallowed.

Whatever, sometimes I found dudes attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything.

In fact, the fact that Cass was very attractive didn’t mean anything at all.

“Dean,” he growled at me, and it sounded like a warning.

It was now undeniable that I was getting hard.

Which made no sense and was stupid.

Why did Cass now equal sex to my brain? Well, no, not my brain. The other brain.

God fucking dammit.

“Dean?” he repeated, but it was softer now, a question.

“Do you like guys and girls?” I asked, because who the fuck knows.

He hesitated before answering. “You mean sexually?” he finally clarified.

I just nodded my head. Me and words weren’t friends right about then.

“I don’t really consider genitalia a concern, so I suppose the simplest answer to your question would be ‘yes’.”

“Oh,” I said. I nodded. Then I shook my head. “But you’re an angel.”

“…and…?”

“Isn’t that a, ya know, a big sin and all that?”

“Dean, God was similarly unconcerned with gender,” Cass said. “And also, Chuck is an asshole.”

“Oh,” I said. It took a minute. “And hell yeah he is. Fuck that guy.”

Cass sighed, giving me a fond look. “It’s okay, Dean.”

I didn’t ask what was okay. We didn’t need to talk about this anymore, or how it pertained to me.

Instead I reached over and tugged on Cass’s sleeve.

He studied my face.

I pulled a little more insistently, and he immediately gave in, moving towards me. I looked up at him, standing over my recliner, and tugged again until he leaned down and I could rest my hand against his stubbly cheek.

Cass’s eyes stared into mine, asking a question.

I guided his mouth to mine, making sure he didn’t have to ask twice.

Cass seemed very into it, until he wasn’t, pulling back abruptly. “Sam…”

Why in the hell was he saying my brother’s name while kissing me-

Oh, right.

Sam was still up, nerding in the map room, and was known to stick his nose in the Dean Cave when he was bored.

“Meet me in my room,” I decided, giving him one last thorough tonguing to make sure he didn’t make any detours.

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding kinda breathless, his stare a little glassy.

I grinned, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. “See you in five.”

Cass appeared in my room in exactly five minutes, and proceeded to take me apart.

The next day we had sex in the Impala.

The day after, we had sex in the cheap motel we were staying in while Sam was out interviewing witnesses.

Apparently, my bedroom wasn’t the problem.

- 4 -

“I need to get laid,” I decided.

Sam gave me a funny look over the shopping cart he was pushing around Walmart.

“Sorry, Donna Martin, are you still waiting for marriage to lose your V-card?” I asked, tossing the jumbo box of condoms into the cart.

“Really, a 90210 reference?”

“If the skirt fits,” I said with a shrug.

Sam sighed loudly. “I’m just wondering why you need to get laid so bad when apparently you’ve already gone through like thirty condoms since we were here last month.”

“What, are you keeping tabs on how many rubbers I go through now? Things with Eileen that bad that you gotta live vicariously through me?”

“Whatever, dude,” Sam scoffed at me.

I threw in another box of condoms just to be an ass. And also Cass and I were probably gonna use them. I mean, we could use them separately. Like independently. With chicks. I had taught Cass all about safe not-involving-angel-blades sex, and he was ready to take those lessons out into the wild.

So Cass would have sex with women. Or dudes. Whatever, I didn’t judge. And I would have sex with women. And we could go through two large boxes of condoms. And annoy Sam by buying even more condoms next time we were shopping. This was a win-win.

“I see you got the cherry-flavored ones,” Cass murmured from where he was suddenly lurking behind me.

I didn’t jump out of my skin due to years of practice and turned very slowly to face him, glad that Sam was already in the next aisle. “Wha?” I asked intelligently.

“I prefer them to the non-flavored ones,” he explained with a nod of approval.

“But you don’t… taste things?” I tried.

“Yes, but I like the way they feel in my mouth.”

“…oh,” I said, trying not to have sexual thoughts in the middle of a Walmart.

“I’d like to try different flavors, too, though,” he mused.

“Uh-huh.”

Cass squinted at me. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” I squeaked. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s in the hair-care aisle, trying to decide on a hair mask,” Cass said, his eyes glowing as he searched for and located my brother.

That was kinda hot, too.

Fuck.

What was wrong with my brain?

Cass was not hot.

Well, no, okay, fine, objectively he was an attractive dude. If you were into dudes.

Which I wasn’t.

Except, you know when I was.

Fine, I was into Dr. Sexy.

Patrick Swayze.

Gunner Lawless.

This list was getting long but I couldn’t leave out…

Harrison Ford.

But who wasn’t? Every dude had a man crush. It was a thing.

Does every dude fuck their best friend?

Suck his cherry-flavored dick?

I needed to get laid. That was what this was.

“We’re going out tonight!” I declared to Cass.

He shrugged disinterestedly in response.

So a few hours later we were parked at a bar, drinking beers and scoping the room.

“The chick in the low-cut top is definitely checking you out,” I informed Cass.

He glanced towards her, which made her blush and look away. He turned back to me with that same disinterested look he’d gotten when I’d suggested this whole thing. “That’s nice,” he deadpanned at me.

“Dude, c’mon, have you seen that rack?” I complained. Cass got all the good attention and he didn’t even appreciate it.

“I’m more interested in your rack,” he said, taking a bored pull from his beer.

“I don’t have-” I started to sputter and stopped myself. Now was not the time, because a woman in a very short skirt had just walked into the bar, looking like she was on the prowl. “Okay, things just got interesting.”

Cass rolled his eyes. “Can I go home yet?”

“Whaddya mean, go home?”

“I mean that I have no intention of watching you shamelessly flirt with that young woman,” he informed me.

“Uh, dude, that’s why we’re here,” I protested.

“It’s why you’re here,” he corrected me. “I just came along to enjoy our date.”

“I’m sorry, our what now?”

“Our date,” he repeated, not explaining at all.

“We came here to pick up women,” I tried explaining.

“No, you ditched Sam, took me to dinner, then took me to a bar for a ‘nightcap’,” he told me, and actually that was a fairly accurate description of our night.

So there hadn’t been a lot flirting with the ladies. It was still early, and there just hadn’t been that many women of interest in the bar, so Cass and I had been talking, playing darts, and doing other best friend stuff.

It seemed like a date, but that was just ‘cause… uh, the women, right, there were no women to flirt with, so we were flirting with each- I mean so we were hanging out with each other like usual. And yeah I took him to a diner first, ‘cause bar food was crap, and yeah I paid, because I always paid because Cass didn’t have any money. And I stole some of his fries off of his plate and he did that eye flash thing to try and get me to stop, but it kinda turned me on and we played footsie under the table, but it was all very platonic, non-gay footsie.

You knew it was non-gay, ‘cause here we were now, ready to pick up some women.

Well, I was ready.

Cass could do whatever he wanted.

So I told him so.

He stared at me for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he seemed tired. “So you would like me to have intercourse with a woman?”

“Or a dude, whatever, I don’t judge.”

I could actually feel his eye roll.

“Fine,” he said.

I had been opening my mouth to argue, but now I was just confused. “…fine…?”

“Yes, fine,” he said, pushing out of his seat. “That woman earlier seemed prepared to mate with me.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass, don’t call it mating…”

“I will call it whatever I want to call it,” he said, picking his drink up off the bar and sauntering away like he was some smooth, attractive dude who was good at picking up chicks.

This was fucking ridiculous.

Cass flashed those baby blues at the chick in the low-cut top, and all the sudden she was inviting him to sit next to her, and they were talking easily, and she kept leaning forward to give him a nice view, and he was looking, I could goddamn see him looking, and I was…

...proud…?

Nope, that definitely wasn’t what I was feeling.

I was pretty sure I was seething.

Well, two could play at this game.

Except instead of getting out of my seat and going to flirt on my own, all I could do was watch Cass and this nameless chick.

Why was she touching his arm?

Why was he laughing?

Was he really going to go home with her?

It irritated me.

Obviously because Cass was getting lucky and I wasn’t.

Cass could fuck whoever he wanted.

It was fine, I didn’t care.

In fact, after one more beer, no make that a shot, I was going to get up and flirt with Short Skirt.

“Dean,” a voice growled in my ear.

“Huh?” I said, my reaction time weirdly slow.

“Get in the car.”

“But uh, whattabout your date?” I asked, definitely not being jealous.

“You are my date,” he reminded me.

“This isn’t a date,” I protested lamely.

“Get in the car,” he repeated. “I’m tired of these stupid games and I will have you now.”

“Oh,” I said, not relieved at all. “So we’re gonna…” I trailed off, then just mimed a blow job.

“Yes,” he said, irritated and frustrated and exasperated and all the -ed’s.

“Awesome,” I said, slapping some cash down on the bar to cover our tab.

Then I went out to the car and let Cass have his way with me in the backseat.

- 5 -

I woke up warm and safe, which as usual, sent me into a panic.

“Gotta… coffee,” I decided, trying to disentangle myself from Cass’s octopus hold. I’d gotten a foot on the ground even though there was still an arm around my chest, but suddenly I was being yanked back into bed.

“It’s not time to get up,” a voice growled in my ear.

Fuck, Cass had a very sexy morning voice. “You don’t gotta sleep,” I complained, trying to squirm away from him.

“I find that resting with you gives me a feeling of ‘recharging’,” he hummed, worming his way back into my arms and resting his cheek against my chest.

Why did we just fit together like this? “Coffee,” I protested.

“Later,” he assured me, pressing a sleepy kiss into my skin.

“This is non-consensual cuddling,” I muttered. How had I gotten trapped here? Every morning I ran out on Cass, and every morning he let me… which wasn’t as shitty as it sounded. I mean, it’s not like I kicked him out of bed. I just left.

Not as shitty as it sounded.

Anyway, Cass was forcing cuddles on me which was actually pretty shitty, except that he was so warm and huggy and I was asleep.

I woke up irritated, my arms reaching for the warmth.

“I have to go,” Cass apologized, kissing my forehead and easily pulling out of my grip on his arm.

I didn’t whine.

“Heaven ‘shit’,” he explained, and I knew he was quoting me.

“It can wait,” I muttered, still reaching for him.

“I’m afraid it can’t,” he said, giving me a soft smile. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“What, in a few weeks?” I complained, starting to feel more awake.

“I hope not,” he assured me.

I frowned up at him.

He leaned in, kissing my eyelid.

Jesus, when did we start doing shit like this, and when did I start liking it?

“I love you,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I’ll see you soon.”

My face felt very warm as he disappeared. I tried to settle back into sleep, but the bed that had felt so comfortable a couple of minutes ago just felt empty now.

I decided to finally get my damn coffee, a glance at my alarm clock telling me that it was a lot later than I expected.

Sam caught my scent on the way to the kitchen and followed me in.

“You gonna sleep the day away?” he tried to joke.

Why did he have his serious face on?

Oh, shit, did he know?

Did he know?

He didn’t know.

Did he?

Sam leaned against the counter, all fake casual. “So Cass carried you in from the garage last night.”

How the hell did he know that? We’d been at the bar pretty late, then we’d been in the parking lot for… a while.

Dean, do you think you can come again?

Cass was a persistent guy, I’d give him that. Singularly dedicated.

Anyway, I was exhausted and I fell asleep afterwards, and Cass was a friggin’ angel and all, so it was really no big deal if he… wait, he literally carried me inside? Fireman’s carry or princess style?

I definitely wasn’t going to ask Sam, and he was starting to look at me funny.

Deflect, deflect!

“Jealous?” I shot back.

Wait, what?

No, that wasn’t…

“Of what?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Ya know, of the uh fun times me an’ Cass had,” I said, and dammit, NO. I was losing control of the situation. Need to get things back on track. “Pickin’ up ladies.”

“Cass picked up ladies?” he asked flatly.

“Kinda,” I said. We’d sort of had it out between round one and round two, and it turned out that the chick with the nice rack had definitely been interested, and he had to politely turn her down because he was only interested in me.

Which was weird, but whatever. Kinda nice. Mostly weird.

Cass was a weird guy.

Sam let out a very loud sigh. “Dean.”

“What?” I complained, cradling my coffee cup in front of me defensively.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Shit, he knew. Why did he always know?

He couldn’t possibly know.

“Doing what?” I asked, leveling him with a hard stare and daring him to say it.

“The drinking, Dean,” he said, exasperated.

“Huh?”

Sam’s frown deepened. “You’re turning into Dad.”

“Wow, Sammy, really?” I asked incredulously.

“You were so drunk last night you let Cass drive Baby and carry you to your bed bridal-style.”

Well, that answered that question.

“Dude, I wasn’t drunk,” I shot back, annoyed.

Sam did not appear to believe me.

“I was in a sex coma,” I explained.

“A sex… coma…”

“An inexperienced young lady such as yourself wouldn’t understand, but when you-”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you were drunk.”

“Um, yeah it does, because Cass won’t even have sex with me if I’m drunk, so-” I screeched to a halt.

“Why would you want to…” Sam trailed off, his brow creased in concentration.

Abort, abort.

How did I get out of this one?

“Cass won’t let me have sex. With ladies. When I’m drunk. Because consent,” was the genius explanation I came up with it.

Sammy still looked like he was doing quadratic equations in his head. Then his eyes widened.

Nope, nope, nope. “That’s why I need boxes of condoms. To have sex with all the ladies. When you’re not drunk you can, you know, go for round two. Or three. With chicks. In their vaginas.”

“Stop talking, Dean.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Sam sank into the chair across from me at the table. “You and Cass…”

“No,” I said very assuredly.

Sam groaned, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t wrap my mind around this.”

“There’s nothing to wrap around,” I said firmly. Certainly not my thighs around Cass’s waist. Which had been happening a lot lately and I didn’t really know how to feel about that, but now was certainly not the time to unpack all that.

Sam breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.

I suddenly felt… shame? Or that Sam was ashamed of me? Was that what this was? Well, Sammy had always been ashamed of me, just more for the non-politically correctness and the alcohol and the gambling, less the sexuality thing.

He seemed to read my mind, sitting up straight and quickly sputtering out, “hey, you know I’m weirded out that it’s Cass, not ‘cause Cass is a dude, right?”

“I uh…” I trailed off, not sure how to respond.

“I mean, I know he’s been in love with you forever and all, but I always thought it was unrequited?”

“Hey, no reason to bring up the L-word,” I said, feeling supremely uncomfortable. “Unless we’re talking Jenny Schecter,” I attempted to joke, but it was starting to feel harder to breathe for some reason.

Sam’s eyes went all puppy dog. “I’m sorry, I’m being an ass. I’m really happy you told me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, looking around the room at anywhere but that sympathetic face.

“Okay,” he agreed in that pacifying way of his that meant he didn’t believe me at all. “Just know you can always talk to me? About anything?”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I said, standing up and taking my mug to the sink. I washed it and then put it in the dish rack to dry.

Sam was still sitting at the table, wagging his little puppy dog tail at me.

I got out of there as fast as I could.

- 6 -

“Is it truly worth being upset over?” Cass mused, stroking his fingers through my hair.

I was sitting on the floor between Cass’s open legs while he sat on the couch. It was weirdly comfortable, especially with the hair stroking and all.

Also, it was easier to talk when I didn’t have to look into his eyes.

“I’m not upset,” I explained. “I’m… whatever, it shouldn’t have come out of my mouth.”

“Well I’m glad that he knows,” he said, nudging my cheek with his knee.

“He doesn’t know anything,” I growled. “He thinks that we’re fucking.”

“We are fucking, Dean.”

“No, but like he thinks that we’re a couple.”

“We are a couple, Dean.”

“What?” I asked incredulously. “We are not a couple.”

“Oh.”

I was definitely not going to turn around to see what kind of look was on his face.

Which was a mistake, because it was probably smug as fuck.

“So why are we sitting like this?” he asked, that smarminess leaking through every syllable.

“Whaddya mean, why are we sitting like this?”

“I thought physical proximity paired with intimate touches was something only shared by couples.”

“This is hardly intimate,” I tried to protest.

Cass took his touch away.

I swallowed down a whine. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

“Something wrong, Dean?”

“Shaddup,” I muttered.

He scraped his fingers through my scalp again, giving my whole body a pleasant tingle, and then he was tugging gently, guiding the back of my head to rest on his thigh.

Dammit, I was looking right into his eyes.

“Shall I do this for Sam?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. The strokes of his fingers had gotten slower, more deliberate. “As an expression of our friendship, since apparently this form of touch is completely platonic.”

I glared at him. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then stop telling me that we’re not on a date, that we are not in a relationship, that you don’t feel the same way about me…”

I looked away from him.

His fingers paused, resting in my hair. He tapped my chin with his free hand.

I let my eyes meet his again, but it was under protest. “Why do you gotta make such a big deal about everything?”

“Because it’s a big deal to me,” he said, and I could see the hurt crinkling around his eyes.

“Cass,” I sighed, not wanting to deal with All This.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, looking vulnerable.

I assumed that he meant the whole hair-stroking thing, but he could have been talking about anything from drinking the last of the coffee without brewing a new pot, to his recent habit of picking me up off the ground because he was too impatient to wait for me to walk to the bed.

Anyway, the answer was mostly the same.

I shook my head.

A little smile tugged at the corner of Cass’s mouth, but he didn’t look happy.

I was just the worst piece of shit sometimes.

I sat up, turning to face him better. “Let’s go for a drive or something.”

Cass’s head tilted to the side, his expression that of a perpetually confused angel.

“We can maybe swing by the movies, see what’s playing?” I suggested, waiting for understanding to dawn.

It took a little longer than I hoped, but when it did, Cass’s smile seemed to light up his face. “I’d like that,” he agreed, not even mentioning the D-word.

I decided to change since we were going out, so I upgraded my holy jeans for slightly less-holy jeans, and tugged on a clean t-shirt.

“You look nice,” Cass said as we walked to the garage.

He just said it so casually that it made me tongue-tied. “Thanks,” was all I could manage to get out.

I wasn’t going to return the compliment. Not that Cass didn’t look nice, because he kind of looked amazing out of the trenchcoat and into his own jeans and t-shirt, but there was absolutely no reason to tell another dude how ‘nice’ he looked, even if he…

“You look good,” I murmured into Cass’s ear before strapping on my seatbelt and keeping my eyes laser-focused in front of me.

Cass seemed pleased, and we could all just leave it at that.

I let him pick the movie, which was probably a mistake, because of course he picked a chick flick no matter how much I tried to teach him the ways of having good taste in movies. But it was kind of a weird chick flick with a surprising amount of action, and it was more about mothers and daughters than about romance, which wasn’t anything I could relate to, but it was kinda interesting despite the theater being mostly empty.

Cass and I got the last row to ourselves, so it didn’t feel so weird to keep my arm over the back of his seat, or to share my coke with him even though it only had one straw.

No one was watching us.

No one cared.

Cass was watching the credits with the same delighted expression he’d had plastered on his face through the entire movie.

I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

His smiled widened.

As we walked back towards the lobby to toss our trash, I let the back of my hand brush against his.

It was the stupid movie’s fault.

“I really enjoyed it,” Cass said cheerfully, pushing the empty popcorn cup into the trash.

“It didn’t suck like I thought it would,” I agreed.

“You could just say that you liked it.”

I sighed, holding the door open for him. “I liked it,” I admitted with a roll of my eyes.

“See?” Cass said, looking pleased.

“Whatever,” I muttered. I pulled my keys from my pocket and unlocked Baby.

