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dweetwise · 4 years

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day 16: bad day

prompt from: whumptober (tho i misread the title and can’t post to the challenge but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i still like it) pairing: felix x ace notes: felix’s day goes from bad to neutral to Nice (tm). also everyone except david is a shitty person in this lmao. warnings: implied emotional abuse, implied cheating, threat of violence word count: 2900

It was official; this was the worst day of Felix’s life.

It shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy, maybe a little shocked and nervous, but definitely excited. Not anxious, scared and downright spiteful like he felt right now.

His girlfriend was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but she was excited to tell him regardless, already thinking of baby names and giving Felix no room to voice any of his doubts. He knew this was what he claimed he’d always wanted, what he knew his parents wanted for him, to continue the family name since he was the last of his line.

He took another swig of the foul-tasting beer and wondered if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been not-so-subtly hinting at marriage for months, and Felix had always brushed her off. Maybe this was her taking matters into her own hands, forcing Felix to commit to her or drag down both his family name and professional image for having a child out of wedlock.

He didn’t want to marry her because she always seemed way more fond of his money than Felix himself, and he didn’t want to have kids because…

Well. He hated children.

He probably should have brought up that particular piece of information sooner, but he wasn’t sure it would have even made a difference. Not to his parents, not to his girlfriend, and certainly not to the ungodly amount of distant relatives and business associates who kept bugging him about settling down and starting a family.

Because, for some reason, dedicating the last twenty years of his life to doing what other people wanted him to do wasn’t enough.

He’d stupidly believed it would get better. That the twelve-hour work days and countless all-nighters on uninspiring projects would eventually pay off, when in reality all it had lead to were more boring projects. He’d thought buying his girlfriend expensive gifts and taking her on weekly dates followed by the obligatory weekly sex would make them fall in love, but instead she was pushing him into commitments he wasn’t ready for.

He downed the rest of the beer and tried to numb out the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He was doomed to keep living his shitty life exactly the way others dictated, and there was nothing he could do to change his fate.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen this bar. It wasn’t the usual high-end, after-hour cocktail bar next to his office where everyone would recognize him. It was a shitty sports bar owned and frequented by foreigners, where nobody would approach him to congratulate him on the “good news” after his girlfriend e-mailed his entire contacts list in her excitement.

He debated getting another beer, maybe finally being able to pick one that didn’t taste like piss. God, how sad was his life that the biggest act of rebellion he could come up with was getting drunk on cheap beer in a bad part of town?

Felix clutched the glass tighter in his hand, frustrated at his life but also at himself, how he was unable to do anything but play right into everyone else’s plans. Fuck, he needed to do something different, something he’d never even considered would be in the realm of possibilities for him. But what?

He looked around the bar, seeing a group of backpackers animatedly chatting in what sounded like Spanish. He could go travelling, but that wouldn’t accomplish much except buy him a little bit of time. Not to mention his girlfriend would guilt him until he let her come along.

He could always get blackout drunk and puke his guts out in the bathroom. Maybe get into a bar fight. Try to get his hands on some drugs. Hire a prostitute.

Unfortunately none of those things seemed even remotely more thrilling than the bland beer he’d been drinking the entire night.

Felix sighed and buried his face into his hands. For forty years, he’d kept telling himself he wasn’t like everyone else, that he’d do something meaningful in his life, that he was a risk taker and not a conformer.

And he still would; he just didn’t know what. If he only got a sign—

The door to the bar slammed open and Felix snapped his head up from the noise, his table rattling from the impact of the door hitting the wall.

There was a man, his grey hair and cheap suit both wet from the autumn rain, clutching something under his arm while panting like he’d just run a half marathon. He hurried to close the door, and Felix didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most exciting thing to happen all night.

The man caught Felix’s eye and gave a quick grin.

“You saw nothing,” he offered before running up to the bar.

“Don’t tell me ya fuckin’—” the bartender started, clear annoyance on his features.

“Oops, gotta run, I was never here!” the man offered good-naturedly before hopping over the bar and disappearing into the back.

“Ace for fuck’s sake!” the bartender cursed, yelling at the doorway to what had to be a back room or kitchen. Still, he made no move to follow him, instead sighing in agitation and aggressively started cleaning a couple of pint glasses.

Felix realized three things at once; one, the new customer screamed trouble. Two, he clearly knew the bartender. And three, Felix was intrigued.

He made his way to the bar with his empty glass, placing a ten euro bill on the worn wood that earned him a fresh glass of beer in only a couple of seconds. He appreciated that the bartender hadn’t tried to make small talk during the entire evening, and lamented the fact that he had to break the silence.

“Who is your friend?” Felix asked, trying to ignore the self-consciousness that always surfaced when he had to subject the world to his extremely obvious German accent.

“'Friend' is a strong word,” the bartender huffed in annoyance, though it seemed to be directed at the person they were talking about and not Felix. “'A pest who keeps comin' back like a boomerang no matter how many times I kick 'im out' sounds more fitting.”

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and sipped at his beer, deciding to sit down at the bar instead of returning to his table.

