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hlvrfreakyfriday · 10 months

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(( so i've decided to repost the Freaky Friday fic here on the blog, to have one other place to read it besides just ao3. here we go! ))

HLVRFF: Chapter 1

It all happened so fast, Benry didn't even detect what was going on until after the fact. And by then, it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Being an eldritch horror from the cosmic void, Benrey had a lot of real fun abilities at his disposal. One of those being the ability to 'astral project' as he'd heard humans call it. He never really used this one too much, though. Until he moved in with Gordon, that is. He'd found that slipping out of his own body to go hang out in Gordon's dreams was a pretty sick way to pass the time at night, when nothing else was keeping his attention successfully. Or when he was feeling lonely. Being the only one in your friend group who doesn't need to sleep at night kind of sucks sometimes.

Gordon was… a little unnerved by the brain-intrusions at first. But he never told Benry to fuck off with that shit, as the night time chats with the entity were much, MUCH preferred over all his PTSD night terrors. Dreams never kicked in right whenever Benry was there, including the bad ones, so it was a win-win situation, really. However, if a dream was already in the middle of happening when Benry jumped in, the dream didn't just automatically stop.

He never thought much about it until tonight.

Benry wasn't really feeling in the mood for any video games, so he decided he'd go see what ol' Feetman was up to in dream land. He got himself laid out nice and comfy in his bed, slipped out of his body and into Gordon's.

And soon came to very much regret it.

Gordon was having a nightmare about Xen, looked like. From his vantage point, he could see the man fleeing for his life from something. He didn't see what, but whatever it was, it had the poor guy scared absolutely shitless. Benry could feel all the horrible emotions Gordon was having while sharing a headspace with him, and yeah, no, this was not cool. He needed to calm Gordon down, show him he was just dreaming. If he could get him in a more lucid state, the nightmare would be easy to knock away.

Dream-Xen wasn't set up the same way as the real deal was- but thankfully Benry was able to just clip through everything just like the real one, which allowed him to cut Gordon off as the human frantically made his way through the winding tunnels.

When Gordon rounded the corner and came face to face with Benry, the human let out a strained shriek, and looked like he was about to book it back towards whatever he was fleeing from before. Whu..? Oh, shit, right. Benry was playing the bad guy when they were all on Xen, so of course Gordon wouldn't be very happy to see him, even if he wasn't at the same giant size he was back then.

…Wait.

Benry was the main threat to Gordon and the Science Team when they were on Xen.

So… did that mean…

As if to answer Benry's unspoken question, a massive, pale hand came phasing through the roof of the cave, one of its sharp black talons nearly impaling Gordon as it did. Gordon fell to the cave floor and looked on in horror as the monstrous owner of the hand brought their face into view.

Gordon wasn't having a nightmare about Xen. He was having a nightmare about Benry.

The alien's heart dropped like a fucking rock at the realization. Dream-Benry raised his fist, looking like he was getting ready to crush Gordon, and that's when real-Benry shoved down the sanguine and shadow building up in his throat and dove towards the human. He grabbed Gordon, and then sunk them both down into the floor, escaping into another chamber. Gordon thrashed in his grip, desperate to get away, but Benry held firm, and flipped the man around to face him.

"dude, dude, you gotta- you gotta calm down. that thing- that's not me, you're dreaming-" Benry tried to explain, but Gordon wasn't fucking listening, he just kept screaming at him to let go and get away and-

They were both silenced when the sole of a giant combat boot came down hard directly on top of them.

------------

Benry's whole form jolts as he returns to a more corporeal state of being. God, fuck. Dying was never fun, even in dreams. He lets out a heavy sigh and blinks- wait. His eyes are open? Why is it so fuckin' dark, then? He looks around the room, and does see… a faint light, shining in the corner of the room. Focusing on that light, his eyes begin to adjust a bit more to the dark. It's then he realizes that everything is blurry? He moves to push himself up into a sitting position- oh holy fuck he feels so tired and heavy and weak. What the shit. He brings a hand up to his head to rub at his eyes… and finds that his cheeks are a lot less bony than he remembers. Benry blindly gropes at his face some more, and feels what is very clearly a scruffy beard that he very much did not have before.

"yo what-" he says aloud, cutting himself off instantly when he hears himself speaking with Gordon's voice.

That's… new.

And would explain why he can't see shit all. Benry carefully feels over for where he knows Gordon's bedside nightstand is, and turns on the lamp once he finds the switch, to back up the little light from what he now realizes is Gordon's night light. Okay okay, no longer dark, but still blurry as hell. Squinting at the nightstand, he makes out the general shape of Gordon's glasses, and gingerly picks them up and places them on his face. Ah, there we go, blessed with sight once again. Albeit still pretty fucking shitty sight. This isn't how Gordon's eyes are ALL the time, is it? No, no, can't be. That'd be messed up. His sight, and all of his other senses come to think, are probably just all discombobulated from being forced into the wrong body. Yeah. Totally. He just needs to give it a minute.

Suddenly, a scream rings out in the house, in a voice that Benry recognizes as his own.

Oh shit, Gordon.

Welp, 'giving it a minute' is now officially off the table.

Benry quickly hops out of bed (ignoring the foreign ache in his-Gordon's? legs) and bolts towards the door. It's here that he makes yet another discovery.

His usual powers didn't carry over with him into Gordon's body, apparently, as when he tries to clip through the door because it's faster than opening it, he just fuckin' slams right into the damn thing. He groans, both in pain (so much pain…) and embarrassment, before opening the door like a normal human person and books it down the hall to his bedroom.

Flinging the door open and flicking on the light switch, he's met with a very concerning sight.

------------

Gordon lurches up into a sitting position, reflexively throwing his arms up, as if to hold off the massive boot that was trying to squash him like a bug. It was just a dream, he thinks as he realizes that he's not dead or on Xen. Doesn't do anything to calm his residual panic, though. His heart is still going a mile a minute and… and that's not right. His heart isn't beating right.

His brain finally catches up with the rest of him, and he realizes that he's in an entirely different room than he was when he went to sleep. It's Benry's room from the looks of it, but… it's not right, either. Why is the lighting so weird. The light's not even on, but he can see, he can see SO clearly and- the colours. They're all so much more vibrant, and there's ones he doesn't even recognize. He can't even think how to DESCRIBE them, what the fuck.

Ignore that for right now, Gordon, you gotta calm down, he thinks to himself. Closing his eyes, he reaches a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. Doing such has often helped him ground himself during anxiety and panic. But instead of feeling his long, soft hair, he feels a knit beanie. He does not wear knit beanies. His roommate wears knit beanies. His roommate whose room he inexplicably woke up in just now.

Gordon's eyes snap open and he looks at his hands.

They are not his hands.

"What the fuck," he utters, barely above a whisper, in what is definitely Benry's voice.