“It is not ‘whatever’, Dean, it is ‘yes, Castiel, you’re right’,” he said, doing an impression of me that was really just his regular voice and a frown.

“Ha,” I replied, sliding into the front seat.

“I know you,” he continued to complain as he sat down next to me, strapping on his seat belt. “I know the things you don’t allow yourself to like.”

“Thanks, Carl Jung, but I’d rather get laid than psychoanalyzed on a date,” I grumbled.

Oh.

Cass didn’t say anything, but I could see that damn smirk out of the corner of my eye.

Couldn’t take the d-word back now, just had to make sure it didn’t happen again.

It wasn’t going to happen again.

It absolutely, positively wasn’t going to happen again.

- 7 -

Sam had found us a case, so we were all sitting in the library, reading ancient tomes about friggin’ centaurs.

“I mean, they’re basically talking horses,” I complained. “Do we really gotta take out Mr. Ed?”

“Three people are dead, Dean,” Sam informed me in his bitchiest tone.

“Yeah, three dude-bro assholes,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps we can find a way to take them back to Thessaly,” Cass suggested.

“See,” I said, gesturing to Sam.

He just rolled his eyes at me, before burying his nose in his book again.

He’d kinda been doing that all night.

It was the first time the three of us were all together since my diarrhea of the mouth the other day, and I couldn’t help but wonder…

Cass caught me looking at Sam anxiously, and he nudged my foot with his under the table.

I’d taught him that move. I did it to him when he was in his head about something.

He mouthed something at me.

I frowned.

‘He doesn’t care,’ he mouthed more slowly.

‘How do you know?’ I prayed at him.

‘We talked,’ he mouthed, like that was supposed to give me any comfort.

“What, so you two are conspiring behind my back now?” I growled.

Sam looked up from his book, shooting a nervous glance between me and Cass.

“Why are you such a dramatic queen?” Cass asked.

Sam guffawed at that.

“It’s ‘drama’ queen,” I groaned.

“That, too,” Cass agreed.

Sam guffawed more loudly.

I did not like this.

I did not like this at all.

I slammed my book shut and stood up rapidly.

“Dean.”

Cass’s voice was soothing, like he was talking to a frightened animal.

Abort.

A strong hand caught my arm as I rounded the table.

“I apologize, my teasing was inappropriate,” Cass offered. “Stay.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, took one look at Cass, and shut it again.

Interesting…

But I was still in fight-or-flight, and Cass was really friggin’ strong, no matter how hard I nonchalantly tried to escape his grip.

“Dean, the case…” Sam finally put in lamely.

“I think you two nerds got it covered.”

“Yes, but we enjoy your company,” Cass said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah? This ball of sunshine?” I asked.

“I certainly wouldn’t call you that,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “That would be… hot and unpleasant.”

I wanted to make a dirty joke, but I was keenly aware that Sammy was sitting right there.

Which was stupid.

Because I loved making dirty jokes in front of Sam, since he either laughed along with me or was a complete priss and got all put out, which was equally hilarious.

So why couldn’t I…?

“I’m not gay,” I blurted out.

The matching looks of sympathy I received for that verbal diarrhea only served to set me more on edge.

I started backing away. “I’m not,” I insisted.

“No one said that you were,” Cass said gently.

I turned to glare at Sam. “He says it with his eyes.”

“What?” he bristled at me. “Dude, I never-”

“I read ya loud and clear,” I said, glaring harder.

“Dean, it’s Sam,” Cass said, sounding exasperated.

I looked at him, ready to go off, but those damn eyes batted up at me, and then I was turning into a pathetic ball of mush. “Yeah, it’s Sam,” I said in a much more broken tone than I intended.

And Cass got it immediately, giving me the most puppy dog eyes of all puppy dog eyes. “Dean, he doesn’t think any less of you.”

I scoffed at that.

“Is that what you think?” Sam cut in, giving Cass a run for his money on who had the most pathetic puppy dog eyes.

“Whatever, man,” I muttered. “‘Overcompensating’. That’s the word, right? Dean, the giant fairy?”

And Sam looked guilty, proving my point exactly.

I moved to leave.

“I’m an ass,” Sam declared.

“Yeah, well,” I agreed.

“I didn’t… I’m an ass,” he reasserted. “I know we joke around and stuff, but I shouldn’t… there’s just some things you don’t say, and I get that now.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, not sure of how much more of this kumbayah bullshit I could take. “I don’t care.”

Sam and Cass exchanged long-suffering looks.

I narrowed my eyes at them, but Cass was using his angelic strength to tug me into the chair next to him.

“Look, if I had known that you really were-” Sam tried to say.

“I really was what?” I asked, my voice dropping about an octave to Threat Threat Abort Abort.

Samuel did not get the message.

“You know, that you’re-”

I glanced at Cass. “Did you just kick him under the table?”

“No,” he deadpanned at me.

I felt myself start to smile.

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying my pain,” Sam muttered, his face all scrunched up.

It was less about Sam and more about Cass, but he didn’t need to know that. Because yes, kicking people was always funny.

I kind of wanted to kiss Cass, but that would be weird.

“Can you just not make a big deal out of everything?” I settled on.

“How am I-”

“We don’t have to have a Winchester hug-it-out moment over me and Cass fucking, okay?”

“It’s not about-”

“I’m bi, okay? Not gay.”

Sam looked relieved. “Okay.”

“Cass and I don’t do gay stuff,” I explained.

“…what…?” Sam asked, looking panicked again.

Cass sighed loudly.

I ignored them both, flipping open a book.

“No, I’m sorry, you’re gonna hafta explain that one,” Sam complained.

“Do you want the sordid details of our sex life?” I asked, not looking up because I really didn’t want to look at either one of them at the moment.

“God, no,” he said, “but… I mean, you’re two dudes, so…”

“We don’t do butt stuff,” I explained succinctly. That should cover it.

“Um, I’m really going to regret asking this, but um… what do you do then? To have uh non-gay sex?”

“We do dick stuff,” I said, because duh, obviously.

I couldn’t see his face, but I could still feel the contortions he was putting it through before he finally said, “so uh, no, wait, sorry, um… what?”

I had really failed Sammy on sex education, which was kind of embarrassing, but more on his part, because honestly, I’d educated him plenty and he’d just covered his ears and did his best not to listen.

“We do stuff like you do with a chick,” I explained. “Just, there’s two dicks instead of a chick.”

“But the two dicks together are not… gay…?” Sam tried to reason out.

“Exactly,” I said.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

“It says here that centaurs do not handle their wine very well,” Cass put in.

“So you want us to party with them?” I asked, happy to move away from my conversation with Sam and back to the supernatural.

“Well, it could perhaps serve as a distraction,” he reasoned.

Sam still looked like he was having a coronary, but everything was back on track.

#isola that river in egypt #dean&cass #fanfiction #dean being dean

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thearchivistsjournal · 1 year

Text

Day 287,

Morning thought: I should talk to Vernon. Make sure there’s no hurt feelings. Gentleman that he is though, odds are that even if there were he might try to hide it to save me any guilt.

But not today though because I have children arriving soon to deal with.

*******

First day of the new school season done. I’ve been invited back to Norman and Marva’s again for the first time since… when was the last time? Before the expedition to the healing spring at least. But anyway, I’ll try to keep this relatively brief so I don’t show up late to that.

The early part of my morning was all last minute preparations for the children’s arrival. Seating mats in place. Wax tablets scraped. Old ragged doll out on the desk. Story picked out to read. Notes assessing everyone’s proficiency from before I took ill reviewed. That sort of thing.

Once again, the first of the children arrived before Cass and her family got into town. Same one that was early on the first day last time too. He seemed less nervous this time around. Excited even.

Cass arrived not long after. I told her I was glad to have my apprentice back. She made a joke about everyone knowing she’s the one who really runs the classroom. I told her not to make me rethink my opinion. She called that bluff and we both had a laugh.

The thing that really got to me today though was the reactions from the kids as they arrived. Most of them actually seemed to be looking forward to being back. And they seemed happy to see me. Like I was a cool older sibling or cousin or something that they hadn’t visited in a long time. I hadn’t been expecting that and it was something of an effort to not get too visibly emotional over it. It was a good feeling though.

Of course, we did have one new student, bringing the class size up to twenty for the season. Predictably, she was more uncertain about things than the rest of them, so I tried to make a particular effort to make her feel welcome and at ease. I swear that doll is probably an artifact of some sort.

Once everyone had arrived and settled in (they were a bit rowdier than I recall, but maybe that’s just a first day back thing) I formally welcomed them all back and settled into what was largely a repeat of last season’s first day. Making introductions, reading them a story, some assignments to gauge where everyone stands, recess and lunch, another story, then actual lessons until parents started showing up. The biggest difference this time around was having the blackboard. When everyone was introducing themselves I had them all write their names on it. Or in the case of the handful that struggled with the task (it seems a lot of them don’t get much practice outside of school) I volunteered one of the older kids to help. I’d planned to handle that myself, but didn’t want to risk a headache in front of them from focusing too hard on breaking down the name spelling. As for why even have introductions when they’d mostly all been in class together before, we had a new kid, some haven’t seen each other since, and I’m not great keeping names and faces matched so I needed the refresher.

Okay, this is already running longer than I meant it to, I should probably start getting prepared to head out.

*******

Dinner was really nice. The stray cat returns to the table. Another one of those things I didn’t realize how much I missed until I got it back. Conversation was mostly on the first day of school resuming and Cass resuming her apprenticeship along with it. Well, that second part wasn’t explicitly stated. We seem to be skirting around that bit of past contention, which suits me just fine.

Once again, Cass will be staying in town with Norman and Marva for most of the season. And the invitation for me to use their bath when I need it has been extended once more. That’s a relief. I’d been growing concerned about that.

I should probably head to bed soon. Don’t want to be still sleeping when the kids arrive.

<==Previous Next==>

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bugsy-maria · 3 years

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Winchesters x Depressed Sister! Reader

@supernerdycookietrashblr Requested: I was wondering if you willing /comfortable to write this a Winchester brothers x sister reader where the reader is depressed harms themselves and feels like she not good enough and is a drug addict like does weed and other drugs drinks to relieve her pain and her brothers found out and are not happy it and the reader just not having it and doesn't want help and can't handle being lectured about her brothers so she runs away and overdoses and her brothers find her but in the end her brothers help her in recovery and it fluffy in the end

And can the reader age around 16-19 is up too you i hope this is ok for u if not I can change it

Age 16:

"You did well out there, kid." dean spoke from in front of me.

"We're proud of you." I felt Sam put his hand on my shoulder.

"Yay!" I squeak out with a wide smile prominent on my face. I got into the back of the impala, Dean in the driver's seat and Sam in the passenger. I rest my head on the head of the seat next to me and let the all to the familiar rumble of the Impala consume me.

I have been living with Sam and Dean for about 3 years. they saved me from a werewolf attack in an alley, and once they found out that I didn't have a home anymore they took me in.

I close my eyes, remembering the lies they just told me. I couldn't ever believe them because they always lie. 'we're proud of you.' what a load of crap. I did nothing but mess up the entire hunt and they have the guts to lie to my face like that?

Age 17:

My legs tread along the sidewalk, my knees barely bending from the cuts on them. my bag seems much heavier now and my legs are like lead. I flip my hood up as I walk into a gas station, leaving my bag outside. I walk over to the alcohol section and grab some bottles of the cheap whiskey that dean gets. I put the bottles of whiskey on the counter and take out my wallet.

"ID.," the cashier says in a monotone voice. I look up and show him the fake ID that Dean made so I could get better access to places during hunts. the man put the bottles in a brown paper bag before handing the items back to me.

I snatched the bag and quickly made my way out the door. I grabbed my bag and rushed off home. Sam and Dean are out on a hunt that I couldn't go on because I had finals. I make my way to my room in the bunker and drop my bag on the bed that I now only lay awake on.

I rummage through the bottom drawer of my dresser, though the pairs of pants are a small little box that holds probably the biggest secret of my life. I take the box and liquor with me as I make my way out of the bunker and into the woods until I hit a clearing where a cliff is.

my legs hang off the edge as I set my items down. I open the box and take out my little white roll of happiness. I light it with my black lighter and breathe it in. I sit there for about 10 minutes repeating the action before I one of the bottles I bought earlier.

I take a swing and feel the sting of the drink in my throat. I bring the joint back up to my mouth. It's been about two hours since I have come to the cliff. since then the sun has set and my vision has gone hazy.

~~~~~3 months later~~~~~

"Are you ok kid? we never see you around anymore." Dean sits in front of me at a nearby diner.

"Yup. I just haven't been getting a whole lot of sleep and the stress from school isn't making it easier." I rub the back of my neck. a forced awkward smile painted on my lips.

"Well if you ever need to talk about it we're here for you, y'know." Sam, who is sitting next to me, gives me a one-armed smile. the contact almost breaks me down, but I hold the tears for my room.

I just have to keep reminding myself that I don't mean that much to them as they do to me.

~~~~~2 months later~~~~~

"Drugs?!" Dean shouts I rub the temples of my head, the headache only getting worse with all of the yelling.

"Dean." Sam's voice came from a corner of the room.

"Of all of the things to do you chose drugs!"

"Can you stop yelling," I whispered out.

"Dean." Sam's voice came sterner. Dean, having finally taken notice, looked over at the giant in the corner of the room holding an empty bottle of whiskey. a heavy sigh escapes Dean's lips.

"You made a lot of stupid decisions."

"You think she doesn't know that?" Sam forcefully chuckled at the end. "We need to talk, don't go anywhere."

"Not that she can look at her, she can't even talk." the door clicks close. I let out a breath of air that I didn't realize I was holding. I looked up to see the items taken away. I knew this day was going to be coming soon so I made a stash.

I quickly stuffed what I knew id need for the next couple of days in a bag while ignoring the pounding in my head. I slipped out of my room and ran out of the garage. I ran into the woods and to the cliff.

once there I quickly drank a bottle of beer that I got the other day. I broke the bottle and grabbed one of the shards. if I wanted this plan to work I'd have to think fast. I tightly gripped the shard in my hand and carved a sigil in my forearm. I knew that once Sam and Dean saw that I wasn't in my room anymore they would try and get Cass to look for me. I wanted to be alone for the next few days.

I practically crank myself to death's doorstep, hours upon hours of smoking and drinking.

Age 18:

I sit at the table in the library working on a school project for AP Bio. to be honest I don't even want to be in any AP classes but ill take any college credits I can take.

"What's this?" I hear Dean's gruff voice fill the room. I look up to see him picking up my glass from the table.

"My juice?" I responded questionably.

"Apple, nice." he set it down i little bit embarrassed.

"You thought it was beer didn't you?" I saw even more blood rise to his cheeks.

"Maybe." he looked away.

"Dean you have to trust her a bit more than that," Sam spoke up.

"I know, but I don't want her to get hurt again."

"Dean, I went through that rehab hell for months, there is no way I'm going back." I chuckled out a bit.

"I know I'm sorry." he draped his arms around my shoulders, his chin resting on my head.

"You know we love you right?"

"Of course I do." I looked back down at my work,

"Good." he planted a kiss on the top of my head before, "Don't ever do anything stupid like that ever again, got it, kid?"

"Yes sir!" I smiled over my shoulder at him.

"Idiot." he playfully pushed my head down. I continued my work, wanting nothing more than to make them proud of me again.

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Batfamily #fanfiction #crack #crack treated seriously #multimedia fic #humor #kidnapping attempts #revenge plots #Ra's tries to recruit tim #Spoilers it backfires #what is canon #precious posts #long post #chapter 1

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

deny, deny, deny

read on Ao3

5 times someone told Sam and Bucky they cared about each other, and the 1 time they showed it.

“You two bicker a lot,” Dr. Raynor says, eyeing the two men who sit, fuming, on the other side of her desk. “If you won’t speak to each other, then tell me this, instead. James, why would you ignore Sam’s texts?”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath. Sam seems genuinely curious to hear the answer. Raynor glares until Bucky sighs and repeats himself, staring at the floor. “Didn’t wanna bother ‘im.”

“What? I was the one texting you, Bucky! Why would I -”

“Just drop it, Sam.”

“…Fine.”

Folding her hands on her desk, Raynor sighs. She can’t be certain, but Bucky has been her client for a few months now, and she knows it takes a long time for him to tell the truth. In this case, however, she thinks the truth is there, as a small part of it. The way that the tips of his ears redden tell her that there must be more to it.

She isn’t blind. She has a feeling she might know that answer. So she leans forward a little. “Good. Thank you for that answer, James.” Her gaze slides to Sam, whose arms are crossed over his chest as he looks toward the wall. “How does that make you feel, Sam?”

He scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for him, he still -”

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Raynor interrupts, feeling a headache coming on. She blows out a breath. “You’re both big boys now. You can handle this -“ she gestures vaguely, because she knows that they don’t quite understand yet, “- if you just talk to each other. Emotions are powerful things, you can’t ignore them forever.”

Bucky groans. Sam huffs.

They don’t get it. She’s not sure she wants to see them flounder, but she should put it out there, anyway. She leans forward. “Emotions including love, that you may have buried deep below.”

For a split second, she is met with stunned silence, before they both erupt, loudly. Denying, denying, denying, pushing the feelings down even deeper than they had been before despite the way that they fluster.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Deep breath in and out. They’ll accept it soon, someday.

Still, she shakes her head, effectively cutting them off. “No matter what kind of love it is, you care about each other. And that’s the bottom line. Once you cross it, things’ll be a whole lot easier.”

Sam looks at his lap, blinking. Bucky’s cheeks flush pink.

Raynor needs a drink.

“This is really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” John hates the man standing in front of him. Maybe, in another life, they could have been friends. But the stubbornness just pisses him off, so he goes for Bucky’s weakness. He knows Bucky can take being insulted, but there is one thing he won’t accept. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

He watches Bucky’s cold stare waver, if only for a moment. John takes that opportunity to stand his ground, glancing behind Bucky, to that open door he wants to go through so desperately. Karli is right there, and the only thing standing in his way now is Barnes, and his stupid loyalty to Sam.

Bucky thinks so highly of Sam, he doesn’t have any other choice but to use that one weakness.

So they lock eyes again. “I know you care about him. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Beside him, Lemar shifts his weight from one foot to the other as Bucky looks down for a split second. John knows what it’s like. He’d never leave Lemar behind, though he knows with Sam and Bucky, things are a little different. He can feel Zemo’s eyes boring into them now, clearly amused. They wait.

Bucky’s jaw is clenched, every inch of him now rigid. John knows the feeling, and knows perhaps it might have been unfair to put him in that position; he knows he would stop at nothing if it were his wife in that room. That’s almost the equivalent of what Bucky must have been thinking.

But the ends justify the means.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Bucky turns around, his shoulders still tight, and John exchanges a look with Lemar as he speaks. “You’re right. We should help him.”

John’s grip on the shield tightens. Lemar grins. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” he suggests as they start up the stairs.

Bucky ignores them both, readying for the fight.

“Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam asks, cool and collected as ever. “And if that’s how you feel, then what about Bucky?”

Zemo carefully removes the ice pack from his forehead, weighing it in his hand as he sits up. He doesn’t know how to feel about Bucky just yet. For now, that question doesn’t have an answer. For now, Steve Rogers is the only exception, and he can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

Still, he has to have some kind of fun, right?