“He seems interesting,” Felix mused, trying to fish more information about the man.

Instead of humoring him, the bartender stopped cleaning the glasses and gave him an incredulous stare.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned. “The hell's a guy like you see in a rat like 'im?”

“That wasn't what I meant,” Felix insisted, staring at his glass in embarrassment. He was just curious, he wasn't… interested, at least not that way. God, why could he never communicate properly? This is why he never tried anything new.

He heard the bartender sigh long and loud, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with a similar situation.

“Look mate, whatever yer thinkin', don't,” he offered, like that was supposed to help Felix at all. “Guy's way more trouble than 'es worth, an' he sure as hell ain't here to make friends.”

Felix didn't have time to reply, not that he even knew what he would have said, before the door slammed open once again and heavy footsteps stomped into the bar.

“Oi!” the bartender shouted in annoyance. “Don't go draggin' mud into my bar!"

“Where is he?” one of the new patrons demanded in German, and his voice was threatening enough to make Felix glance over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

He saw a group of four men that looked like bad news, their cheap clothing and poorly made tattoos making Felix think of some lowly local gang.

“Read the sign, mate,” the bartender scoffed, pointing at a metal plaque in the style of a road sign that said ‘Service in English only’.

“What a fucking moron,” one of the thugs commented, not even attempting to switch languages.

“We know he's here!” the man at the front barked out and proceeded to slam a fist against the bar.

“I got no bloody clue what yer talkin' about!” the bartender claimed. “But if yer gonna come to my bar an' start a fight, so help me—”

"Let's just beat him up!” one of the men was getting impatient.

“For the last time, where is he!?” one of the thugs surged forward and grabbed the bartender by his collar.

“You've got the fuckin' wrong place, I dun know shit about what ya even want!” the bartender, to his credit, didn't even bat an eye. Then again, it looked like he could easily hold his own in a fight.

Felix heard a gasp and noticed one of the Spanish kids cower closer to the corner they were sitting in, observing the scene with fear in her eyes.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, and instead of making Felix want to bolt into the safety of his mansion, it made his adrenaline start pumping.

This was what he needed. A thrill.

“You heard the man,” Felix raised his voice, finally turning to address the group. “You're in the wrong place.”

“Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!” one of them eloquently responded.

“It started involving me when you barged in and ruined my night,” Felix explained calmly despite feeling his palms start sweating from nervousness, years of faking an unphased persona finally coming to use.

“Okay, the fuck's your problem!?” the guy who seemed to be the leader demanded, finally letting go of the bartender in favor of looming over Felix threateningly.

“I said,” he emphasized, slowly lifting his pint glass to take a sip of his drink and flash his ring with the family insignia. “You've got the wrong place.”

There was a moment of silence when all Felix heard was his own heart beating in his ears, keeping his expression neutral and looking at the thugs like they were nothing more than a fleck of dirt on his expensive suit. Hopefully, they'd recognize the symbol, even if the Richters hadn’t been involved in the local underworld for years, not after the disappearance of his parents.

“The fuck is he on about?” one of the men, who looked to be the youngest, demanded. “Let's just beat them both up and—”

“Shut up,” the leader barked, glancing at Felix fleetingly. “We seem to have gotten lost on the way.”

Felix couldn’t help the smug smile.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

The group slowly started slinking out of the bar without further complaints, with Felix's eyes following them the entire time as if daring them to protest.

“Sorry for bother,” one of them even offered to the bartender in questionable English before the door closed after them.

“I'll be damned,” the bartender huffed and crossed his arms, giving Felix a look that could generously be described as somewhat impressed. Felix offered a shaky smile in return before he focused all his attention on staring at the surface of the bar and trying not to tremble from fear as the adrenaline left his body. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was taking unnecessarily deep breaths and that cold sweat was running down his back under the suit.

That had been the most idiotic thing he had ever done. It was stupid, it was dangerous, and unnecessary and—

And he'd never felt such a rush of absolute victory before.

There was a thud as a beer was placed in front of him, and he glanced up to see the bartender smirking at him.

“It's on the house,” he said in a heavily accented but otherwise fluent German.

Well. It seemed this night was just full of surprises.

Soon after, Felix found himself sitting in a corner booth nursing his two beers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt good, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol buzzing in his system.

He’d proved to himself that he had balls. He was one wrong move away from ending up in a bar fight, and even that thought didn't make him cower in fear like it would have before. Despite never being in a fight before, his confidence was soaring, and he liked to imagine him and the bartender could have easily taken the four thugs.

And then his night only got better as a handsome stranger slid down into the opposite side of the booth.

“So, King told me you saved my ass just now,” the man said with a charming smile, casually leaning closer and propping his chin up on his elbow like they were old friends catching up.

It took Felix longer than he'd like to recognize the man as the one that caught his attention earlier. Without the baseball cap, sunglasses and cheap suit jacket, he cleaned up rather well, dressed in a simple light pink button-up and jeans. Slightly messy, silver hair was a stark contrast to the mischievous brown eyes and almost youthful, cocky smirk on his face.

Felix suddenly realized why the bartender thought he was interested in more than just the man's colorful personality.