No. No? No. No! This isn't happening. This is NOT fucking HAPPENING. He's still dreaming, CLEARLY he's still dreaming! He just needs to wake up. C'mon, Gordon, you can do it. Wake up. Wake up, Gordon. Wake UP, Gordon. WAKE UP, GORDON-

A scream rips out of his throat, as he feels something else in his borrowed body rip.

#half life vr but the ai is self aware #half life vr but it's freaky friday #hlvrai #hlvrai fic #benry #benrey #gordon feetman #body swap #fic repost

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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You Look Down, They Know You're Lying (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Hangster, Hangman x Rooster

Summary: Jake gets selected for the assignment of a lifetime, but unfortunately he knows he won't be coming back from it. So he has to make a choice: break the heart of the man he loves now, or have him grieve him when he's gone.

Word Count: 1218

TW: angst, break-up, heartbreak, lies, mentions of a suicide mission, Hangman does what he does out of love

Note: Thank you to the anon who requested this title for the make-up title ask game! I loved it so much, I turned it into a series! 🥰

Part 1, Part 2 (coming soon)

Jake stood in front of the house he had come to think of as another home. The one he had thought he would be starting a family in someday soon. But now as he stared at the door, all he could think about was how he was never going to see it or the man who lived here ever again after today.

Before the Uranium mission, Jake would have sold his soul to get a chance to be selected for his newest mission. If he succeeded, his name would be cemented in the history books for centuries to come. However, win or lose, it was clear this was going to be a one-way trip. He could get in and take out his target, but there was no escape plan. This had been made painfully clear to him since day one, and the old Jake wouldn’t have cared.

But the new Jake finally had something in his life worth living for besides his ego. And now, he was going to have to personally destroy it.

He rapped his knuckles on the door and waited. A moment later, the door opened and Rooster poked his head out.

Jake’s boyfriend chuckled as he quirked his head to the side. “Um… something wrong? Did you forget your key?”

“No, but based on the conversation we need to have, I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me just barging in.” Jake backed away from the door and leaned against the porch railing.

Rooster stepped outside and closed the door. “That sounds ominous. Should I be scared?”

“Depends on how chill you are with what I’m about to tell you.” Jake took a deep breath. “I have a new assignment. I leave tomorrow.”

Rooster’s face darkened in confusion. “What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? When will you be back?”

“Yeah…” Jake slowly drug out the word. “See that’s the thing. I’m not coming back.”

“Jake, what are you talking about?” Rooster took a step closer and reached out towards his boyfriend.

But Jake pulled back with a huff. “I knew you’d be like this. So clingy and needy, just like always. This is why I was just gonna ghost you. But no. Everyone told me it would be too cruel, even for me. So here I am trying to give you the courtesy of telling you to your face and you’re gonna make this a big deal.”

“A big deal?” Rooster’s voice rose and Jake could see he was beginning to get angry. “You come over and tell me you’re leaving and never coming back and you don’t think that’s a big deal? What the fuck, Jake?”

“No. It’s Hangman. We’re nothing more than colleges now so you don’t get to call me Jake anymore,” Jake sneered. “Not that it really matters since I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again for a while… if at all. I got my dream job. The kind you could only ever dream about. So I don’t see us traveling in the same circles anymore.”

Rooster looked as if Jake had just punched him in the face. He stumbled back a few steps until he was leaning against the side of the house. Then, his voice thick with emotion, he asked, “What, you got a new job so you’re suddenly ready to throw this all away? Everything we talked about? Everything we were building together?”

Jake could see that this was it. This was the moment that he either sold it or this whole thing fell apart. Which meant he needed to bring out the big guns.

They both had taken training classes on interrogation tactics and knew how to spot when someone was lying. The small tells and subconscious ticks that the lier usually didn’t even realize they were doing. The one that always stuck with Jake and the one he often pointed out on a nearly weekly basis when talking with people was “if you look down, they know you’re lying.” And right now, he had to do his best to convince Rooster why he was saying was the truth, no matter how painful it was.

So, he squared his shoulders and looking Rooster dead in the eye, he slowly said, “Get this through that thick, mustachioed skull of yours. You were never anything more to me than something to pass the time. You were fun, but I would’ve settled for anyone to keep me company while I figured out my next move. And the fact you bought into the act just made me look even more pathetic than I thought you were.”

Jake watched Rooster’s heart shatter right before his eyes. He knew how hard it was for Rooster to open himself up to someone after all the loss and betrayal he had endured since he was a kid, but this was still the best option. Rather Rooster lose him now than after Jake’s assignment. At least this way he hopefully wouldn’t care about Jake’s death whereas Jake knew Rooster would have found a way to blame himself if they were still together when he died. Roo would obsess over what he could have said to get Jake to stay or how he should have taken the assignment instead and Jake didn’t want that for the man he loved.

So, he just stood there stiffly, coldy, as Rooster’s face shifted through a hundred different emotions as he tried to grasp the reality of the situation. Finally, with his face twisted in pain, Rooster hissed, “I hate you.”

But as he said it, his eyes shifted down to the ground.

For some reason, that was the moment that almost broke Jake’s resolve. He wanted to run to him, to gather Roo into his arms, tell him everything, and beg for his forgiveness. He wanted to drop to his knee and propose with the ring he had been carrying around in his pocket for the last month. He wanted to take Rooster upstairs and show him how much he actually meant to him.

However, he managed to stay strong. He nodded once and jammed his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his key to the house and placed it on the railing of the porch. “Yeah, well, then I guess we’re done here.”

He turned and started walking down the driveway. It hurt but it was done. And at least now Rooster was safe. Yes, it was true Jake was throwing their relationship away over a job, but Rooster never had to learn the whole truth. He never had to know that the only two active Navy pilots qualified for this assignment were the two of them. He never had to know that Jake would rather die than live without him. However, there was one last thing Rooster had to know before Jake could leave.

When he reached the gate, Jake hesitated. Turning back, he said, “Hey, Roo.”

Rooster looked up at him, his eyes full of tears and his jaw set tightly as he tried to keep his composure. Already the pain on his face when he looked at Jake had turned to rage. Good. Then his plan was working.

Jake took one last look at the man and the life he was leaving behind as he smiled. “I hate you too.”

And he looked down.

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @sugarcoated-lame, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @chouricojr, @king-of-milf-lovers, @high-fidelities, @shaded-echoes-recs, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233

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whatgaviiformes · 6 months

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A repost of a story I wrote that I love. For the Scott fans out there *waves*.

🌄 The fic is "Morning Below the Skies" and it's a Scott and Gordon fic post SOS and before Gordon's return to duty.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44920105

And today I just started thinking about it, about the two of them laughing for separate reasons and also just because, beneath a colorful sky, and.