So he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tilting his head to get a better look at the man sitting at the table, and shrugs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Sam blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Sam, I always thought you were an intelligent individual,” he replies, only slightly teasing. He does like Sam. He’s righteous, level-headed, and doesn’t make any stupid decisions. Except, perhaps, the person he might have chosen to love. “What do you think of James?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Nodding, the other smiles and looks down, gathering his thoughts. “I think he’s annoyin’ as hell,” he answers slowly. “But...he’s passionate, smart, a big softie deep down...and he always does the right thing even though he’s hurting, too.” He pauses, then adds, “I still can’t tell if breakin’ you out of jail counts as the right thing, though.”

Zemo smirks, leaning back a little, tossing the ice pack from one hand to the other. “You know, when I first met my wife, she hated my guts.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Zemo.”

He chuckles, somewhat sadly, then continues. “These fights that you and James have, over the small things, they are nothing more than just couple’s quarrels.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he turns to look at him fully, as if he’s lost his mind. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Bucky and I are just -”

“Just what, Sam?” Zemo tilts his head, as if challenging him. This is exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. It isn’t often the calm and collected Sam Wilson loses his cool, and Zemo likes to know he’s one of the ones who can get a rise out of him. “Friends, partners, all these terms you both throw around…” He thinks back to that look on Bucky’s face when John had challenged him, and his smile returns. “Perhaps you ought to think about what you truly want.”

And okay, maybe it isn’t just wanting to get a reaction from Sam. Maybe Zemo has seen the good in both of them, and thinks, perhaps, they ought to be happy, for once. His own partner is long gone, but it isn’t too late for Sam and Bucky.

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but he is cut off by the heavy sound of the door opening, and he immediately falls silent as Bucky walks in, with news that the Dora Milaje are after Zemo. Although Sam recovers quickly, staring at his laptop, Zemo side-eyes him, wondering if he might be blushing.

So Zemo stands up, shaking his head. How juvenile.

Sarah leans against the truck, wiping sweat from her forehead. It’s been hours, and she still can’t believe Sam has managed to pull off receiving this much help. She knows their parents did a lot of favors, but she never could have imagined it would pay off this much one day.

She’s already made up her mind. She can’t sell this boat. It means so much to her, and to Sam.

Her gaze drifts toward the dock, where Bucky is helping Sam carry some things to Carlos. She’s almost certain they’re bickering again, but as they walk, their shoulders almost touch. Sam smiles. It’s something she hadn’t realized she had missed so much.

Seeing her brother smile, and seeing the reason for that smile, is all the evidence she needs to agree to let Bucky crash on her couch. The sun is already dipping closer and closer to the horizon, and she knows people will begin returning home soon. Personally, she has to get the boys to bed. But she lets herself enjoy this moment as long as she can.

When Sam and Bucky place down their loads, Sarah whistles, getting their attention to wave Sam over. Bucky seems to think about following, but is soon distracted by AJ and Cass, excited to meet their uncle’s ‘cool friend.’ Sam chuckles as he tells them to behave, then makes his way over to his sister, a huge grin on his face.

“What’d I tell you? I knew we could make it work,” he says, spreading his hands. Just as confident as ever, she supposes. She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she can’t stop smiling, and his grin fades a little. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nothing. I just missed seeing you so happy,” she admits, because although they tease each other, although they bicker, she loves him. She has no trouble admitting she cares. Seeing the confusion on his face, she hops up to sit on the back of the truck, folding her hands in her lap. “You were gone. For a really long time. And that’s okay, I know what you had to do.” A pause. “When you came back all sad-puppy-dog in the rain that first night, my heart broke. I guess I’m just trying to say I’m glad my brother’s back.”

There’s another pause until Sam comes to sit beside her, so that their shoulders touch. He nods. “It’s been a rough couple years,” he murmurs, and she nods. It has been for both of them.

They gaze at the boys, who are excitedly coaxing Bucky to flex his metal arm, who has a confused look on his face as per usual. Sarah rests her head on Sam’s shoulder, just grateful to know she’s no longer so alone. And then she sits up, turning to face him.

“But enough of that sappy stuff,” she says. “Tell me about Bucky.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me his awful attempt at flirting was actually successful.”

“What?” Pulling a face, she shakes her head. “No, not that. Tell me about him. A guy that makes you smile that much is probably one worth keepin’ around.” She nudges his shoulder and he chuckles a little, his gaze returning to the man in question.

“You’re the second person who’s asked me about him recently.” He seems to collect his thoughts for a moment. “...He reminds me a lot of Riley, sometimes.”

Sarah nods, having expected something like that. “Is it the same?” Sam and Riley had always been close, but she had never seen them get physically close the way that Sam and Bucky did. Sam shakes his head.

“Some things are better. Some things are...more annoying.”

“It’s okay,” she assures, patting his shoulder as she slides off the truck to stand up. “In case you were wonderin’, I still know everything, and I also happen to know he feels exactly the same about you. He cares about you, and I know you care, too, so it’s up to you to do somethin’ with it.” She grins as a stunned look appears on his face, walking away before he can even think of something to reply with.

She hopes they can get their heads out of their asses and realize it. After all, having Bucky around could be pretty helpful.

“I’m sorry for how things ended down there.” A lie. “But for what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.”

Things had gotten dangerously close for Sharon. Too close. Luckily, though, Sam and Bucky haven’t found out the truth. If they had...well, she doesn’t want to think about what she would have to do if that were the case.

But here he is, their new Captain America, standing there in front of her with a soft chuckle and a slight nod. “Thanks.”

“All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky interjects, sounding...somewhat annoyed, for some reason. Her abdomen hurts terribly, but it’s not like she can’t handle a single gunshot wound. Still, standing around probably isn’t going to do her any good, so she nods and lets Bucky guide her.

They walk in silence for a little while until she looks at him. His gaze is fixed ahead, maybe lost in thought about something. Her eyes narrow a little. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“I mean, you basically cut Sam off. Why’d you wanna leave so bad?” Her interest is peaked when she notices that, despite the fact that his expression barely changes, his ears redden.

Bucky clears his throat. “In case you forgot, you’re kind of bleeding out here, Sharon.”

She huffs. “I told you, I’m fine.” Watching him for a moment, she attempts to piece the puzzle together. His eyes hadn’t left Sam since he returned with Karli’s body. Back at her apartment, he’d seemed almost angry when she had complimented Sam without his shirt on. It dawns on her and she smirks. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush.”

His ears redden further. She guessed right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I like you?” Deflecting the accusation and dissing her all in one go. She’s almost impressed.

“We both know I’m not talking about myself.” She grabs his arm, and they both stop walking. He won’t look her in the eye. “Hey, it’s okay, all right? Your secret’s safe with me.” Of course, unless he gets in her way. That’s a bridge she’ll cross if it comes to it. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a great candidate for you.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head a little. “...I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Sighing, she nods. “Of course you don’t. Look, you should just go for it. What do you have to lose?”

A flicker of pain flashes across his face. “Everything,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly.

“Sam wouldn’t leave you if he didn’t feel the same. You shouldn’t hide from him.” She winces, then, not quite sure why she’s giving him advice. If he knew the truth, he’d have left her to die. But she doesn’t dwell on that, feeling his hand on her arm to ground her, and they begin walking again.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Sharon. She might have gone down a different path a long time ago, but she still thinks they both deserve to be happy.

Unless, of course, they get in her way.

It’s late when Bucky comes to Sam’s door, knocking quietly before opening it to stand in the doorway, offering a beer out to him. “Fresh air?”

Sam accepts, and they walk outside together, footsteps sounding in tandem on the empty dock. A fresh sea breeze whips past, but not enough for either of them to get cold, the smell of salt filling their noses and the last couple cries of the seagulls before they settle in for the night.

They stop in front of the boat, admiring the work they had done on it together. Sam breaks the silence first. “Thanks for helpin’ out. With everything.”

Bucky looks at him and nods. “You’re welcome.” A pause. “It’s nice here, you know. Quiet. Nothing like New York.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

They gaze at each other for a moment before turning to their bottles. Silence is filled by the quiet crashing of waves in the distance. There’s a tension there that hadn’t been there before; an unspoken understanding of the situation.

Sam looks at Bucky, noticing the way the shadows under his eyes look a little lighter than they had been before. Bucky’s jaw is clenched, showcasing the stubble he’s been letting grow out, and Sam can’t help but think he looks princely.

And Bucky looks at Sam, at the way the moonlight so perfectly etches his features, his eyes bright as they stare back at him. He remembers the way Sam’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, how he reminds him of a sunshine that had pulled him from the deep, dark abyss he had been stuck in after Steve left.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been standing there, quietly. Two words tear from Bucky’s throat, like he has no choice in the matter. “Sam, I…-”

Instead of answering, Sam steps closer, cupping one of Bucky’s cheeks, smashing their lips together. It’s rough but sweet. Sam tastes like vanilla. Bucky tastes like beer. And nothing has ever felt so right before.

Sam pulls away and chuckles. “I hope that was what you were gonna say.”

Bucky smiles, though his face is bright red, placing a hand on Sam’s hip to pull him closer. “Somethin’ like that. Want to say it again?”

“I like that idea.”

They suppose they can put the promise of ‘going their separate ways’ on hold for a little while.

#marvel #mcu #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #they're in love but stubborn your honor #anyways #everyone knew they were in love even before they admitted it ty #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Note

can you write christmas headcanons with the batboys, the batgirls, and bruce? like setting up the apartment/house and baking blablabla

✦ a/n — I’m writing this with the holiday celebrations as a secular thing in mind.

Bruce Wayne

Bruce honestly doesn’t have enough time to set up the manor, but he makes it up to you by actually helping you choose the decorations.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s enthusiastic about it, he’s just busy. And he makes as much time as possible for you and the family.

Bruce enjoys baking for the holidays. I’m sure that’s one of the few activities he enjoyed as a kid when Alfred tried to keep his mind off how sad the holidays would be without his parents.

December is like Gala Time™︎ so the season is hectic for everybody at the manor. Never a dull moment is spent at that house.

And he likes it that way. I think Bruce prefers the erratic nature of having the entire batfamily around him throughout the festivities, it’s a reminder that he isn’t alone even though he feels like it sometimes.

He goes out of his way to get everybody a special gift. Alfred helps, of course, but Bruce takes his time to give his input and think about them.

Dick Grayson

You find out he’s a good singer while decorating the apartment. He starts by whistling and then he’s full-on belting while singing different Christmas songs.

He claims he isn’t a “Christmas guy” but he enjoys the cheer the season brings. He finds it contagious. (He sooooo is a Christmas guy, but don’t tell him I told you.)

Dick’s less impulsive throughout the holidays because he doesn’t want to miss any party or event.

Really indecisive as to what to get his family for Christmas. He low key panics when it’s time to choose Damian’s present.

You will never get Dick Grayson to bake. I’m sorry, but he’s a menace in the kitchen. He also hates measuring ingredients.

Buuuuut, he’ll happily watch you and keep you company. He might take place in decorating cookies. They don’t turn out that pretty, but it’s a blast.

Jason Todd

Setting up the apartment with Jason is really fun. And he can reach anywhere so he does all the hard work.

However, when you get to the Christmas tree it isn’t as fun anymore.

You see, Jason is very protective of the people he loves. He loves you very much. And Christmas trees are a fire hazard.

He’s almost ready to throw out the tree but he can never say no to your puppy eyes. So he agrees. And he turns into a clean freak because “artificial trees collect dust and that makes them a fire hazard.”

I have this headcanon that Jason is a great cook and I also think he’s a great baker. The apartment usually smells amazing, and it smells even better throughout winter.

Don’t tell Alfred, but Jason’s cookies are the best in the world.

Tim Drake

I see him as somebody who’s really into the festive season.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” he says, unironically and with a sweet smile on his face.

Colors everywhere, stockings, mistletoe, ornaments... decorating the apartment takes you a few days because neither of you can decide how much is too much.

Not much of a baker, but he’ll give it a try just to have some festive fun.

He’s an expert at wrapping gifts. Seriously, he does it quickly and without a struggle.

I think everybody from the batfamily enjoys doing charity work around the holidays, but especially Tim.

Damian Wayne

I’m certain Damian didn’t grow up celebrating the holidays to the same level westerners did, and he probably started tolerating them in his late teens.

That being said, he prefers simple decorations. Too much color is headache-inducing and he thinks it doesn’t look good when a pallet isn’t being followed.

Tease him about how colorful Robin’s suit is and he’ll send you the deathliest glare you had ever seen.

Damian takes decorating cookies very seriously. And he’s a really good artist, so as expected, his cookies are gorgeous.

Never take him Christmas shopping, please, the world isn’t ready for that catastrophe. He does all his shopping online and he always knows what to buy for everybody.

Expect a gift that could only be considered as a lot. Damian doesn’t know what a small present is — or if he does, he chooses to ignore the concept.

Duke Thomas

The two of you slow dance surrounded by the Christmas lights when you’re done decorating the apartment.

Movie marathons are a usual thing for you, and they only get more frequent as the holidays approach because there are a lot of holiday movies and he loves most of them.

The entire month, he tries to take a peek into what you buy in case his gift is there. Sweet Duke doesn’t know you bought his gift earlier because of that specific reason.

He tries to get you to spill what you bought for him. Mostly with spontaneous kisses. He makes it reaaaaally hard to keep the secret, but you manage.

He’s a decent cook, but he cannot bake to save his life. He can bake pre-made stuff and even that turns out burnt sometimes.

Look, he’s busy rather often and he can’t remember everything he has to do — that includes that there’s good in the oven. BUT IT’S OKAY, HE’S CUTE, NOBODY’S PERFECT.

Barbara Gordon

Babs gets you matching Christmas sweaters for every occasion. You don’t know where she finds the ugly kind but she manages to get her hands on some atrocious stuff (in a fun way.)

The two of you most likely spend Christmas Eve at her family’s. She’ll be okay with visiting your family too, and will probably try to bring something special to charm your parents.

She’s already charming as she is, but festive!Babs is 100x more charming.

You have a tradition of giving each other awful gifts on Christmas Eve and good gifts on Christmas Day. She switches it one year and it’s chaos.

So. Many. Cute. Photos. Together. Dressed as elves, as Santa, as reindeer; with your Christmas sweaters; on your pajamas; dolled up for a party... you could fill an album with photos exclusively taken on the holiday season.

Christmas Day is for cuddling and eating candy you found on sale.

Stephanie Brown

Picture her in one of your sweaters, stretching her arm to teach the top of the tree so she can do the finishing touches. She’ll refuse your help, but will kiss you as soon as she’s done as a thank you for being helpful.

The two of you host a small holiday party at your apartment and the preparations are the most fun you’ve ever had.

Like finding Christmas markets in Gotham is hard and the city is awful sometimes, but the process is fun and Stephanie’s excitement makes it even better.

And the party is a success. Your friends are there, and your girlfriend is so happy because the apartment feels so much like home that you can be comfortable with hosting parties.

Instead of baking cookies and being a cute couple by smearing royal glass over each other’s faces only to clean each other, you have a gingerbread house competition.

It gets messy, and Steph laughs throughout the whole thing. Nobody wins, but it’s fun, and it isn’t particularly cute, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Cassandra Cain

Like Damian, she didn’t grow up celebrating the holidays as westerners do.

Cass isn’t the most open person in the world. She tries, but it’s hard for her sometimes. She makes more efforts around the holiday season. As cliche as it sounds.

If she’s spending the holidays with the batfam, she partakes in the family traditions Bruce has set up for everybody.

If she’s on her own with her S/O, I see her doing chill stuff. The two of you cook your favorite food and watch movies the entire day, perhaps indulge in a bottle of mauled wine or something of sorts.

She’d be okay with going to your family’s Christmas celebration as long as you also get time for yourselves later.

Cass will give you hands down the best Christmas gift you’ve ever received. She’s observant so it’s hard to hide things from her and that means she knows exactly what you want or need.

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #duke thomas x reader #barbara gordon x reader #stephanie brown x reader #cassandra cain x reader

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 7

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: school’s a bitch, but nothing’s stopping me from having a fuck ton of fun with this series. and with this chapter, I had loads of it.

WORDS: 11,289 (I’m not even sorry) WARNINGS: batarella’s funeral

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

First, it was the light.

You always slept with your curtains drawn, so the light almost never reached your room when you wake up in the early or late hours in the morning. So when you awoke with your eyelids red and bright, like the sun was a foot away from your nose, you knew something was wrong.

Second, the sheets. They were clean, but obviously different from the cottony light comforter you liked to wrap yourself with in the winter. The ones you had around your body right then, on the other hand, was just a thin, white sheet, warm yet not nearly as warm as your quilt.

Then the bed felt off as well. Stiff. Firm. Not at all wrecked like the mess you often left behind even after making your bed, or in your case just draping the blanket over the whole mattress before you went off for the day.

And when you were awake enough to have the rest of your senses snap out of your dreary, groggy vision of a dream that faded as soon as the sting in your temple kicked in, you realized that it was bacon being cooked somewhere within a few meters from where you lied down, warm smoke and all.

Forcing your throbbing eyelids apart, you confirmed that you were, in fact, not in your studio loft.

And you almost had a heart attack when the next thing that graced your line of sight was a large, shirtless man with roughed up dark hair and a pair of gray sweatpants, facing the stove from whence the sweet smell of bacon came.

You didn’t have the sober senses to linger on such eye candy for long, not when you went straight to clutching your clothes, your jeans, your leg, everywhere else. No, they hadn’t been taken off. Not for the whole night, it seems. And you didn’t feel anything funny down there.

Almost jumping off the edge of the bed, Jason spoke. “’Morning, pretty bird.”

Okay. It’s just Jason. At least you did not end up having drunken sex with a stranger and overslept.

And now that that was out of the question, the thoughts, the panic, eventually into this blissful yet brief momentous relief, the horrific migraine came along.

You grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over to cover your face with your bent knees.

“I’m assuming that hangover isn’t a good one.”

“I can't believe I stayed the night-“

“Relax. It’s no big deal.”

Seeing with the room so bright definitely didn’t help when you looked up at Jason. “Did I-“

“No, you didn’t do anything regretful, or memorable, and I was the one who insisted you stay over.”

“I remember…” Your palms stuck to your face. “Talking and burritos and Dick and Tim and-ugh…”

“Yeah that’s… basically it.”

“I didn’t tell you anything embarrassing, did I?”

Jason poured his pan of bacon onto a plate. “Define embarrassing.”

“Something you wouldn’t have wanted to hear.”

“If anything, pretty bird, you told me everything I needed to hear. My brothers sure have it bad for you.”

“Fuck,” you murmured. “What did I say?”

“A lot. Dick talking to you right before the wedding. Tim telling you he loved you right after. I told you some stuff, too. Remember those?”

“It’ll probably come back to me. Soon enough.” You swung your legs over the bed and saw that you, unfortunately, only had one.

You exposed yourself to Jason.

So hurriedly you reached for your prosthetic and latched it on at a record five seconds. Fuck, you showed yourself to him. That was the drunken move of the night. You could have said shit all, and it wouldn’t have mattered, yet you just had to take off that stupid robot leg.

You coughed, and it only made that stupid headache throb worse.

“Bottoms up.”

Jason placed a plate of his cooking with a fork for you to take onto the coffee table, then he made his way to you, stretching out his hand. You looked at him and you were sure you looked like some sorry excuse of a human being with your hair up in all directions and your eyes as dead as a rotting corpse’s. But Jason just shrugged, pulled on your shoulder when you didn’t take his hand, and led you to the couch.