“I suppose that's true,” Felix said after a way longer silence than was socially acceptable, but his companion was courteous not to mention anything.

“Well, whether you meant to or not, you have my thanks!” the man grinned good-naturedly. “I would have bought you a beer, but I see David's already got you covered,” he added, gesturing to the two pints where Felix was still working through his first.

“Yes, it's…” Felix started, debating whether he should be honest about his distaste for the drink or not. Fuck it, drunk and brave had worked earlier. “A shame it doesn't make it taste any better.”

The man barked out a laugh and Felix smiled at the success of his joke.

“I know, right?” his companion snickered. “I keep telling him to mix it up, maybe get some nice wines too, but he insists on importing that awful stuff the Brits call beer.”

Felix smiled politely, not knowing what to add to the statement. Regardless of what the bartender—David?—had claimed before, the two definitely seemed to be friends.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners!” the man suddenly seemed to realize, offering his hand over the table. “I'm Ace.”

“Felix,” Felix replied, returning the handshake firmly, like his father and numerous career coaches had taught him.

“So, Felix,” Ace continued, retracting his hand but leaning over the table even further. “What brings you here? I think I'd remember seeing someone like you before.”

Was that flirting? It had been so long since anyone had showed any interest in Felix, he couldn’t even recognize what was just casual conversation, too used to business world small talk about the stock market and someone's secretary's family.

“I needed a change,” Felix said, before realizing he probably shouldn't be revealing too much. “—of scenery,” he hastily added.

Ace regarded him silently for a few heartbeats and Felix gulped down some beer to try not to fret under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Scenery, huh?" Ace hummed. "Seen anything you like so far?”

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Felix stared at Ace's face, but the other wasn’t giving anything away. And Felix thought he was good a keeping a straight face.

“Maybe,” he answered simply, keeping eye contact much longer than appropriate on purpose.

Ace didn't look away and Felix wondered if he was the only one who noticed the tension in the air.

He always sucked at flirting, even in his native tongue, and now he had to do it in broken English. He thought he'd been pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t sure if Ace was just being friendly. Maybe he wasn’t even into men.

Well, to be fair Felix didn't think he was either, university time experimentation aside. There was something about this particular night, like he was desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable of making decisions for himself.

He’d always thought he wouldn't cheat, but he also knew that if Ace offered, he wasn’t going to say no. If this was the only thing in his life he still had control over, he was going to make the most of it, and he no longer cared if that made him a bad person.

“You know, I've stayed in a bunch of different hotels in the area while I've been here,” Ace mentioned out of the blue, and Felix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “There's a pretty good one just down the street.”

Felix swallowed, at last realizing what the other was getting at.

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his suddenly surfacing nerves.

“Yup. Kinda cozy, very… discreet,” Ace chirped casually, like he was talking about the weather and not propositioning a stranger.

Felix cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket, managing to fish out a crumpled twenty euro bill despite his sweaty palms. He slapped the money on the table, hoping the tip would convey his gratitude to David for setting him up for the best night of his life.

Finally, he stood up from the booth and offered Ace a nervous smile that probably made it glaringly obvious just how eager he was.

“Lead the way."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #david king #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace #abusive relationship tw

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likethetailofacomet · 5 years

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Hold My Girl Part 2: One Hard Second

A/N: So, I really hate splitting things into parts and I try not to do it, but just like with Talk, this chapter needed a hard split. Also, doing this made me nauseous, FYI.

Pairing: Drake x Claire (MC), Liam x Kiara

Warnings: Gun violence, language, character death

Word Count: 4,188

Song: Hold My Girl, George Ezra

“Liam,” Claire kept her voice low as she let the prince lead her around the dance floor. “Liam, are you alright? I mean, with the attack earlier…how, how are you holding up?” She tried not to let concern show on her face, knowing that everyone in the room was analyzing every movement of their eyebrows, every twitch of their lips. She kept her frame sharp and focused on her footwork hoping that if she didn’t falter the night would somehow be easier for him. Safer. She looked into his eyes as he returned her from a spin and saw the burden o the crown already resting there.

“I’m…” he let out a small breath. “Claire, I’m afraid. That it’s not over, that everything is happening so quickly, that,” he broke off, spinning her again as the dance demanded, pausing for a few beats with her back to his chest. “That something might happen to someone that I love.” He said the last part into her ear, and the way that his voice wavered shot a chill down the back of her neck. Her eyes landed on Drake, standing across the room by the bar. Her heart lurched to a stop like a train on rusty tracks at the thought of anything happening to him, the man who had shown her that it was alright to love again, who had given her his whole heart. End of the Line. The hastily scrawled words across the glass of the picture frame would be forever etched in her mind, and she knew that they would haunt her until anyone associated with the seven devils- Alex especially- was caught. Just as Liam began to spin her back, she caught a glimpse of someone walking towards Drake.

_ _ _ _

“We need to talk, Walker.”

He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, eyes glued to the woman dancing with his best friend. He hadn’t heard her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floor, ears still ringing with the reverberating gun shots in his mind, reliving the moment he’d dragged Claire to the ground fearing it might have been his last chance to hold her.

