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#anyways hello !!! hi !!!!! i have been so behind on assignments and i got food poisoning and i'm constantly nauseous and i hate myself!!!!
strawbebyjam · 3 years
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was gonna cry before my next class but then my cousin showed up on the balcony (that i did not know existed outside our room's window) and said hi (did not know people could see inside...) so that's cancelled
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pastel-midget · 3 years
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Cherry Blossoms | Part Two
<Female Version> 
-   ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ [🌸Week One: Monday🌸] ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
Part One
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╔════•| ✿ |•════╗
        Unknown Number
Hey
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
Do I know you?
        Unknown Number
I saw you stalking an upperclassman today
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
Do you have a problem with that?
        Unknown Number
No
I wanted to give you some information about the boy she was with
His name is Naruto Uzumaki and he has a crush on her
He believes in the myth about the cherry tree behind the school
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
The myth that if you confess your love to someone underneath that tree on a Friday, they are guaranteed to accept your confession?
        Unknown Number
Correct.
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
Why are you telling me this?
        Unknown Number
He's planning to confess to her next Friday
I would be happy if something bad happened to Naruto-Kun
I think you might be the right person that gives him what he deserves
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
Who are you?
        Unknown Number
I'm the person nicknamed 'Info-chan' at school
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪 has changed Unknown Number to 🖥️ Info-chan 🖥️
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
I've heard rumors about you
You blackmail girls and sell panty shots to boys
        🖥️ Info-chan 🖥️
The rumors are true
If you ever need a favor, text me a panty shot and I'll give you whatever support I can
If you want to know personal information about anyone at our school, just send me a photograph of their face and I'll tell you everything I know about them
🔪 Yan-Kun 🔪
You're disgusting
        🖥️ Info-chan 🖥️
And you're a stalker
If you want my help, text me
If you don't care, ignore me
You have one week until your precious 'senpai' belongs to Naruto-kun
I hope you make him suffer~
╚════•| ✿ |•════╝
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        "Ugh! You can be such a pain, Senpai! I can't believe you overslept again! It's just like back in middle school!" a blonde said scolding an [H/D] student
        [Name] laughed nervously as they rubbed the back of their neck sighing. This is the norm for [Name] Sarutobi. They've always been known for running late ever since middle school. However this is their last year in high school so every moment counts. "I'm not your personal alarm clock, y'know! You can't rely on me to wake you up every day." The blonde continued scolding [Name]. "Well if it's bothering you Naruto we can stop walking to school together in the morning." "... No... That- that's not what I... Just forget it okay?" Naruto said.
This is Naruto Uzumaki. He is notorious for his tsunderish ways and his very noticeable crush on his Senpai, [Name].
Across the yard staring and the two trying to decipher what's happening is an orange headed male. This is Kuruma, he used to be the leader of the martial arts club. Yahiko is now the club leader, after beating Kuruma in a battle. Kuruma is Naruto's best friend and is always with Naruto.
        "Anyways, I want you to meet me on the school rooftop at lunchtime. Got it?" Naruto demanded. "Why?" "Stop being so difficult! Just be there, alright? And don't keep me waiting!" "Okay fine." [Name] agreed. "Good!" Naruto said before walking over to where Kuruma was standing. Inconspicuously, a black haired male was seen hiding behind the trees, scowling at the blonde who had the balls to talk to HIS SENPAI-
This boy is Sasuke Uchiha. He...he's not like the rest of the students. Ever since he was little he had always felt empty, like something was missing.  On the first day of his second year in high school, Sasuke bumped into his "Senpai," at that moment everything was filled with color, he could suddenly now feel emotions...and it was wonderful. They did this to him, Senpai made him feel alive. At this moment Sasuke decided "Senpai" was HIS.
After changing their shoes, [Name] walked to the fountain and sat at the edge reading a book.
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        "Don't you think that was a little mean?" "I can't help it, every time I'm with them I get all embarrassed and I don't know what to say. My only response is to say mean things." Naruto replied with a sigh. "Did you bring it?" The other male asked Naruto. "Yeah, but what if they don't like it?"
        "You'll be fine." Kurama reassured Naruto before walking towards the school with Naruto. Naruto and Kuruma talked for a while before Naruto got a call on his phone. He ran towards an empty spot in the hallway on the first floor. "Hello? -UGH! I told you to stop calling me, you creep! -How many times do I have to say it? -I'm! Not! Interested! -If you don't stop bothering me, I'm gonna call the cops and- ...Wait- What? -Are you... Serious?"
        "Okay. Okay, fine! I won't call the police. -Look, this is a bad time for me. -We'll talk about this later. -Just... Don't do anything rash, okay?" Click! "Augh... Why did something like this have to happen..." Naruto said finishing his call walking down the hall where Kuruma was waiting. Due to the stress he didn't notice a certain black haired student hiding underneath a nearby table listening into the phone call. After meeting up with Kuruma, the two decided to check out the clubs, but none seemed to really stand out to Naruto.
        'My dad is one of the kindest men...' This book is really good, although I'm going to need to stop soon for class. [Name] thought sadly, before closing the book and heading towards their class, Class 3-2. "What is the simplified version of this radical? 3√80?" Yamato-Sensei, [Name]'s teacher asked before calling on a random student. "12√5." "Good, Your homework will be pages three through five, now go to lunch." Yamato-Sensei said dismissing the students.
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Meantime in Class 2-1
        "Is this a bad idea? Maybe I shouldn't do this.... What if they don't like it?" Naruto said while panicking. "You'll do great." "I hope so... I just wanna make them happy. Y'know?" Naruto replied before heading to the rooftop to meet Senpai.
        "Okay. I'm here just like you asked." [Name] said when they spotted Naruto. "H-here!" Naruto said while shoving a box in [Name]'s hands. "What's this?" "It's a bento, stupid!" Naruto snapped at [Name] "You made me lunch?" "D-don't get the wrong idea! I didn't make if for you! I just....made too much food this morning. So you can have the extras." "Oh...cool! Thanks a lot!" [Name] said while giving a closed eye smile. "Just... Shut up and eat it!" Naruto exclaimed while trying to hide his obvious blush. After a few bites, their senpai spoke up. "Ugh... What did you put in this?" They slightly complained. "Huh? What do you mean?"
        "My stomach... It really hurts all of a sudden!" [Name] said while holding the aching stomach. "Hey! You shouldn't insult someone's cooking, you dummy." "I'm sorry... I can't finish it! I have to go!" [Name] mumbled before running away in search of a bathroom. "Huh? Senpai, wait! ... Oh, no... What did I do wrong?" Naruto questioned himself while internally kicking himself. Watching the scene unfold with a smirk on his face was Sasuke. In his hand was a small dark green bottle that read; Emetic Poison.
SCORE : NARUTO - 0 | SASUKE - 1
        'Take that you thieving little wench!' Sasuke mumbled in victory before heading off to find his precious senpai. After finally removing all the contents of their stomach, [Name] washed her hands and head back to class; completely oblivious to the dark haired male stalking her. After class, she headed to the plaza where they would start their cleaning assignment. At the same time on the roof top behind the fan, there was a certain situation playing.
        "I'm sorry, Naruto, I overheard your phone call earlier. You sounded really upset. Is something wrong?" Kuruma asked in a serious tone. "I- Well... Yeah... I do have a problem, but... I'm not sure if you'd be able to help me..." Naruto mumbled unsure whether or not to tell Kuruma his problem. "Please, tell me what's wrong. I'll listen." Kuruma reassured Naruto. "A few days ago, in Shisuta Town, this weird girl approached me and started flirting with me..." Naruto started explaining.
        "She was really creepy and gross, and I wasn't interested in her at all... It took forever to make her leave me alone... Then the next day, I started getting text messages from her... Even though I never gave her my phone number! The worst part is, she keeps texting me pictures she's taken of me...it's like she's just following me around snapping photos all day!" Naruto continued, this time a little more confidently. "You got a stalker? Oh my god, that's horrible! We need to tell the police before he does something bad!" Kuruma said while pulling out his phone.
        "No! I can't do that! He told me that if I got to the police, he'll... He'll..." Naruto panicked while stopping Kuruma from dialing the police. "What? What will he do?" Kuruma said while making direct eye contact with Naruto. "I... I don't wanna tell you, but... Calling the police is not an option!" "What is it? Is he blackmailing you? Are you... hiding some kind of secret?" Kuruma questioned concerned for his friend. "No, it's nothing like that... "
        "Naruto, I try to avoid talking about this, but I'm actually very strong. If you tell me who is doing this to you, I'll stop them." Kuruma said while cracking his knuckles to prove a point. "What...? No! I don't want you to get involved! Look, I appreciate your concern, but...please...just...let me deal with this myself." Naruto said trying to convince Kuruma not to get involved. "... If you say so... But, now I'm really worried..." Kuruma said before walking with Naruto down to the plaza to start their cleaning duties with [Name].
                After the two were gone, Sasuke came out of his hiding spot with an evil smirk on his face.
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Back with [Name], Naruto, and Kuruma.
        When they finished cleaning [Name] sat down on the fountain edge where they were sitting this morning and continued to read their book. At the same time Naruto and Kuruma stood in between the trees not to far from [Name]. At 5:15, [Name] headed to her locker to change from indoor back to her outdoor shoes. Once done, she walked home with Naruto and Kuruma.
        Following close behind the trio was your very own stalker Sasuke. Making sure [Name] got home safely, Sasuke headed towards his own home. When he arrived he walked up towards his room and placed his bags down on the floor of his room. Walking towards a box that was actually a shrine he opened the door. Inside was a picture of [Name] and a bunch of empty shelves. Sasuke reached into his pocket and pulled out a chewed on pencil, before placing it onto one of the empty shelves.
                'This is a pencil that Senpai was chewing on! I'm so jealous~!"
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Status: Edited
7.1 pages - 2,455 words
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"Are you... Okay? Can I... Help you? Is something... Wrong? I'm... A little concerned..."
~[Name] Sarutobi
"They're all gone, Senpai. I got rid of them... So the two of us could be alone together. I want you all for myself, Senpai. I don't want anyone to come between us. So... I killed them all. I'm serious, Senpai. In fact... Let me show you just how serious I am."
~Sasuke Uchiha
"Did you oversleep again!? UGH! You ALWAYS keep me waiting! D-don't get the wrong idea! It's not like... I LIKE you, or anything! ... D... Dummy..."
~Naruto Uzumaki
"Senpai, you're just in time! I baked cookies! Would you like some? Y-you know Senpai... I wouldn't mind cooking for you... Every day..."
~Rin
"It's only natural that I'd get the lead role in the play! I deserve it more than anyone else. Senpai! I'm going to be Juliet... Would you be my Romeo?"
~Sakura Haruno
"You're just in time. We're about to summon a demon... Would you like to join us...? ... I can't stop thinking about them... I think they cast a hex on me."
~Hinata Hyuga
"Nobody in the sports club EVER turns down a challenge! Come on! Let's get started right away! ... Senpai... Would you like to go for a run together...? ... You know... Just the two of us?"
~Rock Lee
"Oh, my! Your face is turning red! Do you have a fever?! Come see me any time! I'm always happy to take care of you..."
~Haku
"I can teach you all sorts of things... Would you like me to be your... "private tutor"?"
~Kakashi Hatake
"Who the hell do you think you are? Get out of here before I break your neck! Senpai. They're the only person I can be my true self around."
~Gaara
"Welcome home, [Name]! How was your day? Tell me ALL about it! ... If you got in a relationship... Would you forget about me? That won't happen, will it?"
~Konohamaru Sarutobi
"My top priority is to put a stop to anyone that poses a threat to this school! Senpai! I think someone may be stalking you. But don't worry... I'll keep you safe."
~Neji Hyuga
"Naruto! Oh my god! Naruto! Answer me! Wake up, please, wake up! Don't do this! Oh, god! This can't be happening! NO! ... No..."
~Kuruma
"So, history is repeating itself, huh? Time to test out a theory...
~Kaguya
"We paint. We sculpt. We craft."
~Sai
"You don't meet the level requirement for joining my guild! ... But I GUESS I could let you in, anyway..."
~Kiba
"Oh, hello, dear! Welcome to the gardening club!"
~Konan
"Welcome to the Martial Arts Club! What brings you here?"
~Yahiko
"Kick ass! Can't wait to see what you can do with an instrument in your hands!"
~Killer B
"Oh, hey! Welcome to our little getaway! Haha!"
~Karin
"Welcome... To my lair! I-I mean... The Science Club. What do you seek?"
~Kabuto
"I-I found something dangerous, so I was taking it to a teacher!"
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christalpepsi · 3 years
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a bit for storage
I’m going to post a buncha my grey’s fic! Not everything is connected yet, I just write in bits and pieces. Alex Karev x OC (for now), loosely follows canon, just not izzie. Anyways this is what I got so far: 
TW: depression, suicide, death
Selected bits from S1E1
Finally. Her first day. She was indescribably excited, but anxious thoughts kept invading her mind. She’d worked her ass off for this, and seeing it’s fruition as a residency at Seattle Grace was so rewarding. Well, until Dr. Webber killed the mood. 
“Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play...That's up to you.”
What was this, a gladiator fight? Her brows furrowed, but as she glanced around, everyone was completely serious. Well, fight she would. 
She zoned out, hoping she’d get placed with people she met at the mixer, as Webber started listing the interns and their assigned residents, until her name caught her attention. 
“...Dr. Heather Palmer, Bailey. Dr. Isobel Stevens, Bailey…”
Someone nudged her from behind. 
“Palmer, you got the nazi.” Great.
She didn’t wanna push the envelope on the first day, so she had brushed her curls out and slicked them back into the tightest ballet bun she could without giving herself a headache. 
“You’re gonna be a suck up aren’t you? I can tell. Regular Mrs. Grundy.” Alex, another intern, snorted as she bobby pinned her bangs back. She glared at him, but he missed her stare as his eyes roamed over to Dr. Stevens. 
The other interns muttered amongst themselves as Heather finished tying her shoes, trying to imagine what the “nazi” looked like. A short black woman walked in, and no one paid her much attention until she raised her voice. 
“I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change. Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours. You're interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don't complain!”
She rushed out of the locker room at a quick walk, and everyone scrambled to follow her. Slamming open a nearby door, she said flatly, “On call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?”
Silence fell, and Heather and the blonde girl, Izzie, vigorously nodded their heads.
“Um, Dr. Bailey?” Heather said softly.
“Yes,” Bailey said, staring daggers.
“You said there were five rules? That was only four.” Dr. Bailey stared a hole through Heather, chilling her to the bone. Thankfully, Bailey’s pager started beeping. 
“Rule number five. When I move, you move.”
“Nurses are the ones implementing most of our work, dickhead.”
“Whatever. Maybe you should’ve been a nurse then.” Alex grabbed his chart, and sauntered away. 
“Palmer, what is it?”
“Pain, paresthesia, pallor, pulselessness, paralysis. Compartment syndrome.”
“So? Book an OR!” Bailey yelled.
“Oh! Right, booking a plastics OR for a fasciotomy.”
Selected bits from S1E3
Alex stormed into the locker room as Heather and Izzie were changing. “Morning, Dr. Model.”
“Dr. Evil Spawn.” Stevens deadpanned.
“Ooh, nice tat. They airbrush that out for the catalogs?”
“I don't know. What do they do for the 666 on your skull?” Heather snickered, earning a glare from Karev, but effectively shutting him up. As they finished clipping their badges on, Palmer turned to Izzie, lowering her voice a tad.
“Iz, I don’t blame you! If I was hot I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Oh, shut up, you’re so hot.” Izzie retorted.
“I’m not skinny blonde hot.” Heather crossed her arms.
“Whatever, sexy brunette goddess.”
She let out a giggle, pleased to have the complement returned.
“Are you guys gonna make out now, or what?” Alex interrupted. Heather scoffed, leaving the room with Dr. Stevens in tow.
Dr. Palmer’s patient was scheduled for a lap cholecystectomy at 3 that afternoon with gensurg, so she had time to kill. Heading for the locker room to grab her wallet, she overheard a raised voice. Walking in, she saw a crowd had gathered, and Izzie stood in her bra and underwear. 
“Let's study them, shall we? Gather around and check out the booty that put Izzie Stevens through med school. Have you had enough or should I continue? Because I have a few more very interesting tattoos. You want to call me Dr. Model? That's fine. Just remember that while you're sitting on 200 grand of student loans, I'm out of debt.” Izzie yanked her clothes back on and stormed out of the room, nearly knocking Heather over. 
Everyone awkwardly filed out, leaving Alex and Heather staring at each other from across the room. 
“Where do you get off?” She sighed, leaving her wallet still in her locker, and left for the break room empty handed.
Additional Bits That I’m Working In
Sure, he was a whore, but...seeing him with the kids stirred something in her. It freaked her out. He was Alex Karev, Dr. Evil Spawn, cheater, syphilis giver, aloof, uncommitted, but stubborn, calm, steady, yet exhilarating, adroit, wry, and so clever. And so kind. So kind. He held the premie in his arms, a crooked smile on his face, and feeling her gaze, glanced up to meet Heather’s eyes. She lit on fire under that gaze.
“Palmer.” Addison’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she turned away, towards the direction of Addison’s call. Alex’s eyes followed her out of the room. 
“So who’s going with Dr. Montgomery-Shepard?”
“I will!”
“Palmer, you’re in Peds or OB everyday. I’m putting you in cardio.”
“Damn it.” she muttered. Cristina’s mouth dropped open in offense.
“What? She’s crazy and ungrateful and-turning down cardio?”
“Yang, take her place in OB today.”
“For God’s sake…” Cristina huffed and went to find Addison, leaving Heather with Burke. 
“Hey, Joe! How’s your day been?” Heather hopped up on one of the barstools, trying not to slouch due to lack of back support. 
“Eh, so-so. Whatcha drinking?”
“Hm. I’m not sure,” she turned to her right. “Alex, what am I drinking?”
“We’re off tomorrow. Have some damn tequila, Palmer.” he said with a smirk.
“Don’t mind if I do. Could I get a flight, Joe?”
“Alright! Make sure you don’t die of alcohol poisoning, Dr. Grundy.” Alex jabbed her in the side, making her flinch. She whacked him on the back of the head teasingly. 
“Here ya are, Dr. Palmer.”
“Joe, please, it’s Heather.”
He chuckled, heading down the row as she took her first shot. 
“No chaser? You psycho. That’s pretty hot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
And him. Just standing there, arms crossed, chewing his Extra peppermint gum, not a care in the world. He was leaning against the nurses’ station, and she noted with envy the eyes that weren’t hers staring at him. 