You probably would have had something else to say other than a wordless mumble if he’d just made himself look a bit more presentable and not to overly distracting with his brick wall of a chiseled body. You picked at his bacon and forced it down your throat.

“I’m sorry…” you swallowed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

The bacon tasted great.

“I feel pathetic.”

“It sure seemed like you needed a talk.”

“I know -“

“Who else would you have talked to?” He took a bite for himself. “Steph? Cass? Bruce? They don’t know half the shit I do about Dick and Tim. And trust me, you deserved to know the truth.”

Yeah. Dick wanting to chicken out of his wedding to profess his love for you was something you definitely needed to hear.

“Yeah,” you snarled. “But then I got drunk and slept here… and you know I hate being an inconvenience.”

“It’s alright, pretty bird. If anything I had a good time last night.”

Then, so unexpectedly, he placed his arm around you and never have you felt a naked body press so tenderly against yourself that you froze at the contact. Then you looked up at his face, eyes so wide, then he looked back at you and smiled.

You smiled back, slowly easing in.

Your smile. That same smile.

It made Jason lose his, then you saw his throat hitch.

Your lips were flat and practically gone when you looked away, picked up your fork and stuffed your mouth with more bacon so he’d pull his arm off you.

“What did I say before I passed out?”

“About Dick and Tim?” Jason inched himself away and everything felt too cold. “A lot.”

“Was I pathetic?”

“No. I don’t blame you for being so confused.”

Okay. You were many things. Stupid was one of them. But confused wouldn’t exactly be the right thing to define that horrific typhoon devastation that was left of all logical thought. You weren’t confused per se, not when you understood everything with the timing with Dick and the break up with Tim. You knew exactly what went on with either of them, it’s just that you didn’t know how to make all these directions weeded out into this one, straight line so you’d know how to go through the rest of your days as smooth as you possibly could.

“I’m not confused.”

Jason sighed. “When you said you didn’t know if you should even choose, I just assumed.”

Maybe, in a way, you were confused.

But indecisive felt more like it.

“I just don’t want to-“

“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to upset either of them anymore.”

Jason stood up, and slowly, he went over to the fridge for a glass of water. He poured it into a glass, then he gave it to you.

“You called yourself selfish, too. But I don’t think you are. You don’t want to choose between them ‘cuz you want to do what’s best for both of them. Not for you.”

You’ve never seen him look at you like that. And even if he didn’t already look enough like his brothers, he had that same wide-eyed softness that often got to you. That look that made them all look the most beautiful.

He sat next to you again, elbows on his knees.

“My brothers were fucking assholes with what they did, but they’re good people. And they’re lucky, that you’re even considering them to be the one who gets to be with you. They deserve forgiveness. They’ll bend the world for you. I’m sure of it.”

If he wasn’t sitting so close, or watching your face like he wanted to note every detail you had on, you would have taken much longer just to shut your dangling mouth, because all there was right then was silence. Not just with your words, which you didn’t have even one, but that typhoon that raged, that indecisiveness, it was all quiet.

“Thank you…” you swallowed your food. “I showed you my… leg, too… didn’t I?”

“Yeah…” Jason hunched over and grabbed his hair, running his own fingers through his locks. “You don’t have to worry about that, though. But if it means anything, I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t ready to show me, yet.”

You shouldn’t have been biting your lips so much before you’d eventually be tasting your own blood. But that, with that comfort you once had with him last night now this tension that you could pick apart with a needle, you were surprised your palms weren’t bleeding with the way you were digging your nails into them.

“I was ready…”

“Really?”

He was trying to bite back a smile. It was cute.

“Yeah…”

You finished the food, which you probably shouldn’t have done. You should have left before you even took a bite or said anything more than just a sentence.

His eyes were slightly squinted when he looked up at you, head craned down. This bashfulness you don’t often see. Then his brow was up and he was chuckling.

It made you smile back.

Jason stood up and went over to his closet to get a shirt. Finally.

Your bag was already on the couch, and even when you looked like aa troll had thrown up on you, you didn’t look absolutely horrific that people would stop and stare. So after a few brushes down your hair with your own fingers, you went for the door.

“I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Really. It’s all good, pretty bird.”

Jason walked up to you, held out the door, then you stood just outside to pull on your coat.

“Thank you so much, Jay.”

“I swear. Don’t sweat it. Hit me up when you need anything.”

Jason was beautiful.

And he had the kindest heart tucked behind this façade of street and trauma. You swallowed, laughed, then you opened your arms to invite him for a hug. Jason rolled his eyes and let you.

Nose to his shoulder, you ran your hand down his clothed back, and with just one hand he wrapped it around you.

Then you left. Back home. Back to that inevitable loneliness and the thinking you could foresee that was as good in occupying the spaces in your mind as music in the background, which you should probably be resorting to just to have some kind of attempt at peace. When you got to your apartment, the unfinished canvas was staring daggers at you, screaming and demanding your attention away from boys.

You rolled up your sleeves. A shower can wait, after you go through this whole painting that was big enough to be a wall. This will distract you, hopefully. At least your hands will be busy.

A fashion magazine’s editor wanted a piece for her office. You ran frantically about in your studio and picked up your basket full of paint and brushes to use for the piece, which already stained your hands just holding it up. And you set it on the floor. You’ll work on the floor for now. An easel can suck it.

The canvas was right up against the wall and the blank strokes of yellow and blue for the background were practically growling at you to just finish it off, demanding apologies in the form of touch ups and polishes over its now dried up surface.

You started with the biggest brush and violently dried it off, slapped it onto your palette for the mustard yellow you’d concocted, then you swiped that brush over for the background swirling it around the roughed-up edges of the left side to creating this wind-like surface. There were whites, so it looked a lot like wind, and even with it so dark on your palette, it had lightened up the moment it hit the canvas. So light, and soft, like the bickering remnants of sunlight when barely would it pierce through roughened glass.

That, and with your brush smaller and more precise, you drew on with a tone a bit darker the curving lines to signify direction. Then you lightly tapped it on.

You placed more paint onto your own jeans and mixed it with white, over and over with your brush. Sitting cross legged on the floor, you could tell from the sun that it had only just passed noon. Hair up in a mess, you went on with sketching out the sky with an even lighter color, letting the mix play around and form these strips of clouds.

Yellow was safe. Warmth. Something you could rely on and a color so close to your heart, comfort when you hadn’t an idea where to start. The color that was still, calm, light. It was the sun. It was the wind. Often the horizon. The leaves when it was autumn.

You always managed to find a place for yellow in every painting you did, because it calmed you, like a blanket over your shoulders when you were curled up in your couch.

Done. Now onto the right side.

Your brush sinking into a cup of water, you started with a new shade. Cobalt.

Not your usual choice when you painted the sky, but this wasn’t so much of a sky as it was just an abstract excuse of a wall that went with the yellows and all. But it should look good. At least, in your head it did. You swept your brush onto your jeans and didn’t even curse when you got paint onto your shirt, so you rolled your sleeves some more, scratched your chin despite your hand covered in paint and went to town.

The cobalt did look good, but the blending with the yellow was going to take more work. You just went with it, let the pressure control the shades for different parts of the right side and let it splatter a bit, messily enough to look casual and unintentional.

It was yellow that calmed you and blue that brightened up your days when you felt the most… well… blue. When you often felt like anything you destroyed everything you laid your hands on when all you were supposed to do was create, on those days, those days, that you just couldn’t hold back from taking control of the best of you, it was often blue, and all the different shades of it, that gave you the foundation of a brightly lit sky, and you’d go on from there.

When nothing comes to mind, that color was what pushed you to move forward, inspired you, gave your creative juices that needed startup so you’d know where to go on from there and take you on until it all ends. You loved landscapes especially, and what other color was there more than blue. It was the sky. It was the water. It was shared, and most other people loved it as well. But so often did it brighten your work, it was what your eyes would turn to at first glance.

You were done with the background, and only had it been hours since you started. Your arm to your forehead, you backed away and eyed what you’d finished.

A dress. Of course. That, and the woman wearing it. You’d start with the woman for now.

Beautifully tanned skin, almost a dark orange even. You painted her hair and her head was slightly turned to the side. A sharp, small nose. Eyes were shut but soft, watching the ground beside her. Then you went on to outline her slender body, her leg in front of the other, then you placed her hands on her front. They won't be seen with the dress and all, anyway. So that’s what you went. She looked shy, like she was covering herself. And sad.

You wanted her hair flowing over her shoulders and her back, but you needed the dress first. A flowy, fiery statement dress.

A can of red paint was staring at you from all the way across the room, and with it definitely going to contrast against the yellow and blue, you decided for it and stood up, wiping your hands all over your jeans, then you picked up your paint. Barely anything left, but it should be enough for the dress.

You sat back down, mixed it on your palette for the shade you wanted, then you dabbed it lightly over the woman’s breast.

Then you backed up, eyed the whole painting from some distance away.

You weren’t often the one for red, especially not really bright tones that just wouldn’t look natural with your scenery paintings of either the country or the city. You don’t use it often, though it did look exquisitely beautiful when it was fiery and loud and would pop up over anything else painted onto the same plane, and it was beautiful. Mesmerizing. It called for attention and it was romantic and lustful and so awfully did it want your touch.

Not long after, your round tip brush was all over the woman, covering her with a skirt that flowed from one end of the canvas to the other so much like fire, the same ones from your dreams and nightmares. You hated fire, despised it, but it was beautiful. It didn’t spark a trigger or made you flinch. So seldom were you so mesmerized with your own work as you were in the middle of doing it. It was beautiful. Warm like yellow, bright like blue, but red had this sense of danger, darkness that just called out to you. And you just wanted to jump into it.

It was exciting. And its intensity called out to your darkest sides and somehow that intensity was what pulled the whole painting together.

You even gasped when you finished that last stroke, and with that, and the sun so close to setting, you put your brush down.

Your clothes looked like they’d just gone through a washing machine filled with red, blue, and yellow paint instead of detergent, and the rest of you looked no better than if you’d just climbed out of a drainage pipe. You wiped your sweat off your forehead, pulled the canvas off the wall, and set it on an easel.

She looked beautiful. The woman. Sad, but beautiful. You used that last bit of sunlight to look at how it set into the fabric, how it was practically its own world apart from the real one.

And after you decided you were content with it, and with it, ridding you from an otherwise horrible start with a hangover and all, you took a shower, cleaned up, and went to bed.

The next morning, you sent it over to your client, who told you that somehow, the painting told her a story.

A story, it could be.

Though even with the painting telling it, it was clear it was far from ending.

-----

You prayed to the deity above that it was Sunday, the only day you allowed yourself to sleep in now with you having three ongoing clients at that moment. And with the room so freezing, since you left the window open the night before, you’d rather wallow into the depths of your sheets than to pull yourself up from the bed and actually function like a normal human being. You forced just one eye open and openly cursed at how bright it was that day. You pulled on the blankets, right over your head, and forced your eyes shut to let your brain believe it was still well into the night.

But then your phone rang, and now you really wanted to beat yourself up for forgetting to put it on silent and leave it all the way over to the kitchen. You muffled the noise with your pillow but even after long minutes, the ringing just wouldn’t stop.

Throwing the blankets violently off of you, you reached for your phone, eyes adjusting to the light. You rubbed your eyelids open.

‘Dick’ it read on the screen.

Deciding that call wasn’t such a bad start for your day, you set yourself on the little table in front of your fridge and accepted it.

“Hey…” you yawned.

“Mornin’, night owl.” Dick sounded enthusiastic. “Did I wake you up?”

You yawned some more and it made Dick laugh.

“Obviously, you’d know when you call at this hour.”

“Y/N, it’s one in the afternoon.”

“Oh,” you said. “Explains why I’m starving.”

“How are you?”

You stood up from your chair and went over to make yourself a cup of coffee, anything to make that morning, or afternoon, just a bit more bearable. “I’m alright. I sent a new piece over to a client that other day. One of my biggest sales yet.”

“Oh? What of?”

“This one’s funny. And borderline illegal. This guy enrolled in some course over at Arts College needed a boost for his finals and he paid me to do his work for him.”

“Good thing they don’t run plagiarism checks on paintings.”

“Even if that was possible, I made sure to do it the way this guy usually does from a few pictures he’d sent me. He’s not bad. Not too good. But he must have needed that A or else he wouldn’t have paid me almost a thousand dollars for a small piece.”

“A thousand dollars?”

“I know. The guy’s rich.”

“No kidding.”

Dick laughed, and you missed hearing it in person so terribly. You could imagine the dimples that must have been on his cheeks right at that moment, knowing how beautiful they must have looked and you couldn’t even see them.

“I’m really proud of what you’ve done for yourself,” he said. “Just look at you.”

You felt your face all weird and you wanted to look away even when there wasn’t a ghost around you at all. You felt like a straight up moron.

“Thanks,” you coughed. “What about you? How are you?”

“God, you don’t wanna ask,” he grunted. “It’s a mess. Not everyone got along back when I was Robin, but it wasn’t anything as messed up as this. I don’t know what happened while I was out, but they can't keep off of each others’ throats for a second.”

“And you said you’d be home by the time you were done dealing with Deathstroke.”

“As long as that man’s alive, we’re never actually done with dealing with him. And even if he wasn’t almost immortal, we can't do much outside sending him over to Blackgate.”

“Is he in Blackgate?”

“For now.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s keeping you back there?”

Dick shuffled with the phone, and you heard voices. Gar’s, most probably. Dick was making his way out of the room, to a balcony of some sort away from other people, because then it was quiet.

“Everything else.”

Even with just a few sips from you mug, already you were wide awake. Your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you sighed.

“You really are quite the leader…” you said. “I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who can do it like you do.”

Dick snorted. “I doubt it.”

“Look what happened with you being out even for just a few months. It’s amazing, really, how people just listen to you.”

“Yeah… Except when it’s my siblings. It’s like tying bears down with dog leashes.”

“It’s not your fault. No one, not even Darkseid, can make Damian Wayne submit.”

“Almost as if he’s Bruce Wayne’s son.”

You laughed and sat back against your chair.

“Anything interesting happen lately?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t bore you to death.”

“Try me,” you said. “Just let me hear your voice.”

You heard him sigh. You heard him smile. From cheek to cheek. You wanted to see him, but you just calmed.

Then Dick started talking about this incident with Gar and Raven, how one catty little comment turned into this jungle fest between an overpowered demon and a green tiger wrestling it out in the living room. Dick was in the middle of it, of course, but his pleas weren’t nearly enough to calm either of them down.

And even when you were laughing and giving all these fun little remarks that often made him chuckle, it was all too difficult how you had to hold yourself back from spilling the mounds stuck at the back of your throat, everything you wanted to talk to him about, and you couldn’t, can't, say a thing. The things that had to be said, that had been waiting in this old shed stuck at the farthest corner of the earth for days too long. One that you were both too afraid to surface, because you were a coward yourself. What do you even say to him? How do you even begin?

And as Dick went on, the more you just wanted everything lash out of you, even when talking about it through the phone wouldn’t be the best idea.

You needed to look at him in the face, see how he’ll react to all the things you had to pour out of your heart and scream whatever you wanted to scream at him for. Your anger, the frustrations for his cowardice and how he just let Tim have you without so much as a fight or even try to find out who really had your heart, even when you yourself couldn’t even say. And even more did you want to tell him all that despite it not being his fault how the worst enemy there was to your story with Dick was timing.

But you didn’t do any of that and instead, you kept your silence. You pretended that this little conversation of yours was enough to get you through the day to keep all that sinking pit in your stomach at bay and not let anything bother you anymore. Even though, more than anything else at that moment, you desperately just wanted to get back to work without having so much to think about.

Dick finished the story, and by the end, you hadn’t even an idea what he’d said, when all those years you never even missed just one word out of his mouth when he spoke to you.

“What about you?” Dick asked. “Anything interesting happen other than work?”

The only thing interesting that happened lately that wasn’t work was Jason, and the last thing you wanted was to get away from that even when you hadn’t placed a thought on that night since, well, that night. You didn’t want to.

“Not much, really. I’m usually just at home painting.”

“Have you been outside to paint?”

“Just once. I wanted a view of the skyline. I went to the rooftop of the Gotham City Plaza just to paint for a few hours and finished it at home.”

“For a client?”

“No…” you said. “Just for me.”

“That’s so great. I’d take you to this place just an hour away from Jersey. It’s this farmland, but it has this really pretty view of a valley at the far end.”

“Dick, how do you know all these places?” You stuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you cleaned up and went over to the sink.

“What places?”

“The ones out of the city. It’s not like you go out on vacation much.”

“Well, I-“ Dick mumbled, and you heard him shuffle his phone over to the other ear and his breath hitched. “I guess… I don’t know. I know you like painting the countryside. I look them up on the internet. Sometimes I ask around. Sometimes, most of the time, really, when I drive from Bludhaven to Gotham, I go through the route near the ocean. That’s where I found that cliff I took you last time.”

His voice was so soft at the end that you could barely even make out his words.

And, once again, you didn’t even have a breath you could take in to calm your throbbing chest.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“That’s-“ you placed your other hand on the kitchen counter. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Your cheeks were hurting, again, and you wanted to wash yourself with a bucket of cold water.

“Dick,” you croaked. “When are you coming back?”

You knew something was wrong the minute you didn’t hear a word out of him even several seconds after. You heard him walk around. You heard him cough. You could even hear him breathe a lot louder than he usually does, but when all that was from his silence, you knew it won't be for a long time.

“I don’t know…”

Then you heard him breathe faster, like he was running, like he was nervous.

“B-but, if you ask me to come home right now, I will. I’ll be there by tonight. If you need me at all…”

Something was picking at your neck like the knife you had laying around in your kitchen, and you wanted to drive it all the way up so you’d actually have an excuse not to have a response at all. Because you didn’t have one, not when your face felt like exploding from how much you’ve had to hold in.

“Or even if you just say you miss me, I’ll come back. Wait, no, that sounds… wrong. I’m sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You shut your eyes.

You want him home because you wanted to talk about how he’d just changed the course of your whole life in just one single letter and made you doubt all the waterfalls and rivers of feelings you’ve had for him all these years.

“Of course, I miss you. But…” You dipped your head down and faced the bottom of your sink.

“Stay there, Dick. The Titans need you…”

Silence. And you wanted to choke the air out of you when you couldn’t even hear him breathe anymore.

Something echoed from behind Dick, and you heard his muffled voice from his hand blocking the phone’s receiver. You swallowed, looked up at the window just to let the melting snow on the ground outside fill that frightening blank in your head.

You heard Dick clear his throat. “I’m really sorry. I have to go.”

“It’s alright,” you softly sighed. “You going out tonight?”

“No. I’m trying to let the Titans do the work by themselves. I’ll be sitting it out the next few days.”

“Alright, then. Be safe.”

“I will.”

You hung up first, and with that, you turned on the faucet and let the water flow out from the rim of your coffee cup, watching the brown dilute with the water so painfully slow.

Maybe Jason was right, you were confused.

You had to talk to Tim.

Maybe he can change all that.

-----

It probably was a mistake to come all the way to the manor, to talk to someone about things you didn’t even know in the hopes of clearing up a picture you weren’t sure you wanted to see.

But you’ve been holding out on talking to Tim, really talking to him without it turning into some pity fest for the both of you and it was obviously one you both really needed. And, without a doubt, you missed him. The days without even getting to text him was taking its sweet toll on you. You couldn’t be apart from him even if you tried.