“Drake,” she was standing right in front of him now, blocking his view as Liam spun Claire back into his arms out on the floor, her gown billowing around her ankles like she was dancing on a cloud, ethereal, angelic. His dark eyes met those of the woman in front of him, focused and alert. “Drake,” she said again, “We need to talk. Now.” She gripped his elbow and steered him a few feet away from the bar, behind an ornately carved stone pillar.

“Olivia, hey! What’s going- I don’t want to-“ he protested, trying to crane his neck to keep Claire in his sight. He hadn’t spoken to Olivia since that night in Lythikos, the glow from the fire’s light glinting off that hardened look in the Duchess’ eyes as she tore open his old wounds. If this was her attempt at an apology, he still wasn’t interested in hearing it.

“I don’t care, Drake, it’s not about you. It’s about Liam. It’s about her,” she said quickly, urgently. It caught his attention entirely, left his mouth hanging open.

“What about her, Liv?” he asked, heartrate quickening, eyes darting around the room looking for signs of danger. He scanned the room quickly, noting that the guards still stood by every door, and that the doors to the balconies that were normally flung open were shuttered closed to cut down on entrance points. He saw Bastien in place behind the Royal Family’s table, speaking into his earpiece, laser focus in his metallic eyes. Nothing appeared to be out of order, although Drake knew better than to make assumptions based on appearances. He turned back to Olivia. “What about her? What about Liam? What are you talking about?” The words were spilling from him in rapid fire succession.

“I’m talking about the very real threats that were made, Walker.” She emphasized his name as if to remind him that someone was gunning for him, too. “I’m talking about how that scuffle before couldn’t have been all that they were planning, and-“ Her eyes flashed and he noted an underlying tinge of sorrow to her tone. “I’m talking about giving them a little more credit. I’m talking about how that could have been a distraction, make us all feel safe, like we’d caught them.” She paused and Drake saw that flash in her eyes again, felt something close to forgiveness for her as she stood before him trying to keep safe the people he loved. “Drake. What if they meant to be caught?”

_ _ _ _

Claire felt her pulse relax as she recognized the person approaching Drake as Olivia, although she wondered what the Duchess would have to say to him now. She watched Olivia lead him behind a pillar and surmised that it was something of great importance from her body language: her hand gripping his elbow, white knuckled; her movements quick and precise. The two of them ducked behind the pillar and Claire lost sight of them, returning her focus to Liam. She could tell that her time on the floor with him was drawing to a close by the way that the song was progressing, and from the steps of the dance that she had surprisingly committed to memory over the course of the season. She had little time left to speak her mind and try to reach him. “And the people you love…Liam…” she looked at him with all the sincerity that she could muster. “Liam, do you love Kiara?”

Liam’s eyebrows came together slightly, lips turning down just a touch in a frown. His hand on hers tightened a bit. “Claire, I-“

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, so small that her chandelier earrings didn’t even sway, but Liam noticed. “Liam, look, I’m sorry, I know how this must sound, but, are…” her teeth pulled her bottom lip, bright red and plump, between them as she paused. “Are you sure about Kiara? Really sure? I just-“ Now or never, Claire. “Just, it seems strange to me how everyone is just going along like everything is fine, and…and Liam, I don’t trust her.” She brought up the few uneasy interactions that she’d had with Kiara over the season. “Liam, please, I just care about you and I…I want everyone to be safe and,” her eyes roved over to the pillar where Drake and Olivia had emerged. “And I don’t trust her.”

“Claire, I do appreciate your concerns, and,” his face softened. “And I know that Lady Kiara and the others weren’t very…accepting of you in the beginning, but…Kiara…” the look in his eyes turned wistful.“She means well, I know she does. I’ve known her and her family almost my entire life…I know her, Claire. I know that she can come off as…abrupt, or cold, even, uncaring, but…” he smiled, his eyes flickering with affection. “But you don’t know her like I do. And…” he sighed. “And to answer your question…yes…I’m…I’m falling in love with her, Claire.”

Claire thought back to the venom she’d seen in Kiara’s eyes, the disdain she’d heard in her voice. She wondered if she could have misread something, but her ability to read people was one of her greatest talents. Aside from Alex, she told herself, so maybe… But no, she was sure she was right about Kiara. She needed to find a way to make him see, all the while knowing how impossible of a task it was; Liam was right- he'd known Kiara all his life. Why would he suddenly believe the word of someone he'd only met a few weeks ago? She shook her head and asked, “What did Olivia have to say? I know she was talking to you before…” Claire knew it was abrupt, but she was running out of time. “She doesn’t trust her either, does she?”

Liam sighed again. “Olivia…” he twirled Claire beneath his raised arm. “She doesn’t trust anyone…” he said sadly.