Just laying there, hearing Mere’s bedsprings, Izzie’s rustling, George’s soft snores...she was so alone. She had no reason to be. Full house, friends that cared for her...or did they? It’s not like they went out of their way to make plans outside of work, other than Joe’s, which wasn’t exactly the healthiest of bonding activities. But no one fought for her. She didn’t even fight for herself, and she could feel it again, the sinking. The numbness was settling in again. She stared at the ceiling fan, spinning, spinning, spinning. 
“It’s depression! Just...it hurts all the fucking time, Alex! And I just, file it away, keep myself busy with work, with Joe’s, with you-”
“Oh, so I’m just here to keep you busy, is that it?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Just sex?”
“Shut up!” He took a ragged breath. “Please, just leave me alone, Heather.”
She pursed her lips. “If you wanted-I mean I-”
“I asked you to leave.”
Defeated, she met his eyes and turned back down the garden path to her car, careful not to trip in the dark. She wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight. 
Izzie hadn’t moved from the bathroom floor in about 18 hours. Heather was inclined to go lay down with her, but it wasn’t her rotation yet. George was in there keeping her company for now. 
“Who’s next?”
“Meredith. When I tried to kill myself, it was because I saw no way out.” She fiddled with the sheets of Meredith’s bed to be rid of some of the fidgety anxiety. “Just having to be mediocre, feeling I wasn’t important to anybody…” she trailed off, looking in Meredith’s direction. “Mere, you have so much. You have such a gift and I know you don’t want to hear this, but you can’t be so careless. There are people who care about you, people who love-”
“Okay, Palmer, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do, sharing your trauma and all that, but I’m fine. Really. I didn’t try to kill myself, thanks.”
Heather sat there until Meredith raised her eyebrows, a clear order to get out. Turning the corner she ran smack into Karev, whose eyes were haunted. 
“You tried to kill youself?”
“Ha. Yeah, big whoop.” She looked at him witheringly. Her facade fell when they locked eyes and she shrugged. “G’night, Alex.” She sidestepped him, heading to the elevator.
“Okay, but you can see us being endgame right?” Meredith asked again desperately. 
“Mere, I’ve already told you, you and Derek, if you want to make it work, you have to put in the effort! It depends on you two, not some magical twist of fate.”
“God, if he so much as looks at me funny, I’m reporting for sexual harassment.”
“That’s what everyone says before they sleep with him.” Callie said wryly. 
No. Because he had this thing with Rebecca. And she was supposed to be with Ben. But, God was it hard to give him space. 
“Please…” tears shined on his face, and his nose had started to run, “Please, please, please…”
He grabbed her by the back of her neck, forehead to forehead, pleading. “Alex-”
“Please...” She wiped his tears away, but new ones replaced them just as quickly.
“Callie, oh my God! Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Heather! George and I just-did it!’
“Lexie! Wanna work with me today?”
“Oh my gosh, yes!”
Heather pulled her to the side. “Thank God, you’re my favorite. Don’t tell the others.”
He pulled her closer to him, as if that would save her from the water that poured into the elevator, soaking their scrubs through. Their shoes were squelching as they ran to dry land. Except, of course, there wasn’t any. The whole floor was flooded. 
“Oh, God, it’s seeping through my socks.” Heather groaned. 
“I can handle the mess.” Alex said softly. “You know that.”
“But- I’m so much. Alex, Mere thinks she’s all dark and twisty or whatever, but that’s nothing, not to invalidate her but, it’s nothing compared-”
He took her by the sides of the face, eyes open, honest.
“I said, I can handle it. Do you want this?” 
Heather nodded, as a loss for words.
“Then bring it on.”
“Get a crash cart, dammit!” Heather yelled, voice cracking as tears spilled over. She met Alex’s eyes, just as glassy as hers, and he took over compressions.
Her knees buckled. She fell to the floor as if in slow motion. Izzie, first, now George. Not Georgie. Her 007, her Bambi. O’Malley. The pain was constant, unceasing. Because he really was gone. She imagined him, like he should’ve been the next day, new Army uniform, neat buzzcut...her head was too full; it was too much. Her body wouldn’t move, her mind was debilitated-then strong arms grasping her, meeting her here, on the floor.
“He was. George was hit by a fucking bus!” They burst out in laughter, trying to stifle any echos so passersby wouldn’t freak out.
The addition of Mercy West was hell on earth. Even just the loss of Izzie made the workload shoot through the roof.
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Febufluff(whump) Day 9: Sick Day (& Creators Choice)
A/N: I’m always a slut for the Terror Twins, a.k.a. Harley & Peter, being best friends (sorry, Ned.) A universe in which Harley bugged the absolute hell out of Tony until he let Harley live with him and go to Midtown. Definitely softened by Peter.
Summary: Harley gets sick. Tony & Pepper are away, so naturally, Peter has to come help. 
WARNINGS for food poisoning, talk and some descriptions of vomiting/gagging, etc. 
Peter is busily scribbling away at his latest AP Language assignment when his phone buzzes multiple times in quick succession, “Hardly Queener” lighting up his phone screen.
Peter
Peter help me
SAVE ME
FACETIME ME NOW
Hardly Queener would like to FaceTime...
Peter rolls his eyes and answers; Harley’s forehead fills the screen, a muffled groan filling Peter’s ears instantly.
Peter chuckles humorlessly. “What’s up?”
“I’m d y i n g.” Harley groans loudly and looks up just enough for his eyes to be visible.
“You’re dramatic.” 
“You’re homophobic.”
“You’re bisexual, Harley.”
“Shut up.” Harley buries his face in his covers.
“Sure, I’ll hang up-”
“NO.”
Peter sighs. “Why did you text bomb me and insist on FaceTiming?”
Harley barks out a few rough coughs. “Can you not HEAR the phlegmy evil that plagues my lungs?”
“So you’re sick. You weren’t sick at school today.”
“Not showing it, anyway.”
“Why didn’t you stay home if you felt bad?”
“Didn’t hit me until 6th period.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
Harley groans again and lets his phone fall on the bed. “You’re no fun.”
“Yeah, I’m a real stickler.”
“Oh my god. Maybe it’d be better to be alone than to deal with your rancid cheese.”
“Oh yeah, Tony and Pepper are gone this weekend, huh?”
“Yeah.” Harley rolls onto his side and props the phone up against a pillow.
“But, like, you’re not alone at the Tower, right?”
“I mean, security is here, but hell if I’m getting any of them to go get me food.”
“Door Dash and Grub Hub exist.”
“Yeah, but they’re overpriced.”
“You live with a billionaire, Harley.”
“Mama raised a Frugal Hoosier.”
Peter sighs.
“So I’m guessing all of this is because you want me to come over?”
“Maybe.”
Peter looks at his phone. “I’m leaving for patrol soon. I’ll come over after?”
“Fine. Leave me to wither alone.” Harley grumbles into his comforter.
“You’re fine. It’ll pass soon. Time to go help the helpless. Adios!”
“Bye.”
Peter clicks off of the call and clicks open his Spider suit unit. He does feel a little guilty for leaving Harley all alone when he’s not feeling well, but he seems fine enough to Peter, if not a little glassy-eyed and flushed. He supposes he can make it up to his friend by bringing something by that night, and resolves to do so as he swings out his window and into the night.
-------
It’s 9:03PM when Peter latches onto the outside of the Tower, feeling a little guilty for leaving his patrol early but proud at how much he got done in a few hours.
Peter crawls up to Harley’s window and taps on the glass, frowning when a few moments pass without movement or a reply. “Harley?” Peter knocks again. “Hey, Karen? Can you patch me through to FRIDAY?”
“Sure. Connecting Peter Parker to Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth.”
“Hello, Peter.”
“Hey, FRI. Where’s Harley?”
“Just a moment. Harley Keener is in the west lavatory on the top floor. He seems to be in distress.”
“Does Tony know?”
“He insisted that I did not tell Boss, and the request does not violate known protocols.”
“That’s hard to believe.” Peter has crawled to Harley’s bathroom window by now and knocks lightly on the window pane. “Hey, Harls?”
There’s a muffled grunt and shuffling like socked feet on tile before the window slides open. “Don’t call me that. Too close to what I just did.”
Harley moves aside for Peter to climb through the window. The healthy teen looks his friend up and down. “Aw, man.”
“I know. I look incredible for a guy who just puked his guts out, right?”
“Not exactly.” Peter cringes at how pale Harley’s face is, sweat beading on his forehead and eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “How long you been at it?”
“On and off for the last 3 hours or so. It’s really just been dry heaving lately. Sucks ass.”
“I can imagine. Do you know if anyone else is sick?”
“Ned and MJ are fine. I’m thinking food poisoning, honestly.”
“For real?” Peter quirks a brow and lays a hand over Harley’s forehead; it’s sweaty but not warm. “Tony buys pretty high quality food.”
“I brought some leftover Panda Express from like...”
Peter swallows. “I don’t wanna know.”
“I don’t want to think about it, honestly.” Harley swallows thickly. 
“You good?”
“I dunno. It’s always a surpri-” Harley coughs and trips back to the toilet. 
Peter grimaces in sympathy before following carefully behind him; he comes up behind Harley. “I’m here. Whatever you need.” He sits behind Harley and places a hand on his back. 
Harley finishes dry heaving and leans heavily against the toilet as Peter lightly rubs his back. 
“You wanna get out of here?”
“Hasn’t been long enough yet.”
“I’m gonna go change out of this. Be right back.” Peter slips out of the bathroom and quickly heads toward the guest room reserved for him. “Hey, FRI?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“Can you order some stuff for me?”
“Sure.”
Peter pulls out a t-shirt and sweatpants, quickly slipping into the clothes. “Does Target deliver around here?”
“With the SmartPhone Application.”
“That works. Let security know?”
“Alerting Harold Hogan, as well as Gregory Stevens, presently at the security desk.”
“Thanks, FRI.”
“Of course, Peter. What would you like to order?”
Peter leaves his room and crosses to Harley’s.
“Saltines if we don’t have them.” Peter rummages around in Harley’s drawers for something more comfortable than his sweat-soaked jeans and hoodie while listing off the sick day (or night, now) necessities. “Schweppes Ginger Ale. Plain wheat bread, none of the ones with flakes or nuts or anything. Applesauce. Tums. PeptoBismol, tablets and liquid stuff. And a whole case of water bottles.”
“Got it.”
“Thanks, FRI. Let me know when it’ll be here.”
“Absolutely.”
Peter is back at the bathroom now and taps lightly on the door before entering. Any other day, he would have laughed at the now-stripped Harley, sitting in only a white t-shirt and his boxers, but his friend looks miserable as he sits propped against the bathtub, breathing hard with his eyes scrunched closed and a hand around his abdomen.
“Almost empty?” Peter mutters and taps Harley’s foot with his. 
Harley cracks an eye and scrunches up his nose. “Maybe. Can’t tell if my stomach actually hurts or if being doubled over like this is habit now.”
“You wanna change clothes?”
“Why not.” 
Peter turns around as Harley pushes himself up and struggles to change into fresh boxers. 
“I’m covered.”
Peter turns back around and clenches his jaw at how exhausted Harley looks. “Here.” Peter unfolds the new t-shirt and kneels, laying it beside him before reaching out to pull up the sides of Harley’s soaked shirt. Normally, Harley would protest and bat Peter’s hands away or make a joke about Peter seducing him, but now Harley is pliable as he slowly raises his arms, allowing Peter to gently dress him. Peter cradles his feet as he slides the sweats on but allows Harley to finish the job. 
“Feel better?”
“A little.” Harley mumbles. “Damn jeans were chafing me from all the damn sweat.”
“I’m sorry, but at least you’re comfy now.”  
“This sucks ass.” 
Peter sits next to Harley, and the blond drops his head onto Peter’s shoulder. Peter wraps an arm around Harley’s shoulder, and the boy slumps heavily against him at the confirmed invitation. Harley lets out a deep sigh.
They sit like that for a little while, until Peter’s butt and legs start to tingle, and he’s wondering if Harley has dozed off.
“Peter?”
“Yes, FRI?”
“Your delivery items have arrived.” 
“Your what?” Harley mutters, hardly audible through his heavy lips.
“Thanks, FRI.”
“Mr. Stevens is bringing the items up.”
“Have him leave them in the kitchen, please.”
“Got it.”
“What’d you order?”
“Everything to make you feel better. You feel up to finding out?”
Harley considers for a moment before lifting his head slowly. He stares across the room for a moment before closing his eyes and nodding. 
Peter rises and holds his hands out for Harley to take; he easily pulls the boy to his feet but moves slowly to be conscientious of Harley’s state. 
The boy stands unsteadily for a moment before grabbing on to the vanity counter. “Guess I don’t quite have my sea legs yet.” Harley jokes dryly. 
“Here.” Peter turns around and gestures. “I can carry you.” 
“Geez, Parker, I’m not totally out of commission. What if I get motion sick or something?”
“I’ll be careful. Better to get it over with.”
Harley huffs before wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck; he lifts one leg which Peter easily takes and hoists up the other, settling against Peter’s back with a grunt.
“Where to?”
“Bedroom is closest.”
It’s a little awkward logistically because of the inches Harley has on Peter, but Peter manages his weight easily. Peter walks steadily into the living room, Harley’s hot, stale breath on his neck making him a little queasy, and stops before carefully depositing the boy on the bed. 
“FRIDAY?” Harley croaks out pitifully. “Fan.”
“Of course.”
Harley groans in relief and curls up on top of his covers. 
“I’ll be right back.”
Harley grunts in reply as Peter heads out into the kitchen and quickly returns with his spoils and a small stack of bowls and a cup. 
“Feel like eating anything?”
“Maybe in a little bit.” Harley’s voice is a whisper as he pries open an eye. “What you have?”
“Crackers, of course, Ginger Ale. Applesauce. Pepto and Tums if you need them. And lots of water.”
“You really are a mother hen, Parker.”
“Only for you, Keener.”
“Don’t tell Ned.”
“He knows nothing can outdo our sacred bromance.”
“We’re cutting it pretty close here.”
“What sounds edible?”
“Water and Tums for now. I’ll let you know about the other stuff.”
Peter helps Harley sit up to chew on a few of the antacid tablets and sip some water before he collapses again. 
“Scoot.” Peter nudges Harley, and the latter raises a brow. “I’m not going back home. I already texted May; I’m staying with you until Tony and Pepper get back tomorrow.” 
“Oh.” Harley pulls himself over and Peter settles against the bed’s headboard with his ankles crossed. Harley’s head is against his thigh, and he carefully rests his hand there. Harley doesn’t protest, so Peter slowly moves his fingers through Harley’s hair, like May does for him when he doesn’t feel well. 
They sit in silence for a moment. “Did you tell him?”
“Not yet.”
Harley groans. “Don’t.”
“Why’d you tell FRIDAY not to?”
“Didn’t want him to worry. You know he’s a worrier. Worse than you.” Harley sighs and looks up between Peter and his stomach. Peter nods and Harley scoots up, resting his head on Peter’s stomach, the latter’s hand still running ministrations through his hair.
“Wanna watch anything?” Peter whispers.
“Mmmm nothing I actually have to watch.” Harley replies, eyes closed lightly for sleep instead of clenched in pain. Finally, progress.
“Hmm....Disney?”
“Whatever.”
“Finding Nemo?”
“Depressing, but sure. Sadie loves it, so I’ve seen it 12,000 times.” Harley yawns through the hyperbolic estimation, and Peter gives a breathy snort. 
“Perfect. We love an orphan story.”
“His dad’s alive.”
“I meant me.”
Harley lightly nudges Peter’s leg.
“FRIDAY? TV on...My movies...Finding Nemo.” 
They make soft banter throughout the beginning of the movie, Harley’s voice getting quieter as his breaths get heavier, and soon he is dead weight against Peter, his arm having snaked around Peter’s waist to hold him like a beloved stuffed animal. 
Peter looks down at Harley’s face, now snuggled into his abdomen, and can’t help the grin on his lips. Harley finally looks at peace, if not hilarious, and Peter can’t resist reaching down for his phone. He jumps when Tony Stark’s contact jumps out at him in a FaceTime request, and quickly gropes around for Harley’s AirPods before popping them in, answering the call, and swiping to his settings. 
“Hey-hold on-okay.” Peter settles back in again, one hand holding his phone and the other on Harley’s back, and whispers, “Hey, Mr. Stark.”
“Hey, Squirt.”
“You don’t seem surprised to find me here.”
“We have Find My Friends or whatever set up, remember, kid? Part of the phone upgrade deal.”
“That whole thing was your idea. I told you I didn’t need a new phone.”
“Besides the point. What’s got you all whispery in the Tower?”
“Harley’s asleep.”
“Really? It’s barely past 10.”
“He’s sick.”
“Sick how? How sick? Why didn’t I know?”
“Food poisoning doesn’t align with any of the alert protocols. It’s technically not biologically sick, and it’s not true poisoning.”
“Shocking. No wonder FRIDAY’s been so quiet. That little shit would find a loophole unintentionally.” 
Peter rolls his eyes.
“So, how is he?”
“Asleep. Hurled his guts out earlier.”
Tony cringes in sympathy. “Nasty stuff. How’d he get it?”
“Leftover Panda, probably.”
“Dammit, kid. I told him that junk had gone off.”
“Yeah, well, it is Harley.” Peter angles the camera down, and Tony’s eyes turn down at the sides as he studies the slumbering Harley.
“He holding anything down?”
“He’s only had water and Tums. We’ll find out in the morning.”
“If you say so. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Pep and I will be back ASAP tomorrow.”
“Take your time. We’re all good here.”
Tony smiles. “I know. He’s in good hands.” Tony looks past his phone. “Gotta go, Spider-Kid. See you tomorrow.”
“See you. Bye, Mr. Stark.”
Peter sets the phone on the nightstand and slowly reaches down to grab a throw Harley had brought from Rose Hill, a Granny Square pattern his mom had crocheted for him as a gift. A small piece of Tennessee in the middle of the big city. Harley makes a low noise in his throat in protest of the movement, but sighs and holds tighter onto Peter when they settle in again, his nose buried in the front of Peter’s shirt. 
“Lights, please, FRIDAY.” The lights dim to a very dim glow, and Peter sighs. “Night, Harls.” Peter whispers with one last ministration over the boy’s back. 
“Night...” Harley’s words carry along the air, light and barely there. “Love you, Pete.”  
Peter blinks. Harley’s a great friend, loyal, hardworking, and will punch anyone’s teeth in with little need for reason, but affection is low on the list of Harley Keener characteristics. He’s not sure he heard correctly, so he carefully replies, “Love you, too, Harls.”
A ghost of a smile tugs on Harley’s lips and vanishes before Peter can blink, and Peter melts into a grin. Sick Harley is whiny, needy Harley, but also a loving Harley that Peter could get used to.
