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rin-bellatrix · 6 months

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Some Things Are Meant To Be

"Take my hand, take my whole life too. Oh, for I can't help, falling in love with you." - Haley Reinhart

Exploring a near dilapidated building in search of anything worthwhile with her boyfriend, sister and brother-in-law, Fiona nearly ends up empty-handed, but leaves with a little more than she expected.

Written for Rhyiona Week 2023 with the prompt "trick/treat"

Header art by AnnaSabiNoKami 🌌

Purple galaxy dividers from this post. Purple glitter divider from this post. Purple reblog and feedback divider from this post.

Enjoy and Happy Halloween! 🎃

"Hey! Can you believe it? It still works!"

Fiona stood from where she had been hunched, sifting through a chest of knickknacks, turning to face Rhys who was handling some type of electronic device as he showed it off to Sasha on the other side of the room. Her sister stepped closer and observed him manipulating the cracked interface, and she tilted her face up to his with a question and his grin widened.

The sight of them in such a moment would have wounded her heart in the past, but now it made her smile in private satisfaction. Her boyfriend and her sister getting along so well always soothed some broken part of her, one that always wanted love and safety for the most important people in her life. Sasha welcoming Rhys so readily into their small family was a balm to her soul, just as Rhys had when securing Sasha as another best friend. They got along so great, and the sight softened the most jaded parts of her. Her two favorite people were happy and healthy and honestly, what more could Fiona ask for.

Sasha scoffed, taking a step away from the company man, idly running a hand over her hair as she pointed out a latch in the back. He turned it over and inspected it as the younger Pandoran walked away at the call of her husband's voice. August complaining about something, as was his usual, his grousing mutters making the young woman smile in affection as she sought him out.

Even newlywed, Sasha couldn't resist a good treasure hunt.

Rhys tapped against the outer shell of the device, his face showing clear confusion as Fiona sidled up beside him.

"What cha got there? Anything worth selling?"

He turned towards her, his bi-colored eyes falling down to her face. "If I'm right about what this is, this has the potential to be either a removable hard drive which could contain all kinds of secrets, or... It's a handheld video game system. Can't really remember right now, I've gotta take it back to HQ to run a more thorough scan." His lip twisted into a pout as he considered the retro machine in his hand.

Fiona reached up and brushed off some dust from his lapel, her hand moving up to the slope of his broad shoulder and down his arm, the expensive material of his suit gliding beneath her fingers. By the time she lifted her eyes back up to his, his pout had disappeared and his face had softened as he looked down at her.

"As long as it's not the digital remains of a megalomaniac, I'd consider it a successful heist," she joked, her lips kicked up in a playful smirk.

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head at her coy words. "Yeah, never wanna deal with that again. I'm good. Uhm, but hey..." he began, his mood suddenly shifting.

The vault hunter tilted her head, allowing her lover to take hold of her hand and pull her away from the room they were in. The distant sounds of Sasha's amused tones and August's loud curses faded gradually as he lead them further into the abandoned building they were rummaging through.

They walked down a long hallway, past other rooms that had already been ransacked, Rhys all the while holding her hand gently in his own. He finally slowed as he reached an overturned bench, releasing her hand to right the piece of furniture and dust off the old cushions. He sat down and patted the space next to him, his smiling face bright in the dingy light.

Fiona felt herself mirroring his expression as she sat next to him, her knee knocking against his. "What's up? Found something special?"

He grinned, and he looked so boyish in that moment that she had to resist reaching over to pinch his cheeks. "Actually, yeah!" He slipped his mechanical hand into the breast pocket of his blazer, pulling out what looked like an old, curved metal piece. "I think it's some kind of wrist guard. It looks like it might fit you, what do you think?"

He handed it over and the vault hunter took it, turning it over in her hands to inspect it. Intrigued, she removed the wrist brace on her left arm and tucked it away, fitting the new one into its place. It fit pretty good, a few adjustments and she'd actually be able to wear it comfortably. Tapping a turquoise nail on its tarnished metal surface, she determined that it was probably most effective when parrying bladed attacks.

"Hey, not bad. Seems like you've got a good eye for this."

"There's more, actually."

Fiona looked over at him and he was already holding out his hand to drop something into hers. She cupped her hand beneath his and he loosened his grip to let something light fall into her waiting palm. Bringing it closer, she noticed that it was a pair of earrings, giant gems glittering in the center. It was certainly an older set, the setting around the jewels had warped slightly due to age, but it was still beautiful even in its diminished state.

"Wow, not bad Rhys! Clean these up a bit and you've got a pretty penny sitting in your pocket." The Pandoran felt oddly proud in this moment, knowing her lover had scored a decent haul from the remains of a long-ago abandoned facility.

So far, she hadn't found anything of note, but the thought of leaving here knowing her boyfriend had found some treasure left her somehow satisfied. It's not often that he can leave his company and come meet with everyone like this just to enjoy some time together. This was a much needed break, not just for him but for all of them.

She handed him the old jewelry back, watching in contentment as he pocketed the set, before shoving a hand down his pants pocket. He fidgeted for a moment, before dragging his eyes up to hers. She lifted her brows in silent inquiry.

"So there's also... This other thing that I found..."

"Yeah?" she prompted when it looked like he was struggling to continue.

He seemed to hesitate, before drawing his hand out and reaching for hers. He held her left hand gently in his own as he fumbled with a small object, finally securing a hold on it and singling out her second to last finger. He slid a circular object onto her digit, nestling it past her knuckles until it sat comfortably at the base of her finger.

Fiona immediately zeroed in on the shine to the item, her critical eye noticing that it was new, unblemished like the other trinkets Rhys found before. It was a ring, precious stones flashing brightly even in the slightly darkened room. She lifted her hand and inspected it further, impressed with the fire inside the gems and the quality of the overall expert craftsmanship. This piece of jewelry was truly remarkable, and it definitely cost more than a pretty penny.

She looked up meeting her boyfriend's eyes, finding him watching her intently. "Rhys, where did you get this? There's no way you found this here," she asked, watching him curiously. This was a long ago abandoned facility, the chances of something worth while being left here, untouched by grit and grime was far too low.

He shifted in his seat, his knees bumping against hers as a blush reddened his cheeks. "Well, I did find it, but not here... It was actually in a shop on Dionysus... A jeweler to be exact."

"So... You brought this here from Dionysus?"

Atlas' ceo was watching her intently, and she felt like he was trying to tell her something without using his words. When she only responded with a perplexed hand gesture, he nearly rolled his eyes.

"I found it, at a jeweler's, as in, I commissioned a professional jeweler to make this especially for me, because I was planning on giving it to you..."

"Oh..." Fiona glanced down at the beautiful ring again. The ring Rhys had ordered to be made especially for her. The ring that was sitting on her ring finger, on her left hand. Fiona was typically as smart as a whip, but she had suffered a concussion not too long ago (the perils of being a vault hunter), and it took a minute for the gears to start turning. "...Oh!"

Snapping her gaze up to his, the focused look in his eyes now made sense as he waited for her answer. She swallowed down a rush of adrenaline, feeling the pounding of her pulse all over as she realized that yeah, this was really happening.

Knowing his lady love well, the company man knew that Fiona was currently battling a fight or flight response. Remaining calm, for both of their sakes, he reached over and gently took her hand in his, lightly running his robotic thumb over her knuckles in a slow, repetitive arc, brushing over the engagement ring with every pass.

"You don't have to answer right now, you don't even have to say yes, I just wanted-"

The vault hunter vaulted over his lap, crashing into his body with such force that it knocked the both of them off the bench, tumbling into a heap of ripped up carpet. It was incredibly dusty, smelled a little bit like mildew, but the young ceo was fully preoccupied with trying to meet the many kisses his girlfriend (fiancé?) was trying to suffocate him with.