“Liam. Kiara… she…she asked me where Drake’s cabin was. When she and I rode back from Applewood together? She asked me, and then just days later, someone had found us there. And Micah was her personal guard, and now…well, maybe all along…he’s with these Seven Devils, and…please, Liam, just…please think about what Olivia and I are saying, okay? Please, I…” he looked into her eyes and she could tell how conflicted it was making him to hear these things from her and from Olivia. “I’m afraid of something happening to the people that I love, too.” The song was ending and Claire hoped beyond hope that something she’d said to him had clicked.

Liam brought her hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Lady Claire, it has truly been an honor getting to know you, getting to call you a friend. It has been a pleasure to see you and Drake find one another. You are a spectacular woman, Claire Berkley. Thank you, for everything.” Claire nodded and curtsied, following protocol, as she allowed Liam to walk her back to the edge of the dance floor, head swimming with worry and hope.

_ _ _ _

Drake was waiting for her as Liam went off to find Lady Hana for her turn on the floor, his mind turning over with the conversation he'd just had with Olivia.

“Look, Drake,” she'd said, her voice taking on a quality he'd never heard from her, “I know I've hurt you. I've hurt you over and over again, and I do not deserve a chance at an apology.” He'd tried to interrupt her then, recognizing that different tone in her voice as sincerity. “No,” she'd held her hand up. “No, let me finish,” she looked down before meeting his eyes again, and he could have sworn he saw her swallow down some of her emotion. “I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I know that. But the least I can do is try to make sure that you get your goddamn happy ending, Walker, because you do deserve it. So I'll watch out for Claire. If anything...” she took a shuddering breath and he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “If anything happens...I'll look out for her. I'll keep her safe for you.”

“Hey,” she whispered up at him, face tilted upwards, eyes trying to hide how scared she was, and suddenly he couldn't keep the charade up any longer; he needed to hold her and he didn't care who saw or what they thought. His throat tightened until he couldn't get a breath in or out, until he couldn't stop himself from reaching for her face, from drawing her into his arms and holding her against his chest. He felt her own chest heave against him with a surprised breath, noted the way his biceps curved around the contour of her back, felt his fingertips absorb the feel of her skin, brushing them along her thin arms.

“Berkley,” he exhaled her name into her soft hair before he released his hold on her, stepping back to drink her in with his eyes before gripping her hand and pulling her behind the pillar Olivia had dragged him behind. He pressed her against the cool stone and kissed her with reckless abandon, his mouth devouring hers, his hips lurching forward to meet hers. He felt her sigh into the kiss before he ended it, before it would be impossible to do so. He rested his forehead against hers for a beat as they both returned to breathing air from their own lungs.

“Claire,” he finally said her name as the song playing on the other side of the pillar came to a close. Only two more suitors for Liam to dance with, only two more songs to get through before she'd be taken off with the other ladies to be announced for the official engagement ceremony. Drake felt his stomach flip and clench at the thought of them being separated even if it was just for a bit, even if she would have Olivia looking out for her. “Claire, listen, stick with Olivia, okay? When they take all the suitors for the announcement,” he was running the fingers of his left hand down the side of her face, his eyes shining with a desire to do whatever was necessary to keep her safe. “When they take you all out into the hall, promise me that you'll stick with Liv, okay? She...” he looked down at his shoes and when he looked back up he felt a tear slipping past his bottom eyelid and swallowed the rest of them. “She promised me she'd keep you safe if,” he cleared his throat but couldn't finish, didn't need to.

Claire nodded and reached up for his hand, still touching her face. Her fingers curled around his wrist and she felt the way his pulse was racing. As she brushed the pads of her fingers against his skin he let out a breath and the beat beneath her fingers slowed a bit to a more normal pace. “And you promise me that you'll stay safe, too, okay Drake? Promise me.”

He felt a cold wave crash through the cavity of his chest, icy water surrounding his heart and slipping in and over his ribs, chilling the blood in his veins. He didn't let on to it as he promised her whatever she wanted him to. Time was passing with exponential speed, and they were vaguely aware of Liam and Kiara twirling out on the floor behind them. As the song passed the half way mark, Drake took Claire in his arms loosely and swayed back and forth with her, forgetting the rigid rules of the waltz and letting her rest her head against him. “Some day, Berkley, someday we'll be able to dance, just like this, as close as want, wherever we want, and I'll be able to hold you whenever I want, and no one will be able to stop us.” “Some day,” she said. “Some day soon.” Her voice was dreamy and he could hear how hopeful she was, could feel how hopeful she made him. When the music came to a close he steadied their movements and stood in the stillness, in the dark behind the pillar with the only woman for him, unwilling to let her go. She seemed just as unwilling to leave, and they stayed there until Bertrand's voice came from the podium, announcing that the suitors should assemble for the engagement ceremony.

Drake sighed and patted her shoulder as she clutched him tighter. “That's you, beautiful,” he said softly. “It's going to be alright, baby, just remember what I said, okay? Stick with Olivia. Stay safe, and I'll see you in a few minutes. After the engagement, it's just a quick ceremony for the coronation and then you and I are home-free,” he tucked her hair back in place and kissed her forehead. “I'll be waiting, okay? I love you, Claire.” he leaned down and kissed her sweetly, a quick peck.