Alfred welcomed you in, telling you that Tim was about to wake up anytime soon since he got home from the office at fucking twelve in the afternoon that day because he spent the whole night, and morning, working when even Bruce was telling him to come home. You started to take off your coat, but with it being so empty in the parlor, the fireplace dark and gritty and the walls so silent, it was eerie, you wanted to stay outside.

You went over to the back, through the kitchen where there was a backdoor, then you went outside in the light orange pasture where the snow had melted and the trees and bushes sticking up with just their trunks of wood. There were leaves around, drenched and muddy with the soil, and the grounds were unkept. But it was wonderful to see, nonetheless. You stayed outside at the gardens, grass under your boots, and waited despite the breezing chill.

Not long after, you heard him come up from behind you.

“Y/N.” Tim sounded relieved. “Christ, I was just about to call.”

And it wasn’t even awkward, hesitant, or at all unusual when he rushed to you and pulled you to his chest. You hugged him back immediately, eyes closed, ignored how the last time you saw him you were so close to just breaking down and focused instead that you hadn’t seen your best friend in weeks and none of you had the courage to even call. And already, that void within you felt infinitely better. And you didn’t pull away even after so long. And for such a moment, you pleaded that it wouldn’t end, that you wouldn’t have to pull away and face the realities don’t even want to go into. And after all you’ve been through, being here, being in his arms, it was too good to even be a part of your fantasies, the resort, or a distraction perhaps, of what was really going on.

But it wasn’t like you were revealing some long-forgotten truth that would crush him out of unexpectedness, because he already knew. You just didn’t know what it’s going to be right after.

Eventually, unfortunately, you both pulled away, but not without Tim brushing his thumb across your cheek which made you want to just melt in his arms. His hair was swept back and he looked like he’d just gone out of bed, but his eyes looked absolutely striking against the white of the snow left over on the ground, and the way he looked at you made you want to regret ever looking away from him after the last time, which, frankly, you couldn’t even remember.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t reach out-“

He hushed you down. “It’s alright. How are you?”

Still in his hold around your waist, your faint arms enjoyed themselves resting against his chest.

“I could be better.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You were so close to just blurting out ‘yes’, but that could possibly make him want to pull away, which you didn’t want to happen at all. At least, not for a bit longer. You needed to be held.

But Tim must have known, because he slowly pulled away, and you were in no place to just ask to be held one more when you were about to, possibly, rip his heart out.

You didn’t even have a clue on how he’s going to react.

“Tell me about you first,” you said. “Anything happen lately?”

“No. Nothing at all. I’m at the office when I’m not asleep at home and god, I really need you to make me stop drinking ten cups of coffee everyday because it’s driving me nuts.”

“You did not-“

“Oh, I am. And it’s so boring as well. I swear I’ve been wanting to just call you and have a car sent over so you could hang out with me in the office.”

You smiled and watched how the dark circles under his otherwise bright blue eyes were even more eminent now than even before, which you hadn’t thought to be possible. You straightened his shirt. “You should have called me.”

“Yeah. I know. I should have.” He roughed up his hair and placed his other hand on his hip. He looked tired. “I just thought you needed some time alone.”

Hands in your coat, you pretended that it was the cold that made you want to curl up into a ball and roll away on the ground, but your eyes were on your boots and you breathed out a bit of smoke past your lips because you really did not want to keep staring into his eyes, out of guilt or in awe. “I… I guess I did. But I would have gone to you if you wanted me to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Then call me next time.”

Tim’s adorable smile. It was amazing how quickly it got to you.

“I will.”

You couldn’t possibly hold this for long. You got your hands out of your coat, which didn’t actually need to be housed like that when you had gloves on to protect them, then you licked your lips.

“So… Did you come to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah…”

“We can head inside.”

“No, Tim.”

It won't be long. It shouldn’t have to be long. You’ll stay here, outside, so this agony wouldn’t have to last and you’d have an excuse to cut to the chase. He didn’t deserve to stand out here while you waltz around in circles because of your cowardice.

“It’s about Dick.”

The way his face fell.

And as much as you wanted to look away before it got to you, you had to face him now.

“What about him?”

“About two weeks ago,” you said. “That day I left the manor.”

The day you last spoke to each other.

Tim listened intently, stepped closer to you, almost as if he already knew where this was going.

“Dick and I… kissed.” Fuck, you wanted to cut open your mouth saying all this to Tim. “Then when I got home, he left me a letter telling me everything.”

“Everything?”

You saw his neck tighten, even with his collar covering most of it. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

His face, what you thought to have been anger slowly building up when you first mentioned Dick’s name, all dropped into this soft, unmoving silence. Tim looked away from you, watching the empty branches stay still as if they were so much more interesting than having to look at you in the eye.

“That’s, uhm,” he whispered, voice harsh and forced. “That’s great.”

It didn’t sound so great when he said it that way.

“Are you… together now?”

“No. We haven’t exactly talked about it since then.”

He nodded, pulling on his hair a bit too hard when he ran it across his scalp.

“Tim, you knew about him, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly doing much to hide it.”

Now, he looked mad. He turned away from you, walking down to the gardens further away from the manor, where the others might hear. You walked with him, stayed by his side. He spoke so softly, yet you knew it came straight from his darkest thoughts too painful to bring up.

“I always knew. Back when we were together. He didn’t try to get too close to you back then, but I just… had a hunch, you know? I think every boyfriend can tell when other guys try to get too close with their girl.”

“Tim, I swear, I didn’t feel anything for him at all back then-“

“I know, I know.” His sad smile broke you. “A part of me was always afraid he’d just steal you away from me, but I knew he cared about you a lot. When I…” he bit his lip. “When we broke up, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Dick didn’t know if I was fine with him going to you so soon, but I knew you’d feel better if he was there for you, and I knew he wanted to be there for you, too, so I sent him.”

Just when you thought none of this could possibly get worse.

“You sent Dick?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No…” you said. “Don’t be sorry.”

You stepped on a melted puddle and almost slipped on the mud. Tim held your shoulder, pulled you up, then kept his hand on the small of your back. You let him.

“It was the right thing to do. You were okay. It was my fa-“ He was choking on his own words by then. “I had it coming, after how I left you…”

“Dick had Kori then,” you said, and that only made Tim snort.

“I was honestly surprised he didn’t leave Kori the moment he saw you needed him. Idiot even made it through a wedding.”

“He thought I was still in love with you.”

That’s when he stopped walking right in front of you so you’d stop, too. You looked up at him, wide eyed, and somehow you couldn’t tell if it was hope or horror staring back at you from his eyes.

“Are you?”

You closed your eyes, and wished he’d instead asked if you loved him and not if you were in love with him. Because if there was anything this experience taught you, it was that it made a hell lot of a difference.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he shook his head. “Y/N, why are you even here?”

You wanted to cry. He wanted to cry even more. His voice broke and with how his uneasy shoulders were shrugging, you didn’t know if pulling him close would be the right thing to do.

“I thought I’d talk to you about this-“

“And I told you we were over…”

If he were someone else you would have slammed your fist up in his gut.

“Are you-“

“Be with Dick,” he said. “Please. Go to him now and be with him. I’ll be okay. Is that what you came here for? To make sure I’ll be okay with it?”

“I-“ you swallowed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Mouth parted, watching your face, possibly to see how your eyes were moving and your lips were shaking for any signs of lying or whatever it was detectives do to read faces. And Tim was smart. You didn’t have to tell him any more.

And when it came to him, he backed away. He looked like he’d just seen his own murder.

“Y/N, I can't believe you're-“

“You said you knew I loved you.”

“Listen,” he growled. He was angry now. Tim barely gets angry. “I can barely even live with myself after what I’d done to you. Why should you?”

Tim held your shoulders and squeezed them so tight, you couldn’t do much else but stare up at him so breathlessly. “I hurt you and you should have gotten rid of me the moment I walked out your door. You’re supposed to hate me, Y/N.”

“Is that what you really think?” you breathed.

He laughed, raised his arms up in disbelief. “I love you. For Christ’s sake, I love you so much and it’s going to kill me when I see you with someone else. Believe me. But this is what I get. I left you, and I hurt you.”

You tried holding his face, but he wouldn’t let you.

“You’re not even supposed to let me be your friend anymore. And here you are. You keep coming back. You’re not supposed to keep coming back. Are you actually choosing between me and Dick?”

Not a tear down your face, even when you thought you’d be breaking down by now. You were without breath and still not even your own body was processing all this the way it should already be and not be stuck in utter disbelief when clearly this was all happening.

“You are…” Tim whispered. He was shaking his head, and you just felt ashamed of yourself. “I can't believe this… You should be with Dick right now…”

“I can't.”

“That night we kissed.” He stepped back closer to you. “Christmas Eve. You told me you couldn’t handle being with me anymore because of what happened.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m over you,” You didn’t realize you sounded angry. “You don’t think I hate myself for that?”

“Y/N, just be with him. You can't keep torturing yourself like this.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?”

None of you were screaming. None of you could scream. Not at each other. Not even when you were supposed to.

“I can't forget what I did…”

“You’re not just talking about our breakup, are you?”

Tim’s mouth stopped trembling. His voice didn’t crack. He took a step back, never breaking away from your stare. Then you saw how he flattened his lips, biting them behind his mouth.

“Tim…” you swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault-“

“Stop it.”

His jaw clenched, hands crushing each other with his fingers locked. His eyes were on the ground.

“It’s true-“

“Y/N,” he croaked. “It was my fault.”

“It’s-“

No longer did he look so vulnerable. His forehead was creased up the way it did when he was firm. He stared at you so soullessly and so exhausted.

“If it weren’t for what I did that night, you wouldn’t have to worry about going out in the summer wearing shorts or getting to join the rest of the family in a pool party or anything at all. All this is because of me. We both know it’s true.”

You should have said something.

Anything.

But he wasn’t letting you.

His eyes darted to your hidden prosthetic and immediately he looked away. But you caught that glance. You always caught glances.

“I love you, Y/N. But choose Dick. Please. I saw how happy he makes you, and I’ll be damned if I held you back from even that. Just forget about us, Y/N. Please.”

From behind him, you could see Alfred waiting for you both by the library windows. Tim turned around, nodded, then couldn’t even look at you in the eye.

His plea was what broke you. It didn’t sound like a plea you could reason with.

Tim didn’t walk away this time. Instead, he waited for you to leave first. And when you did, with him trailing behind, you fought all the demons left within to not look back. You went straight to the foyer, to the door. Not even a minute after, you were out of the manor.

-----

A call wasn’t what you needed. Not even close.

But it had been days, and wallowing in your own sadness wasn’t exactly doing you any good.

And now, after what happened with Tim, it shouldn’t have to mean you’ll run to Dick just because you were freed from the confines of a choice.

You still had to decide whether you wanted to be with Dick or not. To stay alone or be with the man who’d done nothing but love you from afar, never failing to make sure you were smiling.

And with that, after you’d spent the past few days dwelling on what’d happened, you picked up your phone, sat on the little nook by the window in your studio, then called Dick.

He didn’t answer.

It was still well into the evening. You’ll wait it out.

An hour later, still no answer.

Three, four more hours. At twelve am, having to wake yourself up from dozing off, your own fault after days of having absolutely no sleep, was exhausting. You kept staring out the window and hoped to whoever was watching you from above, ancestors or a god or whatever there was, that Dick was at least still alive. It should be a crime for vigilantes to not answer their phone in the middle of the night.

Then, at one am that night, Dick finally called you back.

“Hey…” you forced yourself to sound awake.

“Hey.”

You heard him walking. He didn’t sound injured, or even tired at all. “I’m so sorry I missed your calls.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you still awake?”

You laid back against the wall. “I was waiting for you.”

He snickered. You heard a door open and close behind him, and he must have crashed into bed right then because you heard bed springs from his weight.

“Where were you tonight?”

“With the Titans. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your head was against the window’s glass and you watched the snow almost completely melt on the roads in front of you. “You poor thing. You sound exhausted.”

“I’m alone now…” You rolled your eyes at his tone. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” you lied.

“What did you wanna talk to me about?”

That made you smile. His voice. His tone. Already it made things a lot more bearable.

“I just… thought you should know. I talked to Tim the other day…”

He didn’t sound like you had to say anything more for him to understand. You heard him breathe louder, heavier.

“What did he say?”

“Well… He said I should be with you…”

“He did?”

“Yeah…”

Then there was even more silence. You should have thought about this a lot more.

“I was going to ask when you’re coming home but it sounds like the Titans need you a lot more than I do.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, I want to go home more than anything.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“You know what…” he breathed.

The glass was freezing being pressed up against your skin, but you just let it. It didn’t even bother you.

“Dick…” Your finger traced the glass. “We haven’t exactly talked about… what happened.”

“I just… I thought talking about it over the phone makes it even more… I don’t know… cowardly.”

“It’s been weeks.”

“I know...”

You threw your head back, up against the wall, then you closed your eyes. You let the cold seep in all the way down your toes. You let it calm you.

“I’m sorry if it was too much…”

“It wasn’t.”

“I was-“ He was a nervous wreck. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, or that I forced my feelings down your throat. I hope I didn’t upset you…”

You couldn’t say it didn’t upset you. “It’s fine…”

“Y/N… You don’t have to do anything about it. I swear. We can just go on like nothing happened.”

Dick let out an agonizingly long sigh, then you heard his head fall to a pillow.

“That’s going to be hard…”

“I know… I don’t even know what to say to you when I come back…”

“You can say it to me now… if it makes things easier.”

Then there was silence.

Nothing at all. Not even the sheets moving. You could have sworn he was cut out for a minute. But then, when you heard him take a breath, then clear his throat, you just closed your eyes and hoped nothing he’d say would break you any further.

“I love you, Y/N…”

And despite the hurt, with everything else that went on, you let those three words be the only thing in your own little bubble of a universe. You smiled. You were never going to forget the way he said it so softly.

Then he was laughing. “I love you…” he said again. “God, it feels good to say that…”

You smiled so much; your face started to hurt.

“I read your letter like… fifty times…” you snorted.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a good thing.”

He giggled. You’ve never heard him giggle before. It was the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard.

“I love you. I meant everything I wrote. Everything.”

Your head met your palm, and you had to stop yourself before this was going to get the better of you.

“If it means I have to wait longer for you to sort things out, I will. Take as long as you need, and we… I can take this as slow as you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. I just don’t want to rush you into anything…”

Maybe, in a way, this was the right choice. He could be the right choice. And it’ll take a while to prove that, but it was a start.

“Dick, I-“

From his end of the phone, you heard a door swing open, then there was his phone shuffling in his hand, then all the other noises were incoherent and muffled. Voices. There was more than one.

And Dick’s hand was shaking because you managed to pick out a few of them.

“………… thank you……… Dick……”

“……………alright………”

“………. You………. sure?.........”

“………. Yeah……..”

“…….good….. talk……… understand……”

“thanks………….. rest up……..”

No. Not a few. Just one other voice. A sweet, melodic voice, much like singing.

You never thought you could feel losing a smile so quickly, your chest being pulled all the way down to the earth’s core.

The door closed, then it was Dick’s voice again.

“Hey… sorry-“

“Dick,” you croaked. “Where did you say you were tonight again?��

You heard how confused he was. “I was… the Titans…”

“You were with Kori, weren’t you?”

“I…”

“You said you were gonna sit it out the next few nights. You weren’t out on patrol with the Titans. You were in the tower with Kori. Alone. Weren’t you?”

“Y/N, I know that sounds bad, but it’s not what you think-“

“What were you talking about?”

“Y/N… We just talked…”

“About what?”

“I told you I had to come talk to her about what happened. The wedding. She deserves some closure-“

“It’s been weeks, Dick. And you spent what, five hours talking to her just tonight?”

“You know it’s not that easy.” His mouth sounded trembling. “But that doesn’t mean anything happened. Kori and I are friends.”

“I find it hard to believe that you could be friends with someone you almost married. Why didn’t you tell me you were with her tonight? After I told you I waited for you?”

“I didn’t- I don’t know… Y/N, it’s not like you don’t talk to Tim…”

“Then why did you tell me you were with the Titans?” You scoffed. “At least I don’t lie to you when I talk to Tim.”

“I wasn’t… We were at the control room alone to watch them from the cams. I didn’t think I was… I promise you, nothing happened.”

“It isn’t about that, Dick. It would have been fine if you’d just told me about it. Now I can't stop thinking about what you tried to hide from me. I know you. You're honest until you think the truth hurts a lot worse than a lie.”

It’s funny how quickly that high you went through just two minutes ago could blow over so quickly and leave you down at the bottom of an infernal pit you couldn’t climb out of, because that’s where you were right then. You were tired. You didn’t want to go through any of this. You weren’t even surprised, and that was what hurt the most. And even more so wouldn’t you be surprised if at any of those days he’d spent in that tower, they’d slept together.

“I don’t even know what I’m so upset about,” you sighed. “You don’t have to promise me anything, Dick. We’re not together. Stay there. Take as long as you like.”

You hung up on the phone.

You were done thinking.

You were done sulking.

You were done dwelling over those two boys and let them take so much control over you that barely could you even take control over yourself.

You fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

You wouldn’t let the thoughts take over, at least, just for that night. There was no darkness, nor light.

There was just… nothing.

And for four whole weeks, it was just that.

Nothing.

-----

The world was kind enough to give you four weeks after that to prepare for what was possibly the worst fucking holiday there could possibly exist. And it wasn’t always so bad, not when at one point, you had a boyfriend who spoiled you with everything you could possibly wish for, and even after that, you woke up with a perfectly wrapped gift waiting for you at your doorstep full of art supplies. So not at all was Valentine’s day the absolute worse. Not always.

Just this year, you dreaded it. You woke up and already you wanted to sleep through the whole day if you could, which you did. If not for getting up to prepare yourself a lunch and eventually an early dinner, you managed to successfully sleep through the most horrific day of the year.

Eventually, it took its toll on you, because your head was throbbing by the time it was eight o’ clock that night.

When you heard the bell outside your door ring, you took it as an excuse to actually get up and at least be a human being for the day. You strapped on your leg and walked to the door. The bell rang again, and you screamed “Coming!”

Which you probably shouldn’t have done. You really were out of your own head that day, because there could only be two people outside waiting for you on Valentine’s day and neither of them you wanted to see possibly for the next few years.

Frozen, ever so slowly moving, you peeked through the eyehole.

Then that ice that froze you into the ground broke apart and you groaned when you saw it was just Jason with a shit-eating grin staring back at you at the peephole.

You opened the door.

“Happy Valentine’s day, pretty bird.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t want to be mean or unwelcoming, but you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning and rolling your eyes all over the ceiling as you swung the door wide open. Jason, knowing exactly what went on, just snickered and took off his coat.

“You brought booze?”

“I brought booze.”

Two bottles. He held them up and that same shit-eating grin still hadn’t left his face. You shut the door behind you and went with him to the kitchen.

He opened one for you and you went through a quarter of the whole thing in one go.

“Woah, woah, slow down there.”

“You know what you got yourself into coming here on Valentine’s day. You come to mock me?”

He opened his own bottle and drank. “No. Maybe. But I thought it’d be better than being alone after four whole weeks of you practically disappearing from the face of the earth.”

“So I changed my number,” you shrugged. “You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, except Bruce doesn’t exactly want to pry on you like he does with me. And with Tim and Dick laying low, I thought I’d take one for the team.”