I am thankful for this family that's come to mean so much to us for bringing inspiration to my life and people to share in it with

#fic repost #gavii scribit

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earnmysong · 1 month

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the lovely @bywayofmemory hit me up to share an old fic of mine! thank youuuu, dude! i've written basically nothing fictional recently, so this is actually a wonderful exercise! If they so choose, @andrea-lyn, @firstaudrina, @hondagirll, @goddesspharo, @megalong, @cashewdani, @semperlitluv, or anyone else that this appeals to should jump on the train!

i still can't believe how/where wanda maximoff ended up in MCU canon, so!

just another recovering heart (so don't let me down) [wanda & steve; wanda & team cap]

“You’re spending five more minutes in here while I short - ” [Steve] keeps clear of her injurious accent piece, instead guiding his touch over the affected area of her neck “ - this out. The whole damn jacket’s attached to you through this…” | Wanda copes with her time in The Raft as best she can.

#myfic #e writes #my writing repertoire #fic repost

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

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Double Cherries (and 'Extra' Hoodies)

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+ OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45190867

“Welcome in! You know where to go,” Stiles grinned and threw a nod to the back room area with several tables shoved together. The Hale family simply smiled in response, some waved as they walked by, and filed into the larger of the two side spaces off the main floor.

He was sure his mom had specifically set up that area for the Hale family. He’d only ever seen them sit there and on several - very few - occasions, large groups assembled for some birthday, reunion, or other such events that could only be accommodated by using the larger space. If they were super busy for whatever reason, sometimes his mom would break up the tables to accommodate additional, smaller groups. But the main setup, with the three tables all shoved together in the center of the room, stuffed with chairs running down each side of the long, conjoined table, and several smaller 2-4 seaters off in each corner? Yea, that was for the Hales. No one could convince Stiles otherwise.

They came in at least twice a month, the whole group, and had dinner. It was almost a daily thing to see at least one of them - picking up an on-the-go meal, grabbing extra pastries from the display case, or stopping for a fix of his mom’s homemade apple cider. But all of them together? That happened like clockwork every other week.

“Ready to order or do you guys need a few extra minutes to pretend to look over the menu and still order the same thing anyways?” Stiles grinned as he sauntered up to the table. He pulled out one of the only open seats left at the very end and flipped it around, sitting down and bracing his elbow on the back of the chair as he leaned his chin against his open palm. Half the table rolled their eyes, the other gave small huffs of laughter. They were all used to Stiles’s particular brand of humor.

Starting with the person to his left - Elaine - Stiles jotted down each person's order. Despite his joke, the Hales did like to spice up their orders even with their frequent attendance. Most of them had a few dishes they regularly liked to cycle through, some were always trying new things (Laura was the reason for the Weekly Specials, Stiles was sure of it, after she complained one too many times about how boring all the restaurants in town were for his mother's liking), and some were oddly picky (Jenna, the youngest Hale of the bunch, sometimes liked pickles but never when she liked tomatoes - and she always wanted ketchup with her meal but if she got curly fries then she’d also ask for ranch or blue cheese, Stiles couldn’t tell what determined the preference but it was always a toss up).

Out of all the Hales, though, one of them was without a doubt predictable without fail.

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows, glaring at the younger boy as he walked away, but the small uptick at the corner of his mouth wasn’t lost on his family. Laura laughed behind her hand, Cora smirked, Mark gave a long-suffering sigh, the younger kids already lost interest, and all the adults gave a roll of their eyes (Peter mumbled something about “stupid teenagers” but was quickly shut up when his wife Lila elbowed him sharply, earning a giggle from their son Austin).

“Three.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, turning to see Claudia now standing just behind her chair and to the side, arms crossed and an amused look on her face as her eyes focused on Derek. She must have slipped in during everyone placing their orders, though how much of the interaction she saw Talia was unsure.

Humming to herself, Talia watched as Stiles finally made it to the kitchen, only part of his upper body visible through the open doorway as he leaned against the window to pin up his order and call out something to the cooks, a wide grin painted on his lips. He laughed with his whole body, leaning heavily against the window as he talked with whoever was in the kitchen, tapping at the ticket he just put up with a playful grin.

“Really? I saw six,” Talia smoothly responded, leaning further back into her chair. She cast a mischievous glance up toward Claudia, who gave her a smirk in response.

“Six?” Nick asked, looking between his wife and Claudia. “Three? What? Six and three what?”

“They’re betting on how long it’ll take those two to get a clue,” Lila offered, rolling her eyes at the other man. Her husband snorted beside her, earning him yet another jab to the ribs.

“Still! Three and six what? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?!” Nick cried. No one answered him, causing him to pout and wildly look between the two women (one of which was his wife) in his life who always seemed to be up to something or another.

It was silent for a beat, before Peter - who was still rubbing at his ribs, obviously overplaying the jab from his wife - piped up, “I vote four.”

“Four WHAT?!”

+.+.+

It didn’t go unnoticed that when Stiles brought their food out, Derek’s burger had more tomatoes than anyone else’s just how he liked, even though extra tomatoes were never mentioned.

It also didn’t escape their notice that Stiles stole the first fry from Derek's plate and only got a roll of the eyes, while Cora got a smack to the hand and a glare that could start WWIII when she only attempted to take a fry.

+.+.+

“That’s not what I ordered,” Dereked huffed, though Stiles would say it sounded more like a whine. The darker-haired boy pouted and shoved the glass back across the counter, leaning back on his barstool as if the drink personally offended him.

“It’s not,” Stiles easily agreed, “it’s better.” He pushed the glass back toward Derek with a single finger. Derek’s glare became poutier and Stiles's grin became more of a smirk.

Claudia watched from the other end of the counter, counting out the till. She’d have to recount - she lost track two minutes ago when Stiles first began teasing Derek while they waited for his milkshake to be finished.

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek. ”

“Please,” Derek said softly, a genuine frown now making its way onto his face. His shoulders slumped slightly, eyes darting to the side as he seemed to slowly lose his ability to keep up with Stiles’s usual banter. Claudia cocked her head, immediately noticing the change. She had the urge to ask what was wrong, a protectiveness she often forgot she had for the Hale children rearing its head inside her. But her own son seemed to beat her to it.

“Woah, hey, no of course. I’m sorry,” Stiles quickly corrected, pulling the glass back and moving to grab a second glass from the counter just behind him. He slid the second glass, filled to the brim with a thick, viscous pink liquid, in front of Derek slowly, his posture opening up slowly as he leaned against the opposite side of the counter and looked at Derek with a single raised eyebrow.

Neither said anything else for a minute, and Claudia was sure the interaction was over, but Stiles still had his head tilted ever so slightly, his body open and pointed towards Derek, an inquisitive expression aimed at the other. It was odd - seeing her son be so quiet. But he didn’t break, he remained steadfastly quiet, the only hint of conversation from him being the questioning look he directed at his friend.