“I love you, Drake. I'll see you soon,” she said it with as much conviction as she could, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. “I love you,” she said again as she slipped away, around the pillar, and towards the tall red haired woman that had promised to look out for her.

_ _ _ _

Penelope and Hana had been announced first, and had made their entrances though the ornate double doors and into the ballroom to the applause of the entire court, their gowns sparkling beneath the lights of the chandelier. They were received by the King and Queen in the center of the room, before taking the final few steps across the floor to where Liam stood. The Prince greeted each Lady with a kiss on the hand and a smile, and they stepped off to his side. Drake tried to keep his breaths even as he stood with Maxwell and Bertrand, watching the ridiculous parade of suitors, eyes flicking from Liam to Bastien to the door that he knew Claire would come through. Olivia came next and he shuffled from foot to foot hoping that Claire would follow. Olivia kept her head high as she strode out to meet Constantine and Regina, her sharp eyes locked on Liam as she presented her hand for him to kiss. Drake saw her lean in to whisper something to the prince before she took her place next to Hana and Penelope. Okay, Berkley, you're up, he thought, staring at the door, waiting for it to open. His eyes swept the room once more, looking for any sign of Alex or anyone that didn't belong before she would be on display, alone and vulnerable in the center of the room.

As the doors opened, a distant BOOM rumbled through the estate, shaking the floor and causing a collective gasp and shout to fill the room. Drake's palms were sweating and his skin crawled as his balance was challenged by the explosion. His hands flew to his hair, and his eyes widened as the door flew open and he saw her. Her name fell from his lips as he registered the look of fear on her face, the arms of the man that held her in front of him, the knife that was pressed to her throat. He felt the world shrink, his vision honing in on the point of Alex's knife; on the pinprick of crimson against the soft porcelain skin of her throat. He felt reality slip away as the blade bit deeper and the pinprick turned to a slow stream running down to stain the lace neckline of her gown. She let out a strangled, painful sob that pierced deep into his chest stopping his heart short. It stayed stagnant, missing a few beats as Alex leaned in to whisper something to her, pressing the blade harder into her flesh, wrenching that sound from her again, pulling pain from her again. All at once his heart came back, restarted with the sole purpose of crossing the room and getting to her, getting her away from Alex. Sound and color came rushing back to him as the room came back into view. He was vaguely aware of Bastien's presence behind him, of Liam a few steps ahead of him and to the left. He started moving in the same direction as Liam and noticed Kiara, being held a few feet from Claire by a dark haired man whose glasses magnified the malicious look in his eyes. Drake knew he should stop Liam, that he shouldn't be heading towards danger, but his one and only thought was on Claire. He forced his legs to turn over faster, felt the floor hard beneath the soles of his shoes. That's when the second BOOM tore through the room, louder and closer, and with not a half a second to spare, Drake crossed the center of the ballroom as the chandelier came crashing down. He registered Constantine shoving the Queen to safety, but didn't see the King again, the sound of crystal shattering, the dust of the roof collapsing as the chandelier came down swallowing the man completely.

He coughed and gasped as the dust settled a bit, enough for his eyes to find Liam, who'd reached Kiara and was engaging the man who held her captive. “Anton Severus, let her go, your quarrel is with me,” he was pleading, reaching for Kiara. Suddenly, the frightened look in the woman's eyes hardened, and she reached up to the knife at her throat, curling her fingers around it and taking it from her captor.

“Actually, my prince, your quarrel is with me,” and with that, she plunged the knife to the hilt in Liam's side, his blue eyes widening with hurt and confusion. Drake felt helpless as his friend fell to the ground, and was only vaguely aware of Olivia moving behind the man, Anton, before he too fell to the floor. He saw a silver flash and knew she must have used one of her concealed daggers. His heart pounded with a need to know if Liam was alright, but he saw Bastien already by his side and knew there was nothing more he could do.

Bodies blurred across his vision as people fled the ballroom screaming, as others entered it, guns drawn. And as though time were stopping to let him catch up, he locked eyes with Claire again, and in an instant he was back in motion, lungs burning with how his breathing was wracking his chest as he made his way towards her, his mind on overdrive with what he would do to Alex when he got to them. He reached out with his left hand and with viper precision closed his fingers around Alex's wrist, pulling the blade down and away from Claire's throat as Alex grunted angrily. Though he wasn't a small man, Drake made quick work of throwing him to the ground, his back slamming hard against the marble, surely breaking a rib or two. In nothing flat he was on top of him, still grasping the wrist that held the knife while Alex fought to use it on him. In a flash Drake twisted Alex's arm up and behind his back, wrenching it until he felt every last tendon and muscle in the shoulder tear, until Alex involuntarily dropped the knife, screaming in agony. Drake took the blade and used it against the man it belonged to, feeling sick as he watched the life drain from Alex's cold eyes, but regretting nothing, knowing that he had done what he had to do. Nauseous and dizzy, he stood, eyes blinking until they found her, a few feet away. “Claire,” he gasped her name and took a step, arms already spread wide to gather her up when her face turned tissue paper white and she screamed his name with all the fear he'd heard from her in the middle of the night, when her nightmares were playing visions in her mind. “DRAKE! DRAKE NO!”