"Is- is this- a yes? Are you- saying- yes?"

"Yes you idiot," she grinned, her lipstick smeared over her mouth in a truly ridiculous but endearing way, and the Atlas president knew from past experience that his lips were not fairing any better.

"Oh okay, that's good, because for a moment there, it kinda felt like you were gonna snap my neck and hide the body under these rugs here... Do you smell that by the way?"

Fiona was laid out over her lanky boyfriend (fiancé?), her armor and sharp accessories poking him uncomfortably, but her eyes were soft and her smile was wide, and Rhys really counted himself fortunate enough that such a stellar woman allowed him into her heart. She leaned down and kissed him again, this time slowly, allowing him to cup the back of her head and close his eyes, enjoying the plush shape of her lips. Her hat tumbled off, but she didn't seem to mind as she tilted her face to taste his mouth from a different angle. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks as his free hand smoothed down her back to settle in the dip of her waist.

She hummed pleasantly, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly as footsteps neared their position.

Fiona pulled away to gaze down at him with all the love she usually held in reserve, and Rhys found the he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. The old facility didn't exist, nor did the smelly carpet at his back, not even the sight of Sasha rounding the corner in his peripheral could get him to break away from his future bride's eyes.

Sasha stopped when her eyes landed on the couple laying in a pile of dirty rugs, and after a moment of assessing the situation, she turned right around and started heading back. August was following her, a curious expression crossing his face as he watched his wife back track towards him.

"Hey, you found 'em?"

"Yeah, let's go, they're fine," she answered, taking his arm and turning him around.

"What, were they like, indecent or somethin' like that?" he snorted, still not over the fact that a string bean nerd like Reese could get any action, period.

"Mmm, something like that," Sasha quipped, a secretive smile on her face.

The blonde snapped his attention down to her, his icy blue eyes wide with shock. "Eh?! No way- tell me, what arm was he usin'?"

The younger Pandoran leveled him with stoic lifted brow, her expression less than impressed.

"Sash, be honest. Was it the fleshy hand or the robo hand?"

She rolled her eyes, stepping carefully over some fallen debris littered on the floor. "You realize you're talking about my sister and best friend, right?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"August, darling?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up before I file for divorce."

"..."

When Rhys and Fiona had reunited with the couple, Sasha snagged her big sister in a tight embrace, congratulating her sincerely, and as the sisters quieted down, from the other side of the room they could hear August ask Rhys, "Since we're gonna be future brother-in-law's, how about you answer somethin' for me..."

"August!" The youngest sister shouted, shaking her head as both men jumped at the sound of her voice. "I swear, sometimes I feel like I gotta keep him on a leash..."

Fiona grinned, bumping her elbow against the smaller woman as she said, "Looks like you've gotta domestic him a bit more."

"Yeah? We'll see how you fare domesticating yours," she teased, poking her sister in the ribs.

"Rhys doesn't need..." The vault hunter trailed off, both Pandoran women watching as the company man wiggled his mechanical fingers, gesturing with his left hand towards it as he explained something in a low tone towards the blonde man, who was listening intently and nodding occasionally.

Fiona felt her face burn with a sudden heat as her fiancé flicked his wrist and a soft whirring of low vibrations filled the room. She felt her sister's pointed stare and realized that yeah, maybe Rhys did have some more domesticity training due... In the very near future.

If you're looking for a spookier Halloween tale featuring our favorite otp, then may I offer up "A Man After Midnight" which features Rhys and Fiona facing off against some supernatural evil~ Also it's like five times longer than this so it should satisfy any creepy cravings you might have 😈

©rin-bellatrix 2023

☆ borderlands masterlist ⋆ main masterlist ☆

#rhyiona #rhyionaweek #rhyionaweek2023 #rhys strongfork #rhys the company man #rhys the ceo #fiona borderlands #fiona the con artist #fiona the vault hunter #rhys x fiona #borderlands #tales from the borderlands #tftbl #rin's fic #sasha the kid sister #august the brawler #august the guy with the key #saugust #is that their ship name?

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willow-salix · 3 years

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TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project, @misssquidtracy . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing.

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it.

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves.

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?”

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?”

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly.

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely.

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs.

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag.

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk.

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.”

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed.

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table.

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.”

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all.

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly.

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her.

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?"

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work.

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more.

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?"

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay.

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room.

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project.

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him.

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him.

"What are you even doing?"

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall.

"Why?"

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop.

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best.

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name.

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay.

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite.

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance.

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer.

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite.

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest.

"So, what are you doing?"

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting.

"The same one?"

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions.

"Why?"

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done.

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned.

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile.

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey."

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon.

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong.

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him. He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all.

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there.

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John.

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to.

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job.

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand.

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.”

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all.

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy. Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect.

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin.

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!”

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain.

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?”

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

“It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation.

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted.

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday.

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed.

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!"

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed.

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted.

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding.

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones.

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time.

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?"

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper.

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon.

"A ship?" Gordon frowned.

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see.

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life.

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience.

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted.

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together.

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue.

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

“Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly.

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room.

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand.

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.”

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there.

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk.

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him.

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it.

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him.

“Never,” Gordon agreed.

-x-

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other.

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father, but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all.

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body, especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy.

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole.

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end.

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time.

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect.

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered.

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer.

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell.

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat.

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles.

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary, feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with.

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John and things had never been the same again.

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #TAG Mini Bang 2021 #TAGMiniBang2021

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Zero Days Without Incident

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 20 Prompt - Defiance

The ‘Days Without Incident’ sign in Tony Stark’s private workshop has nothing to do with engineering or science mishaps and all to do with a bet between him and a certain Spiderling.

Words: 1783, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Stabbing

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter you have thirty minutes until your curfew,” Karen warned him, already plotting a course home and throwing it up on his HUD.

It was a balmy spring evening and Peter had spent most of his patrol leisurely swinging through Queens or relaxing on a hammock made from his webs. There had been a few petty crimes he had dealt with, some grand theft bicycle, a cat stuck in a tree but, all in all, he couldn’t really complain. He loved being Spider-Man and helping his neighborhood but it was nice to have a slow day sometimes.

A scream sounded in the distance.

“Spoke too soon,” he mumbled, altering his course and picking up speed. “Can you get me directions K?”

“Of course Peter,” Karen answered, as chirpy and happy as normal, re-routing him away from his apartment and toward the sounds of discourse in the distance. When he dropped in on the scene it seemed to be a mugging in progress and Peter rolled his eyes – didn’t people have anything better to do on a random Tuesday in April? God just seriously rethink your life choices.

“I would say its knife to meet you but I’ve definitely used that pun in the last couple weeks and I don’t want to be accused of not being original,” Peter called down, making both the assailant and victim flinch and look up to where he was perched on the wall above them. “Where did even get that thing? The renaissance fair? Who robs people with a full on dagger anyway? Run out of kitchen knives?” Peter quipped, flipping down and pushing the mugger away with a well placed kick to the arm that made the man stumble back.

“This has nothing to do with you bug,” the man snarled, brandishing the weapon at Peter now and making him roll his eyes. “Don’t get in my way and I won’t have to use this on ya.”

“Spiders are arachnids actually, not bugs” Peter pointed out, shooing the stunned woman out of the alley and on her way out of any potential danger. “And how about you not stab anybody today huh? If you promise to behave I won’t web you to the wall and call the police. Sounds like a fair trade right?”