Derek finally looked up and made eye contact after taking several slow, long sips of his shake (strawberry - as usual).

“I’m benched from the next game,” he said softly, almost so quietly Claudia didn’t hear. Stiles simply tilted his head more, chin dipping down as if to encourage Derek to keep going, but Stiles himself never spoke a word. “I’m two points away from failing math. Coach thought it would… encourage me to do better. But I just don’t get it, and basketball helps when I can’t focus and…”

Derek fell silent again, frowning as he fiddled with his straw, unable to meet Stiles’s eye.

Claudia watched, jaw dropped, as Stiles turned and walked away without a word. She felt her blood boil, ready to whack her own flesh and blood ten ways to Sunday with the nearest object and bundle Derek up in her arms and apologize for her stupid offspring, but just as quickly as the red rage filled her vision, Stiles was back.

Stiles plopped the previous milkshake on the counter across from Derek, but closer to himself, and placed a plate between them. It had two forks, what looked like a brownie that was cut to be the size of three regular brownies put together, and a large mound of whipped cream.

Taking one of the forks, Stiles cut a piece of brownie off and moved it toward his mouth before pausing. He locked eyes with Derek.

“I don’t work on Mondays, we should hang out. Go over homework together. I’m pretty good at math, might need some help with history though,” he said casually, popping the bite into his mouth, “I can barely remember one old white dude from the next.” Claudia raised an eyebrow. Her son had a 97% in history - she knew because his teacher called to discuss a recent essay regarding male circumcision and Claudia promptly ended the call once the teacher confirmed his grade in the class (he could write about the mating habits of mosquitos in history class for all she cared with those grades).

Derek gave a roll of his eyes and a half-smile. “I like history,” is all he said, before taking a bite of the brownie himself. Derek also knew Stiles's claim for needing help was far-fetched; he did, however, know Stiles didn't like history.

“I know.”

Claudia watched, a bit awed and with a dopey smile only a mother could pull off, as the two boys shared the brownie and sipped their milkshakes. Stiles began rambling about Scott’s newest girlfriend and also complaining about a weird sound the Jeep is making. Derek nodded along, mostly silent, communicating in some weird fashion with his eyebrows and various smirks.

Claudia gave up on the till and took the next two tables that came in, letting her son enjoy his moment in the bubble he’d created with Derek. She’d get onto him about socializing while on the clock and make him do the trash run later. For now, Derek seemed like the more important task.

+.+.+

Claudia paused between orders to watch as Derek walked out after throwing several bills on the counter (of which, she noted, could pay for his tab nearly three times over - even if Stiles charged him for the monstrosity of a brownie he brought out and therefore shouldn’t be charging Derek for anyways). And she was immediately thankful for her pause, as she got to witness Stiles pausing as he went to clear the dishes, only to stop when he saw Derek’s extra cherry from his shake carefully balanced on the top of his straw.

Stiles popped the red fruit into his mouth, stem sticking out, and smiled softly to himself as he went about clearing the counter and clearing out Derek’s order.

+.+.+

“Why you little-” Talia let out a low growl of frustration as she smacked her hand against the half-opened entryway door, watching as the two boys ran out and down the street before she could even get a good look at their faces. She had just come in with Laura and Derek to get a couple of Claudia’s pies for dinner that night. Grades had just come out the day before and she wanted to celebrate her children all having passing grades by getting their favorite desserts.

While waiting at the counter, Talia watched as two teenage boys smacked the large tray Stiles was carrying from the back out of his hands, causing food to fly all over the place and make a mess over the poor boy. Shouts and jeers were heard as they darted out, Talia hot on their tail to try and get names and faces but to no avail.

Turning around, Talia watched as Stiles knelt on the ground, head bowed, trying to clean up the spilled food. He was drenched in various drinks and covered in a mess of food. Laura and Derek were both crouched down trying to help clean up as well.

Before Talia could ask if Stiles knew who those boys were, she paused. Stiles’s hands were shaking, progressively getting worse, and he seemed half frozen to the spot aside from the tremors running up from his hands. Derek immediately dropped the stack of dishes he had been collecting and shuffled to sit right in front of Stiles on his knees, taking both of the boy’s hands in his own.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, “breath. Come on, with me. In… One, two, three… out… good, again…”

Talia watched as her son gently coaxed Stiles into a familiar pattern, staving off what looked to be a panic attack. She watched silently as they went through the motions several times until Stiles’s hands shook less, only slight jumps of movement instead of literal tremors.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I have a spare shirt in my bag from practice.”

Derek easily pulled Stiles up from the ground and grabbed his discarded backpack at the same time. He wound an arm around the smaller boy’s body and steered him to the back, not even bothering to look at Laura or his mom as he did so. When she met her daughter’s eyes, Talia just got a shrug and Laura motioned for her to help with the scattered dishes. It wasn’t long until another server was coming out from the back with rags and a bucket, insisting they could get the rest.

By the time the pies came out, Derek and Stiles still hadn’t come back out. The waitress who cleaned up the mess gave them one of the pies for free and apologized profusely before Laura waved them off. They did however confirm that Claudia was out for the day but that they’d see about having her pull video footage from when the incident occurred, jotting down the time and making a note for when Claudia came back in the next day.

Laura had already headed out to the car, telling her mom she’d get it started and warmed up. Talia was just about to leave and wait Derek out in the car after five more minutes had passed, hand on the door, when the two boys came back.

Stiles was in clean clothes, face red and eyes puffy, and a bag clutched in his hand along with his keys. Derek had a grip on the back of his neck, not saying anything, but helping to keep the other grounded with the touch as they walked.

Before reaching the door, Stiles stopped, gave Derek a weak smile, and leaned in for a hug. They hugged one another tight and quick, then let go. Stiles turned immediately, head ducked low as he moved towards the kitchens. Talia vaguely heard something mumbled about ‘clock out’ and ‘Jeep’, so she assumed Stiles was clocking out and then heading out to his car that was parked out back.

Derek watched after the other until he couldn’t see him through the kitchen entryway anymore. Then, he simply turned back towards his mom and walked out the door Talia held open for him. Neither of them said anything, but she did give her son a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and a soft smile. Derek simply nodded in response.

+.+.+

Talia wasn’t willing to comment on it, but she was sure she wasn’t the only one to notice Derek’s own change of clothes. The maroon hoodie he walked in wearing was missing, in its place was a plain t-shirt Talia was sure he wore earlier that week.

Conveniently, Talia also noticed that alongside a pair of BHHS branded basketball shorts, Stiles walked away in a maroon hoodie that looked to be a size too big, hanging from his frame like a blanket rather than a jacket. She stayed quiet about it. Just like she stayed quiet about the extra pie Derek had carried out to the car in one hand (peach cobbler - his favorite).