A loud bang deafened him as prickling heat spread through his shoulder blade and he grunted out a breath, staggering forward. He blinked and looked up at her questioningly, seeing the panic in her eyes and the trembling of her body as another bang echoed in the room and her voice cried out “NO!” again as he felt himself fall. A white blur passed his eyes and he could feel her next to him, though with every second his vision faded and the fire in the back of his shoulder intensified. Another bang resounded behind them and another body slumped to the ground, his attacker, but he tried to focus his eyes on Claire as she knelt beside him cradling him in her lap. “Cl-Claire,” he choked her name, a growing pressure spreading through his chest and body, and he tried to reach for her but found his arms unable to move. “Cl-Claire, you...you have to...”

“Drake,” tears were pouring from her eyes, her mouth contorted in agony as she pressed her hands to the two wounds on his back, his head laying sideways on her lap, his blood soaking into the fabric of her dress. “Drake, stay with me!” she was begging him, her whole body shaking. “Stay with me, you promised!” she sobbed.

“I-” he grunted, “I did...but you have to...”

“I'm not leaving you!” she protested, her voice barely audible as she pressed her lips to his face. “I won't leave you...”

“You...have...to,” he rasped, his chest heaving with the strain of speaking. Suddenly Olivia was there, her strong hands closing around Claire's arms and lifting the woman off of the floor.

“Hey! No! No! Liv!” she was flailing against Olivia's grasp, but the Duchess was stronger.

“Berkley...go...with Liv...you pr-promised,” he trained his eyes on her as she went limp in Olivia's arms.

“Come on, Claire, we have to go. The medics are coming and we can't be in the way. Come on...we'll meet them at the hospital but we have to get out of here.” As if to drive her point another gunshot went off somewhere in the room, and Olivia used the momentary distraction to drag Claire away from Drake, even as she sobbed and screamed.

Drake watched her recede into the hall with Olivia until his vision was too fuzzy and he felt his eyes slipping shut. A cold sheet fell over him, almost pleasantly numbing the heat of the two gunshots he took in the back, and he struggled against oblivion, mind repeating one thought over and over and over: this can't be it. I need more time. More time to hold her. It was the last thought he could recall.

_ _ _ _

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog

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jessejackreyes · 7 years

Text

Before It’s Too Late Ch.9 A Walk

(also on ao3)

Walking along the streets with Jack felt oddly domestic. They were dressed like civilians, had just finished dinner like civilians and Jack was taking him somewhere mysterious. He wasn’t sure exactly if that last part was something civilians did frequently, but it was exciting to say the least. The only thing missing from this picture, in his mind, was the two of them holding hands while they walked.

They strode along in companionable silence which suited Gabriel just fine. It was nice not having to worry about what to say and simply join each other’s company. They have not been able to simply relax together in quite some time and he intended to simply enjoy the ride. He trusted that Jack would take them somewhere nice, not lead him on. Despite everything that might have happened he knew the man hated being deceitful.

“Wait here,” Jack called out suddenly, breaking the silence they had developed. They paused briefly on the sidewalk until Jack was satisfied that he was not going to follow him. “Be right back.” Jack disappeared into a nearby shop before Gabriel could respond.

He was at too extreme of an angle to see into the store through the front windows. All he could see was the majority of the sign above the door. It was unfortunate that he didn’t speak German like Jack did, he might be able to at least guess what kind of place Jack was shopping at. The curiosity wasn’t enough to tempt him to move from this spot like he was asked. Seeing Jack excited was worth way more than that.

The soft smile adorning Jack’s face as he returned some ten minutes latter was more than worth any anxiety the mystery might have caused. His hands were hidden behind his back when he finally reached where Gabriel was waiting for him. Jack’s smile only grew wider as Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the display.

“Close your eyes,” He grumbled but did as he was told. “Now open your mouth,”

“This is getting a bit ridiculous Jack,” He complained softly, eyes still shut tight.

“I know, but just trust me Gabe,” Gabriel sighed, but opened his mouth obediently, trusting that nothing untowards would happen. He briefly felt something thin and plastic carefully hit his tongue, followed almost immediately by the sweet creaminess of ice cream, the sweetest strawberry ice cream he had ever tasted. He opened his eyes to Jack smiling softly at him holding an empty spoon, their faces oddly close. Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat.

“Best strawberry ice cream in town apparently,” The blonde explained, pulling a bag out from behind his back.

“My favorite,”

“I know,” The bag held two rather large buckets of ice cream, the first one strawberry, the second one he wasn’t sure of yet, but he could guess. “It’s been forever since we last binged on some ice cream,”

“Haven’t really needed it without those scientists torturing us every week,” Gabriel answered simply, reaching out to take the bucket meant for him.

“No, just dealing with soul crushing greed and politicians who seem to want to kill more people than the damn machines ever did,” His tone is light and joking, but Gabriel doesn’t miss the way his eyes don’t seem in on the joke. Jack opened his own bucket of ice cream with far more force than necessary.