The man snarled at him with irritation. “You talk too much.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter agreed easily with a nod. “But what do you say? Ready to give up your life of crime for the straight and narrow?”

“No,” the man grumbled and, with literally no warning, lunged forward and stabbed his knife directly into Peter’s gut.

They both stared at each other in stunned silence before Peter processed the pain with a loud ‘fuck!’.

“You motherfucker,” Peter grunted, backing away to lean against the wall, holding the knife still with one hand so as to not dislodge it. “I can’t believe you stabbed me!”

“I thought you would dodge! You always dodge!” The man said, reaching up both hands to dig into his hair. “I stabbed Spider-Man what the fuck!”

“God this is just-,” Peter grumbled using his free arm to fire webbing at the guy and secure him to the nearby dumpster. “I’ve gone three weeks without having to go to the MedBay! Three weeks! All I had to do was last one more and then I got to pick the movie at movie night for the next month! God I can’t believe it! Mr. Stark is going to be so insufferable now!”

“You could just… not tell him?” The man asked hopefully, not even bothering to struggle against the webs and Peter blew out a breath as he sank down to sit on the gritty ground – he was starting to feel a little cold and dizzy from either the blood loss or shock, he couldn’t tell which. Not that it mattered, his fierce anger overshadowed everything.

“Not an option,” Peter grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes against the helpful countdown timer Karen had started displaying the second Tony had entered the Iron Man armor and started jetting to him. “He already knows.” Curse the Baby-monitor Protocol! He and Ned would need to remove it again…

“He track you or something?” The man asked questioningly, head quirked to the side in obvious curiosity.

“Or something,” Peter agreed.

“That’s wack man,” he said. “An invasion of privacy. A, uh… violation of your constitutional rights as a free American!”

“Do you honestly think Tony Stark cares about an something as simple as an invasion of privacy? I’m lucky he hasn’t microchipped me yet,” Peter pointed out. Or, at least, he didn’t think Tony had microchipped him. He’d have to check that and remove it post haste if he found something.

“Dude,” knife guy said commiserating and Peter had to fight the eye roll. Of course the person who stabbed him felt remorseful now.

“I know,” Peter agreed, peering down at his side to look at where the knife was embedded into him. He was pretty good around blood as long as it wasn’t his own and, looking at the way his suit was slick and blood was beginning to pool under his thighs in a puddle made Peter lightheaded so he closed his eyes again. “He’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you by the way,” Peter warned. “He has pretty good lawyers so I wouldn’t have high hopes of getting out of this without jail time.”

The man groaned and Peter just shrugged. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time and all that – also don’t stab people and leave them to the ministrations of their helicopter mentors. Same thing really. The sound of repulsers neared and Peter braced himself – he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with this.

“I guess that we can change the ‘Days Without Incident’ sign back to zero eh Spiderling?” Tony teased as he landed in the mouth of the alley, disengaging his suit and walking over to kneel next to Peter. “You were doing so good too – your longest streak ever in fact.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter hissed as Tony prodded around the wound carefully with a pre-gloved hand. “Can you not touch that?”

“No can do buddy,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Gotta anchor it in so it doesn’t fall out on the ride back. Happy’s on his way to pick us up.”

“Oh great,” Peter groused, letting Tony lean him forward a little so he could start wrapping roll gauze around the knife. “He loves to complain when I get blood on the seats.”

“Only when you get impaled,” Tony said brightly, pulling the gauze tight almost vindictively and making Peter wince. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him now would we?”

“You could just let me bleed out and die here,” Peter suggested seriously. “Since my life is basically over now anyway.

“You’re such a dramatic little shit,” Tony groused, tying off the gauze and levering Peter up off the ground to slump into his side for the extra support. “Now say ‘goodbye’ to your friend, he won’t be seeing the real world for a long, long time,” Tony’s voice had an edge of steel as he said this, dragging Peter to the end of the alley and ignoring the muggers ‘Aw man, c’mon!” as they passed. Peter just shrugged a ‘what can you do?” and wiggled his fingers in a facsimile of a wave as he was pulled away.

Happy, to his credit, was efficient and must have already been in the area because he was quick to pull up with a surly look already cemented onto his face as he surveyed where Peter was leaning into Tony and dribbling blood onto the sidewalk in large, heavy droplets. “I already called the cleaning crew,” he told them through the open window. “They’ll be here before the police to scrub up any possible radioactive DNA.”

“Best forehead of security ever,” Tony crooned lovingly as he carefully situated Peter onto the pile of towels Happy had put into the backseat to soak up the blood and keep it off his leather seats. Happy glared at the both of them in the rearview mirror before rolling up the partition. Tony snorted in undisguised mirth.

“How you feeling kiddie?” He asked as he peeled Peter’s mask from his sweaty face. “Not going to pass out on me again right?”

“Uh…” Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the spinning and grey dots that were clouding his vision. “No promises. Sorry.” Tony just let out a put upon sigh like he expected as much and pushed Peter to lay down across the seats, grabbing one of the extra towels to press tightly around the knife and making Peter let out a whining moan at the pressure. “Yeah I might pass out,” he said faintly as his vision started to tunnel.

“Go on then,” Tony said, running a hand through Peter’s damp curls and smoothing them away from his face. “At least you don’t sass me when you’re unconscious.” Peter felt the man lift his legs to slid a few wadded up towels underneath… like that would actually help keep him awake.

“Rude,” Peter grumbled before losing his grip on reality – he trusted Tony to take care of things for now.

——————————————

“I hate this movie,” Peter grumbled groggily, as he pulled himself awake some time later. He was lying in one of the beds in the MedBay, attached to a blood transfusion and with a thick padding of gauze on his abdomen. Tony, seated next to him and munching on popcorn, just sent him a shit eating grin and held up the whiteboard that had been hanging in his workshop displaying ‘Days Without Incident’ with a large 0 written under it in obnoxious red ink.

“This is such bullshit,” Peter said petulantly, picking at the tape holding the IV in place. “I can’t escape! Go watch your garbage movie somewhere else.”

“Excuse me you brat,” Tony said imperiously. “The Breakfast Club is a cult classic thank you very much and besides,” he continued, offering Peter the bowl of popcorn, “someone clearly has to educate you on good movies.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Peter said, flicking a kernel of popcorn playfully at his mentor (and missing damn – he must be on drugs) and letting his tired eyes slip closed again.

“Sore loser,” he heard Tony tease as he fell asleep and that did it. When he won their next bet they were marathoning the whole Star Wars series from beginning to end, including all of the Clone Wars and the Mandalorian, and he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump20 #Prompt: Defiance #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Best Revenge AU - Junior

I’m still working on the ficlet in this AU that is Angie-centric and has stuff showing her relationship with Max, her divorce, and when she starts dating Stan. But ever since I decided to create a new kid for this AU, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about said kid. So here, have some origin story for Stanley Junior.

——————————————————————————————

The front door slammed open. Angie stormed into the living room, where Lute and Stan were waiting for her to come back. After finding out Max had cheated on her, she had immediately gone over to trash his place.

“Feelin’ better?” Lute asked gently. Angie looked at him for a moment, then burst into tears. “Angie?” She ran off.

“What just happened?” Stan asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” Lute said. He chewed on his lip. “Maybe it would be fer the best if you went to talk to her. She might not want to talk to her brother.”

“I’m on it.” Stan got up and went down the hall, coming to a stop in front of Angie’s bedroom. He cautiously opened the door. Angie sat on her bed, her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Stan took a seat next to her.

“You all right?” he asked.

“N-no.”

“What’s wrong? I woulda thought you’d be happy after trashing your ex’s house.”