+.+.+

“What about Thursday? Nick’s making lasagna, Peter, Lila, and their kids will be out camping until the weekend, Cora and Eric will be doing a sleepaway for Adventure Scouts, and Laura is staying at a friend’s. It’ll just be Derek at the house and you know how he is,” Talia urged.

Claudia grinned widely, leaning against the counter. They hadn’t had a chance to have dinner together in ages, even with the whole family, but with just the four of them? Claudia was willing to bet it had been years (“Three months, Claude,” Talia corrected with a huff). Noah had Thursday and Friday off this week, a rare ‘proper’ weekend, and Claudia could escape the diner for the night.

“Stiles doesn’t work that night - we could bring him along or have Derek hang at our house for the night,” Claudia innocently offered. Talia scowled.

“That’s cheating!” she huffed. “But Stiles is welcome to come, of course.”

“Actually, maybe it’s not cheating,” Claudia suddenly said, eyes focused to the side of where the two of them sat, where the counter stood near the front of the diner. Talia scrunched her eyebrows before turning to focus where her friend was already looking. They were sat at an empty booth, not too far away but just far enough to the side that neither of the boys seemed to notice either of their mothers’ presences. Thank god, Talia thought.

“Oh come on! You always get the same thing,” Stiles whined, pouting at Derek. “At least try a different shake! I promise the peanut butter banana is awesome, Der, swear it.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek smirked at his friend and leaned further against the counter as if in a challenge. “I order the same thing because I always go to the same place,” he said airily, “take me somewhere different and I’ll change it up.”

Stiles paused, eyes narrowing slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, leaning onto his hands across from Derek and letting his eyes scan over the other boy slowly as if analyzing the person in front of him to ensure it was indeed Derek Hale.

“Somewhere different?” Stiles confirmed. Derek gave a soft hum, his lips tilting up at the sides slightly. “Somewhere different… for dinner?” Derek rolled his eyes but the smile finally cracked across his lips and he gave a slow nod.

Stiles, in turn, pursed his lips, obviously biting back on a grin of his own. “You tryin’ to get me to ask you on a date, Hale?” he finally asked, unable to bite back on the wide grin that finally took over his face.

“Depends,” Derek drawled, “you actually gonna ask?”

“You know, you could ask me yourself,” Stiles challenged. Derek gave a small bark of laughter.

“I could,” he agreed, “but you asking is more fun.”

“Yea?” Stiles laughed, then rolled his eyes. He leaned fully onto the counter, bracing himself on his elbows. Derek moved in to mirror his position, putting them just a few inches in front of one another. “Alright. Will you go on a date with me, Derek Hale?”

Derek cracked a grin. “It would be my pleasure, Stiles Stilinski.”

Talia and Claudia watched as their sons stood, staring at one another with too wide of grins, acting like stupidly lovestruck teenagers without a care in the world. They watched as they made plans about where to go, when to go, and argued over who would drive.

“So I guess it’s just us on Thursday, then,” Claudia mused, turning back to give her friend a half-smirk.

“Guess so,” Talia chuckled, then groaned almost immediately after. Claudia raised an eyebrow in question. “Peter won the bet,” she amended glumly.

“Really? It’s already been four months?” Claudia moaned, slumping in her chair. “That bastard’s going to be so smug…”

+.+.+

Years later, Derek would ask Stiles if he ever figured out why Derek insisted Stiles ask him out on their first date instead of the other way around. When Stiles had no answer, Derek would kneel down and tell him he wanted to be the one to ask the next big question.

Stiles would then roll his eyes as he retold the story at their wedding, causing everyone to aww and coo. And when Peter (once again) told everyone about how he predicted the union of the two from the start, everyone would laugh (except for Claudia and Talia).

#derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #derek hale fanfiction #sterek #sterek fics #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #archive of our own #ao3 fic #teen wolf fic #fic repost #alive hale family #alive claudia stilinski #claudia & talia friendship #i forgot i didnt upload this yet so this is a late repost from ao3!

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 2 years

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With Whumptober coming ‘round again, I wanted to share some of my fics from past years that I consider absolute bangers.

1. The fic where I took some canon incidents and made everyone upset (but also provided forehead kisses, which I think was good of me)

2. The fic where I really said “Let’s convince Clark he’s dying!” (And make Bruce deal with it!)

3. The fic that, to me, is quintessential Lurker Does Whump And Traumatizes Everyone

4. The fic where I indulge in Robin Tim emotionsssssss

Every year also tends to include at least one Alfred fic that is tragically underappreciated and one Dev fic that the real ones who know, know.

Also, I don’t have a set of 2020 Whumptober fics (lol, guess why), but here are my sets for 2019 and 2021, if you want to read them all.

#whumptober #fic repost #batfic #fanfic #my fic #bruce wayne #batman

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rosego1dd · 2 years

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random screenshots of a fanfic i’m reading with no further context:

the fanfic is Orphan’s Path on ao3 btw!!!! it’s long but VERY GOOD 69/10 would read again

#mcyt fictive #dream smp #mcytumblr #mcyt #technoblade #philza minecraft #dsmp #mcyt fanfiction #sbi au #sbi #fic repost #fanfic rec #not my fic

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roromir · 10 months

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Read the fic

#voltron #vld #voltron: legendary defender #voltron fic #vld fic #allurivan #allura/kolivan #fic repost #fic recs

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becasbelt · 2 years

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Court Vision

Summary: Beca’s not really a basketball fan, but that redhead on the cheer squad sure is cute.

Words: 3,199

Rating: G

Notes: Repost of an old fic in honor of Bechloe Week 2022 day three: kiss cam. My old fic posting format was garbage, so I thought this was a good opportunity as any to repost this lil gem.

“And that’s another two points for the Knights!”

Beca barely even glances up from her phone when the announcer proclaims the fact, seeing as the team is up by fifteen points. She figures she’s not really missing anything anyways.

Normally Beca wouldn’t even be at a basketball game, but her roommate and self-proclaimed best friend Stacie is on the team, and she liked to drag Beca out of the apartment once a week so she could watch her play. She was also technically there to “cheer on the team,” but she figured Stacie should be grateful she’s there at all.

Barden University’s women’s basketball team was actually pretty decent. They were currently number two in their conference, so at least Beca didn’t have to watch the team lose every week.

Read the rest on AO3!

#bechloe week #bechloe week 2022 #kiss cam #fic repost #bechloe #pitch perfect #fanfic #court vision #this is from over two years ago holy shit

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annlarimer · 11 months

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It's my mom's birthday. It's Sailor Moon's birthday. It's...June 30th!

EDIT: I'm laughing my ass off. I just reread the first paragraph. The Utah Saints released a new track this week (2023).

#hot fuzz #fuzz fic #doctor who #doctor who fic #fic repost

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hlvrfreakyfriday · 10 months

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HLVRFF: Chapter 11

Gordon was honestly a little worried he’d fucked up when Benry started sobbing again. Thankfully, though, the entity was able to speak through his tears just enough to assure Gordon he was crying in relief.