Peter closes his eyes and starts to doze, his hand still one Harley’s back when the pair wakes in the morning, stiff and sleepy but satisfied at making it through the night.
Harley would chomp down the scrambled eggs Peter makes and poke at him for the weird looks he keeps giving Harley, throwing snowballed napkins when Peter refuses to tell him why. 
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quirkykayleetam · 4 years
Text
Empty Shell
Hello!  This is an entry in the Broken Pieces series.  The previous piece is Kind Restraints and can be found by that title or the tags of any of the main characters.
“We have a problem.”
Special Agent Daniel Wei looked up from his desk at Morgan Security to find his boss scowling down at him.  He took a sip of coffee.
“You remember that Jonathan kid?”
Daniel nodded.  How could he forget? 
 Despite the “Security” in the name Morgan Security, most of his assignments since joining the firm eight years ago were pretty tame.  Intimidation was the name of the game for the most part.  Sometimes he got to make people feel safe.  Those days he drank less coffee and whistled on the car ride home.  
What happened with the kid...?  Daniel hadn’t seen anyone hurt that badly since his time in the service.  He tried not to dwell on the fact that all that damage was done a 26-year-old civilian just protecting his job, but the image of Jay’s protruding ribs still woke him up at night.
“It’s his caretaker.  Apparently she ordered Jones around like a schoolboy.  Spit in Wilson’s face for good measure.  They’re off the case, effective immediately.”
“Who is she?”
“Some brood named Evelyn or Emily or something, though the boys are calling her something else.”
Daniel’s boss chucked.  Daniel didn’t.
“Look, Wei, I know it’s not your usual gig, but this whole thing is still on a need-to-know basis.  I got managers breathing down my neck that nobody else even hears a fart about what happened.”
Unceremoniously, he dropped a bundle of blue medical files on Daniel’s desk.
“As of now, you’re the kid’s case worker for the firm.  You screw this up and it's your neck on the line, not mine, you hear me?  The whole thing was fucked from the start if you ask me.”
Daniel didn’t hear him.  All he could see were the pictures closely documenting the welts, cuts, and bruises down Jay’s left side.  They must have been taken the night of his rescue sometime after Jay passed out in Daniel’s trunk.
The agent took another long drought of coffee.  Apparently he was going to have more nightmares tonight.
Daniel arrived early at the hospital the next morning.
Jay was already awake.  A nurse in pink patterned scrubs slowly spooned swallows of lukewarm eggs into the patient's mouth.
Daniel looked away.
He pretended it was for Jay’s sake.  Being spoon fed had to be a humiliating reminder of the computer scientist’s immobilized hands.
In reality, he couldn’t handle the look in Jay’s eyes.
Jay stared unseeing at the blank hospital wall in front of them.  It was as if they came back to themselves any further they’d have to feel the pain and trauma and heartbreak of everything they went through and, at least now, early in the morning, forced to rely on strangers and IVs and pain meds just to survive, Jay’s body couldn’t handle it.  It reverted into an empty shell.
Instead, Daniel found the figure slumped near the opposite wall.  Elizabeth “Beth” Martinez, 38-year-old Art Department secretary at Landring Community College, looked like she’d collapsed more than fallen asleep in the stiff metal chair by Jay’s bed.  Her mouth hung open a little and her hands stretched out on the armrest toward Jay.  A rumbled duffel bag huddled under her feet.  It couldn’t have held more than two sweaters and three pairs of socks, but Beth obviously wasn’t leaving that room unless she had to.
A flurry of movement brought Daniel’s eyes back to the nurse and her charge.
“We’ve just got a new protein shake in.  It’s chocolate!  I know it’s just breakfast, but you need to get some meat on your bones.”
She set the brown liquid and straw within reach of Jay’s mouth, but instead of taking a sip, Jay’s eyes went wide.
Jay lashed out, spooking the nurse and sending thick chocolate liquid puddling across the tile floor.  Before Daniel could blink, Beth was by Jay’s side, rubbing their back as they buried their face in her neck.
“Don’t drink it!  Don’t drink it, Beth!” Jay half yelled, half sobbed.
“I won’t.  I promise, Jay.”
“It...It’s poisoned.  You never know how it’s gonna hurt you, but it always does.  I know, I know I need it.  I have to stay alive, have to keep them away from you, but I’m tired, Beth.  I’m so weak and tired, I don’t know what to do…”
With gentle hands, Beth gripped both sides of Jay’s face.  She moved them upward until she could look Jay in the eyes.
“Jay, when you were at Princeton and your dad died and you drove miles and miles home in your roommate’s car just so you could be there for your mom as soon as possible, were you weak for wanting to sleep when you got back?”
“N...No.”
“It’s okay to be tired, Jay.  It’s like, I don’t know, warriors on watch.  You’ve done your job protecting us.  Now it’s your turn to rest so we can take care of you.”
Daniel Wei left the hospital without a word.  He had work to do.
***
Weeks later, the agent returned to find Jay sitting at a table on the other side of the room.  Their hands were still in splints.  They still had dark circles under their eyes.  They stared at the table like its solid plastic was grounding them.
Daniel bit back a sigh as the kid didn’t even look up as he entered the room.
Then there was a kerfuffle behind him.
“Aha!” Beth said, bursting through the door.  “I finally found a nurse who doesn’t do the Chronicle Sunday crossword at ass o’clock in the morning!  Jay-bird we are good to go.”
Jay’s eyes lit up as Beth smacked the paper down in front of him and grabbed another chair.  For the first time, Daniel realized they were blue.
“Bet you stole it,” they said quietly.
Beth hand flew out of her purse where she was rooting for a pencil and struck above her heart.
“I am deadly offended that you would even think that I would stoop to such things, especially on the day of our Lord!  I asked, thank you very much!  Besides, if you’re so against stealing, maybe I shouldn’t give you your other treat…”
“You’d withhold a treat from a poor invalid?” Jay deadpanned.  “Oh my poor arm.”
Beth chucked.  Jay smiled.
“I know you’re having trouble with straws, Jay-bird, but I thought, maybe…”
Beth pulled a purple aluminum can out of her purse.
Jay leaned forward eagerly, but then made himself pause.
“Am I allowed to…?”
“Hell, I don’t see why not!  They’re trying to get calories into you anyway that they can.  Junk food is only gonna help with that!”
Beth popped the tab on the Grape Crush and stuck a straw in it, moving it toward Jay as she nudged his foot companionably.
Tentatively, Jay took a sip.  Then a swig.  Then a gulp that took up half the bottle.
“Whoa, slow down there Jay-bird.  They will kick me out of here if you die from a sugar high.”
“It tastes like capitalism,” Jay sighed.
“And?”
“And not like hospital food!”
“Good!  Then this will be the first of our illegal smuggling adventures, deal?”
“Deal.”
There was a pause as Jay savored his soda.
Daniel cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Jay,” he said.  “I’m Special Agent Daniel Wei from Morgan Security.  Would you mind if I borrowed Ms. Martinez for a few minutes?”
Jay looked at Beth who nodded wearily and got up to follow Daniel out the door.
***
As soon as Daniel and Beth got settled in an empty conference room, her whole demeanor changed.  Her smile slid into a tight thin line and she squared her shoulders even as they fell a few inches.
“So, Agent,” she said.  “When are we going to be able to get him out of here?”
“Jay’s casts home off in two weeks.  If he passes all his physical examinations, I don’t see any reason for him to stay longer than that.”
“Good.  And where we’re going?  I assume you’ve got all of that sorted.  There are a few things I’d like to bring with me, but everything else can go.”
Beth clenched her jaw as she said the words.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Here was a woman trying to hold the world together for a kid who’d completely lost his life.  In the process she was losing hers too.  If he made her, she would have to go back into that hospital room and tell Jay that everything was working out perfectly even if she didn’t know where they were going to be tomorrow or what Morgan Security would require of them.  And she’d do it.  He could see that weary determination in her deep brown eyes and he knew exactly how hard she’d come down on all of them if they pushed Jay too hard.
“We’ll continue to pay for your old apartments as long as we need to,” Daniel promised.  “You’ll be able to get your stuff whenever you need to, whether that means going back yourself or letting us hire folks to get it for you.  We won’t make you leave things behind.  Not when they’re as important as Grape Crush.”
Beth didn’t smile, but her shoulders relaxed a little.
“As for where you’re going…”
Daniel passed a manila folder across the table to Beth.
“The firm picked out a safe house with the latest security.  It’s off the grid with the best locks and monitors and motion detectors money can buy.  And, for lack of a better word, it’s a bunker.  I saw the place where they were keeping him Ms. Martinez.  I thought Jay might prefer something more homey.”
Holding his breath, he took out another file.
“This holding just came on the market.  It’s not far outside the city.  You’d have to drive longer for doctor’s visits, but you’d have access to a public pool and a park a few blocks away.  I made sure that it was only one story so you wouldn’t have any problems with dizziness and falling from Jay’s pain medications.”
“And it has windows,” Beth said softly.
“And it has windows,” Daniel said.  “It looks like a home.”
He cleared his throat.
“There is one more thing about this property that you should know about that’s not in the papers.”
Beth looked up.
“I understand Jay has been seeing a Morgan Security psychiatrist.”
Beth almost sprung out of her chair.
“Look, I get it!  You want to know what happened to him.  You want him to tell you the story of every mark to make sure he didn’t tattle when they beat him half to death.  Just don’t bring me into it.  I’m not spying for you.  I’m trying to make him better while you’re focused on your own damn pride!”
“I agree.”
“What?”
“Jay needs someone who understands what he’s going through and is focused on his recovery, not his worth to any company,” Daniel said calmly.  “Next door to this address is Dr. Stephens.  He’s an old army buddy who specialized in special service members and PTSD.  This would not be his first time working with the aftereffects of torture.  Jay might still have to meet with the Morgan Security doc for appearances sake, but Dr. Stephens has promised to see him off the books.  Doctor/patient confidentiality would apply.”
That made Beth deflate completely.
“Do you really think this Dr. Stephens could help?  Jay talks more in his sleep than he does in person.  I still don’t know what’s going to set him off and I just…I just want him to feel safe.”
Daniel placed his hand on her, cold on the tan plastic table.
“So do I.”
***
Daniel returned Beth to Jay’s hospital room with the hope of a smile on his face.  Before the could close the door, the pair started bickering about the answer to the crossword’s 27 Across.  Beth held her pencil like a dagger while Jay batted at it with ineffective, casted hands.  Through it all, their feet remained pressed together with comfortable pressure, reminding each other that they were there and they weren’t going away.
Like that night long ago when he rescued Jay, Daniel pulled out his cell phone and dialed Morgan Security.  His boss picked up.
“No sir, there’s no problem,” Daniel said.  “I just need to get a copy of the Chronicle delivered outside the city to Westover drive.  Yes, this is a matter of great importance.”
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Filling the “Empty Shell” square with Original Characters for @badthingshappenbingo​!  I think I’m setting a record for filling the most squares without actually making any of them line up lol.
Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!):  @stoic-whumpee​​​​, @whatwasmyprevioususername​​​​, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall​​​​, @straight-to-the-pain​​​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​​, @0idril0​​​​, @fallingstormphoenix​​​​, @whump-fantasies​​​​, @imagination1reality0​​​​, @whumpback-wail​​​, @whump-tr0pes​​​, @untilthepainstarts​​​, @captivity-whump​​, @burtlederp​​, @redwingedwhump​​, @whumpiary​​, @captivity-whump​​, @blue-flare10​
All credit to @stoic-whumpee​ for the idea of making Daniel a main character.
53 notes · View notes
crescentdream24 · 4 years
Text
Chance Encounters
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Fandom: Star Trek Alternate Original Series
Word Count: 7k
Pairing: Dr. Mccoy x Reader.
Prompt: Literally just a random little fluff piece. How reader and Dr. Mccoy meet and get together aboard the Enterprise
Rating: T+
Warning(s): mild injuries, nothing major
Chance Encounters
You fell in love with the Enterprise the minute you stepped foot aboard her with the rest of the new recruits. The sleek lines of the ship were breathtaking as it was from the outside, but on the inside it was even more than you could have ever imagined. The bowels of the ship literally hummed with life—instruments gleaming and the crew bustling about in a way that resembled some sort of uniform chaos. For everything going on through every ship deck, it all had a purpose, everyone had a duty to perform. And now you were there to carry out a duty of your own.
The first few weeks were the hardest, as you’d expected. Everything was new and very real---no more simulations like you were used to back at the learning academy. It felt like you were introduced to a hundred new faces with a hundred new names in a matter of hours, and you were terrible with names. You were given a quick ship’s tour that glossed over many important areas which left you scrambling to find your own personal quarters at the end of the day. The food on board was hit or miss--- the food replicator could only do so much, and its version of chicken noodle soup left much to be desired.
But you quickly found solace in your work, living out most of your hours in one of the many laboratories aboard the ship. You delighted in wearing your science- blue uniform, and felt a sort of humble pride bubble up within you for all you had accomplished.
Even more exciting than finally being on the Enterprise in person, was the fact that you were now working on the Enterprise. You got to dive head-first into categorizing all the fresh samples of flora and fauna sent down to your lab from various away missions, testing soil samples and blasting open several rocks with a high-powered laser. Everyone you worked with was just as enthusiastic about their work as you were, and you made many fast friends with the crewmates that you shared your shifts with.
A few months into your first year on the ship, you made your way down to the science lab you were scheduled for that evening, trying to stifle back a yawn half- heartedly as you strode down the deserted hallway. Evening shifts were your least favorite. You’d always considered yourself a night owl back on Earth, but these last few months in space had been proving you wrong. You thought it was funny that even though there was no natural sunlight to queue your brain into when it was morning or night, it still took its cues from the brightness of the interior ship lighting, which dimmed noticeably in the evening hours to help keep the appearance of a day and night cycle.
Rounding the corner, you stood in front of the entrance to the science lab, pausing for a few seconds to punch in your keycode and letting the doors pull back automatically to admit you. You entered and stood there a moment, taking in the sight of the lab, the polished instruments glimmering under the overhead lights like jewels. You would never tire of working here, not in a million years.
You nodded your hello to the only other crewmate in the lab, a slim brunette about your age whom you’ve worked with a few times before. Her name was Rochelle, and she was timid but quite clever once you got talking to her. It was a person you didn’t mind having on the night shift with you----you weren’t especially talkative in the evenings, anyway.
Making your way over to the far wall of the lab, you awakened the touch screen panel that was mounted to it, calling up your shift schedule for the next week. It was the duty of each crewmate to double-check their work assignments for the following week in case there were any errors. Your eyes took in the schedule, expecting it to show you stationed at your regular post here in the lab as usual, and you were----except for one day in the middle. Away mission.
Your eyes widened as you re-read it. Away mission? But the captain of a starship usually didn’t bring anyone planet-side until at least their second year of active duty if they could help it. A ball of tangled nerves settles in your stomach, and you turn away from the screen, looking out into the lab but not fully registering it.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Rochelle is looking up at you from her microscope, sensing your mood change.
“Oh....yeah. I just, uhm. I saw that I'm slated for an away mission next week.” You swallow down some bitter saliva, trying to wrap your head around it.
Rochelle puts down the glass slide she was inspecting and nods in understanding. “I heard Mr. Spock discussing it in the hallway briefly when I passed by him and the Captain yesterday. They decided to choose you because of your past history with the planet.....I think it’s called Vater Epsilon V?”
Your heart begins to pound as the pieces finally fall together in your head. Your father had done considerable mining on the planet for several years and you had accompanied him in your youth. The trip was actually what you credit for sparking your interest in intergalactic space travel as a career path. It had been a wonderful trip that you look back on fondly; so many new things to experience. It hadn’t been without its danger though---most of the vegetation on the planet was extremely poisonous to humans if ingested or even with contact to the skin for a short period of time. You and your father had been in the mines for most of the trip, so there had been little danger. But, the locals have given you both a detailed tour of the area and you had read up on the planet even more on your return home. You assume your expertise of the planet is the reason you were being chosen. But it didn’t do anything to calm your racing heart.
“Right, that must be it. I’ve been there before, actually.”
Rochelle’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Really? That’s so exciting.” You make your way over to the station beside her, washing your hands and donning your work goggles, trying to put your nerves behind you. You tell Rochelle all about your trip as you remember it, and you two work away the hours quickly until your shift is almost over.
“Wow, I can’t believe we’re almost done for the night.” Rochelle says as she checks the time read-out on the console beside her. “It hasn’t even felt like.......” Her voice trails off and you look up at her, seeing that her skin is now startlingly pale.
“Rochelle?” She doesn’t answer you and wobbles unsteadily. Your instincts take over and you spring into action, taking a large step towards her as her knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, steadily guiding her to the floor with your arms as she faints. You remember your training about falling with the person that’s fainting instead of trying to catch them. Guiding them to the floor instead of trying to stop the fall altogether and potentially hurting you both.
You lay her on her back, and her head lolls to the side, eyes closed. Trying to shake her awake gently yields no response. You shout her name as your fingers urgently such for a pulse against her neck, finally covering over one of her carotid arteries. The pulse beat feels steady underneath your fingertips, and you relax slightly although not enough to calm your own frantic heartbeat, backing away towards the comm unit on the wall to hail a medical team to come assist you.
They arrive a few moments later with a stretcher in tow, and you recount what happened to one of the nurses on the team as they carefully load Rochelle and carry her to the sick bay. You follow them, not wanting to leave your friend when she’s in such distress.
The bright lights of the medical bay are startling contrast to the dim light of the hall, and you blink a few times as your eyes re-adjust. The bay is mostly empty, rows of beds lining one wall off to your left with larger cubicles surrounded by privacy curtains on the other side. The medical team transfers Rochelle to a med bed and you stand back to give them room as they work, quickly hooking her up to the vital signs monitor mounted overhead. The sound of her steady heartbeat fills the room as the team clears away, leaving only a nurse to attend to her for the moment.
“What’s going on out here, Nurse?” A rough voice breaks through the relative silence of the sickbay and you turn your head to see a dark-haired man stride into the room to stand at Rochelle’s bedside, ignoring you altogether. He’s clad in medical blues and his eyes are already assessing her, retrieving more information in one quick glance than the nurse would ever be able to tell him. The nurse gives him a run-down on her vitals----all normal except for the blood sugar levels.
He runs a quick scan with his handheld tricorder, hovering it just above Rochelle’s body in a slow, steady motion. His eyes are intent and laser-focused, and you sense he’s taking in every minute detail of her condition in a way only achieved by years of experience. You listen to the low beeps of the tricorder and swallow, wanting to add something to the conversation but feeling strangely intimidated at the moment.
“I...I was working with her when she fainted,” you start as the doctor continues scanning. “I noticed she’s wearing a medical bracelet. I believe she’s a diabetic.”