“I prob’ly would be,” Angie said, wiping her tears away, “if I wasn’t…” She took a shuddering breath. “If I wasn’t pregnant.”

“You’re- but we haven’t knocked boots!” It was something Stan was a bit disappointed by, but he was fine with waiting until Angie felt comfortable being intimate. “How could you-”

“It’s Max’s,” Angie whispered. Stan stared at her in horror. “Seems- seems like he got what he wanted. I was ‘bout a week or two along when I left.”

“I thought you were on birth control.” Stan’s eyes widened. “Unless he fucked with your pills.”

“He didn’t know about the pills.”

“Then how-”

“Birth control can fail.”

“Are you- are you gonna keep it?” Stan asked quietly. Angie closed her eyes.

“Nothin’ against folks who decide to- to terminate a pregnancy. It ain’t my business what they do. But I- I can’t do that.”

“You’re keeping it.”

“Yes.” Angie put her head in her hands, sobbing again. “I’m- I’m sorry!”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I love ya so- so much, and ya won’t stay with me.”

“Hold on.” Stan held up a hand. “When did I say that?”

“You-” Angie stared at him, her bright blue eyes filled with tears. “Yer not goin’ to leave me?”

“Nope.”

“But I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.”

“So?” Stan said with a shrug. “Angie, this is the best relationship I’ve ever been in. I’m not gonna throw that away. You mean everything to me.” He reached for Angie’s hand and squeezed. “I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

“But-”

“And…” Stan looked down at the ground. “Honestly? I’ve wanted to be a dad since I was a kid. This just means I’ll be a dad sooner than I thought.”

“You won’t regret it?” Angie asked.

“I’d regret it if I left.” Stan kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere, Ang.” Angie pulled Stan’s face closer to hers and kissed him sweetly.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you, too.”

-----

Stan landed in the backyard of Angie and Lute’s house.

“Mind the flowerbed!” Angie called from inside. Stan quickly shut off his flames. “Thank you!” Stan walked in through the back door. “In the kitchen!” He headed for the kitchen. Angie was nervously stirring a pot of something on the stove. Stan walked over to her and kissed the top of her head. “Are ya excited?”

“To meet your parents or to finally get all the baby stuff outta my apartment?” Stan asked. Angie swatted him playfully. The day after Angie told Stan she was pregnant and keeping it, Stan had gone on a bit of a spree, stealing things from numerous baby supply stores. Angie didn’t mind it, but insisted Stan not steal from small mom and pop stores. However, because she had wanted to wait to tell her family about the pregnancy, the baby supplies were stacked up in Stan’s apartment.

“Thank you fer bein’ so flexible on me not tellin’ my folks ‘til now,” she said softly. Stan shrugged.

“You’re the one who’s pregnant. I’m just following your lead.”

“Well, I’m officially in my second trimester, so now’s the time to tell.”

“Are you showing yet?”

“I literally showed ya yesterday. Do ya really think I’d have started showin’ overnight?”

“Well, you gotta get the bump at some point,” Stan said. Angie chuckled. She lifted her shirt to reveal her stomach. It was a bit bigger than before, but didn’t look evidently pregnant. “Nope. Not yet.”

“I ain’t that surprised,” Angie said, lowering her shirt. “I ‘member my Pa sayin’ that my Ma didn’t look pregnant until her third trimester fer all the kids. Well, all of ‘em ‘cept me ‘n Lute, since we were twins.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty small.”

“Doc says that the lil bean ‘ll prob’ly be small, too.” The doorbell rang.

“I got it!” Lute’s voice shouted from somewhere.

“Still can’t believe you managed to keep it secret from him,” Stan whispered to Angie. “Not only is he your twin, you literally live together.”

“Lute’s been walkin’ on eggshells ever since I left Max,” Angie said. She turned off the stove. “He’s very careful to not pry into my personal business, since Max was so controllin’.” Footsteps sounded. The front door opened.

“Ma, Pa!” Lute said happily. “Angie’s in the kitchen. I ain’t sure if Stan’s got here yet or not.” Lute entered the kitchen, a man and woman close behind him. The man looked like a carbon copy of Lute, while the woman looked exactly like Angie, with one major exception.

Angie clearly got her dad’s nose. Wonder if the kid’ll get it, too.

“Angie!” Angie’s parents promptly pulled her away from the stove and into a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see ya,” her father cooed. Her mother looked Angie up and down.

“I see ya fin’ly put some meat on yer bones,” her mom said. Angie turned red.

“Ma!”

“No, it’s good,” her dad said firmly. “You needed it.” He smiled at her. “You’ve always been so tiny.”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause she ain’t stressed from livin’ with that turd what pretended to be a husband,” Lute groused, leaning against the counter. Angie kneaded her forehead.

“Lute…”

“I’m allowed to call him that.” A sudden melancholy fell over Lute. “He was my best friend long ‘fore he was yer boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“So, are ya goin’ to introduce us to yer new beau?” Mrs. McGucket cooed. Angie grabbed Stan’s hand. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Ma, Pa, this is my boyfriend, Stanley Pines. He works with Lute, but has a day job sellin’ used cars. Stan, these ‘re my parents, Sally ‘n Mearl McGucket.”

“Pleasure to meet ya, son,” Mr. McGucket said, holding out a hand. Stan shook the offered hand, forcing a smile. The two southerners seemed like a regular farmer and his wife, warm and gentle. But Stan knew that Mrs. McGucket was actually the infamous Sirocco, his own mother’s archnemesis, while Mr. McGucket had regularly interfered with local government as the villain Hemlock. “I got to say, I’m glad my lil girl fin’ly found herself a proper villain to date.”

“Pa,” Angie whined. Mr. McGucket chuckled.

“I’m just teasin’, junebug.”

“We’re so happy yer in a good relationship,” Mrs. McGucket gushed. “Ya had a clean break with Max and can start over.” Angie took a deep breath.

“A-about that…” she started. Stan looked at her, surprised.

“You’re gonna tell them now? I thought you were gonna wait until after dinner.”

“No.” Angie took another breath. “I just- I just want to get it over with.” She looked at her parents. “Ma, Pa, I’m pregnant.” Lute slipped from his casual lean, falling to the floor. Mr. and Mrs. McGucket stared at Angie in shock.

“O-oh,” Mrs. McGucket mumbled. Mr. McGucket swallowed.

��Angie, we try not to pass judgement on you ‘n yer siblin’s lives, but you’ve only been datin’ Stan fer a few months. To become pregnant with his child-”

“It’s not Stan’s,” Angie said quickly. Mrs. McGucket covered her mouth, her eyes wide in horror. “It’s Max’s. I didn’t know it, but I was a couple weeks along when I left.”

“Shit,” Lute swore, getting to his feet. His face contorted with rage. “He- he just had to get the last word, didn’t he?”

“Yer keepin’ it?” Mr. McGucket asked softly. Angie nodded. “I see.” He looked at his wife. “Sally?”

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. McGucket took Angie’s hand. “Come with me, sweetling. I need to ask ya a few questions.”

“Okay.” Angie allowed Mrs. McGucket to lead her away. Stan and Lute looked at Mr. McGucket, confused.

“What’s that about?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket took off his glasses and polished them.

“We were plannin’ on havin’ Sally ask Angie a few questions in private, due to the sensitive nature of her breakup with Max.”

“You mean-” Stan started. Mr. McGucket nodded and put his glasses back on. Lute frowned.

“What?”

“Your mom is asking Angie if her ex-husband beat her,” Stan said flatly. Lute’s jaw dropped. “He didn’t, by the way. Angie’s told me everything that her dick of an ex did to her. Max treated her like she was made of glass and tried to control her near the end, but he didn’t lay a finger on her.”