“Take one for the team?” You scoffed. “What are you, some goat they sacrificed?”

“Come on, don’t see it that way. We’re all worried about you.”

“If you wanted to know how I was, your whole family of vigilantes could just easily follow me around the whole of Gotham.”

“I know, but we wanted to know how you really were.”

You took a long, much needed swig, then something pulled you to the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed.

Then you slipped, your ass landing on the floor. You laid your back against the bed frame and sighed with the bottle of booze in your hand.

“Fine. I lied. No one sent me here. I just thought I’d come by today. I know how much this day probably took its toll on you.”

“Believe me, it did,” you drank some more. Jason walked over and sat right beside you on the floor. “I haven’t gotten out of bed until you came.”

Jason chortled. “I don’t blame you. I’m not exactly a fan of heart’s day, either.”

“Really?”

“Nah. Not one gift. Never sent anything to anyone.”

“Not even to Rose?”

Jason took a swig at that. “We spent Valentine’s massacring an entire ship’s worth of goons.”

“Romantic.”

“Better than some date serving this capitalist excuse to consume.”

“You’re too cynical for your own good.”

“And you’re not cynical when you probably should be.”

“I am,” you drank. “In a way.”

Your empty bottle was on the ground, and you looked up at the ceiling. You were there an hour, maybe more. Jason let himself get drunk as well and laid his elbows on the bed since he was tall enough.

“This probably isn’t what you want to talk about,” he burped. “But I’m assuming what happened with Tim and Dick wasn’t what you expected.”

“I hate them,” you growled. “God, I fucking hate them both.”

“Shit. How bad was it?”

“Those two assholes must have thought I was dead after how much I ignored their calls, texts, emails, everything.”

“It’s been four weeks. They probably found out by now that you’re… well… alive.”

“I can't believe their own kindness and selflessness brought this out. Tim wants nothing to do with me and Dick’s having the time of his life in California with his perfect would-have-been wife.”

“That bad, huh?”

Your bottle tipped over on the floor and you didn’t pick it up. “I hope you don’t hate me for wanting to murder both your brothers.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason laughed. “I’m not exactly far off from your loathing for those two nutjobs.”

You raised a brow. “Something happen?”

“They told on Bruce, and he practically disowned me that last time we went on patrol. I crossed the line, or whatever it is they like to call it. I haven’t seen them in weeks. Haven’t called them either. They say they want me on the family and they pull shit like that ‘cuz apparently the consequences will help.”

“Makes two of us.”

“Exactly why I’m here.”

He nudged your shoulder, and you were surprised you were still sober after all that when you didn’t exactly feel like throwing up just yet. You groaned, head against the mattress.

And with that, you turned over to face him, who had the same, exhausted look on his face. Eyes closed. Arms up on the bed. Really veiny looking arms that made his shirt pull up and tighten around his chest.

“You don’t have to choose, you know…”

“I know. But it doesn’t help how-“

“You want to choose.”

You wanted to drive that bottle down your throat at that question.

“I want to. I don’t want to. You know I can't answer that.”

“And they’re lucky you can’t.”

Your head against your sheets, you watched him face you in turn. He was so close to you right then. You could smell his breath. You could feel his breath. And it was there. That beauty. The one that understood so much about you that you hadn’t understood yourself.

“You don’t have to choose if you don’t want to…” he whispered. “Fuck them. You’ve been hurt too much. You don’t have to get hurt any more. Choose to not get hurt.”

Eyes on him, quietly lingering on every scar on his skin.

If there was one thing that separated Jason from his brothers, it was his scars. The ones that littered his face. They had the same hair. Same blue eyes.

But Jason had marks on his eyebrow, his cheek, his lips. And he was so beautiful because of those.

“You understand…” you breathed against his mouth.

Jason’s eyes were on yours, but you saw how they darted over to your lips.

“I understand hurting myself… for others…”

His arm, it found its way past your head. And you knew because you felt his fingers sneak onto your hair behind you. You bit your lip, turned your torso so you could face him better.

“I can't blame them…” He started playing with your hair. “If I was in love with you, I’d be as god-awfully stupid as they are, no doubt.”

That made you laugh. “Thank you, then. For not being in love with me.”

“You're welcome.”

Oh God, the way he said that. His low, breathy, husky voice. It made you fucking vibrate and your hair starting sticking out the back of your neck. And then, all you could see, all you could feel, was how close he was to you. He was the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. It might have been the booze, which you doubted. Because you felt so lightheaded and all the pain was just sitting there and all you wanted was just some kind of release.

Jason’s eyes, as obvious as they were, couldn’t keep darting down your shirt, as well. And you realized you weren’t even wearing a bra.

It made you stick your chest out even further, so you’d watch him watch you.

Booze breath against booze breath. Your lips met so sloppily and messily, and only for the shortest, briefest moment, because Jason was already making his way down your jaw, your neck, biting onto your skin.

There. The blur. That silent, ringing noise. Jason’s tongue lapped over the skin on your collar bone and everything that went on in your head for the past few months were just thrown out the window that very instant. His hands were on you. All over you.

And finally, the body you’ve lusted after for so many years¸ the body you’ve only gotten to see and drool over and fantasize on nights when you were lonely and all those days of wanting to touch every part, every ripple of his chest when you see him fresh from the gym. You practically ripped his shirt off and your hands couldn’t stop for a second ravishing every bit of his skin. And it was just as good as you’ve always longed and imagined.

Jason squeezed onto your hip, and with how he touched you, you thought maybe he’d felt the same. It hurt to pull away, but Jason was holding you, hoisting you up on the bed, then you were kneeling on the mattress, his hands on your waist just begging for you to be against him so close. You were there for so long, watching, touching, enjoying his body just as he did with yours. He held your face so gently and kissed you.

You held his arms, barely being able to hold them with how large they were compared to yours. And even with the light so dim, this orange, unintentionally beautiful dim, you took off your shirt. And for a second, just for a second, he watched how your breasts looked being held in his hands.

Everything was moving way too fast but you couldn’t have wanted it any other way. None of this needed a build-up, or a slow burning of a wick. Anything more, any longer and it would actually have to mean something, and with that, it brought hurt. It wasn’t a bomb that needed days just to explode. It just needed to happen, at least for just that moment.

You moaned, but he kissed you before you could cry out anything more. Lips first, then it didn’t take long for him to trail down to your nipples. Your arms were around his neck and you pulled him back up, kissing him because you just needed it. This sweet, all too sweet release.

“Wait…” Jason whispered. He held your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. He looked at you and his forehead was all creased up.

“This your first time?”

You nodded, swallowed, then hoped it wouldn’t drive him away.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You kissed him in response.

Then he pushed you onto bed.

------

A/N: WHERE MY TEAM JAY BABIES AT

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MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur, @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @damned-queen-of-gotham, @idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @get-loki, @everyday-imfangirling, @comic-nerd-dc, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @egdolan, @xemiefx, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @mythicbitchx, @lucy-roo, @roseangel013bf, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Initiative - Harry Bingham

Request: 26 w harry bingham? ☺️

A/N: My first time writing The Society. I played with the wording of the prompt a little to fit the story better.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“Well, aren’t you looking great.” You laughed, walking into the bedroom on the second floor. While every other room in the house felt like it was being taken over by kids you could barely remember going to school with, this room was untouched. Save for, of course, one occupant who was laying in the king sized bed, one foot sticking out from under the covers, “Kelly really did a number on you.”

The lump on the bed groaned and rolled over, revealing your best friend. He sat up, glaring at you as he combed his hair with his hands, “I don’t give two shits about Kelly.” He muttered.

“I can tell.” You replied, sitting at the end the bed, “you’re obviously coping really well. It’s applaudable.”

“What do you want?” Harry groaned, sitting up in bed. He just wanted to go back to sleep. To lay under the covers until all these people were out of his house and his parents were home. He just needed to rewind or fast forward, whatever would get him home faster.

You turned to look at him, getting a better picture of your friend’s current state now that you could see him clearly. Mussed hair, bloodshot eyes, he looked like he hadn’t bathed in days. You couldn’t help the frown that crossed your face at the sight of him. It wasn’t that you expected Harry to be taking any of this well, he’d been on a rampage since the first night, but this was worse than you thought.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, I know this shit is scary.”

“Oh do you?” Harry laughed, “you know what fucking shit is going on out there? I heard you agree with Cassandra that we should all be sharing houses. Thanks, this is fucking awesome.” He shouted, startling you slightly.

“Yeah I did agree with Cass...I think we need to be proactive about what’s happening.”

“Great well, in the meantime my house is full of fucking people and all my friends are running around play pretend with Cass.”

“You need a serious reality check babe,” you replied, “whatever is happening to us...we need to be proactive and Cass is the only one doing anything. Now...come on, get up and get dressed, you’re making me depressed just sitting here.”

“Some friend you are.” Harry grumbled, throwing himself back down on the bed and pulling his blankets up once again.

You’d been friends with Harry forever, your parents worked together, you had almost always ended up in the same class, it was just meant to be. Or at least, being friends seemed meant to be for him, since he jumped at the opportunity to date Kelly, and had been since freshman year. You, on the other hand, existed in some romantic cliche universe where you were totally head over heels for your best friend.

“You can’t sulk forever.”

“Did you only come over to bother me?” He asked, muffled slightly through the blanket but you understood him.

“No, I came over to tell you that I cannot possibly stay in my house one more day-”

“See it’s driving you crazy too.”

“Have you ever roomed with Gwen, Olivia, and Madison?” You replied, “I’m about ready to eat a bullet.”

Harry moved the blanket away, sitting up once more and scooting himself to the end of the bed to sit beside you, “let me get this straight...you come over here, bitching to me about how I should follow Cassandra’s leadership but then you hate it too?”

“I don’t hate it. I think it’s a good idea...I just wish I had gotten better house mates. Besides, this whole thing is insane Harry, we’re all just playing it by ear.” You admitted. “Have you talked to Kelly? What’s she doing?”

“I’m over that.” He replied, getting up and walking to the mini fridge he had in the corner to grab a bottle of water, he could feel the headache setting in now that he was on his feet.

“You’re over that? Please...this place really must be turning everything upside down if you’ve decided that you’re over Kelly.” You almost couldn’t believe your ears when he told you and you definitely didn’t want to get your hopes up. Just because he was ‘over’ Kelly didn’t mean he was ready to fall into your arms.

“Yeah well, believe it.”

“So what then, she breaks up with you and just like magic you’re cured?” You joked, “no more begging for her to come back and crying over her in bed? Cause I’ll say you were doing a bang up job when I came in.”

“I told you that wasn’t about her. Besides, I have feelings for someone else.” He replied, shrugging as if it was totally obvious that he was thinking about someone new so soon after he and Kelly broke up.

“Wow, you move fast.”

“Yeah well after Kelly broke things off I kind of realized that it might not be her I was so in love with all this time.”

“Mystery crush have a name?” You asked, watching him as he came to sit down next to you again. “Or you gonna keep that a secret from your oldest and dearest friend?”

“My oldest and dearest friend who’s jumped ship to Cassandra’s side.” He replied.

“You’re such a baby Harry, people need leadership and Cass is leading. Be mad all you want but she’s only doing what needs to be done. You all wanted her to have answers and now you crucify her for it. You better be telling me that I’m this secret love of your life cause otherwise I’m out the door for good. Until you come to your senses.” You said, crossing your arms.

Harry nodded his head, lips pursed as if he was thinking about what you had said before he finally opened his mouth, “you are.”

“What?”

“You are...the secret love of my life.”

“Don’t fuck with me Bingham. I'm not even in the mood for your shit today.” You replied. You weren’t going to sit here and fall for some bored practical joke that he and all his buddies could laugh about later.

“I’m not fucking with you, I’m serious. Kelly breaking up with me was the moment of clarity I needed.”

“You sound like your mom.” You laughed.

“Come on, you seriously don’t believe me?”

“No.” You shook your head, there was no way you were going to believe something as outlandish as Harry liking you back. “It does fuel my theory that we’re in some kind of parallel universe though.”

“Parallel universe?” Harry laughed, “we’re not in a parallel universe, this isn’t a sci-fi novel. And I’m being serious. I like you. I’m not fucking with you...though I wouldn’t mind fucking you.”

“Oh god, you are the same Harry,” you laughed, standing when he scooted closer to you. “there’s no way I’m even kissing you after you’ve been cooped up under those covers for days. Babe, you smell like a locker room.”

“Fine,” he replied, “I’m gonna take a shower,” he stopped at the door, looking back at you. “Since Cassandra has her new initiatives, you should probably join me. Ya know, to save water.”

“To save water?” You laughed.

“What? You’re the one who told me that I needed to make an effort? You’re not gonna turn around and change your mind now are you?” He said, grinning at you. And damn if his smile couldn’t make you do anything he wanted.

#harry bingham imagine #harry bingham x reader #harry bingham fanfic #harry bingham fanfiction #harry bingham fic #harry bingham x you #harry bingham x y/n #the society fanfic #the society fanfiction #the society imagine #collecting stories imagine #the society fic

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snelbz · 4 years

Text

The Ranch {15}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Opening day had arrived and Nesta was caught somewhere between puking and a heart attack. She hadn’t slept at all, but she wasn’t tired in the least. Cassian, however, had snored the night away beside her, not caring what day it was. She envied his ability to sleep through chaos.

Although it probably wasn’t chaotic for him.

He didn’t stress about much.

She envied him for that, too.

It was just after five a.m. when Nesta hauled herself out of bed. She did yoga, a simple workout that had been approved by her doctor, then drank a glass of water and a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade.

It was all she wanted, lately.

Lemonade.

Freshly squeezed.

After letting Beau back in the house, she checked the clock, once more. It was nearing nine, and Elain would be showing up, soon, with a haul of bouquets to decorate throughout the main house.

Nesta and Cassian were still staying in the master bedroom. It was easiest as she prepared for the opening, and Nesta was starting to think that it was best, overall. His cabin was small, and so was the house that she occupied on the land. She wasn’t certain how she would feel once guests began checking in, but for now, the master bedroom of the main house had been treating them well.

Nesta planned to dress in a modest sundress and sandals, laying it out to wear, and all the while, Cassian stayed sleeping soundly, Beau snoring once again at his feet.

She didn’t bother to wake him, not yet.

The celebration didn’t begin until one.

As she stood in their bathroom, she pulled the measuring tape around her stomach, which was still flat as could be. She held the tape up, her thumb indicating where the end of the tape had lined up with the tick marks and looked at it.

She had gone down. By four millimeters.

She groaned, sitting down on the edge of the porcelain, and rubbed her fingers into her temples. So far this baby had made her vomit constantly, she hadn’t woken up without a headache in over a week, and she had probably consumed enough lemonade to ensure she’d never need to take a vitamin C supplement again.

And she had nothing to show for it.

Save for her massive, heavy tits.

Cassian had noticed, which, honestly, wasn’t saying much.

She sighed and stepped into the dress, pulling it up and reaching behind to zip it, which wasn’t a problem, until she reached her back.

It wouldn’t zip.

The fucking dress wouldn’t fit over her breasts.

She groaned, staring at herself in the mirror, the dress remaining unzipped.

“Come on,” she said, cursing, trying again at the zipper.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Cassian!”

Nothing.

The man slept like a brick.

So, she tried again, louder. “CASS!”

“Hmm? What?” his sleepy words came from the bedroom, and she instantly felt guilty for waking him, but she needed help.

“I need you,” she said, turning around to show the half-zipped back of the dress in the mirror.

A minute later, a bare-chested, sleepy-eyed Cassian padded into the bathroom. He took one look at her and raised a brow. “You look nice.”

“My dress won’t zip,” she snapped.

“It’s your tits,” Cassian mumbled, and Nesta’s lips formed a tight line.

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped. “Help me, please.”

With a sigh, Cassian came up behind her and tugged on the zipper. It moved maybe half an inch, but not anymore than that. “Babe, it’s not going to zip.”

“Well, try harder!” she scolded.

He sighed again, knowing better than anyone not to argue with a pregnant woman, but more specifically not this pregnant woman.

He pulled and pulled and pulled, until he knew it wasn’t going to budge and he looked at her in the mirror. He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and said, “If I zip this dress up, you won’t be able to breathe, and if you do, these gorgeous, amazing, huge breasts are going to make a special guest appearance for our first guests.” He reached around from behind and palmed them through her dress, hoping to at least make her smile.

The scowl she was giving him through the mirror could have frozen Hell itself.

Cassian quickly dropped his hands. “Do you have another dress you can wear?”

“No,” she snapped. “I have very few, appropriate dresses and they’re all this size, in this cut.”

She tugged on the zipper another few times, but there was nothing.

“Fuck!” she cried.

Cassian frowned, trying to pull her into him for a hug, but she wouldn’t let him.

“I need a dress,” she said, hurrying from the room. “I need something.”

“Hello?” Elain’s voice traveled through the house from downstairs.

Cassian let out a breath. “Thank the gods.”

Nesta shot him a look, but he only held his good arm up in surrender.

“Up here!” Nesta growled, frustration still lacing her tone.

Elain was in the doorway a moment later, eyeing Nesta, then a disheveled Cassian. “Something looks off. There’s a situation happening here, isn’t there?”

“My dress won’t zip,” Nesta snapped.

“It’s her tits,” Cassian supplied.

Elain cleared her throat. “Well, let me take a look.”

She walked up behind Nesta and tried the zipper, but it still wouldn’t budge. After digging her phone out of her pocket, she said, “We have a few hours yet. How about I take you into town a minute to find something new?”

“There’s no time! I still have so much to do and I haven’t even started baking and-.” Nesta began to hyperventilate, something she’d never done in her life, but thanks to these damn hormones, something that was triggered nearly every time she cried.

Cassian was there in an instant, his hands framing her face. “Sweetheart, breathe. It’s okay. I can handle everything, except the baking. Go with Elain, pick up a dress that will accommodate your growing...assets, and come back and everything will be ready for you.”

Nesta nodded, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out. She mumbled, “They’re not assets.”

Cassian looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t. “Go. I will finish the last minute details. When you come back, all you’ll have to do is bake, and I’ll be there to help you with that, too.”

“I do like ordering you around,” she muttered.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Alright? Go with Elain. I’ve got this.”

She nodded, hesitantly, but didn’t complain. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he breathed, then looked to Elain, thanks in his eyes.

He gave Nesta a slow, soft kiss before she left with her sister, quietly, in her shorts and tank top. Elain helped her into the passenger side of her car, even though Nesta didn’t need help. It was her sister’s way, though, with her gentle spirit.

They drove into town, mostly in silence. She was grateful for her sister, for her gentleness, her caring-ness, her kindness, but she had nothing to say. All Nesta could think about was what Cassian was getting done in her absence.

Elain parked downtown, on the main strip, just next to a little boutique they used to shop at all the time in high school. She followed her sister in and looked at a wall full of sundresses.

“Alright,” Elain said, clapping her hands together. “What are you thinking?”

“Literally anything that fits,” Nesta mumbled.

“Well,” Elain began, picking up a pink floral number that Nesta prayed was for herself and not her. “What size have you been? You don’t exactly need to jump straight into maternity clothes. So we’ll either need to pick a size up or find a more...forgiving fabric.”

Nesta glared at Elain over her choice of words, but she began to flip through the dresses. “I wear a four, so I guess I should look at sixes?” She held a dress up, but the lime green fabric nearly hurt her eyes.