The doctor’s eyes flicked up at you then, and you’re startled by them. You’ve seen hundreds of people with dark eyes like his before, but none of them had ever seemed so....brilliant.
“Did she hit her head when she fell?” He asks you as he sets down the tricorder, walking over to a medicine cabinet a few feet away as the nurse prepares a hypo needle.
“No, I got to her in enough time to ease her fall. And her pulse seemed steady when I checked for it. She just wasn’t responsive.”
He grabs a vial out of the cabinet, handing it to the nurse as he turns to face you again. “Are you medically trained?” He asks offhandedly, raising an eyebrow. You swallow again, wondering if you did something wrong. Shifting on your feet you shake your head. “No, just the basic Starfleet training.”
He doesn’t acknowledge you as he makes his way back to Rochelle and the nurse passes him the hypo, injecting it swiftly into her upper arm. You watch with worry in your stomach, hoping that her condition would be easily remedied. Diabetes nowadays was easily controlled with a simple daily pill and a strict diet, but you had read during your studies at the Academy about how serious a condition it had been in the past. People used to need constant insulin injections and daily blood tests centuries ago to remain stable. It still wasn’t anything to mess with today, either.
The nurse leaves to tend to the other few patients in the medical bay, and the doctor finally looks up at you again, his hard expression softening somewhat. “You did great. She is diabetic, her sugars were just out of wack there. That hypo should set her right again, but she’ll probably sleep for a few hours now.”
“So, she’s going to be okay?” you add hopefully.
“Most definitely.” He had a pleasant Southern twang to his voice, one that inexplicably put you at ease. “You did exactly the right thing.” He went to leave but paused, turning back on his heel. “I didn’t catch your name?”
“Oh,” you put a hand on the bedrail in front of you. “It’s Y/N.” You inspect the insignia on his blue medical uniform. “And I’m assuming you’re the CMO?”
He flashes a tight-lipped grin, only for a moment. “Unless there’s someone else here claiming to be chief medical officer. If there is, you send ‘em to me. Name’s Mccoy.”
Your mouth twists up into a smile as he continues. “I better get back. No rest for the weary.” He nods his head towards you once, looking down to pick up the tricorder and inclining it towards Rochelle. “And your friend there is damn lucky you were workin with her tonight.” He adds as he leaves, making his way into one of the exam rooms on the other side of the med bay. You realize you’re still smiling awhile after he’s gone, and you shake your head abruptly. Time for bed.
OOOOOO
You quickly slung the slim utility belt across your hips as you stood just outside the transporter room, preparing for the away mission you were about to embark on in a few minutes. Mentally, your brain did one last run-through of checklist-- your phaser was set to stun, you had all your scientific supplies safely tucked away along with your scientific recorder, and you had brushed up on your knowledge of the planet in the days prior so you would feel prepared. You’d checked all the boxes and anticipated every scenario. So why were you standing there shaking like a leaf?
Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady yourself, you finally bite the bullet and step into the transporter room, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock already standing on their respective transporter pads. You give a quick nod to both of them. “Captain. Commander.” Spock returns your nod.
“Ensign Y/N.” The captain regards you carefully. “I’m betting your knowledge of this planet will come in handy. Initially, it was supposed to be a quick stop for some supplies from the mines, but there’s a group of villagers that have come down with what looks to be Andronesian encephalitis that we need to check out first.” He flips on his communicator, testing its signal strength. “And Starfleet would love to get its hands on some more information about what makes those poisonous plants so potent.”
You nod, trying to will away the unsettled fluttering in your stomach. “I’m quite familiar with the area we’ll be transporting to. I’ll try my best to collect some worthwhile environmental samples.” You step up to the transporter, standing just to the left of the captain and a security officer, who offers you a tight smile. You assume this is the entire landing party when you hear the doors open again in front of you. Dr. Mccoy rushes in, a look of annoyance clearly written across his face. You feel your heart skip unexpectedly.
“Do you really need me for every god-damned planet-side escapade, Jim?” He quickly slung his tricorder across his shoulder, hopping up on the transporter pad near the other side of the Captain.
“I believe the chief medical officer is a vital member of the landing party when the natives of such planet are afflicted with ailments they are otherwise unfamiliar with.” Spock’s statement of fact was met with an eyeroll from the doctor.
“It wouldn’t be any fun without you, Bones.” Kirk smirked, clearly enjoying the frustration of the CMO.
The transporter energized then, and you experience the familiar odd, fuzzy sensation spread throughout your body along with a split-second of darkness to your vision that always puts you on edge. Suddenly, you find yourself standing on a patch of grass in the middle of a heavily-treed area, feeling the sunlight pour in from the sky above and relishing in its warmth. You’ve missed being outside on solid ground.
“Could they have picked a deadlier place for us to beam in?” Mccoy looked around warily, and you immediately recognized his concern. On Earth, a place like this would be harmless, even sought-after. But here, most every tree and bush held some amount of venom, and your group would have to tread very carefully.
“Alright, crew.” Kirk began, completely ignoring Mccoy’s disdain. “Y/N will lead us through until we hit the village which should only be a half-hour walk to the east.” Kirk glances over at you from over his shoulder. “Ready?”
You press your lips together, taking in a big inhale. “Yes, sir.” Carefully, you step ahead of the group and slowly begin to pick your way through the trail flanked with dense foliage on either side, avoiding all contact with the more lethal plants. Your mind is honed in on the path in front of you, eyes taking in every new area of greenery you encounter and analyzing their respective dangers in your head. Soon, you make it to another clearing and the group decides to take a short break to cool off from the mid-morning heat.
You take a small handheld recording device off your belt and decide that this would be a good time to try and collect a few environmental samples to analyze later. As you cautiously kneel down next to a gathering of particularly lethal shrubs, a shadow falls over you and you tilt your head up, seeing Dr. Mccoy duplicate your posture beside you.
“I guess saving your co-workers on nightshift isn’t the only thing on your resume.” His lips cock up to one side as he regards the plants in front of you warily.
You give a light chuckle as you slowly pass the recorder over top a thick violet-colored shrub. “Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an everyday thing. I’m trained in the sciences, not medicine. Although I do have an interest in it. My mother was a nurse.” A question suddenly pops into your head and you blurt it out. “What made you get into medicine??”
He snorted, resting a hand on his knee. “I guess certain people would say it was a “calling.” After you see the world kick people down enough times, a part of you gets fed up and wants to help.” You take in his answer as you quickly skim over the readout on your recorder. His character was so gruff and off-putting on the outside, but you sensed that his inner workings held a deep sense of duty and rigid moral character that you wanted to learn more about. You’d been told in the past that you were a good judge of character, and you had a nagging suspicion that this doctor held one as solid as any other.
“Hm, so that explains the doctor part.” You shift slightly, reaching out to hover the recorder over a small outcropping of rock. “What about the Starfleet part?”
He smirked again. “I feel like I’m in a courtroom here with all this questioning. Anyone ever tell you you’d make a damn good detective?”
“I’m just curious, is all,”you intone innocently.
“Well, I’d about had it with being on Earth. Living in space seemed new and exciting. Don’t really have much tying me to the ground, I figured I might as well be tending to aliens and saving Kirk and Spock from themselves. That’s practically a full-time job right there.”
You laugh out loud and your eyes meet, briefly pulling your mind away from your work. “You must have the patience of a jungle cat to deal with that every day.”
You start to feel a tickle on your hand and look down, seeing some sort of insect crawling across your knuckles, about the size of a horsefly. You recognize it as a pill beetle, nothing to be too alarmed about, although you remember from your research that it does pack quite a painful bite. You slowly shake your hand up and down, hoping to shoo it away. Your grasp on your recorder slips, and on instinct you try to catch it. The sudden movement startles the beetle and a strong pinch drills into the top of your hand.
“Ugh!” You drop the recorder in the bushes as the beetle flees into the sky, feeling the sting of the bite quickly grow in intensity. You sink onto both knees, holding your injured hand as a few drops of blood escape between your fingers.
Dr. Mccoy reaches out for your hand instantly, pulling it towards him to inspect. “What was that? Do you know what bit you?”
“Yesss...it was a---” You suck in your breath as the sting of the bite rises exponentially with each passing second. The literature you read about this bite greatly underestimated its intensity. “It’s a pill beetle.....it’s not....lethal.” You hiss through your teeth, trying to keep your composure but the pain is racing through you like fire along a tightrope.
Mccoy gently turns your hand over in his grasp and bends over to the side, quickly flipping open his small medi-kit and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe. The sting of the alcohol amplifies your pain and you feel tears spring up, gritting your teeth and cursing your stupidity. You were supposed to be the expert around here, and in your first ever away mission you managed to get bitten by a worthless beetle that now had you almost sobbing on the ground.
“I know, it hurts, I know,” he tries to soothe you as he applies a slim medicated bandage across the bite. “This is infused with a numbing agent, it should help with the pain a little bit. Just give it a second to work.” He presses his thumb on top of the bandage, then slowly rubs it back and forth with light pressure, trying to aide the release of the medication from the bandage.
You try to hold it together, but the fire in your veins is only ramping up and you feel a sweat coming on, wondering if the beetle had injected some sort of venom along with its bite. “I---ughhh! This isn’t going away.” You bow your head and try to focus on something else, anything else. He draws your other hand into his and grips it tightly, trying to draw your focus away from the burning sensation of your wound and you bite your lip.
“I know it hurts, darlin’. You’ll be okay.” The drawl of his voice calms you slightly as he grabs out a small travel hypo, hurriedly loading it with a clear liquid. “Here, give me your arm.” You slide closer to him and he injects you with it so swiftly you’re barely even aware of the pinch. You instantly notice the drug kick in as it works to dull the sharpness of the pain. Slowly, your body relaxes until the burning fire is nothing more than a dull throbbing. Still quite noticeable, but much improved.
You let out a big sigh of relief and look up at him with gratitude as the tension begins to leave your body. “Thank you....so much. That was...unpleasant.”
He gives you a soft smile. “All in a day’s work. You let me know if it starts to feel any worse, alright?” He still has your hand in his grasp, and you stay in that position for a few moments longer, letting the relief flow through your veins like cold water on a hot summer’s day. The warmth of his thumb radiates into the top of your hand as it continues to firmly trace over the bandage. You watch as he strokes your hand, marveling at how someone so rough around the edges could be so gentle. You would willingly stay like this for a few hours but soon you reluctantly pull your hand away, nodding at his instruction wordlessly.
You both stand together to go meet up with the others, and you have a hunch that the medication isn’t altogether responsible for your sudden good mood.
OOOOOOO
The long streams of distorted starlight streak across the blackness of space as you idly watch from a small circular viewing port, worshipping the sight of the ship in warp drive. It always amazed you that you and all the other crew aboard felt exactly the same no matter how fast the Enterprise travelled, and could only begin to imagine what the crew of the first ship to enter warp would have felt. Enraptured? Terrified? Probably a mix of both.
The cozy seating area off the mess hall was empty, as it usually was at this late hour. You had found this little haven tucked away from it all a few weeks into your first month of duty, and ever since you sought it out quite often, especially when you felt particularly reflective as you did now.
With your arms crossed lightly, you leaned a shoulder against the space-grade glass of the viewport, looking out into the stars that were especially illuminated tonight in the dim interior lighting of the ship. Your mind wandered, thinking of your family and wondering how everyone back home was doing—there were quite a few friends you had left behind, but only a few you actually missed. You would give anything for one of your father’s hugs or a bite of your mom’s homemade casserole right about now.
“I see you’ve found one of the hidden gems of the ship.” A male voice breaks the silence behind you and you turn to face the dark brooding eyes of the doctor. You sense your pulse excite as if on cue, giving him a slightly startled look.
“Oh, I didn’t.....yeah, well. S--sometimes I come here...just to think and look out at the stars.” You stutter as you lean against the wall again, facing him this time. He comes nearer to the viewing port, looking out into the abyss of starlight. He’s quiet for a moment, as if marveling at the wonders of space himself.
“No matter how many times you look at it, it never gets any less breathtaking.” His eyes flick over to you then, and you feel a slight flush wash over you, as if his words are meant for you and you alone. He always had a way of making everything sound so intimate, with that warm southern drawl.
You clear your throat softly, trying to dispel some of the butterflies in your stomach. "It's easy to forget where we are, easy to get caught up with other things while we’re busy working. So, I like to come here to remind myself.” You turn your head to look out again, sliding a bit closer to his side. He nods at your comment and you both stand in silence for a moment as you take in the view from the viewport, relishing in a shared appreciation for where you both are.
“Hurtling through space in nothing more than a tin can,” he says with his voice low, almost to himself. Finally, he looks down at you. “How’s that hand treatin’ you?”
Before you can answer, he reaches out and takes your hand gently, pulling it toward him to examine as he runs a thumb over the ridge of raised skin where the small scab has formed over the imprint of the insect bite.
“It’s good. Finally starting to heal.” Your mouth goes dry at his touch and you swallow as your pulse races to life again. It has a funny little habit of developing a mind of its own whenever you and the doctor are alone like this. You can feel the tremor of your heart’s increased pace against your ribcage, as if fighting to break free.
You expect him to let go of your hand but he continues to drag his thumb back and forth across it and you perceive yourself inching closer to him—almost unconsciously, drawn in by the gentleness and warmth of his touch.
His hazel eyes flick from your mending wound back up to your face, holding your stare intently. “You know, space is a pretty dangerous place,” he utters slowly. “I better keep my eye on you.”
You suck in a small breath, sensing your heart about to ram itself clear across the room. “I’d like that.”
His other hand lightly presses to the small of your back and you step in closer to him, tilting your head up as he bends down slightly to meet you. You feel your eyes begin to flutter closed as you place a hand on his chest, and the drumming of your heart in your ears so loud you’re almost certain he can hear it.
The piercing wail of the klaxon suddenly screeches out through the halls of the ship, and the bright red alert lights flash to life. You open your eyes abruptly and Mccoy drops your hand.
“Damn,” he curses softly as your face falls in disappointment, your other hand dropping away from his chest. The red flashes of the alert bounce across his uniform and a few crewmen quickly dash past you both.
“Go.” You urge him, fighting against the strong desire to stay exactly where you are together for the full entirety of the alert. “Be safe,” you manage to add, trying to fight down a wave of uneasiness.
You go to turn away and make a run for your emergency posting, but his grip at your arm stops you, facing you back to him.
“We’ll finish this....later.” His voice is full of meaning and promise, and you feel your heart skip yet again as you afford him a soft smile of hope in return. You sense the grip he has on your arm gradually slip away and both of you reluctantly turn in opposite directions to answer the insistent wailing of the klaxon.
You dash down the hallway, careful to avoid colliding with other crewmates as everyone rushes to their posts as orderly as possible. You had to respond to a red alert only one other time before, and it hadn’t lasted very long. It had been scary at first, the sheer suddenness of it, but after the initial shock and boost of adrenaline faded away, everything had kind of calmed down, and you expected it to go that way again. Captain Kirk was one of the best captains in all of Starfleet, and you had complete and utter faith in him.
Racing around a corner, you make your way toward the other side of the ship, trying to calm yourself a bit in the process. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary yet, but you can’t quite shake the imposing heaviness of dread that was now settling in your stomach. You silently will your feet to keep up their pace as you pass a few more crewmen heading for the turbolift behind you, both in security red. Are they going to the bridge? Maybe something’s happening up there....
Without warning, the Enterprise forcefully pitches to one side and you tumble into the wall, jamming your shoulder harshly. The hum of the warp engines intensifies over the cry of the red alert as they work overtime to compensate, and the rattling of the hull echoes around you. You try and continue your way down the hall but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against the force of an unbalanced ship. After a few seconds, you feel everything begin to steady back out and slowly take a breath, not realizing you’ve been holding it in this entire time.
You pass through the end of the hallway into the open deck that runs overtop the engineering room, connecting to the rest of the ship deck farther down. It has waist-high railings on either side, and you can see the Enterprises’ inner workings in a glance as your race across the deck, hearing frantic voices shouting out orders from down below. Suddenly, the ship is pitched to the side again and your eyes widen in panic as you lose your footing and slide towards the railing. The drop from this deck would be several stories high, something you have absolutely no intention of experiencing. You see a few other crewmates scramble in front of you to keep their balance as you all slide for the railing, but fortunately everyone manages to brace themselves against it, including you. The overhead lights flicker a few times, and the engines roar in your ears as they’re brought up to their full potential.
The ship slowly begins to steady out once again, and you loosen your death- grip on the railing at your side, cautiously starting to make your way back to the middle of the deck.
A deafening crack echoes down through the hall behind you and the ship abruptly heaves. This time, you are un- prepared and you tumble back towards the railing full force, the right side of your ribcage making full-on contact with the unyielding metal as your body tries to bend in half around it. You gasp out in pain as both your hands shoot out to clamp down on the rail, stopping yourself from being tossed clear over to the other side and down into the engineering room. Another crew member isn’t so lucky and you hear his anguished scream as his body is flung off the steep drop of the deck.
You’re breathing in and out in raspy gasps, panic spreading through your veins as you try to keep your hold. Your ribcage is screaming out at you from the blow to the railing and you slowly sink down to your knees, trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of you before. You feel your legs quiver in your boots and you try to steady yourself once again, rationally reminding your brain that you have to perform your duty and get to your emergency post. The ship has steadied for the moment, but you don’t trust it this time, giving it a few more seconds before you dare to stand back up. You claw yourself across the railing, pulling yourself upright, and you realize you’re in one of the most dangerous places on the ship right now. As long as you make it to the end of the deck and back into the hallway, you’ll be in way better shape than you are now.
You decide to make a dash for it and run as fast as you can down the deck, trying to push the anguished scream of the crewman out of your head. Your ribs burn daggers through your uniform as you run, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fractured a few. An image of Dr. Mccoy flashes through your mind and you wipe it away as soon as it appears, not wanting to acknowledge your mounting fear for his safety.
The wail of the klaxon abruptly ceases, and the red flashing lights turn to ones of cautionary yellow. You halt your run as you enter the hallway, a huge sigh of relief escaping you as you lightly cover over your ribs with one hand, taking a moment to calm your breathing. We did it. We survived.
OOOOOOO
You had decided to wait until the night after the red alert to make your way up to medical, knowing that Mccoy and all the rest of the med staff would have their hands full of injured and critically wounded. The ship had come under a surprise attack and one of the upper decks had received some heavy damage, and there had been a few casualties. But you knew for certain that the CMO hadn’t been one of them, and for this you were relieved beyond words. As happy as you were that disaster had been averted, the nagging tenderness across the right side of your ribcage had only gotten worse as the day passed, and you could barely lift your arms above waist level while working your day shift at the lab. Now that your shift was over, you decided that it was time to seek out some proper medical attention.