“Don’t tell me you got one of those chocolate monstrosities again,” Gabriel said with a smirk, changing the subject to something more fun.

“I’ve known you for well over a decade and I still can’t get how anyone could hate chocolate,” Jack scooped a spoonful of dark brown frozen goodness and placed it in his mouth, practically moaning at the taste to emphasize his point. “It’s sooo good Gabe,”

Gabriel was grateful at that very moment that it had always been hard to read when he was blushing. He had imagined Jack saying things like that, making noises like that in a very different situation, much more often than he would ever admit to anyone. It was difficult not to picture what he would look like underneath Gabriel when he made sounds like that. He couldn’t trust himself to speak at that very moment, so he stuffed his mouth with ice cream instead.

Perhaps Jack didn’t know what to say either because the two of them made their way back to the car slowly and quietly. Gabriel tried to focus on the ice cream and how it tasted; it was delicious after all. But, he cast sidelong glances at the strike commander as they walked, watching him try to enjoy his own bitter sweet treat.

“Hey Gabe,” Jack broke the silence softly, the slightest hesitation in his voice.

“Whats up?” His attention was drawn to Jack’s face. The man seemed nervous and that was making Gabriel feel nervous.

“Thanks,” The gratitude hung heavily in the air between them.

“It’s no big deal,” He tried to wave it off, sticking more ice cream in his mouth.

“It kind of is,” Jack muttered back softly. “You didn’t have to do any of this,” Gabriel merely shrugged it off, not trusting his voice at the moment. “I’m serious Gabe. You pull me out of bed, sneak me off base, despite the potential consequences, so I can have a dinner I’ve been talking about having for years. I got to escape being the strike commander for a few hours for the first time in I don’t even know how long. I really needed this Gabe. Thank you,”

“You really should get away more often Jackie. You’re working yourself into an early grave,”

“Its the job I signed up for,” Jack sighed, ingesting his own big scoop of ice cream.

“You shouldn’t run yourself ragged like this,” He continued when Jack didn’t respond. “We all worry about you,” Jack stopped mid stride, tensing at the words, his shoulders squaring like he was preparing for a fight. Gabriel stopped, chastising himself, mind racing to find the right thing to say to avert an argument. He came up with nothing, so he simply reminded himself to stay calm and not get upset just because Jack was yelling. Jack opened his mouth and sighed, deflating.

“I’m sorry,”

“About what?”

“A lot of things,” Jack sighed. “But right now, about getting upset while you’re just trying to help.”

“It’s okay Jackie. I know how much stress you’re under,” Gabriel replied, attempting to smile reassuringly. “I’m not gonna get mad because you snapped a little.”

“Thank you,” Jack repeated softly. “For everything.”

“You might not feel the same way when we're cooking. I can be quite the taskmaster,” Jack grinned weakly back at that.

“The return of commander hardass?” They began walking again, shortly reaching the car.

“Oh he never left. You just don't see it because I'm not your commander anymore,”

“At the very least I should be pretty good by the time I finish, even if the guy in charge is kind of an asshole,’

The ride back was quiet. At some point Jack turned the radio on and the sound of music he didn't recognize filled the car. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable at the very least, but Gabriel was still kicking himself for turning things to such a sour note near the end. They made it back to base without incident, no one was going to stop and bother Gabriel. They made it back to Jack’s quarters with no one apparently having noticed his absence.

“Thank you again for this evening Gabe,” The door opened with a slight whooshing sound as Jack spoke. “It was wonderful.” He stepped inside, turning to face Gabriel with a smile.

“Oh well,” The words he wanted to speak got stuck in his throat. “It was nothing really,” Was all he managed to get out. They stood their, on opposite sides of the doorway awkwardly for several seconds.

“I should probably get some sleep since I have the opportunity right now,” Jack scratched the back of his neck.

“Sounds like a good idea yeah,” Gabriel replied softly. There were so many other things he wanted to say, to do. He froze up, like usual when faced with talking about his feelings with Jack and simply said. “I’ll see ya round,”

“Yeah. Good night Gabe,”

The door closed with another whoosh and instead of Jack’s soft smile and bright blue eyes, he was staring at dull lifeless metal. He buried his head in his hands cursing quietly. This had been just about the perfect time to talk to him about what was going on between them and he had frozen up and missed it. It seemed like they were both trying, if Gabriel wasn’t misreading things. But, they were both hesitating to put any of it into words. He stood there for a few minutes, berating himself and trying to build up enough courage to actually do something for once.

His hands moved quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, putting in the code he had to Jack’s room to talk to him about this, to stop running away. He was not sure exactly what he was going to say, but he was worried that if it wasn’t said now, it would never happen at all. He had not expected the door to open and see Jack standing on the other side staring back at him, as if the blonde had been standing on the other side of the door thinking about what had just happened as well. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Gabriel found his voice.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” Jack moved to one side of the door, gesturing for Gabriel to enter. He gathered every ounce of courage he had and walked in. He turned to face Jack as the door closed behind him and he swallowed thickly.

“We need to talk,”

#reaper76 #r76 #jack morrison #gabriel reyes #fanfic #ao3

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