“Or a stretchier four,” Elain reminded her. “How about this?”

She held up a pale yellow dress with a grey pattern stitched in. Nesta made a face of indifference. “Don’t know if yellow is a good color for me.”

Elain nodded. “That’s fair. Yellow isn’t a good color on anybody.”

Nesta chuckled and the two of them set to searching, each finding a few dresses Nesta didn’t absolutely despise.

She tried them on, but refused to show Elain any of them, no matter how much her younger sister protested. At last, she settled on a pale blue dress, reaching just above her knees. The spaghetti straps were decent in holding up the fabric that mostly covered her breasts. She changed into the clothes she had arrived in, claiming it was the one. After paying for it, she dragged Elain from the shop, ordering her sister to take her home.

Elain didn’t argue. She wasn’t one to argue, anyway, but Nesta assumed it was mostly because of her current attitude. Nesta couldn’t apologize, though. She was too pregnant to care about her sister’s wishes, as awful as it sounded.

When Elain was pregnant with Azriel’s spawn, Nesta would react the same.

True to his word, Cassian, with his good arm, was displaying Elain’s bouquets around the house, on every table and shelf. He had also vacuumed and dusted, once more, for good measure. He’d even gotten the things he thought she was most likely to need out on the kitchen island for her, although those things only consisted of sugar and flour.

Elain had made herself scarce, going to find Azriel and promising she’d be back to help as soon as Nesta needed her, and Nesta made her way upstairs, dress bag in hand. She heard the shower running and made her way into their room. The white dress she intended to wear - the one she’d specifically bought for this occasion - was still on the bed where she’d thrown it on her way out. It was next to Cassian’s sling.

She sighed and re-hung it on the plastic hanger and knocked on the bathroom door. Cassian’s muffled reply sounded and she let herself in.

He called over the water, “You find a dress, baby?”

She entered her closet and hung them both up, deciding not to wear the blue dress until after she’d finished baking. “Yeah. But I don’t like it as much as I liked my white one.”

“I’m sure you’re going to look as beautiful as you always do.”

Nesta smiled toward the shower, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. Well, not in-depth, anyways. The frosted glass allowed Cassian to see out just as much as it allowed Nesta to see in. And all she could see was a vast expanse of tan, naked, wet skin.

Gods it has been so long since they’d had sex.

Three more days and Cassian would be off of light-duty, as they’d jokingly started calling it. To the doctors, it meant Cassian was allowed to stop wearing the sling and was allowed to return to work, as long as he continued to have Az do the literal heavy lifting. But to the two of them, it meant the end of a nearly three-week-long dry spell. Longer than they’d had to go since they’d gotten together.

She nibbled on her bottom lip as she said, “Thank you for prepping for the opening.”

“Of course,” he replied, above the water. “Anything I can do to help. It’s nice to feel useful.”

She leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom to say, “The band should be arriving any minute now to set up. I could use a shower, so hurry up.”

“You could use a shower?” Cassian asked, pretending to be oblivious. “Were you inviting yourself? There’s room for two.”

“Three more days,” she warned.

“I can’t even see you naked?” he laughed, his heavy feet turning atop the tile.

Nesta sighed. Of course, he could, but the temptation that came along with such had her toes curling. “Hurry up, Nazari.”

“Join me, Archeron,” he argued. Then, he added, “I promise to be nice.”

Nesta hesitated, but sighed and stripped off her clothes, quickly wiping the remnants of her tear stained makeup off. She tossed two towels on the vanity by the shower, knowing he hadn’t remembered to grab one for himself, and pulled open the door.

The warm steam enveloped her as she stepped in and was face to face with his, well, back. She reached up and traced the ink that swept from his left shoulder blade down the outside edge of his spine. The shiver that went through him had nothing to do with the cool blast of air she’d let in when she’d stepped in, but before he could turn, she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind.

“Do you think people are going to like it?” Her cheek was pressed to his warm back. The question was quiet, barely audible over the water pattering on the tile.

“Like what?” He asked, after a moment.

“All of it,” she breathed. “My dress, my cooking, the opening. The B&B itself.”

He took a moment to respond before turning to meet her, his hazel eyes lit with surprise. His brows were scrunched together as he answered, “Of course they are. Nes, you have worked so fucking hard and you should be so proud at what you’ve accomplished. I know I am.”

She smiled, seeing the truth of his words in his eyes and leaned up to kiss him, pulling back when she was poked in the stomach. “Seriously?”

“It’s been a long few weeks,” he laughed, pulling her against him regardless. He kissed her, his lips still brushing hers. “He’s missed you.”

She laughed, “Oh, it’s him, is it?”

“Yes, him,” Cassian laughed. “I love you, but his obsession with you is an entirely different thing. He’s missed you. Give him some love.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Three more days.”

Cassian groaned, his head falling back. “If you tell me that one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I believe your shit is already lost,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Just a quickie,” he whispered.

Nesta snorted. “No.”

“Please?” He asked, kissing her forehead, her nose.

“No,” she laughed.

“You have no idea how badly I need to be inside you.” He began to kiss her neck, her shoulder, and she let him, loving the feeling on her skin. “Let me make you feel good, baby. It will help make today easier, I promise.”

His mouth continued his assault on her neck while his hand traveled south, stopping to tug on a peaked nipple, which had Nesta whimpering softly. It continued to move down until it was over her stomach, fingers spread out. “I am so proud of you, sweetheart. You told me you were going to do this the very first day you came back and you did it. I love you so much.” He crouched, the spray of the water on his back, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s stomach. “And I love you. More than I can begin to explain. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Nesta was tearing up again, watching the man before her, this powerful man that put his life on the line for his best friend, for her, talking to their baby.

A knock came at the door. “Uh, Nes! The band is here…”

Cassian was back on his feet as Nesta called, “Be right out!”

“No she won’t!” Cassian followed.

Nesta laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re going to make Elain uncomfortable.”

“What?” Cassian asked. “She knows I knocked you up, but us showering together is taboo? Yeah, okay.”

Nesta blinked. “Did you just say taboo?”

Cassian was peeking his face out of the glass, as if it helped amplify his voice. “She’ll be right out!”

He wrapped his arms around her one more time, even though he knew their time was short. “Hey,” he whispered, getting her to look up at him. “You’re going to kick ass today. I love you.”

She smiled up at him and rose up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too.”

And he had no doubt. She would.

Twenty minutes later, Nesta was hurrying downstairs, t shirt and shorts on, hair dried but not yet styled, nor was her makeup done, and met Elain talking with the band in the living room.

“Hey, Lucien,” Nesta said, in a rush. “I’m so sorry. Times just gotten away from me today.”

Lucien grinned, and shrugged. “It’s all good. Elain’s organizational skills are coming in handy.”

Nesta winked at her sister. “Good.”

“I heard the news, by the way,” Lucien went on, nodding to Nesta’s stomach. “Congrats.”

Nesta’s smile softened. “Thank you.”

Elain cleared her throat. “So I was thinking we could set the band up over by the new stables. That’s where we’re serving the food, right?” A nod from Nesta while Lucien listened to his best friend’s instructions. “The vendor tables are going to be all along the west pasture edge and…” She looked down at her watch. “The bounce house will be here at twelve-thirty.”

“Great.” Nesta took a deep breath and was thinking through what all she had left to do.

Cassian’s heavy boots came thudding down the stairs, and he appeared around the corner. “Hey, Luce.” He shook his hand. “How’s that shit bag friend of yours that shot me doing?”

Lucien cringed. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since he was sentenced.”

It had been an emotional day to say the least. They had all been asked to testify, and only Feyre and Nesta had declined. Nesta wasn’t sure her nerves could handle it, didn’t want her baby being flooded with those kinds of endorphins. Feyre told their lawyer she lacked the ability to be subjective.

As one of the intended targets, Rhys would have spoken regardless, but since he had been the one to keep Cassian breathing until they’d gotten him to surgery, his testimony was damning. As were Elain and Azriel’s, though Elain was more of a witness than any direct involvement. Azriel had had to retrace his steps, once in person and once over a map of the property. But all Cassian had to do was answer simple questions. His body, the trauma he’d gone through was evidence enough.

Cassian nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Nesta cut him off. “Where’s your sling?”

“Come on, Nes, it’s a family fun festival,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re a family, we’re gonna have fun, and I’m not doing anything today that requires my sling.”

“Put it on,” Nesta said, turning to go back upstairs and finish getting ready. “Or you’ll regret it. Elain, you got this?”

She gave Nesta a glowing smile and a thumbs up. She lived for party planning and when Nesta had tried to talk a price for helping, Elain had told her she was offended and to not bring it up again.

After walking back into the master bedroom, Nesta padded into the bathroom and started on her makeup. When she was pleased, she stripped off her tee and shorts and pulled on the pale, blue sundress. Outside the windows, she could hear vendors arriving and scurrying about.

Her nerves were going haywire.

It didn’t help that Cassian had yet to come get his sling. Not only did Nesta have to worry about everything else, but she had to worry about him, too.

Nesta slipped on her sandals and unlocked the velvet box on the dresser, where she took out the necklace he had gotten for her. Standing in front of the mirror, she clasped it around her neck.

After grabbing Cassian’s sling off the bed, she was hurrying back downstairs.

She rushed into the kitchen after finding Cassian talking with Rhys, throwing the sling to him and hitting him directly in the face with the wadded up fabric. She tied an apron around her waist and began to whip up the batches she needed for the macaroons she was making.

After about twenty minutes, Feyre rushed in the backdoor. “Sorry, I know I’m late, I’m here!” She set her bags down and hugged Nesta. “I’m so happy for you.” She pulled away abruptly. “Are your tits…bigger?”

She sighed. “Does no one else know what happens to the female body during pregnancy?”

“I’ve learned, recently, first hand,” Cassian said, mouth full of baked goods. He had claimed he was helping Nesta, but he was doing no such thing.

Feyre shot Cassian a bemused look. “What kind of sex life could you two possibly be having right now-.”

“Feyre,” Nesta snapped.

“She’s right, no physical activity,” Rhysand muttered, his mouth also full of Nesta’s baking.

Nesta was rolling her eyes. “Feyre, can you take these two assholes and give them a job to do?”

“Damn,” Rhysand said, just as Cassian muttered, “Watch your language.”

This only earned them both a death stare.

They were instantly on their feet, following Feyre out of the back door.

Nesta sighed, thankful to her sister for giving her the small moment of peace and quiet in what she was expecting to be one of her busiest days yet. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and memorizing the scents around her: the warm, sweet smell of the baking macaroons; the rich, woodsy scent of her childhood home; the earthy scent of the rolling pastures. But there were also subtler smells around her, that were harder to pick up on, but just as important, like the unpleasant, but honestly, not that horrible once you get used to it manure; the hint of bleach and lemon from where she’d spent hours cleaning the kitchen yesterday; the heady pepper and spice scent of the love of her life.

Nesta tried to stop the quiet sob that left her mouth, but her hormones were so crazy. She was just so overwhelmed by where her life was, how happy she was in Velaris when she never thought she could be. She was having the baby she never thought she would with a man she never could have imagined.

And now she was carrying on her father's legacy, his dream. She looked out the window, watched as the flurry of people set up for the celebration that the whole town was invited to.

A celebration for her father, for his dream, for the rebirth of something Nesta once had no interest in, but now put her everything into.

The thoughts running through her mind had her eyes growing misty, but not with tears of sadness, only joy.

After finishing up in the kitchen, Nesta walked out into the backyard, where everything seemed to have been already set up. There were lawn games spread out, the band set up by the stables in the distance, tables laid out where the caterers were setting up the food.

People would be arriving any minute.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Nesta turned to find a woman with a kind, familiar face approaching her. “Hi, welcome to Belles & Blossoms.”

She smiled fondly. “You don’t recognize me.”

Nesta blinked a few times. “Alis? Oh my, goodness! Hi!”

She embraced the sweet woman who’d taken an interest in a surly teenager in a diner, taught her to love cooking, and all manners of it, not just French gourmet.

“I heard you were back and reopening the B&B,” Alis smiled. “We will have to catch up some time so you can tell me all about your adventures.”

“I’d love that,” Nesta agreed. “I went by the diner a few months ago, but you weren’t working.”

“Well, I’m glad I hunted you down,” she chuckled. “Are your sisters here?”

“Somewhere,” Nesta said, looking around. All she could see was Cassian standing by the beer table, helping himself. When he caught her eye, he waved.

He still wasn’t wearing his damn sling.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Alis,” Nesta said, chuckling softly. “The resident thorn in my side is poking me.”

“Cassian Nazari is a nice boy, Nesta,” she said. “He’s been sweet on you for quite some time.”

She spun, looking at her quasi therapist, surprise on her face. “What?”

Alis laughed. “You always had your nose in a book, you never stopped to notice when someone was noticing you. Even all those years ago.”

She winked and headed towards the house, blending with the small crowd that had begun to accumulate. Nesta stared after her, blinking.

“You look lost.”

Nesta jumped, having been lost in her own thoughts, indeed. Cassian was standing behind her, watching her, thoughtfully, a plastic cup filled with beer in his hand.

Nesta’s look of surprise turned into one of frustration. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is your sling?”

Cassian blinked. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Cassian,” Nesta groaned, but he was only laughing.

“I’m fine, alright?” He held up his cup as proof. “Took my pain meds, got my alcohol, even Rhys says it's fine. I promise to put it on as soon as all these people leave.”

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line. “You’re trying to uphold your tough guy image, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Absolutely, yes. Yes, I am.”

She pursed her lips, trying to keep the smile from forming, but Cassian saw the side of her mouth twitch. He saw the sparkle in her eyes that only came out for him. He wrapped her in both of his arms, holding her tightly and kissed her forehead.

She gazed up at him and smirked, “So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t tell them all how you cried during the end of Eight Seconds?”

His tone was one hundred percent genuine when he said, “He was riding for Lane, Nesta. Even you were tearing up.”

She laughed and leaned up on her toes, kissing him. “Or that you tear up when you tell me stories of what you want to do with our baby? Or when you talk to our baby? Or when you do anything that has to do with our baby?” She was laughing by the end, but silent happy tears were streaming down her own face.

Cassian watched her, absolutely adoring everything about the woman in his arms. He hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and said, “Okay, you emotional basket case. Let’s go find you some lemonade.”

“I really like lemonade,” she whispered.

She was convinced it was her one true love, as of lately.

Cassian grinned. “I know, sweetheart.”

The entire town began to gather as they walked about the grounds, Nesta sipping on her lemonade as she greeted her guests. She was surprised by the turn out. She had hoped this many people would show up, but to actually watch it unfolding was miraculous.

Cassian was his usually charming self and, true to his word, he seemed to know everyone.

“How are you feeling?” Mor asked, when they’d joined her on the porch. Her plate was piled high with Nesta’s macarons, as well as the barbecue they’d had catered for the event. How she managed to stay so fit but eat as much as she did was a mystery to everyone.

“I’m okay,” Nesta smiled. “The morning sickness is the worst part, not that I can even call it morning sickness. It happens at all hours of the day, with no warning.”

Feyre crinkled her nose. “Between that and your unintentional boob job, I’m beginning to think adoption may be a good fit for me.”

She laughed but Rhysand shook his head. “You told me last night you can’t wait to start having kids.”

She glared at him. “I said start trying to have kids.”

He chuckled. “My mistake.” He kissed the top of her head and headed to meet Az and Cass at the food table, which had apparently become a beer pong table.

Mor asked, “But aside from that, the pregnancy is...normal?”

Nesta laughed. Their friends had all had questions about it, whether or not she needed to take it easy for the next six months. They’d had questions about it, but at her doctor’s appointment the week before, he’d told her to follow the same precautions as a normal, expected pregnancy. It wasn’t staying pregnant that was a problem for Nesta’s body, it was getting pregnant.

She started to reply, but a deep voice behind her asked, “You’re pregnant?”

She turned and found Tomas and a friend on the porch steps. She looked around frantically, trying to locate Cassian in the crowd, or Rhys, Azriel, anyone that was Tomas fucking Mandray. They weren’t at the stables, not with the food. Her phone wasn’t on her. Mor didn’t know Tomas and Feyre and Elain didn’t know how truly deeply her fear of the man ran.

But Nesta nodded before turning her back to him, hoping he’d go away.

He didn’t. “Congrats.”

To anyone else, it would sound genuine, but when Nesta looked back over her shoulder, she saw the gleam in his eye, that familiar gleam, one she loathed with every ounce of her being.

He was pissed.

Years later, and he still thought he had some sort of claim on her.

“Thanks,” she gritted out, through clenched teeth.

“Where’s the dad?” Tomas went on. “Have to congratulate him, too.”

Mor opened her mouth to answer, but Nesta was already saying, “Don't know.”

Tomas nodded, Elain shooting a worried glance at Nesta.

“Well, hopefully I run into him before the days done,” Tomas said, then winked, before walking away.

Nesta’s blood ran cold.

Elain places a gentle hand on Nesta’s knee. “Are you-.”

“I’m going to be sick,” she said, shooting to her feet and heading for the house. She knew her nausea had nothing to do with the child growing inside of her and instead to do with the man that couldn’t accept that she no longer belonged to him and never would again.

She threw herself up the stairs, where no one was, and fell into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was on her knees, her skin hitting the tile with such a force that she cried out as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

She knew she was crying, knew her makeup was running, and it only grew worse as she thought, I have to get to Cassian.

What if Tomas did find him? Surely he wouldn’t congratulate him, surely he would have other things in mind.

And Cassian was in no condition to hold up his end of a fight.

But a soft knock came to the door.

“Nes?”

Cassian. His deep, calming voice floated through the door.

She tried to speak, but instead, another round of heaving hit her and Cassian tried the knob. “Sweetheart, the door is locked. Are you okay?”

She heard muffled voices from the other side of the door, barely registering that one was female. She tried to say something, anything, but it was as if her voice wouldn’t work. She climbed to her feet on wobbly legs and unlocked the door.

Cassian opened it, finding her with puffy, red eyes, streaks of mascara running down her face, and bruised knees where she’d dropped to the tile.

His gaze fell, heartbreak filling his eyes as he shut the door softly behind him.

“Elain found me, said something happened with Tomas.” His voice was soft, both of his hands cradling her face. Concern lacing his tone.

They had talked about Tomas before, but very little. Enough that he knew what had happened between them, knew the hatred and fear that Nesta felt when it came to her ex.

When Nesta didn’t answer, Cassian pulled her into his chest and held her tightly, closely.

“I hate him,” she whispered.

“I know,” Cassian breathed, rubbing slow circles on her back.

“My face is ruined,” she said, and when she looked at his shirt and saw the mascara stain on it, her frown deepened.

“Makeup can be re-done, shirts can be washed. Not a big deal.” He kissed the top of her head and stooped to pull a makeup wipe out from under the cabinet. He handed it to her and pulled the shirt over his head, wincing slightly as he raised his left arm. Nesta’s eyes were concerned when he looked back at her. “I’m fine, I promise. Just sore. See?”

He went through the motions of the physical therapy Rhys had shown him and Nesta silently watched. The only reason she wasn’t making him put the sling back on is because Rhysand had said it was healing well and he could use the movement to keep it from getting stiff. She sighed and nodded, trying to salvage what she could of her makeup, while Cass leaned on the door frame, watching her. Still shirtless.