You rode the turbolift up to medical, wincing as you reached out to indicate your desired floor on the touch panel. The doors slid open and you made your way gingerly into the brightly lit med bay, cupping a hand lightly across your ribs to help contain some of the discomfort. You saw that most of the med beds were currently occupied, with several nurses making their rounds, arms full of medical supplies. Some patients looked almost fit enough to jump up and walk out, while there were a few others with privacy curtains drawn carefully around their beds.
One of the nurses spotted you and immediately recognized the look of pain written across your features. She hurriedly guided you over to an examination room and drew the privacy curtain, sitting you down on the stiff exam table to give you a quick once-over. When she was satisfied that you weren’t in any immediate danger, she straightened up. “I’ll go get a doctor for you.”
You nod in thanks and she leaves, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind her. You wonder if you would be lucky enough to have Dr. Mccoy examine you, and feel a certain level of anxiety to think that it could be someone else. Sure, your mother had been a nurse, but that didn’t mean you were completely at ease when it came to your own medical visits. You were sure that all the doctors on the Enterprise were perfectly capable to handle your situation, but you knew none of them would do it with the care and understanding of the chief medical officer. You felt a small wave of panic swell in your gut and you swallowed it down, even though you could feel your nerves getting the best of you. Especially now, when your entire right side was throbbing incessantly, seemingly getting worse with each passing hour. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to fear there was more extensive internal damage than you first thought. You pressed your left hand overtop the area again, hissing out from in between your teeth.
“No, no. It’s alright, I’ll see to her. You go take a break.” You hear a muffled voice from behind the curtain, and suddenly it’s pulled back roughly, revealing hazel eyes dark with intensity as he immediately starts to size up your condition.
“Dr. Mccoy,” you breathe out in relief.
He cocks up an eyebrow at you as he walks into the room, readying the medical equipment on the table beside the exam bed you’re perched on top of.
“That’s Leonard to you.” The hint of a smile traces over your lips as he picks up his tricorder and begins to pass it across your body slowly, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders.
“What happened here?” he askes curtly, attention focused on the readout of the tricorder.
“I fell into a metal railing during that alert yesterday. Right on top of my ribs....it’s been hurting pretty bad ever since.” You drop your hand away from your ribcage, wincing again as you accidentally twist your torso a fraction.
Your pained expression doesn’t escape his notice and he puts down the tricorder, stepping close in front of you. “Why didn’t you come up sooner?” His tone is accusatory and your gaze points down toward the white tiles of the exam room floor guiltily.
“Well, I figured you’d be pretty busy....I didn’t want to make anymore work for you. It wasn’t urgent....”
He shakes his head, and takes a small amount of antibacterial soap into his palm, rubbing it briskly into his hands. “I don’t care if half the medical bay is going up in flames, you come here if you’re hurt, you hear me?” The look in his eyes is stern, agitated that you let yourself go without proper care, and your heart rate accelerates.
You nod your head and his expression softens. “I just don’t want you to do anymore damage, is all. Lord knows we’ve got enough injured as it is.” He stands in front of you again, looking you in the eyes, assessing your condition.
“I want to get a good look at it now, mind if I lift this up?” He motions to your uniform and you nod wordlessly, bracing yourself for the pain that will inevitably follow. Before he touches your uniform, he places a light hand on your knee. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise you.”
“I know.” You trust him completely, but still dread the thought of getting your ribs poked at.
He carefully rolls up the edge of your blue uniform, all the way up until it hits the underarm. You move your arm forward a bit so he can look around it, and you can see the large, swollen bruising feathered along your side in the reflection of the mirror beside you. It’s a deep purple with blue hues around the edges, and you could have sworn it wasn’t that big when you’d inspected it yesterday. You hear the doctor curse under his breath softly as he examines you.
“Really, darlin’. You waited much too long.” he gently scolds you as he hovers a hand just above the afflicted skin. “May I?”
You nod again, steeling yourself as he lightly places a hand over top of your ribs. He starts up high and you can tell he is applying gradual pressure with his fingers, trying to find any weakness in the bone. The pain is uncomfortable but bearable so far, and you lean in closer to him a bit as you close your eyes, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the throbbing. His chest is directly in front of you and you wish you could lean your head against it.
“How’s this?” he asks, starting to slowly move his hand down your ribcage one rib at a time. “Here?” “It’s okay,” you answer as you feel the pain starting to intensify again.
“Here?” His warm palm encircles your bruise, just above the very middle, his fingers playing at your side with measured pressure.
“Getting worse,” you mumble, wincing again. He moves down half an inch. "Here?”
“Ah!--” You bend forward and hiss out an exhale, your left hand darting up to hold onto the blue cloth of his uniform shirt.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes as his fingers nimbly dart across the tender area. “Just a bit more.”
Your fist balls up the cloth of his shirt as you grit your teeth, the pain searing across your right side like a bolt of lightning. Just as quick, his hand is gone and tugs your uniform back into place, looking down at you but not moving away.
“Looks like you got a few fractured ribs there. It’ll be painful for a while so you gotta take it easy.” His eyes are warm and re-assuring, and you feel the fire of your ribcage receding back to more acceptable levels. “I’ll try to do what I can with the regenerator but unfortunately it doesn’t have the best success rate when it comes to ribs. The easiest way for them to heal is still the old-fashioned way. Get plenty of rest.....and a “light duty only” order.” He sees your face fall a bit at that, knowing that most everyone aboard hated having limitations to their work duties. “And I want you to come see me every few days so I can make sure everything is healin’ like it should.”
You perk up a bit at that, and realize that you’re still holding the fabric of his uniform sleeve hostage in your fist. “Oh...I’m sorry,” you say as you slowly let go. He places a hand gently to your waist on your un-injured side and you look up at him with wide eyes.
“I’m not.” Faster than you can think, his head dips low and his lips find yours in a light kiss. You sink into his hold like melted butter, placing a hand on his chest as you kiss him back tenderly. Your eyes close and you take in the smell of him---a unique mix of coffee, medical sanitizer, and just a hint of cologne. Its an odd mixture but fits him perfectly and you sigh into his lips which are still pressing into yours.
Eventually you pull away for want of breathing, and your eyes lock, a lop-sided grin spreading across his face as he looks down at you. “Now Y/N, you don’t have to keep getting hurt just to see me.”
You chuckle up at him, shaking your head. “You have some ego on you, you know that?”
He squeezes your hip once and steps back, purposely ignoring your last comment with a glint of humor dancing in his eyes. “I’ll go get you some painkillers.”
You’re sitting in a stupor as he leaves, your mind racing so fast it’s practically blank. He re-appears in seconds, injecting you with a hypo carefully and giving you a small bottle of pills. “Take one twice a day and you’ll be feeling a whole lot better.”
You curl your fingers around the pill bottle, looking up at him with gratitude and more affection than you’ve ever felt for anyone. “Thank you....Leonard.”
He holds out a hand to help you off the exam table and you step down gingerly, wincing again but already feeling the positive effects of the hypo flow through you. “Now, let’s go give the regenerator a whirl there, darlin’. It should help you out a bit.”
Before you both step out of the exam room, he turns back to you and you stop, looking up at him in puzzlement. A warm hand finds your cheek, fingers splayed out under your ear and he kisses you again, except much deeper than the first time. Your mind is nothing but the streaking stars of space at warp speed as you return the kiss eagerly, enjoying the closeness you’ve ached for ever since you first saw him. His lips are tender but firm, making his feelings known to you in a way that makes your body crave the taste of him even more. After a long moment, you both pull away slowly, his hand still at the side of your face.
“That’s what I wanted to do ever since that damn red alert finished my thought for me.”
You smile up at him and he takes your hand, pulling open the curtain for you and gently guiding you back out into the med bay.
END
Thanks for the read!
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froodyie · 6 years
Text
The Detective’s Wife Part 1
CoAi Week Day 6/Prompt: Genius
Summary: Shiho has always had an interest in true crime and sometimes eager to provide her own thoughts and theories to cases Shinichi has yet to solve.
Other places to read: FanFic.Net|AO3
Link to Part 2
Little 5-month old Kudo Aiko extended her chubby arms and gurgled happily, a mush of baby food drooling from her mouth. The cause of her excitement was her 21-year old mother, Miyano Shiho, who was making silly faces at her as a way to get her to eat her breakfast. Unfortunately, her mother had failed to remember about the mess each feeding session left and she clucked, reaching out for a tissue.
“Sweetie, you’re supposed to eat the carrots, not spit them out.”, the strawberry-blonde woman groaned, wiping away the orange baby food from her daughter’s face.
Aiko giggled, more food mixed with her saliva drooling down her chin. Her mother sighed, smiling warmly at her as she grabbed a rag and began to clean up the small table of her highchair, which was heavily coated with orange mush. As she did this, she heard the door of the house opening and closing, a suitcase settled on the floor, and the sound of footsteps making their way into the kitchen. She turned around to greet the person who had just walked in, her husband.
“Hello, how was work?” She asked, setting the rag on the dinner table and standing up so she can undo his red tie.
Shinichi groaned, rolling his eyes.
“That bad?” Shiho asked, faking her surprise.
“I wouldn’t say bad,” he explained, walking over to their daughter and planting a kiss on her head before sitting down beside her, “Just tiresome since they assigned me another case! Shortly after I finished with the previous one after a whole month…..Anyway, enough about me, how’s our little pumpkin been doing today.” He reached out caressed one of Aiko’s chubby cheeks, causing the baby to giggle lightly.
Shiho smiled, taking her seat. “Great. She got herself all messy during her feeding time, no matter how much I try, she still insists on a spitting out her carrots.”
Her husband gasped and looked at Aiko. “Not eating your carrots?” He asked. “Now missy, if you don’t eat your carrots you won’t have great eyesight or grow up big and strong! Hey, you know what–if you eat your carrots, I’ll get you a big chocolate cake, how does that sound?”
The little baby smiled, turquoise eyes gleaming.
Shiho frowned playfully and began to scold Shinichi over bribing their daughter like that. Her husband shrugged, laughing. After he finished, she asked what was on her mind.
“What’s the new case about? If you tell me, I might be able to help.”
He looked at her and smiled. “Want to brainstorm some theories, huh?” He teased.
Coming up with theories on unsolved murders was a new habit that Shiho picked up. Who could blame her though, her husband’s a detective, solving any murder he crosses paths with, and before she got pregnant with their daughter, she was on her third year as a coroner for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Shinichi really enjoyed her smart assumptions and was impressed every time, sometimes he’d even go to her for help when stumped on a case and review what she said.
So, he began to detail her on what today’s case was about: a couple was found slaughtered in a nearby park just last night. The coroner’s report stated the despite the fact both of their bodies were covered in multiple stab wounds, the cause of death was aconite poisoning. Police officers closed up the park to start their investigation, but at this point they have yet to find a clue as to what happened.
Shiho listened intently, taking in every little detail even as she grabbed their daughter out of her chair and began breastfeeding her. “The murderer must’ve stabbed them hoping that the police would think that was the COD, they must’ve not known they do autopsy on the victims, or the stabbings may have been done with emotions, say anger.”, Shiho silently stated after he finished giving her the gist of the whole thing. “Do you remember how many wounds they had?”
“Forty-eight on the husband and at least thirty on the wife.”
“That’s a lot,” she said, surprised, “If I was a killer who just killed a couple in a public place, even if it was at night, I wouldn’t dare stay behind to stab them just to sugarcoat their true cause of death. Considering how many wounds were left, I say this person must’ve harbored hatred towards those two and spilled it all out when they stabbed them.”
Shinichi smiled warmly at her, nodding to let her know he agreed. He proceeded to ask her this question, “Do you think it was an accidental murder or planned?”
A “are you serious” look was thrown at him. “It was definitely planned, Shinichi,” she said, frowning at him, “After all, who in their right mind would carry aconite around. Speaking about that, was Tomoko able to figure out where exactly the aconite came from? Any food in their system that was laced with it?”
He shook his head. “There was no food in their system at all. They must’ve not eaten anything in the last few hours before they died. Tomoko came to the conclusion that the killer may have spiked a drink with the poison or heck, forced them to drink the liquid from the bottle.”
Shiho looked down, deep in thought. “Have you guys made any attempts to locate the knife used?”
She heard him scoff at her question. “Of course, Shiho. We’ve looked all around the area and have found nothing. This killer did their homework and cleaned up pretty goddamn good.”
“True, but there’s always something they slip up on. You guys aren’t looking hard enough and it’s hard to think up anything else with this small limited amount of information. I have to know these people’s names, their background, and almost everything to even come up with an idea of what happened. At this point, I’m positive the person who killed them was somebody they must’ve known.”, she stated firmly.
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solastia · 7 years
Text
Hero | 1
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Pairing: Shownu x Reader
Word Count: 2,138 
Genre & Warnings: This series will have a little bit of everything, although nothing too heavy. Angst in later chapters. Shownu will be a bit of a soft dom. Fluffiness overload. Comedy because it’s Monsta X. 
“Do my lips taste like Doritos?”
That was his only warning before Shownu was rudely awakened by a pair of wet lips that did indeed taste like Doritos.
“Minhyuk, what the fuck?” Shownu shot up off the couch, wiping crumb residue from his lips. He glared at his friend, the answering grin not faltering in the slightest. 
“Time to get up Papa Bear. We have a guest.” Minhyuk nudges him and gestures towards the front door where a middle age woman looked at her surroundings and at the boys with distaste. She nods curtly to Shownu as he makes his way to her. 
“Sohn Hyunwoo, the President of this Fraternity?” Her nasal voice asks, thick with disdain.
“Yes, ma'am.” 
“I’m here to inform you that your House director has quit. Again. As this is the fourth house director you’ve gone through is two years, and you have yet to obtain a new pledge this year, we will be reducing funding to your house. Furthermore, until you obtain some new pledges, we will not be assigning another house director. Since there are only five of you, we’ve decided that’s a waste of our resources. Once you obtain more, we’ll reconsider our decision.” 
Without another word she left, slamming the door behind her. Shownu stared at the door, trying to process the news. No house director meant no one to cook, or clean, or help keep the others in check. It meant no one buying groceries or other things they needed. Reduced funding meant they were in serious trouble. He supposed in the meantime he could start assigning chores. Kihyun could handle cooking and cleaning, with help from Shownu and Wonho.  Minhyuk could help Hyungwon grocery shopping. They’d have to come up with some sort of fundraiser to handle any other activities. 
Shownu sighed and ran a hand down his face. This was seriously driving him crazy. He didn’t even understand WHY the house directors kept quitting. Sure, the boys could be a handful sometimes, but they weren’t bad. More likely, it was that the directors came in thinking they were in for some sort of crazy college experience with a wild fraternity. Instead, they got five boys in the music program whose idea of a wild time was video games and bingeing on ramen. Shownu was actually starting to wonder if the college was considering closing the house for good. They needed new pledges. He just didn’t know what to do.
“Hey, who ate the last ramen? Seriously, guys, there’s nothing else to eat in here! You can eat anything else that you wish, but not all my ramen” Wonho yelled from the kitchen. 
“My only wish is that you shut your cakehole,” Hyungwon yelled from the other side of the house. “And you ate all of my ice cream, Mr. “I only eat healthy,” except for ice cream apparently.” 
Shownu grabbed his wallet and keys, sighing again as he headed out. He was going to have to find a job. He had kids to feed. 
Tutoring, nighttime warehouse work, and retail seemed to be all that was posted on the job board. He supposed if he had to he could apply to one of these retail jobs in the mall, and hope they’d be flexible with their hours. 
He was about to leave with a flyer for a clothing shop when he noticed another flyer underneath it. He pulled it out and saw it was a call for a nanny. The pay was ridiculously good. He supposed he could try something like this. He was pretty good with kids, and his frat brothers were basically his children at this point. It was worth a shot. 
He called the number on his way home, setting up a day to come interview. He was going on Friday, after his last class, to give them a chance to make a decision over the weekend. He emailed his resume as he walked home and tried not to think about the fact that the woman who answered had probably the sexiest voice he’d ever heard. 
It had been an incredibly long week. An incredibly long and loud week. With Kihyun essentially being promoted to house mother, he’d been nagging even more than usual, and that leads to everyone else being frustrated and taking it out on each other. It was an endless cycle of Kihyun bitching to Shownu about the boys, the boys bitching to Shownu about Kihyun, Hyungwon bitching about having to clean and Wonho bitching about there never being enough food in the house. He’d finally lost his patience and essentially kicked everyone out of the house today. He needed to calm down enough to handle this interview today. 
He stood in front of the little townhome. It was a pretty cute looking place. It was a warm brown with aged brick steps. Probably didn’t have more than three rooms inside. It looked like a comfortable home. 
Shownu took a deep breath and walked up the steps, knocking lightly. There was a bit of shuffling with the door and it sounded like someone was having trouble with the lock. When it finally swung open, there was no one there. 
“Hello.” A soft childlike voice whispered, followed by a pair of huge brown eyes peeking around the side of the door. 
Shownu smiled at the little boy. “Hey there. Is your mom home?” 
The boy nodded yes but didn’t move or say anything. Just watched him.
“Uh, can I talk to her?” Shownu shuffled his feet a bit, not sure if he should just walk in. 
“Jae, how many times do I have to tell you not to answer the door?” 
And there she was, the person to go with the voice he’d totally not been thinking of all week. God, she did not disappoint. She was stunning and looked much younger than he’d thought. As her welcoming smile dimmed with confusion, he realized he’d been staring and quickly snapped his mouth shut. He cleared his throat and bowed politely. 
“Hello, I’m Sohn Hyunwoo. Everyone calls me Shownu though. I’m here for the interview?” 
She looked momentarily surprised but ushered him inside the house. It was just as inviting inside. It had that warm and cozy lived in vibe, with a toy here and there. It smelled like cinnamon and lemon polish. Shownu couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a home that didn’t smell like a locker room. She gestured to a comfortable looking brown leather couch and Shownu sank into it. He caught her staring but she’d quickly looked away, a light blush blooming on her cheeks. 
“I’m Y/N. I have to say, you’re nothing like what I’d pictured.” She chuckled. “I’d imagined some…I don’t even know. The opposite of you. Tiny and feminine. Talkative. You look like an athlete.”
“Not really. I like to work out, keep in shape. It’s calming for me, I guess.” He smiled softly, blushing a bit when he noticed her staring at his forearms. She cleared her throat, and grabbed a paper off of the coffee table in front of her, fanning herself lightly.
“Anyway, you sent me your resume and I looked into your references already. I don’t really need the weekend to make a decision because everyone gave you rave reviews. We’ll give it a trial run for…two weeks? See if the two of you fit. You said the only day you aren’t available is on weekends, right?” She asked.