Except for when he tried to keep her from leaving and grabbed her hard enough to bruise. But Angie had sworn Stan to secrecy in that regard. She knew her family would go scorched earth if they found out, which she didn’t want.

“Stanley, she might still be uncomfortable tellin’ ya somethin’ that she’d feel more comfortable tellin’ her mother,” Mr. McGucket said gently. He glowered. “Especially…”

“What?” Lute asked.

“With this new information ‘bout Max gettin’ her pregnant, we have to consider the possibility that Angie didn’t…” Mr. McGucket closed his eyes. “We need to make sure Angie consented to the events what caused her to get pregnant and that Max didn’t, ah, counteract any attempts Angie made to prevent a pregnancy.” Lute shook his head.

“No, Pa. Max, he- he turned out to be a real poor excuse of a person, but he wouldn’t have done anything like that to Angie. And if he’d even tried, Angie wouldn’t have tolerated it.”

“Hon, yer sister is very strong, but strong people can find themselves strugglin’ in a sit’ation like Angie was in,” Mr. McGucket said. “I also don’t think that Max would have done that to Angie. But we can’t ignore that possibility.”

“It’s smart,” Stan said after a moment. “Gotta cover all your bases.”

“Yes.” Mr. McGucket looked at Stan carefully. “So, yer fine with raisin’ another man’s child?”

“Yep. Angie and I talked it out ages ago.” Stan grinned, glad for the change in topic. “I’ve already started stocking up on stuff for the kid.”

“Yer the one what burgled all those baby stores?” Lute asked. Stan nodded. “Where have ya been puttin’ the stuff?”

“My apartment. But now that you all know, I can finally start moving it here. Thank god. I can barely see my bed.”

“Y’know, if yer goin’ to be with Angie fer the long haul and help her raise her child,” Mr. McGucket said idly, “maybe ya should just move in with her.” Stan stared at him.

“Pa, Angie’s the one who should offer that, not you,” Lute said, rolling his eyes. Mr. McGucket chuckled.

“Yer right, yer right.” He clapped Stan on the shoulder. “Are ya excited to be a dad?” Stan’s grin broadened.

“Yeah. I am. I know it’s gonna be tough and stressful, but I’m looking forward to holding the kid for the first time.” Mr. McGucket beamed.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“What a coincidence,” Angie said. Stan turned. Angie and her mother had returned. She smiled at Stan. “That’s what I like to hear, too.”

-----

“It’s a boy!” the doctor said. Stan looked over. The newborn in the doctor’s arms was tiny and covered in body fluids Stan didn’t want to think about. The doctor handed the baby to a nearby nurse.

“Hey, uh, where are you taking him?” Stan asked. Angie chuckled.

“Stanley, relax. They’re just cleanin’ him up,” she said wearily.

“Oh. Right.” Stan grinned at Angie. “Got caught up in the moment.” Angie laughed again.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Uh…” Stan checked his watch. “Two in the morning.”

“Geez.” Angie yawned. “No wonder I’m so tired. I was in labor fer ten hours.” Angie had gone into labor yesterday afternoon, prompting Stan to call out of the bank job he was supposed to help with. “Is yer hand all right?”

“I’ve had worse,” Stan said. He’d been by Angie’s side throughout the labor, providing his hand for her to squeeze when she had a particularly bad contraction. “So, was this a good labor or-”

“It went about as smoothly as it could,” said the nurse, who had come back with the baby. “Honestly, I haven’t seen a labor and birth this free from complications in a while.”

“Good,” Angie said sleepily. “Is my boy ready?”

“Yes, he is. Here you go. He’s perfectly healthy.” The nurse carefully deposited the baby in Angie’s arms. “I’ll give you three some time to get to know each other.”

“Thank you,” Angie said. The nurse left. Angie carefully parted the folds of the blanket, revealing her son. “He’s so beautiful,” she whispered.

“He’s really tiny,” Stan said. “Are babies always that tiny?”

“Newborns are usually pretty small, but this lil feller is definitely smaller ‘n average,” Angie answered. She stroked her son’s cheek. The baby shifted slightly and opened his eyes. Stan smiled.

“He’s got your peepers.”

“He might not.”

“Uh, he’s got blue eyes.”

“Sometimes, babies are born with blue eyes, only fer the eyes to turn brown later on.” Angie smiled. “He’s got the fam’ly nose, though.”

“And he’s bald.”

“Mm-hmm.” Angie’s eyes slowly closed. “He’s perfect.”

“What are you gonna name him?” Stan asked.

“Shh, later,” Angie mumbled. Stan carefully took the baby from her. He kissed her forehead. Angie smiled.

“Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”

-----

“Stanley?” Stan opened his eyes. He looked at the hospital bed. Angie was awake.

“Hey, babe.” Stan stretched. After Angie had fallen asleep, she’d been taken from the delivery room to her own private room. Stan had set up camp in the chair by her bed and fallen asleep. “How are you doing?”

“Less tired.” Angie looked around. “Where’s the baby?”

“I had him go to the nursery so we could both get some sleep.”

“Ah. Smart.”

“They asked what his name was, but I didn’t know what you were planning on, so they just put him down as Baby McGucket.” Stan grinned. “Which, honestly, isn’t half bad of a name.” Angie laughed.

“It wouldn’t be the weirdest name in my fam’ly. But it ain’t the name I’ve got in mind.”

“What is?”

“You’ll see,” Angie said with a grin. Stan chuckled.

“Making me wait. I see how it is.” He stood up. “Be right back, I’ve gotta go pee.”

-----

When Stan got back to Angie’s hospital room, she was holding the baby. Stan walked over to her bed.

“Yer middle name is Stanford, right?” Angie asked him.

“Uh, yeah. Fuck Pops for doing that to me.”

“Love, there ‘re young ears in hearin’ range,” Angie said gently. “No swearin’ ‘round the baby.”

“…Right.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “Why’d you need my middle name? Oh, I was gonna sign the birth certificate.”

“No need. Birth certificate is all done,” Angie said. Stan frowned.

“But who’d you put down as the dad?”

“I left it blank.” Angie looked down at her son in her arms. “I didn’t- I know that yer happy to be raisin’ this lil bean now, but I didn’t want to chain ya to a child what ain’t yours. Just in case.”

“Ang…”

“I don’t want ya to feel trapped,” Angie said quietly. Stan’s eyes widened. He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ve felt that way. I wouldn’t wish it on someone I love.”

“You’re too good for me,” Stan said. Angie managed a watery chuckle. “If I’m not signing the birth certificate, why’d you need to know my middle name?”

“Well…” Angie smiled. “Hold out yer arms.” Stan did as he was told. Angie carefully handed the baby over. “Meet Stanley Stanford McGucket.”

“Wh-” Stan stared at Angie. “That’s- that’s my name.” Angie nodded. Stan swallowed. “It’s- it’s a good name,” he choked out.

“You’ve been there fer me through all of this. It’s the only name what feels right fer the lil bean.”

“I…” Stan stared down at the baby named after him. “He really is a little bean.” Angie laughed.

“I was thinkin’ we could call him Junior. He ain’t Stan Pines Junior at the moment, but if we get married, he will be. And since yer already named Stan…”

“Yeah, I’d be pretty confused if I heard Lute say he changed Stan’s dirty diaper,” Stan said dryly. Angie laughed again. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I’ve got my two boys with me. How could I not be?” Angie asked. Junior shifted in Stan’s arms. Stan smiled down at him.