Benry really didn’t want to leave. The fact that he was going to anyway, just to try and help Gordon feel better, just further cemented that Benry really does care about him. Gordon’s kicking himself for never taking the time to really notice until now.

(He’s kicking himself for a lot of things regarding Benry, really.)

When Benry’s sobs finally calmed down to just a few quiet sniffles, the two of them got to talking.

About Gordon’s nightmares…

“Just because I have nightmares about the fight on Xen doesn’t mean I’m actually still afraid of you. I still have nightmares sometimes about that army of Coomer clones too, but I still willingly go hang out with Dr. Coomer. And like, hell, when I was a kid I had this recurring nightmare about a giant Agumon trying to eat me, even though he was one of my favorite Digimon. Dreams are just weird, y’know?”

“huh. yeah, i guess so. wait... if you had nightmares about your favorite digimon, does that mean i’m your favorite roommate~?”

“Pretty sure you’re my only roommate, Benry.”

“pretty sure you’re dodging the question, gordon.”

About Benry’s life in Black Mesa’s labs…

“i never talked about it ‘cause like, it’s all in the past. can’t do anything about it. and i’m not in the labs anymore now, so. it’s not important.”

“I, uh, kind of think it IS important? I had one of your nightmares, the one about being cut up on the exam table, so obviously that shit still affects you. Do you at least talk to Tommy about this when it’s bothering you?”

“uhhhhhhhh......”

“Dude.”

“please don’t tell tommy.”

“Oh, I’m gonna tell him if you don’t tell him yourself.”

“okay fine geeeeeez.”

About… feelings…

“Hah, you know, I’m a little surprised that you don’t actually hate me.”

“huh? why?”

“I mean... I was really shitty to you? Even before the betrayal thing, when the worst thing you did was just be annoying. I may have been stressed out of my fucking mind during all that, but I never lashed out at the other guys nearly as much as I did at you. Or, y’know. Told any of the others that I wished they were dead. Can’t... really say I blame you for getting so pissed at me, after all that...”

“uh. yeah.”

“Yyyeah. So... why don’t you hate me?”

“...i just don’t. never hated you. not even when i was big mad at you. like, anger and hatred are two different things. you’ve made me feel angry, but never actual, straight-up hate. i know i’ve said i hated you a couple times, but that was a big fat lie. even though you didn’t remember me and kept yelling at me, i was still just... happy to see you again. hear you laugh again. see your light again. i really really missed you. i didn’t wanna lose you again, especially not so soon after finally finding you."

“Benrey, I...”

“-which kinda makes all the messed up stuff i did even more messed up. which is uh, why i really wasn’t expecting you to ever forgive me. um... you do forgive me, right? i, i didn’t misunderstand that?”

“I do, yeah.”

“...even though you don’t have to?”

“I want to. The main reason I was still holding any grudges against you is because I thought you didn’t care; that you weren’t sorry about the things you did, and that it was all just... a fucking game to you or something. Knowing that you DO care, that you actually care a whole lot... It helps. Helps me feel better. Even if just a little bit. So I forgive you, because I genuinely want to.”

“.....”

“And like I said, I may not remember when we were friends as kids, but I really want to be friends again.”

“.......”

“...Oh shit are you crying again? Fuck, dude, don’t-”

“shhut th’ fuck upppppppp and just gimme hug.”

They talked for a good long while, on into the night. They had to stop eventually though, especially for Benry’s sake. All that crying and heart-pouring clearly took a lot out of the guy. When the time for sleep came, Benry hesitantly asked if Gordon would… maybe stay? Share the bed, keep the cuddles going?

And maybe Gordon was just feeling overly soft and fond after all that just happened, because he did stay.

Or, well. They actually moved from Benry’s room to Gordon’s, with his much bigger, actually-made-for-two-people bed. Gordon had forgotten just how nice it was to share a bed with someone. The warmth and presence of another body lying next to his had always been soothing for him, and he never realized just how much he missed it. It made it hard for him to actually get up when morning finally came.

It was also hard to get up due to the fact that Benry was holding onto him like he was an oversized teddybear. Which was not only restricting, but also very comfy.

Shit, no wonder Anna was always wanting to use Gordon as a pillow. His body makes a pretty great one.

From then on, if there was any remaining tension in the house, it’s definitely gone now. Gordon’s already finding himself way more patient and way less annoyed with Benry and his antics. Like, yeah, he already was before, but if his attitude about the entity these past weeks was a long way away from how it was in Black Mesa, now it’s practically light-years away.

Benry’s attitude seems to have shifted, too. He’s gotten… more genuine, if Gordon had to describe it. Letting his usual aloofness falter way more than before. He seems to be less intent on pressing all of Gordon’s buttons, too (or at least, no longer to the point that Gordon gets actually upset). They still have their back-and-forth banter, but it's got Gordon mostly laughing rather than groaning. He’s emoting more with his face, and whether that’s Benry adapting to not having his Sweet Voice, or it’s a result of their honest talk that night, Gordon’s not sure.

But it’s really nice to see.

*****

In the morning, a few days later, they get a knock on the door. Gordon's a little apprehensive about answering at first, not wanting a repeat of when Anna came by- but then again, the only other people who don’t know about all the weird alien shit in his life are Gordon’s mom and brother, and they both always call or text before visiting. So it’s probably just one of the team or a mail guy or something. Gordon goes to open the door and-

“Dr. Freemannn...”

-once again, it is neither of those.

Now, except for the few times the guy actually threatened him, Gordon’s never been that freaked out by Tommy’s weird eldritch dad. When he’s not trying to ‘convince’ Gordon of something, he just looks like your standard suit-wearing government employee.

To Gordon’s regular human eyes, anyway.

Through Benry’s eyes, Gordon can see that Mr. Coolatta lacks any of the glowing 'life energy’ patterns on his body. Benry’s body lacks those, too, but he at least has the glow in his eyes that every living creature seems to have. Mr. Coolatta’s eyes meanwhile, are just... black. Void. Nothing. In fact, it’s like there’s a whole... aura of nothingness about the not-a-man. It’s giving Gordon this horrible feeling of wrongness the longer he looks at him, but he can’t STOP looking at him, it’s like being sucked into a black hole or something, and it’s got him so on edge he feels like he-

Mr. Coolatta clears his throat. Gordon releases the death grip he didn’t know he had on the door frame.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Coolatta. I take it you’re here to help with, um, this?” Gordon says as he steps aside, allowing the older entity into the house.

“Yes. Tommy, informed me of your... predicament. That neither you, nor. Ben-rey. Know how to, fix,” Mr. Coolatta says in that weird, almost forced-sounding way he does, as he and Gordon step into the living room.