“I have my dance classes on the weekends, but if you needed me to I could just bring him with me. He’d probably have fun.” Shownu suggested and she nodded. She looked him over, biting her lip and obviously thinking hard. 
“Ok, well, I think everything is settled then. You’ll start Monday. I’ll have everything ready for you. His schedules and stuff like that.” 
“Thank you. I appreciate this chance, really.” Shownu released a heavy breath, feeling some of his burdens lighten already. He got up, gesturing for her to go ahead of him and they walk back to the door. As he passed by the staircase, he saw the big pair of brown eyes watching him from around the corner. He winked at him and heard a cute little giggle. 
Y/N swung open the front door for him and he smiled at her as he zipped his jacket up. 
“Will I be meeting your husband on Monday as well? I just realized I hadn’t heard of him yet.” 
Y/N’s frowned, scrunching up her face. “That’s because he’s not in the picture. We were divorced when Jae was a baby. You don’t have to worry about him.” 
He felt like an ass. 
“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.” He apologized softly. 
She shook her head. “No, it’s a natural thing to question. I’ll see you on Monday. It was a pleasure meeting you, Hyunwoo.” She reached her hand out and Shownu grasped it. Her’s was small and soft, wrapped completely in his large hand. He barely stopped himself from brushing his thumb across the back of her hand. Looking up, they locked eyes before his dropped to her lips. Never before had he felt so drawn to someone. 
Shownu cleared his throat and dropped her hand, thinking he was coming off rather creepy. He smiled one last time and nodded before rushing outside. He made it to the bottom step before he realized that he hadn’t heard the door close. He looked back and she was still standing at the door, watching him leave. He could see the blush when she’d realized he’d stopped, and she sent him a quick wave before practically slamming the door shut. 
Monday couldn’t get here fast enough.
“You got a what?” Kihyun growled. 
“A job. A nanny job specifically.” Shownu answered as he sprawled across his bed, scrolling through his phone for nanny tips. 
“What the hell are we going to do around here. You’re the President. The FATHER. I can’t do this by myself!” 
“I’m not moving in there. I’ll still be attending my classes and coming home every night. I’ll just be there from when classes are over at noon to whenever she gets off work.” Shownu snapped.
“Don’t get pissy with me. because I cook the food…and I could technically poison you.” Kihyun stood glaring down at him. Shownu sighed and set his phone down. 
“Look, this is for the good of everyone. Without the proper funding, we have no groceries or money for activities. Without activities, we’ll have no pledges. With no pledges, we’ll have no house. With no house, we’ll lose our brothers. I know we’re at each other’s throats right now, but I love all you guys and I don’t want to lose the house.” 
Kihyun sighed and patted Shownu’s shoulder, pausing when they heard whispers on the other side of the door. He rolled his eyes and silently walked over and flung the door open. Minhyuk and Wonho crumbled onto the floor. 
“Were you expecting something interesting?” Kihyun droned. 
“Just seeing what Mom and Dad were up to.” Wonho lisped cutely, sending them both a finger heart from his awkward spot on the floor. 
Minhyuk was frowning, however, an odd enough occurrence that Shownu felt the need to comment on it. 
“What’s the matter, Min?” 
“I didn’t realize things were so serious. I feel bad now. Maybe I should get a job too.” 
Shownu shook his head. “No, you guys need to focus on studies. If you really want to help, start coming up with ideas for fundraisers and a way to gain pledges.” 
Minhyuk saluted him cheekily.
“So, what’s the family like? Do they seem nice?” Wonho asked.
“Yeah. Single mom, toddler boy. Seems like a cute kid.” 
“Single, huh? Is she hot?” Kihyun grinned. 
Shownu didn’t answer, but the blush on his face seemed to give it away.
“OMG, she totally is. Shownu’s got the hots for a mom. He’s going to be the cliche Nanny sleeps with the parent!” Minhyuk giggles. 
“Shut up, guys. I have to study.” Shownu tried to block out the three monsters. 
“What’s going on in here?” Hyungwon pokes his head in the room, observing the giggling men.
Make that four monsters.
“Oh, nothing much. Shownu got a nanny job. And he’s totally in love with the Mom.” Kihyun grinned.
“Oh shit. Are you guys going to do the frick frack?” Hyungwon laughed.
“No.”
“The crickety crack?” Wonho chimes in.
“Stop.”
“The thingamabob? The slip n’ slide? The shake and bake?” Minhyuk giggles.
“I swear to god!”
Shownu got up and shoved them all into the hallway before slamming and locking his door. 
He slumped back down onto his bed, resuming his search for how to be a Nanny. He could still hear them whispering outside of his door. He smiled and shook his head.
He loved the monsters, he really did. 
258 notes · View notes
bapdaydreams · 7 years
Text
Bang Yongguk Scenario: Yamazaki AU
A/N: Hello! I’m back with another Yongguk AU. This one is based on the Yamazaki MV. I have been working on this for weeks and finally managed to post it. Anyway, the idea behind this was that Yongguk comes to you to help him carry out the murder of his friends. So I hope you enjoy!
He had an air about him. As soon as he stepped in your little store you knew he had a huge ambition. Something in his eye told you he wasn’t going to mess around. He had a kimono robe on which showed off his full upper body tattoos. He looked beautiful as his robe flowed behind him as he walked in.
He makes eye contact with you and it makes your heart skip a beat but you brush the feeling off. You were at work and he was clearly a client.
But his strong gaze unconsciously makes you fix you hair a bit and push the strands behind your ear.
You pull as your kimono a little bit as he approaches you at the counter.
“Hello”
His voice is deep and it comes from deep within his chest. It sends chills down your spine but you keep your composer.
“Hello”, you reply as you smile at him.
“I heard you make the strongest poison”, he says as he returns your smile.
“You have heard right”, you reply simply.
“I have a gathering party planned”, he says.
“Yes, and?”
“I need everyone in that gathering dead”, he says with a serious look on his face.
You hum in response as you tap your well-manicured fingers on the counter. You use your other hand to rest your head on.
“If you don’t mind me asking…why are you killing all these people?” you ask, still tapping your fingers on the counter.
A devious smirk graces his beautiful face.
“Let’s just say they have been talking a bit too much”
“I assume you mean they have been passing information to your enemies”, you say with a raised eyebrow and he nods.
“So revenge poison”, you say more to yourself as you turn to the shelf behind you.
“What is your preference? Quick death? Long death? Painful? Painless?” you ask him as you scan your self.
“Is it possible to have a long painful death?” he asks.
“Of course! Those are my favourite ones!” you say as you pick out a little vial of light blue liquid.
You place it on the counter and he stares at it.
“It looks a little…”
“Innocent?”
He nods again and you smile.
“Those are the most dangerous ones”, you say.
He is silent again for a few minutes before he opens his mouth again.
“You might be right, when I herd of the master of poisons, I never thought they would be an elegant looking lady”, he says with a smirk on his face.
Heat rises to you cheeks but you manage to return his smirk.
“Anyway, why long and painful?” you ask out of curiosity.
“Because I want some of my men kill to them before the poison does”, he says as the playful look on his eyes change.
“You are a morbid human, aren’t ya?”
“The worst”, he agrees.
You laugh at his reply as he smiles at you. His smile is bright and it makes your heart skip a beat but you manage to keep your composure.
“So, I also heard that you are great at planning murders”, he says to you as he also places his elbows on the counter and rests his head on his palm.
“You need to stop relying on rumours”
“Is it not true?”
“I didn’t say it was”, you say with a playful tone as you pull out a piece of paper and a pen.
“Now, how would you like to plan your little gathering?”
And with that Yongguk starts telling you his ideas as you take notes. The two of you end up spending hours planning how Yongguk was to kill all his “friends”. You enjoy his company as he tells you what he would like and he takes your suggestions in mind.
The two of you end up agreeing on a simple dinner party for this gathering. He would borrow one of his few close friend’s restaurant and his close friend, Himcham, himself would prepare all the food and drinks and you would put the poison on everything except for Yongguk’s food and drink.
You were going to hire some women to act as his escort and then to serve the food and pour the drinks. One of his trusted friends; Zelo was also going to be a guard. Once Yongguk had joined his “friends”, they would start the dinner party. Then the poison would kick in slowly and be a painfully slow death once it did kick in. But before the poison kills, Yongguk’s other friends, Daehyun, Youngjae and Jongup would enter and do the rest of the messy job.
It was simple yet effective.
The look in his eyes told you how much he wanted this. There was probably more to him then meets the eye.
“So why exactly do you want all these people dead?” you ask as you poured him a cup of sake.
It was late now and the planning had ended, so the two of you ended up sitting down for a drink in the little coroner of your store. The lighting was dim now as the sun set slowly.
“I thought I already explained that they have been talking too much”, he replies as he sips the sake you had just poured for him.
“There must be more. You don’t seem like the kind of man to just want revenge over such petty things”
“You’re not wrong…” he trails off as he places his drink down.
“These people have been in on trafficking women and children”
You gasp softly.
“These people have been my friends but they have gone too far”, Yongguk has a serious look in his eyes and suddenly you understand why he is so hell bent on his plans.
Feeling more motivated now you felt the need to make sure that this plan went very smoothly. The two of you end up having a few more drinks while clicking your sake cups once in a while. You eventually feel a little bit light headed but Yongguk looked like he could drink even more. You watch him carry on drinking while you felt your eyelids feel heavy.
Your vision gets blurry and slowly you fall asleep. Yongguk brushes the hair off of your face before he places his own kimono robe on you before he leaves.
When you wake up, he is gone but his robe is on you and it has his scent on it. You snuggle up to it as you breath in his scent and then you get up and get ready for the day. You were going to set up for Yongguk’s plans and it was going to be prefect. You didn’t want to disappoint him and you weren’t going to let anyone else fall victim of this awful people trafficking children and women.
You get to work and gather some women to play the role of escorts and servers. You then went to making the poison.
You got yourself busy and before you knew it was the day. You met up with Himchan and put the final touches on the food and gave the ladies who were helping you today some instructions. They also had their own personal weapons for their safety. They were all skilled ladies except for the small problem that one of the women you had hired had been pulled away in an emergency. So you ended up putting on her kimono and pretended to be one of the service ladies.
Eventually Yongguk’s friend started to show up and you showed them in. You bowed to them politely while they shamelessly eyed you from head to toe. You felt a little bit nervous as you unconsciously felt for the knife tied around your upper thigh underneath the slit of your kimono.
Eventually the two women assigned to be Yongguk’s escorts lead Yongguk and Zelo into the restaurant. Yongguk’s eyes slightly widen when he sees you in the restaurant, wearing one of the more sensual kimonos instead of the traditional one you had on when you first met him.
You look away feeling your cheeks heat up as his eyes lingered on your figure. Yongguk sat down and you were the one to approach him and pour his poison free drink while the other ladies poured the poisoned drinks. And then you stayed close to Yongguk as you carried on pouring his drink and he eventually places his hand around your bare shoulders and pulled you closer while he carried on chatting with his friends. Zelo quietly watched from the background and you looked around too as you started to notice a few people become quiet as the poison kicked in.
Some of them start to collapse and eventually it becomes very quiet.
“I think its time to go”, Yongguk whispers in your ear and his voice sends chills down your spine.
You can only nod. He turns to Zelo and nods. Yongguk stands up and pulls you up with him. His arm is still around you. He excuses himself as he leaves. He opens the door and steps out with you and Zelo. He nods at Daehyun, Youngjae and Jongup. They all nod pull their masks down before entering to finish things. Yongguk signals Zelo to leave and the two of you end up alone.
“You organised that very well”, he says softly.
“Thanks”, you say and smile at him.
“Thanks to you too. This has been great…also you look very good in that style of kimono”
You blush at the compliment and then he smiles at you.
“I hope I can see you without it too”, he winks at you but before you can even protest or say anything else Daehyun, Youngjae and Jongup show up, covered in blood.
“Good job, get cleaned up”, Yongguk says to them simply and they leave.
“I’ve got some people to clean up in their…so do you want to go for an actual dinner?”
“Yes! That would be great…just not meat”
He smiles at you as he takes your hand.
“And where can I take this kimono off?”
“How about my bedroom floor?”
158 notes · View notes
ouma--kokichis · 7 years
Text
花言葉 / A flower's meaning
Word count: 4206
Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff
H-hello it was me all along!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و I got really inspired by the saiou comic you drew a while ago, and decided to borrowed your hc that Saihara is bad at waking up early until he starts living together with Ouma.
I felt terribly clumsy writing this (I don’t have a beta reader so I’m sorry if its riddled with mistakes) and Ouma might be a bit ooc but once the idea formed I couldn’t let it go anymore. I really want to say thank you for blessing the fandom with your wonderful art ;w; so I hope it’ll at least make you smile a little bit!
EDIT by ALSIUSHAKU---
Link to the story on Ao3 is HERE! please send kudos/comments for the author there!
Thank you so much for this!!! omg!! I had to draw a “cover” image for this so here you are (They are wearing the school uniforms cause...uhm... >///<)
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It had been about a week since Saihara had agreed to share a room with Ouma. The flat was rather large and comfortable, the rent was affordable thanks to some mysterious connection to the landlord Ouma didn’t want to tell him about in detail, both of their universities were easy to reach and… Saihara had been incredibly reluctant to move in. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to live together with Ouma, quite the opposite actually. During their last year at Hope’s peak they’d grown close, so close that Ouma would occasionally refer to him as his boyfriend, but maybe that was exactly what had made him hesitate. Was he really ready to take their relationship to the next stage? And even worse, bring all of his bad habits into a new household?
He had ended up agreeing anyway, unable to refuse Ouma’s bright smile and the way his eyes lit up whenever they talked about a domestic lifestyle. And their first days spent together were also just like Ouma had imagined them to be.
They helped each other with unpacking, teaching each other how to cook simple meals (although Saihara couldn’t help his heart rate shooting up dangerously high whenever Ouma was handling a knife), and staying up late watching crime shows while snuggling up together on the couch until one of them dragged the other off to bed. It was more than Saihara had even hoped for. This shared lifestyle was almost perfect. Too perfect to be true.
When classes started again, the change Saihara had dreaded was about to happen. Their schedules required a bit of effort to work together, with Saihara’s lessons usually starting in the mornings whereas Ouma’s would usually be in the afternoon, and too soon Saihara became unable to keep up with his roommate. Of course it was entirely his fault. He and his stupid habit of trying to get as much sleep as possible out of a morning was what made him trip up from the beginning. The feared pattern he was all too familiar with.
On the first day of early lessons, Saihara woke up 30 minutes before class.
He had barely enough time to change clothes and grab his bag to stumble out of the door when a voice resounded behind him.
“Uhm…? Saihara-chan? Good morning?”
“O-Ouma-kun?!” Saihara almost fell over, trying to put on his shoes and turn around to face the shorter boy at the same time. A wretched feeling settled in his gut. Had he…?
“Hmm, seems like you’ve already forgotten that I live here too?” Ouma tapped his chin thoughtfully as if he’d just read his mind. Visibly he didn’t seem upset, but there was a distinct lack of cheerfulness around him that made Saihara gulp. A bead of sweat made its way down his neck.
“I,… I know that! I’m sorry, I just… woke up really late and now I have to hurry or else I’ll be late for class,” he tripped over his words, already sure that this halfhearted excuse wouldn’t be nearly enough to please him. The fact that he had ignored, or maybe even worse, forgotten about Ouma was very much present to both of them.
“I’ll— make up to it, I promise!” Saihara’s uneasy smile bounced right off of Ouma’s unreadable mask. Without another word, he grabbed his hat in hopes it would cover his shame and stormed out of their shared flat.
Oversleeping was entirely his fault. His stupid habit was entirely his fault. A small part of Saihara wished Ouma would’ve woken him up for class and he felt disgusted with himself for trying to put the blame on anyone but himself. Ouma always got up early, sometimes even too early whenever he heard him move the covers of their shared bed at 4 am, but he had always been patient with Saihara, letting him rest and get up when he felt like. Sometimes Ouma even prepared breakfast for both of them which had Saihara feel guilty until Ouma assigned him to cooking dinner and doing the dishes, a role distribution which made both of them smile every time they saw the other working for their behalf. It was good and balanced and ideal, enough to dissolve the worries Saihara had had about living together with someone and now he had just gone and ruined it. In a span of a single morning.
During class, Saihara found it impossible to pay attention to the subject, his mind always wandering off to Ouma, what the other was doing, what he was thinking about, and of course how to make up for it, how he’d said so boldly. Was there even a way to appease him?
When he finally returned home, he was still empty handed safe for a heavy heart. His key turned to unlock the door and stepping inside the apartment, he was greeted with soft light and TV noise in the background. Ouma was nowhere to be seen but he still called out a weak “I’m home” while putting away his shoes. To his surprise, a purple shock of hair peaked out from behind the sofa as soon as he entered the living area.
“Saihara-chan, welcome home!” A smile followed before Ouma returned his attention back to the TV. “Your breakfast is in the fridge.”
A chill ran through his body. There was a false sense of security in the air and Saihara’s gut immediately told him to run. Of course that would just worsen the whole situation. Even if Ouma feigned ignorance right now, he could still feel his eyes on him with every move he made. Was there even a way out in this scenario? He slowly turned to the fridge. There was no way Ouma could be this upset about a small mistake like that, right? Except that this wasn’t small and… Had Ouma just said breakfast? Wait, so this morning, had he made breakfast for both of them just to have Saihara storm out of the apartment without a word of thanks? It couldn’t be…
Shakily he opened the fridge, to find a plate with omurice preserved with plastic wrap around it. There was a big ‘S’ written on it with ketchup and next to it, a few hearts. There was no way he’d be able to eat this. Ouma had made this for him and in return, he had completely ignored him. While he had been able to push away the guilt for most of his day, rather thinking about how to make up, now his own failure was shoved so directly into his face that it almost felt like it was consuming him. A small part of Saihara wanted to throw himself on the floor to bow down in front of Ouma and apologize, but the logical part of his brain reminded him that knowing Ouma, following his directions would be the best action. And that meant eating his omelet rice.
Saihara sat down at the small table of the shared living space and removed the plastic wrap. Ouma was still slumped on the sofa, his back to him.
“Thank you for the meal.” He couldn’t keep the wavering out of his voice. Ouma just hummed in response so he gingerly cut off a piece and put it in his mouth. The food was slightly too cold which was expected, but otherwise had a pleasant taste, as always. It just made things worse. This was certainly not a hastily thrown together meal, showing how upset Ouma was. It was a guilty reminder of how much he cared for him and how little Saihara was able to reproduce these feelings properly.