“Hey, bud,” he whispered. Junior watched him curiously. “I’m not the one who got your mama pregnant. But I’m the one who’s gonna take care of you. Got it?” Junior giggled. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” Stan sat down in the chair he’d slept in, still staring at Junior. “Sweet Moses. I’m- I’m a dad.”

“Only if ya want to be,” Angie said. Stan looked at her.

“I just told Junior that I’m gonna be his dad. He understood. You didn’t?”

“All right, all right,” Angie said, holding her hands up in surrender. “All right. Yer a dad. Yer Junior’s dad.

“Damn straight.”

“Language.”

“Right.” Stan settled back in his chair. “These isn’t the Halloween I had in mind, but-”

“Pardon?”

“Ang, you went into labor yesterday, on October 30th,” Stan said. “Today’s Halloween.” Angie burst into laughter. “What?”

“It’s just- I was born on April Fool’s Day. It feels appropriate fer my son to be born on Halloween.” Stan held up a finger.

“Nuh-uh. Our son was born on Halloween.” He grinned. “I’m gonna throw Junior the best birthday parties.” A comfortable silence fell. “I kinda like how quiet it is right now.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Angie warned. “My entire fam’ly is headin’ over. It’ll get loud real fast.” The door slammed open.

“Where’s my new nephew?” Lute crowed. Angie looked at Stan.

“See?”

#for reals tho if people are curious about Junior pls send asks #we've come up with a lot of stuff for him already #and I'm eager to share information about him #he is a good boy and precious bean #Best Revenge AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Pa McGucket #Ma McGucket #McGucket Family #Stangie #Stangie Family #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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arianakristine · 4 years

Text

@skagengiirl So, this has actually been sitting around in a word document since about 2015 (what I meant by cheating a bit). I’ve taken pieces of the ideas for other stories, but I hope you will enjoy anyway :)

Title: Girl Talk Summary: The Wonder That’s Keeping the Stars Apart collection. A few months after everything settles, a party is held at Granny’s. And Red has a question that’s been bugging her for a while. Some Frankenwolf mentioned.

“Emma,” a voice calls. She looks up to see Ruby stumbling toward her, her drink sloshing around her glass precariously but not spilling. “There’s my godchild!”

Emma winces, but lets the woman hug her awkwardly in her seat. Ruby falls back into another chair clumsily, giggling all the while.

“You’re such a light-weight, Ruby!” Emma teases, denying the way her own voice came out in a cursive. She can barely hear over the din of people talking and music playing. Granny’s looked more like a bar than a dinner currently, but everyone looked in a good mood.

Ruby takes a sip of the cola-colored liquor and chances a glance behind her. “Emmy, you gotta tell me –“

“Uh, uh, no way, no Emmy. Nix it,” Emma corrects firmly. She points at her directly. “Emma’s short enough, no nicknames needed.”

Ruby cackles. “Fine! Though I’m sure you and your hubby have plenty for each other.”

Her eyes darken as she seeks out Graham from across the room. His hand is curled around the neck of a beer bottle, chatting amicably with David and Archie. He is grinning, that dimpled smile that sends heat straight to the core of her. She sucks in a bit of a breath. “Not my husband … not yet, Ruby,” she corrects. Then she blinks. She must’ve had a couple more whiskeys than she should have, to imply something like that. She turns back to Ruby sharply, but the damage has already been done.

“Are you guys engaged?!” she asks in a stage whisper, her eyes widening.

“Hush, no, we’re not!” she says as she bats at her. “We’re not even really talking about it.”

Unfortunately, even an inebriated Ruby can pick up on the things she’s saying. “’Not really talking about it’? Does that mean you’ve kind of talked about it?”

Emma’s nose crinkles. “God, Ruby, really?” she sighs. She peeks back up at Graham. She can see the way the muscles of his back move through his shirt as he gestures. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, his hands in plain view. She pictures a band around his left ring finger, trying hard to ignore the pleasant tingle that curls up her spine at the thought. “We only really mentioned it once we saw each other again. We’re not talking marriage for real.”

“Bree’s what, almost six months old? What’s the delay?” she asks, her bright eyes trained on hers as she twists a cherry stem between her teeth.

She huffs a sigh. “Nothing, it’s just … we weren’t really together together before he … you know. We’re taking our time.”

Ruby’s brow arches. “You guys have a kid. You’re true love. But marriage is a rush?”

She waves her hand, and then takes a thick swallow of the honeyed whiskey. “We’re doing fine right now; why worry about getting married.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her manhattan. “Whatever. Anyway, what I was saying before: I gotta know something that has been bugging me for ages,” she gushes dramatically.

Emma gestures. “Shoot.”

Ruby’s gaze turns playful. “How in the hell did you wind up pregnant in the first place? I’ve been trying to pinpoint the timeframe.”

Emma grimaces. “Ruby! Seriously?”

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “Yes, seriously! Now, was it after the dart incident? You guys were pretty heated; did you guys have like some angry sex against the cruiser or something?”

Emma gapes at her, slightly insulted. “No! We didn’t have angry sex!”

Ruby presses further, the alcohol making her bolder. “Not angry sex? Did the tension just bubble over and he took you in the middle of the parking lot or something?”

“Ruby!” she hisses. “No! We didn’t have sex that night.”

Ruby is pensive. “Hmm, not that night, then? Was it before? Was that why you were avoiding him when you found out about him and Regina?” she asks.

“Ruby!” she moans out. She takes a gulp of her whiskey, downing it cleanly. “No. Not then, not before then.”

Ruby’s expression turns stunned, training on her in sympathy. It takes Emma a second to realize she just basically told her the day it happened. The same day he died. “Emma, it was that day? Oh, I’m so sorry. Tell me you at least had time to enjoy it.”

Emma buries her face in her hands. “Just enough,” she grouses.

The other woman’s face spreads into a wicked grin. “So, it was good?”

Emma scowls, her first reaction being just to straight tell her off and exclaim that she would never tell Ruby something like that.

Then, it hits her. Ruby’s a friend. A friend like she’s never had. Sure, Mary Margaret and she are fantastic friends, but it hasn’t been the same since the curse broke. They’re family, and things run smoothly like that and they are still closer. But it’s not like it is with friends; not like late nights in the bunks at foster homes or half-whispered convos between girls in coffee shops. She can’t exactly talk to her mother about how good her boyfriend is in bed.

To gather strength, she pulls the open bottle of whiskey from the counter behind them and pours a shot that she downs immediately. She pushes the bottle towards the other woman in invitation. “God, Ruby, you couldn’t have imagined how good,” she finally admits.

Ruby pours over the ice left of her drink and grins impishly. “Girl, we’ve all imagined it,” she says with a wink. “I mean, his looks haven’t exactly gone unnoticed in this tiny town, or even in that massive forest before.”

Emma feels something creep up inside her that feels suspiciously like pride. She pours another glass and smiles into her drink. “He’s even better out of uniform,” she says, feeling decidedly playful.

Ruby’s eyes widen slightly. She opens her mouth to reply when Victor plops down in the chair next to her, pulling her close with arm. “So, Ladies, what are we discussing on this fine evening?” he slurs dramatically.

Ruby frowns. “Girl talk, Victor.”

Victor pouts. “Am I not allowed in on girl talk? Ruby, I will have you know that I am very in touch with my feminine side.” He whips his hair back and then leans into Ruby, smiling widely.

Even though Emma still holds a bit of a grudge against the doctor even months of reconciliation later, she has to stifle her laugh against the rim of her glass. The man is a funny drunk.

Ruby presses a teasing kiss against his lips, just barely brushing them. “Be that as it may, this is private, mister. You may get a reward if you leave now.”