Just then, Benry pokes his borrowed head in from the hallway. His eyes light up (both figuratively, and to Gordon’s current eyes, literally) when he spies their house guest. “yooooo, thought i heard g-dad in here,” he says, strolling up to stand next to Gordon by the couch. “you gonna get our brains back in the right cases, yeah?”

There’s a very subtle look of... something distinctly negative on Mr. Coolatta’s face as Benry speaks, but Benry either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

Gordon however is suddenly feeling some slowly mounting concern for whether or not Benry will continue to live under his roof.

“UH,” Gordon speaks up, “if you can just, get us back in our own bodies, that’d be great. All we need you to do, really. We’re both totally fine, other than this!”

Benry gives Gordon a small confused look. Mr. Coolatta also gives him a look, but he’s not sure what exactly it’s conveying.

“Well, if we are. To do this,” Mr. Coolatta starts,” then I suggest that you. Should both, sit down for, it.”

The two younger men do so, taking seats on the couch behind them. Gordon’s about to ask what exactly Mr. Coolatta’s going to do, when a strange pulling feeling hits the back of his head.

Or, no, it’s more like in his actual brain. And it’s going very quickly from just being in the back, to all over, and from a gentle pulling feeling to a painful one. Christ, he’s never even had a migraine or concussion this bad. He wrenches his eyes shut, and throws his borrowed hands up to press against his head...

…And feels the unmistakable texture of a knit beanie that he definitely wasn’t wearing before.

Gordon opens his eyes, and the room looks so... washed out. The colours are all dull, and there aren’t as many of them, and he can’t feel them- holy shit he can’t feel them. He can’t feel colours anymore. What he does feel though is glasses on his face, and pain in his back, and long hair against his neck. He looks to his right- and there’s no one there. So he looks to his left, and there’s Benry- who ACTUALLY LOOKS like Benry.

Which of course means that he looks like himself.

Which means that they’re in their own bodies again!

Benry seems to realize this at about the same time, as his eyes widen before he suddenly bursts into cosmic song. A flurry of happy yellow, excited orange, and positive purple Sweet Voice float out through his teeth as he grins bigger than Gordon’s ever recalled seeing him.

Gordon grins too, and laughs, both at Benry’s happy display, and from his own immense relief. He yanks the beanie off his head and hands it to Benry, who puts it back in its proper place on his own head, still singing all the while. The singing only hiccups for the briefest of moments when Gordon leans over to hug his eldritch roommate, followed by an even bigger burst of colour and song as Benry hugs back.

The pair's attention is brought back to their helpful houseguest when Mr. Coolatta clears his throat again. Gordon releases Benry from the hug and turns to the older entity.

“Thank you, SO much, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I- how much we both appreciate this, man,” Gordon says. Benry’s stopped singing, but is still latched onto Gordon, burying his face in the human’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything to Mr. Coolatta, instead just giving the guy a thumbs up.

There’s another slight facial twitch before Mr. Coolatta replies, “Yes, you’re. Very welcome. I trust that... this, won’t happen again, hmm?” he then asks, looking at Benry.

Despite not looking up, Benry seems to realize the question is directed at him. “uh, yeah. i don’t- ‘m not gonna do that again. like, ever. wasn’t fun, was really bad actually. no more botched brain hangouts. promise.”

Mr. Coolatta seems satisfied with that answer (or as much as he can be regarding Benry), as he thankfully makes no threats or insinuations about Benry’s continued status as Gordon’s roommate.

He also doesn’t make any comments about Gordon owing him anything before he leaves. Gordon wagers a guess that he can probably thank Tommy for that. Bless that man.

*****

It’s a little after lunch time when Gordon makes his way to the front door, car keys in hand. Before he gets to the door, though, he stops and turns to Benry, who’s sitting on the couch, playing a game.

“Hey, I’m going to the hardware store to pick out paint chips and figure out what colour I should repaint my room. You wanna come with?” he asks.

Pausing his game, Benry peeks over the back of the couch, spitting out a surprised little ‘huh?’ at the man. “you want me to come with?” he asks back after a moment.

Gordon nods. “Yeah. Figured you could help me pick a colour. Find one that’ll not only look good in my room, but feel good, too.”

“thought you can’t feel colours anymore?”

“Yeah, but YOU can feel them again. And I wanna make sure I don’t end up with another shitty wet sandpaper colour. Honestly, I can’t believe you never brought that up before.”

Benry remains still and silent for a bit, seemingly processing what all Gordon just said. Then, tentatively, he asks, “can we get new paint for my room, too?”

Gordon’s mouth quirks up in a slight smile. “Sure thing, bud. Get whatever colours you want.”

“helllllll yeah!” Benry whoops, punctuating it with Sweet Voice. Gordon’s small smile turns into a full-on one.

This whole fiasco may have started out incredibly shitty… but Gordon has to admit, he really likes the way things have turned out as a result of it all.

THE END

#half life vr but it's freaky friday #fic repost

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katblu42 · 2 years

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Midnight Snack

This is actually a re-post of a fic I wrote over a year ago now - at the time it had no name, but it does now!

It is Scott whump (pretty much the only time I've managed to do that to him, I think) with Gordon to the rescue.

Based on a spin of a prompt generator wheel that gave me Drowning, and the location of an Alley.

He was here in New York City for a week, staying in the penthouse apartment a short car ride away from the office. A week filled with unavoidable, important Tracy Industries meetings. A week he was already wishing was over despite it being only Tuesday. He was over it. The petty bickering, the business politics, the smug, know-it-all idiots, the over-confident jerks and the patronising old-hats who forced him to continually prove he knew what he was doing. He’d had enough. And he’d already had his fill of being under the watchful eye of his security detail every time he stepped outside the apartment.

So it was that Scott found his way out onto the pavement, shiny and slick from earlier rain, walking the short distance from the rear of the apartment building to the little coffee shop on the corner. He’d made this sneaky jaunt so many times before – a brief escape from the claustrophobic confines of the constant security presence – without incident. The coffee was good, but it was the pastries that kept him coming back. He wasn’t exactly sure of their official hours, but he’d never yet found them closed, so despite it being just before midnight on a Tuesday he was able to come away with a hot cup of (decaf) coffee and an almond scroll.

Even at this late hour traffic was almost constant, tyres flicking up misty spray from the oil-slick shiny, damp street as each vehicle passed. Almost halfway back to the apartment he heard a cry above the traffic’s white noise. A young, female voice. Indistinct, tearful, painful sounds punctuated by definite “No!”s and a “Please, don’t!”, then a screamed plea for help. It was coming from the narrow alley to he’d just passed. The alley was practically unlit and lined with large dumpsters that obscured his view, but he could see figures moving about deep in the shadows.

Before he had realised what he was doing he’d taken a few steps into the alley, calling out as he looked into the gloom.

“Hey! Everything okay?”