Nesta tried not to look at the puckered scar forming on his chest, even if he didn’t seem to have a problem messing with the tender spot.

“It’s all going to be okay,” he whispered, watching her with his arms crossed. They were the same words he had muttered a million times since he’d been shot.

Nesta just nodded, not quite believing them, not quite wanting to protest, either. She dropped the wipe in the wastebasket and met her reflection.

Good enough.

“Perfect,” Cassian said, his voice still low.

Nesta closed her eyes and took a deep breath before meeting his stare. “Okay.”

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“I’ll go get you a shirt,” she said, in answer.

Cassian grinned. “What? I can’t go out like this?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll start a riot.”

He strolled into his closet and came back out in one of his old faded t-shirts he loved so much. She wanted him dressed a little more nicely, but she decided it didn’t matter what he was wearing. This was their home. Why put on an air that they were anyone but who they really were.

He took her hand, but when he headed for the door, she hesitated, tugging him back lightly. He looked at her.

Her bottom lip was between her teeth. It was a habit he didn’t even think she realized she had, but he knew she was truly worried when that full lip was caught in her teeth. He gently used his thumb to free it and leaned down to press his own lips to hers.

He asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Tomas said he… He wanted to congratulate you, on our pregnancy.” The words were small. Scared.

“Congratulate me?” Cass asked. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, taking a breath. The words began to flow out of her in a whoosh of air. “And that’s why it worries me. I don’t know what he wants to do to you, but you’re in no condition to fight, but I also really would prefer not to make a scene at our own grand opening, and-.”

“Nes, baby, breathe.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe, sweetheart.” She did as she was told, tamping the hyperventilation down. “Do you really think Azriel and Rhys would let anything happen today? Or anything happen to me?”

She shook her head.

“Stop worrying,” he said, that little smile plastered on his lips. “If it helps, I’ll stay right close by until everyone leaves. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, smoothing out her dress even though there were no wrinkles. She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t help it.

Not today.

It was all too much.

“Do you want to order pizza for dinner?”

Her head snapped up. A night to not cook, a night to eat greasy, cheesy food and just relax? “Please.” Then she added, “And can we watch a bad movie?”

He held her hand as they headed back downstairs and into the crowd. “The worst movie we can find.”

The rest of the afternoon had gone well. They hadn’t seen Tomas again, but Nesta kept Cassian within view until everyone left.

He knew she worried about him, and he didn’t want to cause her anymore stress. She had enough on her plate.

Which is why Cassian was walking up the stairs of the little house, a box of pizza, a giant bottle of lemonade, and a twelve pack of beer in his arms. Since it was the first night of guests in the B&B, they would be spending their more private evenings in one of the little houses. Maggie would be on site from nine in the morning until five in the afternoons, Wednesday through Sunday. The guests all had the emergency number Cassian and Nesta had set up. Everything was going smoothly and he’d even stopped in to check on the guests on his way back to the house.

Tonight, Nesta needed to de-stress.

And Cassian had a few ideas on how to make that happen, starting with junk food and her requested “bad movie”.

The first step of that was already in motion. Nesta had been soaking in the clawfoot tub with a book for the past forty-five minutes while he picked up their dinner.

Beau poked his head out through the newly installed doggy door, not quite used to the weird way he’d been getting in and out of his houses. He gave a short yelp of greeting and Cass tried to get him to come through the flapping door, but after a solid forty seconds of nothing, he gave up and opened the door.

He found Nesta in the kitchen, at the stove and he set the pizza box down on the counter. “I thought you didn’t want to cook.”

“I don’t,” she sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about the smell of mirepoix, even if I don’t have a dish to put it in.”

Cassian walked to the fridge, putting the lemonade and beer in, grabbing one for himself before shutting the door. He looked into the pan. “Onions, carrots, and celery?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “And butter and garlic.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

Her wet hair was bundled on top of her head. Her face was bare, not a stitch of makeup on, and she was wearing one of his old rodeo t-shirts.

He turned her face towards him and softly pressed his lips to hers. “Gods, you are so beautiful.”

Her eyes narrowed but she could stop her small smile. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Cassian asked, cracking open his can.

“Complimenting me,” she said, simply, taking the giant bottle of lemonade he’d gotten and pressing it straight to her lips.

“No glass?” Cassian asked, amused.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Why would I waste time with a glass?”

He couldn’t argue with that logic.

He gestured to the pan on the stove. “Do you want to put that on top of your pizza?”

She scrunched her nose. “No, the smell was enough. I’m ready to eat my pizza though.” She was eyeballing the box and Cassian laughed.

She started to clean up the kitchen and he put the pizza in her hands and said, “Go. Sit. Eat. I’ll handle this.”

Nesta smiled and did exactly that, while Cass put the cooked vegetables in a bowl to cool down. Looks like Beau was going to be getting a good meal tonight.

Eventually, Cassian finished up with the kitchen and joined Nesta on the couch. After a fierce debate about what exactly fits the parameters of being a “bad movie” and genuine offense from Cassian when Nesta picked one of his favorite childhood movies, they finally agreed on a cheesy romantic comedy and Nesta was asleep on Cassian’s chest almost immediately. He turned the tv down and changed it to roping highlights, scrolling through his phone. His good arm was still around her, but he was able to do what he needed with his left arm.

After about an hour, even he was tired from the day’s festivities. When his eyelids slid shut of their own accord for the third time, he knew it was time to move to the bed.

“Nes,” he whispered, peppering her brow with soft kisses. “Wake up.”

She stirred, but whimpered, forehead creasing as she frowned in her sleep.

“Nesta, wake up, sweetheart.” He gently shook her.

She gasped, eyes wide. “Where is he?”

He framed her frantic face with his hands. “He’s not here, baby. It was a bad dream.”

She was still breathing hectically, eyes searching everywhere, from shadows in the corners to the hallway behind them. “Bad dream?”

“Just a bad dream.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, let’s go to-.”

The sound of glass shattering filled the small house and Nesta screamed. Cassian immediately pulled her into himself and covered her body with his.

Beau was barking, but the shattering had stopped. And once Beau realized they weren’t under attack, he quieted down, too, going to sniff at the middle of the room.

The silence was disconcerting. Nesta was quietly crying into Cassian’s chest and he unwound her fingers from in his shirt. He stood, following Beau to where he sniffed. He was careful not to step on the glass, picked Beau up before he could do the same, and herded a shaking Nesta into the bedroom. He calmed her down before coming back out and inspecting the item that had shattered not only serenity of their night, but also their front window.

A brick, with one, solitary word scrawled in baby blue paint:

Congratulations.

#the ranch nessian #theranchnessian #shara collab #sharacollab #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The Ranch {3}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We thrive on all the beautiful comments you send us about this story. It’s been one of our favorites to write! Enjoy. xx

The Ranch Masterlist

Warning: mature content

Nesta’s back was pressed up against the wall by the door and Cassian’s hands were cradling her face. His lips were devouring her, and one of her hands was tangled in his loose hair while the other was exploring the expanse of hot, tanned skin that his open shirt left exposed.

As his lips broke from hers, he leaned back slightly. He breathed, “Please tell me that was an offer. Please, fuck, just-.” He let go of her face and grabbed her ass, pulling her against him and letting her feel how hard he’d become. “I’ll back off if it wasn’t and I read the play wrong, but fuck, I want you, Nesta. I’ve wanted you since the moment I walked into the main house and found that perky, little ass in the air cleaning out the fridge, throwing away my beer, and just generally throwing a wrench into my life.” He gripped her ass tighter, making her gasp. “And I think you want me, too.” He dropped his lips to her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin between words. “Please.” Kiss. “Please.” Kiss. “Please.”

Nesta responded with fiddling with the button of his jeans until they became undone. Her cheeks were flushed as she whispered, “Don't be gentle.”

Cassian leaned back, slowly, until his eyes found hers. They were ignited, dazed, completely wild.

His breath was hot against her skin, smelling like sweet bourbon.

The length of him pressed up against her thigh was nearly her undoing, alone. It had been so long since she’d been with a man, and the man in front of her was six-foot-five of unadulterated beauty.

Steady hands found the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head. Beau had made himself scarce as Cassian dropped the thin piece of fabric to the carpet. Her bra was unhooked, expertly, Cassian’s eyes never leaving hers until it was gone, then they trailed to her breasts. Nesta’s breathing hitched as she watched his eyes trail down her body and she was grateful for the alcohol to control her nerves.

It was the alcohol that put them in this position in the first place, but Nesta couldn’t bring herself to care as his mouth started at her neck, and started trailing lower and lower.

His lips closed around her nipple, followed by his teeth, and he tugged gently. A quiet moan tumbled from her and her fingers tightened in his loose hair. He pressed himself into her harder, and pulled back, his lips a breath away from her own, and breathed, “Nesta, I-.”

A loud buzzing from across the room interrupted him and all at once, Nesta realized what she was about to do, who she was with, what she was - or better yet - what she wasn’t wearing. “You should get that.”

He shook his head. “No, I can call them back.”

It was clear his mouth was about to return to its former spot and she knew if she let Cassian’s lips touch her skin again, they wouldn’t leave anytime soon. So she firmly pushed against his chest, attempting to unwind his legs from where they were wrapped around him like a vice. He gripped her tighter, holding her tighter against him. She had to stop herself from moaning as she felt his generous length pressing against her neglected sex.

She didn’t give herself a chance to hesitate, knowing if he kept rubbing her lower back like that, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from having him.

She placed a hand on his chest and pushed again lightly. “It might be about one of my sisters.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out through his nose. But he nodded and her feet once again touched the floor.

He turned and crossed the room, heading for where he’d left his phone on the kitchen counter. Before he even reached for it, he knew it would be the group chat between he, Az and Rhys. Sure enough, the chat had ten unread messages and he glanced through them quickly. It was exactly what he expected.

Azriel and Elain had left shortly after Cass and Nesta, stopping in the parking lot at Rhysand’s truck. Feyre had yelled at Elain for keeping Nesta’s arrival from her and ambushing her until they were both in tears and Rhys and Azriel were left picking up the pieces.

Cassian prayed that Nesta wouldn’t ask what the texts were as he quickly typed out a reply that they had made it home and he’d talk to them tomorrow. She’d be destroyed if she knew Elain had cried because of her. She’d be pissed if she knew Feyre was the cause.

But he didn’t have to worry about that. Because after he put his phone down, he turned, ready to pick right back up where he’d been with the beautiful storm of a woman who had blown into his life.

Only to find that the door was wide open and she was gone.

____________________

Nesta woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and memories from the night before that she wished to forget.

The moment she walked into the bathroom, just after nine, she cringed.

She looked as bad as she felt.

After turning on the shower, she stripped herself down and stepped into the warm water. She was mortified. Not that she wanted Cassian in the first place, because any woman would, but that she let it get that far. It was inappropriate, to say the least.

Aside from the fact that she had known him all of two days, she was technically his boss. She may not have paid him, but, through their agreement, he had to do whatever she asked on the property. Crossing that line, even once, was a gross overstepping of boundaries.

After her shower, she popped two aspirin, not even drying her hair before she threw it in a loose bun atop her head, and knew she couldn’t put off the day any longer. She walked up the path towards the main house, the red paint of her car standing out against the old, muted wood. She paused and looked at it, noticing the beauty in the image. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, unable to stop herself from turning back to look in the direction of the cabin.

Please tell me that was an offer.

Nesta turned on her heel and continued up the stairs and into the house. She took up her normal place in the kitchen, this time on her hands and knees, trying to bring what little life she could back into the old wood floors.

I’ll back off if it wasn’t and I read the play wrong.

Nesta ground her teeth as she dunked the rag back into the soapy water.

It wasn’t that he read the play wrong, he read the play exactly right, down to the way he kissed her and touched her and the way his voice flowed across her skin.

And it had been so long since a man had appreciated her so. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it, said it meant nothing to her.

But lie she would, because anything else would be the downfall of her father’s legacy, and she had disappointed her father enough.

She sat back, tossing the rag into the soapy bucket as her back hit the cabinets. She pulled up her knees, dropped her face into her hands, and groaned.

It was all a mistake.

One big fucking mistake.

Nesta had no idea what she was doing, no idea what she had truly gotten herself into. A month ago, she had been living her dream, and now, she was back in a town she had tried so hard to leave, only upsetted her sisters with her presence, nearly slept with a man under her employment, and was on her hands and knees scrubbing at floorboards.

But this was it.

That was her new reality, because she had sold everything else. This new, shitty life of hers was all she had left.

The knock on the front door snapped her out of her pity party and she stood, wiping her hands down her baggy t-shirt. She glanced down and saw tiny dots where the blue fabric was darker than the rest. Nesta wiped her face, not even realizing she’d let herself cry, and headed for the door.

She pulled it open and found three uniformed delivery men on the other side. “Nesta Archeron?”

————————

Cassian noted Nesta’s little car, sitting by the house across the way from his cabin before he trekked up to the main house. It had been a long day. Hot as hell, and a long to do list. By the time the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, he was exhausted.

But his frustration kept him going.

He couldn’t let himself sit, couldn’t let himself relax, because when he did, all he saw was Nesta, pushed up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his body, topless.

And how she left without an excuse or a goodbye.

Which simultaneously pissed him off and made him feel like an idiot.

He needed to go for a ride. Nothing helped clear his mind more than riding through the pastures after a long, hard day.

Stopping in front of the shed behind the house, he reached into his pockets for his keys and remembered that they were still on the table by the recliner. The recliner that he would always see her sitting in, her legs tucked under her, chin propped in her hand, somehow looking cute as hell and sexier than sin at the same time.

He swore and headed for the back door of the main house, praying that she hadn’t gotten around to “cleaning” the laundry room like she did the fridge. Warm or not, beer was beer. He’d drink it.

As he got closer, he noticed a light on in the kitchen, but with the blinds pulled shut, couldn’t tell if anyone was in there. Her car sat in front of her house though, so he figured he’d be all alone.

When he lightly jogged up the stairs and threw the door open, he was hit the most amazing smell of his entire life. He also found out that he was very, very wrong.

The kitchen looked completely different than it had just that morning. Stainless steel appliances had replaced the ones that had been there for as long as Cassian could remember, including the little fridge that had now been replaced with a fridge bigger than anyone should need. And standing in front of the stovetop, stirring something in a massive skillet, was Nesta.

Whose shoulders tensed the moment Cassian shut the door behind him.

“What the hell happened in here?” he muttered.

Nesta didn’t turn to face him as she said, “It’s been updated.”

Yes, it had. Not only were there new appliances, but a new, bigger, longer table sat where the old one used to. It was a high top, made of dark wood. One of the stools alone most likely cost as much as the last table.

Considering Isaac had built the last one himself.

Cassian wanted to grab her by the shoulders and pull an explanation out of her, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Looks nice.” I guess, he added, inside of his mind. He thought the kitchen looked nice before, though, too.

“What’re you making?” he asked, when she said nothing.

Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a long, deep breath. “Food.”

Fine. Cassian could take a hint. He stalked down the hall and went into the laundry room. Apparently she hadn’t made it there yet, thankfully, so Cassian took the key to the shed off the hook and grabbed a beer out of an already-opened box and popped it open before walking back into the kitchen.

He didn��t want to tiptoe around this, didn’t want to drag this out any longer than he had to, so he leaned a hip against the cabinet next to the stove and looked at her.

She either had very little or no makeup on. He had no idea she had the lightest of freckles scattered across her nose. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head. She wore a ratty t-shirt, something scrawled across the back in French, and ripped jeans. He had never seen her look so raw. Never seen her look so beautiful.

When she finally looked over at him, those stormy eyes, eyes he’d nearly drowned in the night before, were like stone. “What.”

The bite in her voice hurt in a way he wasn’t expecting. “Where’d you go last night?”

She turned back to the skillet, flipping the large steak sizzling in it to its other side. “I realized it was extremely inappropriate for me to be there, so I remedied the situation.”

Cassian blinked. “Remedied the situa-? Nes, I turned around for thirty seconds and you disappeared.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “We hardly know each other.”

Cassian opened his mouth to say something but words escaped him. The night before, even before they had made it back to his cabin, Cassian felt like they had made a connection. Now, he had no idea what was going on, had no idea what was going on the second he turned around to find her gone.

“Okay,” he began, slowly. “Did I offend you in some way?”

She dropped her spatula, only to rub her temples. Her eyes fell shut. “Look. I’m your boss, okay? Last night was inappropriate.”

Cassian blinked. Out of all the things he expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them.

“Inappropriate,” he repeated. Nesta turned and crossed the kitchen, picking up a knife and chopping herbs - on a kitchen island that definitely hadn’t existed that morning. She didn’t say anything, just ran her knife through the greenery with expert technique. “You’re saying you don’t want to be with me because it’s inappropriate?”

She grabbed a garlic clove from her cutting board and smashed it with the flat of her knife. “Yes.”

He took a drink from his beer and sat it down. “Because you’re my ‘boss’.”

Nesta pretended he hadn’t used the air quotes when he said boss and used her knife to move the garlic and herbs to her awaiting skillet. She didn’t look at him as she turned and sprinkled it over the steak. “Yes.”

“And it’s not because you don’t want me to fuck you?”

As she turned to him, it occurred to Cassian that he maybe should have waited until she wasn’t holding a knife to ask her that.

To his pleasure, she slowly set it down atop her cutting board. She remained silent.

It wasn’t until Cassian took a step toward her that she spat, “I was drunk. People do stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said, stopping on the other side of the island.

He leaned against it, on his elbows, and she scowled. “Get your filthy elbows off my countertop,” she said, in a venomous quiet.

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Not until you answer my question.”

Nesta didn’t say a word.

“Because last night,” Cassian went on, “you were begging me.”

Nesta lifted her chin. “I was drunk.”

“Drunk people often are the most honest,” Cassian shot back, grinning.

Her expression didn’t change. “Did you need something?”

He held up the keys. “Needed the spare keys to the shed. Wanted to go for a ride since I didn’t get one last night.”

“You’re a pig.” She turned back to her skillet and though she was clearly dismissing him, but he didn’t move.

“You said it had been two years, Nesta. I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m just suggesting we have a little fun.” Her eyes slipped closed and she sighed. He pressed onward. “I’m not even saying anything long term, just a little release and-.”

“That’s not how it works for me,” she said, cutting him off. “You may be able to fuck whoever you please, but I can’t do that.”

“You’re a grown ass woman,” Cassian said. “You can do whatever you want.”

“Are you done?” She asked, exasperated. “This conversation is over, so unless you need something else, fuck off.”

Cassian simply lifted a brow. “You’re my boss. It’s inappropriate for you to use such language with me.”

Nesta was fuming. “Get out, or our deal is off and I will fire you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he pushed, eyes not leaving hers for even a second. “This whole place would go to shit without me.”

“Try me,” she spat.

At last, Cassian's smile slowly faded and his eyes turned hard. He wanted to say a million things, but all of them faded away. Cassian had a feeling she didn’t say things just to say things. She was dead fucking serious.

Cassian pushed himself off the island and Nesta’s eyes followed him as he took a step back, jaw locked, and gripped the keys in his hand as he trailed back toward the door. He stopped, though, before reaching for the handle.

After slowly turning to meet her gaze, Cassian said, “And to think I thought your own sister was wrong about you.”

He pretended not to see the flicker of pain in her eyes as he opened the back door and let himself out.

#shara collab #the ranch nessian #TheRanchNessian #SharaCollab #nessian #acotar #au #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acosf

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