Victor locks eyes with Emma’s and raises a brow suggestively. “Then I should be off. Have fun, lovelies.”

Once he leaves, Emma smirks at Ruby. “So, how’s that going?”

Ruby waves her hand as if pushing away the implication. “Just someone I’m testing. Not making a big deal out of it.”

She laughs. “Testing? Haven’t you been ‘testing’ for two months now?”

Ruby snorts indelicately and raises her cup, the ice tinkling around the glass. “We’ve been dating for two months. I’ve been ‘testing’ for the past week.”

The girls giggle together, and Emma has a sharp feeling of poignancy. She’s never had this kind of friendship with anyone, amicable and teasing without being heavy with other emotion. She finds herself enjoying it. “And? He is …?”

She looks up thoughtfully, tapping a finger on her lips. “Acceptable,” she finally spouts. “A solid 8 out of 10. Room for improvement.” She picks a fleck of polish off her bright red nails. “Proportionate.”

Emma glances up at Graham again, almost shyly. Not-so-sober eyes trace the lines of his body, heat flicking in her as her memory looks past the clothing. She looks back at Ruby. “Not so proportionate. In my favor.”

Ruby gives a noise of approval. “Mazel Tov,” she quips with a coy nod.

Emma takes a sip of her drink, feeling a blush creep up her neck. “God, I must be drunk.”

Ruby grins. “Well, while we’re at it – how did it happen? Y’know, the first time?”

Emma purses her lips, considering. “Quid pro quo?” she asks.

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “Deal. I’ll even go first: we had a real date, you know, dinner, drinks, nice music. He was a perfect gentleman, and we closed down Tony’s. Then went to his place to look at this painting he just got, and once the door closed … well, I just kinda jumped him.”

“Sounds like you waited too long,” Emma chuckles.

Ruby smirks. “And you don’t think you and Graham waited too long?”

Emma rubs her temple. At the time? No. She had been worried that they had rushed things. Hindsight, however, did get her wondering about the what-ifs. “Yeah, well.”

Ruby chuckled and swiped lipstick from around the side of her glass. ��So?”

She sighed and pulled her lip through her teeth. She glanced at him once more before meeting her eyes. “I had just had a fist fight with Regina after he broke up with her. He fixed me up, I kissed him, and somehow that ended up with us on the desk.” She grimaces slightly; it sounds subversive in such simple terms.

Ruby’s eyes widen considerably. “On the desk? In the office? Kinky, Emma! I love it!” She seems to think about it a second, shock crossing her face. “Hey, I’ve sat at that desk!”

Emma laughed and pulled up her hair. “Months later, I might add.”

Ruby shook her head with a grin. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at that office the same way ever again.”

“Why would that be?”

Emma doesn’t turn; the voice’s soft rumbling tones, the elongated syllables have alerted her to who exactly is behind her shoulder. She leans into him, and he helps pick up her hair, coiling it into a bun. He easily relaxes into her, the pads of his fingers lightly caressing the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Ruby is looking at Graham with an openly appreciative glance. Her eyes are steadily focused above the belt, but Emma can see the restraint in the brunette’s eyes. “No reason that you don’t already know, Sheriff,” she teases.

Emma turns her head, pressing her face into his stomach and breathing in his scent. All this talk, the warmth of the liquor in her belly, the smell of him, his nearness … she is suddenly glad she left Brianna with Mary Margaret this evening. “Sorry, Ruby, but I think Graham and I have to go,” she says, giving the woman a pointed look.

Ruby hums an agreement. “We’re not done, just so you know. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” she says with a wink, rising slightly unsteadily in her sky-high heels. “I’ll just find Victor. Have fun, lovebirds.”

Emma stands and rolls into him, her arms crossing behind his neck. She presses a lingering kiss to his lips, which he responds to immediately. “You’ve been watching me again,” he says, a smile in his voice but worry in his eye.

Emma shrugs. “I was just appreciating the view.” She knows what he’s getting at, but this time she wasn’t watching to be sure he wouldn’t disappear.

Graham tightens his arms where they linger at her waist. “We should go home.”

She nods, grabbing her coat. Then, she turns, a different thought on her mind. “Or, we could go to the office. I think I remember something that needs to be fixed over there,” she says huskily.

He raises a brow and pulls her close. “Some desk work you need to finish?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. And I think I need someone to help me jog some memories about the last time the desk was worked on.”

He laughs. “Em, you must be drunk if you’re picking up my sense of humor. Maybe we should just get you to bed.”

She shakes her head, but sways as she takes a step forward, the room spinning slightly, and she wants to groan aloud. “Fine. But tomorrow, we’re going in early.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Let’s get you home, Emma.”

Emma’s seized with the sappiest feeling, and in her inebriated state, lets it come into words. “I’m already there.”

He looks down at her, those dark-blue eyes gleaming. “You’re my home, too, Emma. But let’s also get to a place where we can sleep it off.”

Hugging him, she nods. “The Reason, Graham.”

Slowly, he rubs her back. “The Reason, Emma.” He presses a kiss into her hair, tracing a line down her back.

#gremma #graham humbert #emma swan #gremma ff #ouat ff #wilding verse #that's right

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queen-swagzilla · 4 years

Text

Born in Dreams, Forged in Blood - Chapter 2

Rated: M

Summary: Katsuki Bakugo was not a good communicator. To be fair, neither was Izuku Midoriya. Looking back on their dumpster fire of a friendship, communication was probably the most significant missing piece in their interpersonal puzzle. Luckily, their translator is back in town, and they're about to take UA by storm.

Like the story? Consider buying me a coffee!

Don’t know what’s going on? Read it all on Ao3!

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

“I’m gonna give Sana a tour of the dorms.” Katsuki barked at the end of the day. “Then we’re going to see Deku, and we’ve got private shit to discuss. You extras better clear out before we get back.”

The look on Uraraka’s face told Sana that they’d have to forcibly remove her from the infirmary if they wanted any privacy. “I really don’t like that girl.” She muttered as they separated from their classmates.

“She’s impressive, but she’s nosy and she gets really territorial about Deku. Think she has some kinda claim over him or something.” He replied. “She has more right to be in Deku’s business than I do, though.”

“Yeah, what the hell is up with that? I know he hasn’t stopped being a friend to you, but he’s actually starting to believe that you hate him. And you told him to jump off the roof. He told me. What the fuck, dude?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough shit, Kacchan! The three of us are supposed to have each other’s backs against the world. It’s been that way since we were in diapers.”

“We still have each other’s backs. I’ve saved him. He’s saved me. I’m not turning my back when he’s in trouble or anything.”

“Yeah, but you act like a dick, and there’s more to friendship than literal life-threatening situations. You need to be there for the emotional shit, too. You help each other get stronger, work out problems together, just spend some fuking time together,—“

“Yeah, well Deku and I aren’t there anymore, okay? Drop it.”

“No! Tell me what happened!”

“He didn’t have a quirk!” He snapped, rounding on her. He looked around—they were outside the dorms now—and found no one in sight. Nonetheless, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside—dragging her into the elevator. “If we’re doing this, it’s not gonna be where those extras can overhear us.”

“Fine.” She barked back, allowing him to pull her into his room and slam the door. “You could have just whispered. I would have heard you.”

“Yeah, but if AirPods is lurking, we’ll get overheard out in the open.” He replied, frustrated. “Okay, look. I started being hard on Deku because he didn’t have a quirk, but he still wanted to be a hero. He kept on putting himself in dangerous situations to get closer to hero fights and stood up to bullies and shit whose quirks were fucking violent. At first, I just wanted him to be reasonable and start looking out for himself, but he kept getting worse and I got more frustrated. He wasn’t even training physically at that point, just going off analysis and shitty self-preservation instincts. I just wanted him to think. I might have lost sight of what I was trying to get through his thick skull, but I was so fucking angry at him.”