The scuffling sounds ahead of him ceased and he walked carefully forward on the muddy, pocked and potholed bitumen as he headed deeper into the narrow space between dumpsters. Despite his caution he never saw it coming. He had no chance to react. He received a solid blow to the back of the head and saw stars pinpricking his dimming vision. He didn’t feel himself fall, but he was very aware of his face hitting the wet, gravelly ground before he blacked out.

***

Gordon’s squidsense was tingling. He re-checked that everything and everyone was secured before Thunderbird Two could take off on the way to get the injured to hospital. Everything was as it should be but the tingling lingered in the back of his mind.

“Good to go back here, Virgil,” he relayed to his pilot over comms.

“FAB,” was the reply, simultaneous with the roar of VTOL as the giant aircraft began her ascent. “But something’s bothering you. Spill.”

“Squidsense is tingling.”

Having made sure the injured remained settled through take-off, Gordon made his way to his co-pilot seat. He’d barely sat down before contacting John.

“Hey, Thunderbird Five, give me a quick check in on Alan and Scott. I need to shift this uneasy feeling.”

He didn’t miss the concerned look Virgil shot across at him, but any comments he might have made were averted when the space above the dash lit up with John’s hologram.

“Funny you should ask that.” The furrow in John’s brow suggested nothing funny at all. “Alan’s fine, however I had some odd readings on Scott’s vitals, but now there’s nothing, and I can’t raise him on comms. His Security detail haven’t seen him since he returned to the apartment almost three hours ago. Eos is trying to track his phone, but it seems to be turned off.”

“It’s not like Scott to turn his phone off,” Virgil commented. “Could be a flat battery.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Virge. You’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking – something’s wrong.” Gordon was certain it was Scott that had sent his uncanny knack for sensing trouble into overdrive, and he was formulating a plan of action. “John, send his head of security up to check on him. Since we’re headed to New York with our injured passengers anyway, I’m gonna pay Scott a visit. Virgil can drop me off on the way past.”

Virgil had some thoughts on that, but when John came back to them with word from the head of Tracy Industries Security that Scott was not in his apartment all argument ceased.

They reached NYC in minutes. Rain began to fall as Thunderbird Two hovered above the apartment building long enough for a zipline to be deployed, Gordon to slide down, and the cable to be retrieved. Then, with a quick flare of her rear engines the great green beast was on her way to the hospital. By the time the roar of her engines had faded Gordon was already running down the stairs, heading for the penthouse.

***

Rain was falling. A heavy downpour, pelting the pavement. Scott was aware of the sound, and the sensation of drops falling on his face, and the fact that half his face was lying in water. And pain. A great deal of pain. He breathed out and water bubbled against his lips and nostrils. He tried to move his hand, to push himself up off the ground, but searing pain lanced through his head and for a second he had no sense of where up was. Then he blacked out again.

***

Inside Scott’s apartment Gordon searched for something that might tell him what had happened to his big brother. The security officer there with him was nervous and apologetic, but Gordon had no time for any of that. The other five officers that made up Scott’s night-time detail had headed out to search the immediate area, but no-one knew how long Scott had been gone so it was difficult to define how large an are they should search.

“John, I could really use some info right about now.”

“Eos has found his phone. Signal is pinging off towers in Long Island.”

“That’s nowhere near here, and Scott would have no reason to be there this late at night.” Gordon was finding it difficult to keep the looming panic out of his voice.

“Security Chief Anderson is sending TI officers out there now, and local law enforcement are looking into it as well.”

“You don’t think Scott’s there either.” It was not a question. Gordon’s mind was racing. He was missing something. A thought was trying to form somewhere in the back of his mind, but he wasn’t calm enough to give it time to voice itself.

“No,” John replied, still trying to work through what they knew and find answers too. “Anderson says they didn’t see him leave the apartment after 9pm. Eos is still screening CCTV footage, but there’s been no sign of Scott leaving or anyone else entering until we sent Anderson up here to investigate.”

“Wait, John, check the footage of for the rear of the building. I think I know why no one saw him leave.”

It had finally twigged. The thing Gordon was missing. The thing that was missing from the room, the reason Scott would leave the apartment late at night – coffee and pastry. Gordon was one of the few people who knew about Scott’s sneaky visits to the café. He exited the penthouse at a run, heading for the express elevator that would take him to the building’s parking lot and rear exit. He needed to follow Scott’s route, and he was prepared to leave no stone unturned in the search for any clue as to what had happened to Scott.

Once he was outside the rain pummelled his shoulders and began plastering his hair to his head as he hurried along the street towards the corner coffee shop. He couldn’t go too fast, scared he’d miss something as he swept his gaze from left to right, scanning every shadow, every nook and cranny. He came to the entrance of the narrow, dark ally and his squidsense became so active it almost hurt.

He spotted a rapidly disintegrating paper bag exposing soggy pastry, lying on the wet pavement next to an empty cardboard cup, it's contents long since washed away.

Entering the alley cautiously, still scanning everything in sight, Gordon found he needed more light and reached into his baldric for a glowstick, thankful he still had some left after the earlier rescue. Snapping it and holding it ahead of him to cast it’s green glow, he made his way past a couple of large, dirty dumpsters and then stopped short at the sight that greeted him. There was Scott, lying face down on the uneven ground, his face in a pothole, blood slowly oozing down the back of his neck from a nasty headwound and staining his sodden blue shirt.

Gordon forced himself to step forward through the initial paralysis of shock and hit his comm to call John as he knelt beside his brother. Fingers searching for a pulse on a wrist bereft of watch or comms with one hand while the other gently lifted Scott’s head from the puddle.

“I’ve got him, John!” There was a pulse, but Scott wasn’t breathing. “Shit, Scott! John, I’ve got a weak pulse but he’s not breathing. I’m administering CPR”

Gordon checked the airway was clear and rolled Scott onto his back to administer the necessary rescue breaths as he spoke.

“FAB.” The reply was clipped, emotionless in tone, which told Gordon exactly how John felt at that moment. “Virgil should be with you in less than two minutes.”

To Gordon’s great relief it took less than a minute for his brother to give a cough that expelled dirty water from blue-tinged lips. He rolled Scott into the recovery position and sat beside him, panting. One hand rested gently just above his brother’s hip feeling the rise and fall of the ribcage with every shallow breath, the other hand gently brushing limp, wet hair from his face. He took a moment to process the lack of jacket, and the absence of phone or wallet in the pockets of Scott’s pants. A mugging? Scott knew how to defend himself against a single attacker, this had to have been an ambush of some kind.

Gordon had questions, but for now he was just relieved his brother was breathing. His fingers gently brushed Scott’s forehead again and eyelids flickered open revealing blue eyes searching for the source of the touch. There was a shaky, deep inhale.

“Gordy?” Barely more than a croak.

“I’m here, Scott. I’ve got you.”

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