“Ouma-kun, about this morning…”Trying to choose his words carefully, he went in to scoop up another bite when…
Underneath the sheet of fluffy scrambled egg there was…
  … nothing?
Saihara moved more of the egg to the side. No rice?!
The omelet had been completely hollowed out safe for the sides to keep its shape. Baffled, Saihara stared at his deconstructed dinner. Was this… Ouma’s idea of revenge? He couldn’t deny that it was working. There was a pang in his chest, adding to the heavy weight of his guilt. Getting so worked up about the feelings conveyed through omurice just increased his disappointment now. Not that he didn’t deserve every last of those spiteful feelings. Ouma’s signature giggling was ringing in his head and he took another bite shamefully. Only to find something with an extremely unfamiliar texture in his food. Just what—? Did Ouma actually want him to die? Was he that upset?
Once he removed the strange component and laid it back on the plate, he found it to be a delicate flower stem adorned with small purplish blue blossoms.
“Ouma-kun, what is this…?” he stammered.
“Oh, this?” Said boy turned around and looked at him from over the back of the couch. A malicious grin stretched over his lips before he went back to regarding his fingernails in disinterest. “I tried out some new seasoning. I thought you might like it.”
What a blatant lie.
“You’ll do the dishes right? I’m kinda tired so I’ll take a bath and then head to bed.”
As announced, Ouma stood up with a yawn, turned off the TV and then disappeared into the bathroom. Saihara was left with a measly rest of rice and scrambled egg that was probably poisoned by this strange flower, and the emptiest he had ever felt.
It had gotten pretty late until Saihara finally went to bed. After the dinner disaster he had made himself some instant noodles and moped in front of the TV to waste time, and when he wanted to take a bath he had to find out that the water had already been drained from the tub. Cruel. But apparently, he deserved this. No, not just apparently. It was probably just a fraction of disappointment Ouma had felt this morning. Being pranked by him wasn’t news, but it usually made both of them laugh, except neither Saihara nor Ouma were laughing now. In fact Saihara was miles away from just cracking a smile, the space between them on their shared bed feeling abysmal. He hadn’t even managed to properly apologize today.
  A sharp beam of sunlight caused Saihara to blink himself awake. Once his consciousness started to rouse, yesterday’s events hit him like a truck and he scrambled into an upright position.
Wait. He didn’t have morning class today, did he? And this wasn’t some time loop he got himself stuck in just so he could go back and fix his mistake?
Saihara groaned. This was irrational and he knew it, and yet some part of him needed to check the phone next to his bed just to make sure today’s date was a different one. After all, his luck wasn’t that great to grant him a second chance. He was about to reach out when the pads of his fingers brushed against something…
“Uwaah—!” He hastily shook his hand in panic, and a blurry blue object dropped from his palm to the floor. What in the world…? A bug? Some lint he had stuck on his hands for some reason? A death trap set up by Ouma?
He took a deep breath and decided to investigate. Underneath his bed laid…
A small flower with purplish blue blossoms. Somehow it looked familiar. Memories from yesterday’s disasterous dinner filled his head involuntarily. There was no doubt that this was Ouma’s doing, but why? Maybe it was poisonous after all? Saihara shook his head violently. Ouma wanting to kill him was already a bit farfetched, and if he really did, there would be a lot more efficient ways. And yet, this little stem had appeared again.
The more he looked at the flower, the more it seemed to wilt before his eyes. Guilt seeped into the pit of his stomach again when he thought about this small flower, Ouma’s flower, die just because of him. Saihara left the bedroom to get a glass of water as a substitute for a vase, just to discover a note from his roommate, saying he’d gone out to run some errands. Today, there was no breakfast waiting for him.
  The next few days passed in a similar manner. He and Ouma barely met during the day and when they did, only a few words were exchanged. They still cooked meals for each other occasionally but even at night, they stayed distant from each other.
The only change were the flowers. The makeshift vase next to Saihara’s bedside now held four small stems in bloom, each from a morning he’d woken up and miraculously found one in his palm. Or that one time in his hair which he hadn’t noticed until someone at university pointed it out to him. On one occasion he’d actually woken up and found himself covered in small blue petals additionally to the one in his hand. He hadn’t been able to save any of the tiny blossoms and felt a little extra sad that day.
Until now, neither Saihara nor Ouma had spoken a word about this weird ritual. The flowers were just kind of there and Saihara would be lying if he wasn’t somehow looking forward to finding another one, like he was picking up bread crumbs on a trail that would hopefully lead him back to Ouma. He knew who put them there, and with the lack of interaction between them, the flowers felt like the only connection they shared. In a weird way, they even reminded him of Ouma. Fragile and small by the looks of it, but the stems were quite sturdy. And despite being a bit plain and unnoticeable compared to other flowers, there was a hidden beauty only someone with an eye for detail could appreciate.
Lost in his own thoughts, Saihara didn’t hear the door open while preparing dinner. Soft-footed steps barely announced his arrival and Saihara was surprised when two arms wrapped around his midsection.
“I’m home, Saihara-chan.”
Ouma’s breath was warm through his shirt. It felt like ages since they had touched in any way and he couldn’t help but smile. Saihara put the knife down that he was previously chopping vegetables with.
“Welcome home.”
The embrace was tight enough to make it unable for him to turn around, as much as he would have liked to face Ouma. Instead he was confronted with his own thoughts. The hug was the most sincere interaction they’d had in a while, so maybe he should…
“U-uhm, the… the flowers?”
He felt Ouma sigh while burying his face into his back, but Saihara was unable to tell if it was out of relief or annoyance.
“Did you understand their meaning?”
Meaning? Saihara tensed. Of course there was a meaning. How could he have been so caught up marveling at their sheer presence that he forgot to look for a deeper sense? Ouma had left them there for him to… to…
As a means to communicate with him? To guilt trip him? Or maybe this was just a red herring?
“If you don’t know, maybe you should just look it up.” Ouma’s grip loosened slightly and Saihara already prepared for the emptiness to hit him the moment he would let go.
Look up the meaning of the flowers, why had he been so stupid as to not do that before? Had he just assumed those were ordinary flowers Ouma found at the side of the street? Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about the why and where at all. The flowers reminded him of Ouma and that’s where his train of thought had ended, in a pile of unresolved guilt. Of course he couldn’t just blurt that out. It would only make him seem like a fool and the purple haired already knew that much.
“Could you at least tell me the name?”
Ouma chuckled, sending vibrations down his back. “Eehh, but I don’t want to? Besides, that would ruin the fun. You’re the detective here, aren’t you?”
It had been worth a try. The only comfort was that Ouma seemed to be in a fairly good mood even after their conversation. Saihara decided to research the flower later, not wanting to be caught and embarrassed by his roommate with wild guesses.
Finding out a flower when you didn’t even knew its name proved to be more difficult than expected. Saihara had kind of wished to mull over some books in the library instead of typing various key words into a search engine but in the end, he managed to find out both the name and association.
 He stared at the computer screen in disbelief, checking again if the flower in his hands matched the picture but there was no doubt. Even though this plant was commonly found in Europe, there it was, a small bouquet right in front of him. This had been Ouma’s true intention? His newfound knowledge produced a giddy feeling from deep within him that left him unable to sit still for another second. There was an anxious mess in his head and his throat felt tied. He wanted, no, needed to wake up Ouma right away and confront him.
Saihara’s chair clattered to the floor as he rushed to the bedroom door. One last deep breath and…
“Ouma-kun, I—!“
  The sleeping form on the bed was only illuminated by a dim streetlamp outside. Purple hair framed his peaceful face, a look devoid of all worries on his features. Saihara’s throat felt dry. Suddenly he was unable to produce a single sound, the electrical current he had been feeling seconds ago dying into a weak static, crackling in his veins.
It wasn’t fair.
He had caused so much sadness, so much distance, just because he had been unable to read the signs. Up until now, this hadn’t been revenge. The message he had been unable to read properly… If he had to put them through another week apart from each other, he might just get struck by lightning for real. How could he have messed up so bad in the first week of them trying to progress with their relationship? And even now, he had been the one to make Ouma wait for almost a full week. If he had just realized the flower’s meaning earlier, then maybe this whole conflict…
Ouma stirred.
His face scrunched up and then his eyes opened slowly. Searching for the source of what caused him to wake up, his gaze fell on the boy hovering above him. Saihara felt purple eyes drilling into him with question, but yet again his voice failed him. All he could do was stare back, distressed and so tense he thought he might snap any second. But instead of falling into a thousand pieces, Ouma’s smile greeted him warmly. It was as if he understood, even without words exchanged between them. He extended his arms, welcoming Saihara into an embrace. Saihara in turn felt his layers of anxiety falling off, dropping to the ground like flower petals. He climbed onto the bed and lowered himself into Ouma’s arms, melting into his warmth.  
  Soft sunrays fell on his face. A warm sensation tingled the skin of his palm. Saihara’s consciousness began to stir. His arms felt empty but something else was different from his usual mornings as well. He tried to free his thoughts from sleep’s haziness. A blur of purple appeared before his eyes and he blinked rapidly to get accustomed to the light in his bedroom. “H… huh?”
Ouma pulled his hand back that had been intertwined with Saihara’s just seconds ago. Left in his palm was a single stem of…
“Saihara-chan, you’re awake!” He seemed genuinely surprised, if not even slightly embarrassed to be caught in the act. However he managed to recover quickly as always, the sheepish look replaced by a playful grin soon enough. In a swift motion, he climbed onto the bed and straddled Saihara. “You found it out, right?”
Saihara nodded eagerly, now fully awake. He propped himself up with his elbows. “Forget me not!” he blurted out.
In response, the boy raised an eyebrow questioningly but his lips already curled into a mischievous grin again. “What was that?”
Saihara felt his face heat up just a little as Ouma twisted his words. “Forget-me-not,” he repeated in a quieter voice. “A flower that symbolizes remembrance and connection between two people. And,” here he had to swallow, too embarrassed to keep eye contact, “… true and undying love.”
Now it was Ouma’s turn to color, if just ever so slightly. “Nishishi… looks like your research was thorough. Spot on.”
Saihara sat up and grabbed Ouma’s shoulders to draw him close and possibly keep him from tumbling off. “I—“ Now wasn’t the time to chicken out. He had to say it! After all these days!
“I could never forget you! You’re what’s most important to me!”
Ouma’s hands pushed against his chest to gain some distance. The blush on his cheeks made it obvious that he was uncomfortable. “T—Then, if I’m so precious and important to you, you also realize the true meaning of this, right?”
True meaning? Saihara had to pause for a second. There was another message he had missed? Something that was unique to Ouma, unique to their relationship.
All this thinking early in the morning wasn’t good for him. How was he supposed to concentrate when his mind was still clouded from… wait.
Early in the morning?!
Saihara’s head shot up, frantically searching for a clock. His gaze stayed on it, mesmerized. The hands had just reached 6:30 am.
Using Saihara’s confusion to his advance, Ouma threw his hands around his neck and pulled him close. “That’s my beloved Saihara-chan! A true detective!”
He tried to ignore the underlying sarcasm and embraced Ouma instead. So this had been a trick to make him get up earlier? It was true that he had woken up on time today, but it seemed like such a hassle to go through the trouble with the flowers, the whole not talking to each other… A prank. Another one of Ouma’s damn pranks that just needed to be this little bit of ‘extra’.
Groaning, he fell back onto the mattress, taking Ouma with him. “Why…”
He received a chuckle as a reply. “Because I love you?”
Saihara rolled his eyes.
“Besides, you were getting soo worked up over it! Whenever you looked at me with those sad, desperate eyes I got so excited, I almost spoiled the plan! Oh, did you know you’re making a really funny face when you’re asleep? Since I watched you every day for like 30 minutes or so, I won’t forget it for an eternity!”
The joy in his voice was enough to make Saihara forget the dread he had been feeling minutes ago. Almost. He tried a shaky smile and was pleased to find it reciprocated on Ouma’s face tenfold.
“I thought you were really mad at me,” he confessed his worries.
Ouma’s expression changed into surprise. “Me? Mad at Saihara-chan? I could never get mad at you! Not in a thousand years! Not even if you broke my favorite mug and made me eat the shards!”
His voice lowered dangerously. Saihara tried to laugh it off with an insecure laugh. “I definitely won’t do that…”
He seemed pleased with this answer, leaning down to push Saihara’s bangs away from his forehead and placed a soft kiss on his face. “Then I don’t have any reason to get mad, as long as you stay close.”
Saihara buried his face in the crook of Ouma’s neck, wondering if his scent reminded him of forget-me-not or the other way around. Experimentally he moved his lips along the delicate skin, half-expecting a backlash but Ouma only hummed in appreciation. He felt encouraged to move down to his collarbone peaking out from beneath his low cut shirt, mouthing kisses all over it. The taste of his skin made Saihara’s thoughts grow hazy. It was like he had forgotten the other’s warmth and got addicted to it all over again. Before he knew it his hands sneaked past the fabric of Ouma’s shirt to stroke his sides and pull him closer.  “Good morning.”
Breathing the words that had been lacking in their lives for so long really did something for Ouma. He let out a startled whine and sat up rather abruptly. Saihara was about to ask if he did something wrong when the boy hastily removed his t-shirt.
“If Saihara-chan wants to do this…” His face had turned into a cute pink but Saihara figured he probably didn’t look any better color wise. He smiled shyly in return, waiting until Ouma leaned back down and initiated another kiss.
  Lazily tapping away at some phone game, Ouma sighed with feigned annoyance. Yet Saihara could feel his triumphant grin bore into him while he refused to look up, curled into a tight embrace with his head against the shorter boy’s chest. His face was burning with embarrassment.
“Nishishi… I can’t believe you missed morning classes because you wanted to have sex with me instead. You’re the worst, Saihara-chan.”
167 notes · View notes
astro-b-o-y-d · 7 years
Text
The Long Road Home Pt. 1
The next three chapters of SOSO are finally here! Author’s notes and additional fic warnings are on Ao3. And trust me, you’ll want to read them.
[Read on Ao3]
"Took you nerds long enough to get here!"
"Nikki, there are other stops before ours," Max said, as he stepped out of the bus and onto the pavement.
"Yeah, we don't have big jock friends who can drive us around like you!" Neil added, following suit.
Nikki laughed as they came to a stop beside her. "Hey, I asked if you guys wanted to be picked up from school, but you said no."
"Yeah, because Stasson likes to keep his front windows rolled down at fifty miles an hour," Neil pointed out. "I catch colds easily, Nik, you know that!"
"Plus, the guy's taste in music is shit," Max added, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk as they began to head up the street.
"Hey, I thought you liked metal!" Nikki pointed out.
"Yeah, I do," Max said. "But there's good metal and then there's metal that sounds like screws in a blender. In a washing machine."
"Says the guy who listens to Hatred of Red Olives," Neil said with a smirk.
Max scowled at him. "You got something you wanna fucking say to me?"
"Yeah, I wanna say your taste in music is pretentious," Neil said smugly. "I mean, really? 'Hatred of Red Olives'? What the fuck does that name even mean?"
"Maybe they just really hate red olives," Max said defensively, and tossed his hands up in the air. "Maybe the 'red olives' represent the man keeping us all down. Fuck if I know! Either way, their music's amazing and highly underrated."
"Hey, speaking of olives," Nikki said. "You think David will let us order pizza for dinner?"
"God, I hope so," Max said. "It's perfect movie night food."
"So, what movie are we deciding on, anyway?" Neil asked.
"I think 'The Cult Camp of Murder-Suicide Lake' is on tonight," Nikki said.
Max rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on Daniel's biography, thanks."
"Oh, wow, I'd completely forgotten about him," Nikki said. "God, that was a weird day, wasn't it?"
"If by weird, you mean we almost died," Max said, "then yeah, I'd say it was really weird."
"Think he lived through that whole Kool-Aid thing?" Neil asked.
"I fucking hope not," Max said, making a face. "Now, I'm not normally one to believe in being assigned to a place after death based on your actions in life, but if I were, I would hope that he's drinking rat-poison-flavored Kool-Aid in the deepest pit of Hell for all eternity."
"You guys ever wonder what it'd feel like to die?" Nikki asked curiously. "I mean, not like...by killing yourself as a part of some horrible cult or anything, but just in general. You think it would hurt?"
Max stopped mid-step. "You know, it's funny...I've actually thought a lot about that since my parents died."
Nikki's smile fell. "Oh, Max, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"No, it's fine," Max said. "I don't really do it much anymore, not since I moved in with David. But sometimes when I was really miserable, I'd just think about what would have happened if I decided to stay home the night of the fire. Whether I would have been able to catch it in time, or if I would have just died with my parents? Did they die in their sleep or did they suffer? Would I have suffered? Pretty morbid shit like that."
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Neil giving him a sympathetic look. "You okay, pal? You need to get anything off your chest?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Max assured him, as he started walking again. "I can stop being a downer if you want."
"Hey, if you need to talk, we're all ears," Neil said. "Right, Nikki?"
"Yeah, absolutely," Nikki said as she began to balance on the edge of the curb. "You can trust us, Max."
"I know I can," Max said. "You guys are amazing. But honestly, there's not much else to say about it. They died and I was shipped off to a foster home. End of story."
"Wait, did you even get to attend their funeral?" Neil asked.
"Nope," Max said. "They didn't get one."
"They didn't?" Nikki asked.
"We have no family in this country," Max admitted. "And we weren't close to anyone outside of it. So there was no one outside of a depressed, jobless, fourteen-year-old to pay for a funeral, which meant they didn't get one at all."
"Wow..." Neil said in disbelief. "Life really can't cut you a break, can it?"
"You have no idea, pal."
"Hey, is that David's car?"
Nikki's question caused Max to turn his gaze from Neil and towards David's home at the end of the street. "...That is David's car. What the fuck is he doing home so early?"
"Maybe he quit his job?" Nikki suggested.
Max raised an eyebrow at her. "David? Quit a job that involves caring for children? One of the thing he loves more than life itself?"
"...Good point."
"Maybe he got sick?" Neil said. "It's almost flu season."
"Of course you would know that," Max said as they crossed the lawn. "But he was fine this morning. Wouldn't shut the fuck up about how it was 'Music Day' and he was going on and on about how excited he was to play his guitar for the kids."
They came to a stop before the front door and Max tested the doorknob. Unlocked. With a shrug, he pushed the door open and led Neil and Nikki inside. "Hey, David, you home?"
There was no response.
"David?" Max said again, a little louder as he dropped his bag by the door. "Hello?"
"Maybe he's in the backyard?" Nikki suggested, as her and Neil followed suit with the backpack-dropping.
"Doubtful," Max said, as they headed towards the kitchen. "He did all the yard work a few days ago, and he only goes to stare wistfully at the woods behind the house on Mondays and Thursdays."
"...He only stares at them, and doesn't...like...go hiking through them or something?" Neil asked.
"I think it's some kind of comfort thing," Max said with a shrug. "You know, reminds him of the camp?"
"Again, he can't just go hiking?" Neil asked.
"Look, he—"
Max froze as they passed by the dining room. David was seated at the table, his back to the doorway and his head low. On the table before him, Max could see the familiar pages of the Camp Campbell scrapbook that David would normally display on the coffee table with pride.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Not the usual, David-sized levels of wrong, which were normally reserved for stupid things like 'birds picking at the flower bed in the backyard' or 'the store being out of his favorite brand of trail mix'.
No, something was 'day-at-the-bonfire' levels of wrong and a wave of fear rushed through Max as the possibilities of what might be wrong began to rise in his head.
One terrifying possibility bubbled to the front of his mind before he could push it back and pretend it never existed, and a strong, aching feeling in his chest followed. Had David, for some reason, lost the right to be his guardian? Had his social worker decided that David wasn't fit to parent him?
...Had David...grown sick of him?
Max made a face at his own stupid thoughts. David was obnoxious, peppy, and annoying beyond belief, but he cared about Max more than Max probably cared about himself.
Plus, even if David had grown sick of him, it's not like it was anything he wasn't used to by now, right? ...No need to get all worked up over the same bullshit he had grown used to over the past year.
...Right?
"David?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual and uninterested. "Is...everything okay?"
David nearly jumped at the sound of Max's voice, and used one hand to slam the scrapbook closed. "Kids! I didn't realize you were home!"
"We said your name like...twice," Neil pointed out.
"Oh, right, of course." David rose from his chair, his back still to the kids as he began to head for the kitchen. "I'm sorry, my mind was elsewhere. I haven't even started making dinner-"
"It's only four, David," Max said.
"We could order pizza!" Nikki said excitedly.
"Nikki, shut up," Max hissed, before looking back to David. "Something's wrong, David. Don't lie to us, what is it?"
David stopped in the kitchen doorway. "...Nothing's wrong, Max."
"Then look us in the eyes and tell us that."
David was silent for a moment, before his shoulders fell in defeat. "...Mr. Campbell...passed away this morning."
"...Oh."
Well...he hadn't expected that. And he definitely wasn't sad about Campbell in the slightest. The shifty old asshole could rot in Hell (or whatever waited for him in an afterlife that may or may not exist) for all he cared. And he was definitely relieved that David's mood hadn't been caused by something else (something he definitely wouldn't have been upset over at all and no one could prove he would have been).
But it felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of cold, icy water over him in the middle of winter. Numbness, shock, and a mess of other painful emotions had manifested in the pit of his stomach and Neil and Nikki tensing up beside him only made the feeling worse.
"'Heart attack,' they told me over the phone," David continued, clearly attempting (and failing) to hide the shaking in his voice. "I...He was always such a strong man, I...I didn't think...I thought he'd..."
He took a deep breath and finally turned to face the kids. It was more than obvious he'd been crying for a long while, and was smiling widely in an attempt to hide that fact. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter," he said in a falsely-cheerful voice. "No one can live forever, right? This day was bound to come eventually. It's not as if I secretly hoped that one day, he'd be released from prison and maybe things could just...pick up where they left off all those years ago—"
"David..."
The smile fell and David sank into the chair closest to the kitchen doorway, his head in his hands. "I haven't seen him in about three months," he said, no longer making an attempt to hold back his tears. "I could have made more time, maybe taken a week off and went upstate to visit him every day. There was so much more I could have done..."
He lifted his head and wiped the tears from his face. "I'm sorry, kids. I know this is probably worrying you—"
"What about the funeral?" The question escaped Max before he could process it, and he could practically feel Neil and Nikki's eyes on him. "Aren't you going to his funeral?"
David hung his head. "There...isn't going to be a funeral. Mr. Campbell left a lot of debt in his wake, and the prison didn't want to 'waste more money on him.'"
And now Max felt like someone had dumped another bucket of cold water over him in the middle of the Arctic, as his thoughts drifted back to the conversation he, Neil and Nikki had shared on the way home. About death, about his parents...about the night they died.
How they hadn't even been given a funeral due to their own lack of any family (outside of Max) to pay for it. How he'd only been given a short time to properly grieve before being shipped off to the first of many foster families, where he had been forced to either keep a lot of that grief to himself or unleash it in fits of anger or sadness. How said fits were was usually met with being kicked out and sent to another family.
Just a shitty cycle of attempting to mourn, only to be abandoned and alone.
And it had fucking sucked. It still fucking sucked.
He looked towards Nikki, who had a hand over her mouth and the faintest hint of tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and then to Neil, who looked like he wasn't sure how he should be feeling at the moment.
They had no idea, as far as Max was aware, what it was like to experience that kind of grief of losing someone you care about so strongly. To stay up late at night, as a million 'what could have been' scenarios played out in your head. What you could have done, if you could have done anythingat all. Regrets of not appreciating what you had when you had it. Moments where you wish that you could have been in their place instead of left alone to cry and grieve, and just...hurt.
Cry...grieve...
He could practically feel a light bulb go off in his mind. He hadn't gotten his chance to grieve, but...that didn't mean David couldn't get his chance. Max didn't care if it was about Campbell of all people, and he didn't care if it resulted in him having to answer a number of questions that he was positive Neil, Nikki, and or David would ask at some point or another.
Like Hell he was going to let anyone, especially David, go through what he did. Not if he could help it.
"Hey, David?"
David looked up from his hands. "Yes, Max?"
Max shuffled his feet, and tried to keep his usual, uninterested tone as he spoke: "You're really gonna sit there and tell me that you haven't thought about planning some kind of memorial service for the bastard? Come on, I thought I knew you better than that."
David's eyes widened. "What did you say?"
"I mean, sure, Campbell was a real piece of shit and I'm not going to pretend he wasn't," Max continued. "But if you can't have a funeral for him, then why not do the next best thing and just...have a memorial service? I'm sure there's probably a ton of other camp-loving weirdos who would want to come mourn his death, too. I mean, just because our summer hated the place doesn't mean all of them did, right?"
"Hey, yeah, you're right," Neil said thoughtfully. "If that place was open since David was a kid, then statistically there had to have been summers where the campers actually enjoyed themselves and actually wanted to be there."
"I wanted to be there," Nikki said.
"Yeah, but you're one of the only ones during our summer who did," Max pointed out. "I'm talking about entire groups of campers who actually had fun during their stay at Camp Campbell. Groups of people who have actually-fond childhood memories of that place, as shocking as the idea sounds, and who'd be upset to hear that Campbell kicked the bucket. So why not throw a memorial service and let everyone grieve together. You know, 'misery loves company' or what-the-fuck-ever? I don't know, it sounded cooler in my head..."
David's expression had grown more brighter and hopeful with every word, and his wide, happy smile had returned by the time Max's sentence trailed off. "You know, I think that sounds like an amazing idea, Max! We wouldn't have to do anything too big or fancy—"
"Honestly, spending as little money as possible would be the best tribute to that asshole's memory," Max said, rolling his eyes.
"-but we could still do something instead of just sitting here and crying over what could have been!" David continued cheerfully. "I could make some calls, get in touch with my old counselors, maybe see if they might be able to help get invitations out to any other Camp Campbell alumni who'd want to attend!"
"I could probably convince Harrison to come," Neil said. "And he could probably convince Nerris. I know it's not much, but hey, at least you know you'll have two guarantees."
"There's a dollar store near my school," Nikki added. "My team always gets decorations there for our after-game parties. Though they might still be out of all the black and blue ones after our last shindig... Maybe we can just get white tablecloths and spray paint them black? I know a guy with spray paint, I can call around."
"And there's plenty of room in the backyard to hold the service," Max pointed out. "I'm sure those other camp-loving assholes will love having the forest as the event backdrop."
David stared at him with a fond expression, as tears of joy replaced the ones of sorrow in his eyes. "You know what, I think hosting a memorial service is the perfect way to honor Mr. Campbell's passing. Max, how did you come up with something so clever? I mean, not that I'm surprised in the slightest, you're a very smart child—"
"Yeah, yeah, enough of the compliments," Max said, ignoring the looks that he was positive Neil and Nikki were giving him. "Just go start making plans before I regret giving you the idea in the first place."
------------------------
"Yes, thank you, Darla!" David said happily into his phone. "I can't wait to see you and Gregg there!"
Max looked up from his notebook. "Is she coming?"
David nodded as he ended the call. "She says that throwing a memorial service for Mr. Campbell is a fantastic idea, and that she cannot wait until next Saturday. And she's more than happy to get the word out to any of the other campers she might have counselor-ed during her time at the camp." He sniffled softly and reached up to wipe his eyes. "Gosh, she's just as sweet as she was back when I was a kid..."
"Don't start crying again," Max said, as he scribbled a 'yes' next to the name on the page. "Just call the next person."
"So, I've got some good news," Nikki said through a mouthful of pizza. "I texted Cookie, and he's still got the black tablecloths from our last party, with only a few tears from when one of the guys was dared to do a handstand on the table. And then fell off the table. It was awesome!"
"I think we should just go ahead and buy new ones," Max said, reaching for his own slice from the box. "Also...there's a guy on your team named Cookie?"
"Uh, yeah!" Nikki said. "We call him that because he's the best baker on the team. He makes these caramel cookies that taste like..." She made a motion of approval with her hands.
"Sea-salt?" Max asked.
"Of course, he's not an animal."
Max snorted as he looked around. "Where the Hell'd Neil go?"
"I think he stepped outside to call Harrison and Nerris," David said with a smile. "I definitely can't wait to see them again! They were such good kids."
"You've said that about all of us, and you're been wrong every time," Max pointed out, as he stood up and headed for the back door. "I'm gonna go tell him to get his ass back in here before Nikki eats all the pizza."
"Hey, he snoozes, he loses," Nikki said, as she reached for another slice.
Max rolled his eyes as he pulled the back door open and stepped out into the warm evening. Sure enough, Neil was seated on the bench at the edge of the deck, his phone against his ear and a smile on his face.
"Yeah, of course we can," he was saying softly. "It sounds great, babe."
Babe? Max's smile widened. "Hey, lovebird. You wrapping it up anytime soon?" he asked quietly as he approached the bench.
Neil looked at him and nodded, before turning his attention back to the phone. "I gotta go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? ...I love you, too. Goodnight."
His cheeks flushed, he hung up the phone and looked at Max. "Harrison says he and Nerris can make it to the service, and they'll even help us with setting up. They've been working on some levitation spells that they'd like to put into practice."
"Yeah, and the whole 'babe' thing?" Max asked, sitting down next to him.
Neil's face grew redder. "We're getting lunch tomorrow. Can you and David cover for us if my mom calls here?"
"Yeah, you know I will," Max said.
"You're the best," Neil said, giving him a playful nudge.
Max smiled and nudged him back. "You really like him, don't you?"
Neil's expression softened. "Yeah, I really do. Max, he's...God, he's really great."
"You big sap," Max said, crossing his arms. "So, can I be best man at your wedding?"
"Come on, we're not that serious."
Max raised an eyebrow. "You're only saying that because you've already promised the role to someone else, haven't you?"
"Oh, absolutely," Neil said. "Sorry, pal. First come, first serve."
Max let out a laugh. "Oh, speaking of serve, I came out here to warn you that Nikki's going to eat all the pizza if you don't come back inside. Plus we could use another phone to call up potential service guests."
"Right, right," Neil said. "Can I ask you something, though?"
Oh, God, there it was. The inevitable questioning. "I know what you're going to ask, Neil. And no, I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
Neil gave him a look. "Max, as soon as David said that Campbell wasn't getting a funeral, your face was as pale as a sheet."
"Your face is as pale as a sheet," Max said defensively.
"Max..."
Max looked out at the forest that lay past the backyard, darkened by the evening with only a few slivers of moonlight between the trees. "Look, losing someone you care about sucks, and not being able to get closure sucks harder. I just...didn't want David to go through what I did, okay? That's it."
"Is it really all it is?"
"It's all I feel like talking about," Max said. "I've unloaded enough of my problems on you."
"You know I don't mind listening," Neil pointed out.
"Yeah, but I don't want to be that friend," Max said. "The one who's constantly depressed and needs to always talk about his issues, to the point where everyone gets sicks of hearing about them. I've see it happen before, and I don't want it to happen with you or Nikki or David, because I actually like all of you."
Neil let out a laugh. "Max, come on. If we aren't sick of you by now, then we'll never be sick of you."
Max let his gaze drop to his hands sadly, a motion that Neil didn't miss. "...Oh. Oh, shit, you're not just making jokes as a way to cope with your issues this time, are you? You're really serious."
"Of course I'm serious," Max said. "You guys are the best thing to happen to me all year. But seeing David that broken up over Campbell, it just made me think of everything that happened to me before I moved here and I mean...you know how my year's been so far."
He pulled his legs up onto the bench and hugged them close. "You and Nikki are my best friends. I trust you two with a lot of things. But...a lot of bad shit's happened to me. And I know you say that you won't get tired of me even if I vent to you, but it's happened before and I just...can't help but be worried that it'll happen again. I don't...think I could handle that. No, fuck that, I know I couldn't handle it."
"Max, you're a strong kid," Neil said. "I'm sure—"
"Neil, you don't understand," Max said, hesitating for a moment before he continued: "...Before I moved in with David, I was in the worst place I've been in all year. It was around the anniversary of my folks' death, and I had...okay, a bad day's an understatement, but I that's what it was. I just...really missed my folks. I was having a hard time, a really hard time. You know what my foster parents at the time did when I tried to go to them for help?"
"What?"
"They told me they were too busy to deal with my problems right now," Max said grimly. "And that we could discuss it later. That's what a lot of them would say if I was having a bad day. 'Let's talk later' or 'suck it up' or they'd just straight up yell at me for being too emotional. They'd get angry with me or just ditch me altogether for being unable to cope with my feelings properly."
"Why the hell would all these people dedicate their time to being parents if they were just going to ditch their kid when things got rough?" Neil asked.
"Why would people dedicate their time to having a kid if they're going to abuse them, neglect them, or kick them out of the house for being gay?" Max countered.
"...Touche."
"There's a lot of people out there who only like the concept of having a kid," Max said, "but don't want to put the actual effort into caring for a real kid. One with their own thoughts and emotions and issues and all that parenting shit that isn't romanticized to Hell and back. And going through family after family like that makes you less and less willing to talk about your issues, to the point where you either repress everything or..." he touched his left arm. "...do something unhealthy."
He didn't dare look at Neil's reaction. "Max..."
"Like I said, I was at my lowest point with my last family," Max admitted. "Probably the lowest point of my life. I'm past it now, so don't start worrying that I'm going to do something drastic, because I'm not. But it did happen. I was just... so tired of everything. And when I couldn't turn to anyone that day, I...I couldn't do it anymore, Neil. I just wanted all of it to end."
He felt tears welling up in the corner of his eyes, which he brushed away quickly in the hopes Neil wouldn't notice. "I'm scared, Neil. I don't want to lose everything I've got here. Yeah, I talk a lot of shit, but I am not strong enough to go through all that again. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and I actually go downstairs to the living room or to David's bedroom to make sure he's still there, just so I know that all of this isn't a dream and I'm not going to wake up with another family who doesn't give two shits about whether I live or die."
He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "It's just...really hard to process that things might finally be okay for me again, like really okay. And yeah, I knowDavid's great and I know I could talk to him about all my stupid problems. Hell, I talked to him the day I moved in, and it was like he hadn't changed at all since camp. He was so nice, so willing to listen..." He hugged his legs closer. "But, like...that doesn't just stop me from thinking that he'll get sick of me if I keep going to him with my stupid problems. Again, I know it's a stupid, stupid thought, because it's David, and he'd never grow sick of me. But it doesn't stop me from thinking about it, you know?"
He fell silent, as he waited for Neil to respond. However, a sharp pinching sensation to the side of his face caused him to yelp in pain and instinctively slap a hand to the spot. He looked at Neil, his fingers in the universal pose for pinching. "Dude, what the Hell?!"
"That was so you could be sure that this isn't a dream," Neil said. "Believe it or not, the pinching thing actually works."
Max's look of confusion melted into one of slight amusement. "You could have warned me, asshole."
"The shock factor would have increased the odds of you waking up, if this had been a dream," Neil pointed out. "But hey, you're still here, so it has to be real, right?"
"Not sure if that's exactly how that works, but I...do appreciate the sentiment," Max said. "As weird and nerdy as it was."
"And as for everything else," Neil said, his expression softening. "I know this is probably obvious advice, but I do think you should talk to David. Even if everything in your head's telling you not to, you should do it anyway. I mean, you said it yourself that you were happy here with David, right? Happier than you've been all year."
Max shrugged. "I mean, yeah."
"So clearly David's a much better guardian than any of the other ones you've had," Neil pointed out. "Which means he'd be more willing to help you than any of the others."
Max looked down again. "Look, I know you're right. But if I talk to him about it now, he'll just spend the next week worrying about me instead of focusing on the service. I don't want to take that away from him."
"Max..."
"I'll think about it," Max said. "But for now...I just can't. I'm just going to pretend everything's fine for a week, and let David mourn Campbell in peace without having to worry about me and my issues. He deserves that, at least."
"...Alright, man," Neil said, rising to his feet. "But if you...get to that low point again—"
"I'm not going to, Neil," Max said, following suit. "I can promise you that I won't."
"But if you do—"
"I won't, okay?" Max said, and touched his arm again. "I was in a bad place, and it only made things worse. I promised myself I'd never do it again and I'm not going back on that."
Neil gave him a nod. "Okay. And, you know, if it helps, you told me all that and I'm not sick of you. Wait, shit, that came out wrong—"
"No, I get it," Max said, a small smile on his face. "Thanks, Neil."
"Hey, heteros!" Nikki called from the back door. "Pizza's almost gone. Get in here, or I'm calling dibs on all of it."
"Nikki, come on!" Neil said. "I was in the middle of a phone call! With my boyfriend! That hetero comment shouldn't have an S!"
"Don't care, I'm gonna eat your slices if you aren't inside in negative five seconds!"
"Nikki!"
Nikki laughed as she ducked back into the house. Neil started to hurry after her, but Max grabbed his arm before he could head inside. "Hey, one last thing."
"Yeah?"
"Don't...tell David about what I said, okay?" Max said. "Nikki, sure, she can know, but...not David."
Neil was silent for a moment before he nodded. "I won't tell him. You should, but I won't."
"I know..."
With a sigh, Max let go of his arm and followed him back into the house, the sound of David's voice as he chatted with another potential service-attender over the phone greeting them as they stepped inside.
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