“So you told him to kill himself?” She demanded. “You’re one of my best friends, but that’s seriously fucked up.”

“Yeah, I know.” He snapped. “I regret that, okay? Especially since that same fucking day, he saved me from the sludge villain. Before All Might showed up, I mean. But that still made me furious because what the fuck was he thinking?”

“Have you considered apologizing?”

“No, because now I’m pissed off for a different reason. He had a quirk and he let me have a fucking heart attack every time he pulled some crazy self-sacrificing stunt.”

“He said he was a super-late bloomer. Maybe it was triggered during the sludge villain attack? That’s when he started getting cagey with me, at least.

“That’s not it.” Katsuki muttered. “I have a theory now. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Wanna share with the class?” She replied when he didn’t elaborate.

“Not yet. But we should talk about it with Deku when we go see him later.” He admitted. “And your villain encounter. Don’t think I forgot.”

“You’ve had way more villain encounters than I have.” She paused. “Are you okay, by the way? After the kidnapping, I mean?”

He scowled. “Add that to the ‘we’ll talk about it later’ list.” He grumbled. “I mean physically, I’m fine. Mentally, I’m working on it.”

She sighed. “Fine. Wanna finish showing me around? You can tell me about our classmates while we’re at it.” She suggested, already moving toward the door. It was like talking to an emotionally constipated brick wall with him, sometimes.

“Uh, first…” He stopped her and she paused, turning back to look at him. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re here.” He muttered, looking away. The tips of his ears burned, and she couldn’t help but smile. He might be emotionally constipated, but at least he was trying.

She threw her arms around his neck in a ferocious hug. “I missed you. Both of you. I’m really glad to be back. It didn’t feel right—learning to be a hero without you.” He murmured into his neck.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up about the team thing, because I dunno if Deku and I will be able to get past our shit. But yeah. It’ll be…nice. For the three of us to be together, I mean.”

“See? That’s a good first step!” She cheered. “Come on. Show me around.” She urged, pulling him back through the door.

He gave her a perfunctory tour, but ended up in the kitchen making food while he told her about their classmates.

“So…we like Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, Jirou, and Sero actively. We like Ojiro, Koda, Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Hagakure, Sato, and Todoroki passively. We don’t really “get” Sparkles or Tentacles. We aren’t sure about Frog Face, we dislike but respect Kirby and Four-Eyes, and fuckin hate Mineta. Sound about right?”

“Yeah. Froggy’s alright, but she tends to judge people too quickly. She’s kind of a know-it-all and she's pretty uptight, but she tells it straight and says what’s on her mind. She pissed me off today, but she was one of the people leading the charge to stop me from getting kidnapped at the training camp. She’s a real asset in a team, too. Level headed.”

“That was a whole lot of compliments. You better sling some insults to balance yourself soon.” She warned him. He threw a carrot peel at her face. “Rude. I was just trying to help.” She groused, picking the peel out of her hair.

“Yeah, well quit it.” He replied. He began ladling curry into tupperware over rice. “I was thinking we could take Deku dinner and eat with him while we catch up and talk through our shit.” He mumbled. Unfortunately for him, she heard him loud and clear.

“That’s really sweet of you, Kacchan.” She grinned, only smiling wider when he glowered. “Sounds like a plan. As long as we’re allowed to eat in the infirmary.”

He snorted. “We’re barely allowed to visit the infirmary. Aizawa basically told us to fuck off, remember? We’re going to sob-story our way in so that we can get his other visitors kicked out and stay past curfew.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You. Make up some bullshit about how much you miss Deku until she lets us stay.”

“I do miss Deku.” She deadpanned.

“Exactly. That’s fuckin perfect.”

“Kacchan.”

“Let’s go.”

As expected, Izuku’s room was occupied when they arrived. “I’m sorry, I can’t allow more than two visitors at a time. Otherwise it’s not fair to the other patients.” Recovery Girl informed them when they asked to see him.

“They already had their turn. Can’t you kick them out?” Katsuki growled. Sana smacked his arm (hard).

“It’s nice to meet you, Recovery Girl! I’m Sana Kimura—the transfer student. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of me.” She smiled, polite and charming. “Could you make an exception, just this once? I haven’t seen Zuku in over a year, and I wanted to surprise him today. I don’t want one of our classmates to give away the secret before I get the chance!”

She squinted at the newcomer. “Why does Bakugo have to join you?”

“We’re all childhood friends! Its been a long time since we’ve been able to spend time together. Besides, Kacchan is helping me navigate campus until I get settled.”

Recovery Girl squinted even longer—long enough to even unsettle Bakugo. “Very well. Wait here. I’ll let his other visitors know that their time is up. But I don’t want you to cause any trouble, do you understand, young man?”

Sana bristled, but Katsuki spoke before she could interject. “I understand. And uh…sorry. About the last time, I mean. I was out of line, and I destroyed a lot of your equipment.”

Recovery Girl smiled at him. “Thank you for your apology. I understand how frustrated you must have been. I must have scolded Miss Midnight for an hour after she put that muzzle on you.”

Sana scowled fiercely. “He should have been allowed to not accept the medal.” She said, seething. “That Todoroki kid didn't’ give it his all. Katsuki would have won, but that wasn’t a real win.”

“No need to convince me, dear. I agree.” She soothed. “I’ll go clear the room for you kids. Wait here.” She bustled into the room where Izuku was contained, and within seconds Sana heard loud protests booming from the occupants.

“You watched the Sports Festival?”

She snorted. “Of course I did. You and Zuku were both competing. Besides, Auntie Inko sent me about six million reminders. I wouldn’t have missed it, but I also couldn’t have missed it.”

“Oh. Well, what did you think?”

“About you? Or did you want me to give you a complete analysis of each match?”

“Just fucking tell me, dammit.”

She snickered. “You were great. I can’t believe how much control you have over your quirk now. I do think, however, that you need to work on your image in public.” He glowered. “Come on. You’re a hero. You can’t yell ‘die’. You gotta work on the rage. You want people to be hopeful when they see you, not intimidated.”

“Half my image problems came from the fucking muzzle and handcuffs. The rest of it was just treating my opponents like actual opponents. It’s shitty to pull your punches on someone who’s trying their best.”

“I agree. But really, yelling ‘die’ makes you sound unhinged. I’m pretty sure it’s a leftover habit from playing too many first person shooters, but really.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it.” He conceded, pleased that she was impressed, but annoyed that she found his flaws noteworthy.

It didn’t escape her notice that Katsuki clammed up and bristled as soon as Uraraka and Iida entered the hallway.

“You got us kicked out?” Uraraka demanded, eyes fixed on Katsuki. “You actually think he wants you in his infirmary room? You’re usually the one who puts him in here!”

“He’s here because I’m here. Not that it’s any of your business. Just because you’re his friend, doesn’t mean you can dictate who Zuku spends time with.”

“Leave it alone.” Katsuki muttered, already walking into Izuku’s room. Sana looked like she wanted to argue, but if Katsuki was being the calm and reasonable one, she should probably leave it alone. She met Uraraka’s glare and Iida’s affronted, scandalized face with a venomous stare of her own, then followed Katsuki into the room.

“Kacchan? You’re my other visitor? Why are you here? Is everything—“ Izuku fell silent when sana walked through the door and stared, mouth ajar.

“Man, you two need to work on your greetings.” She joked as Izuku continued to stare at her in shock. “First time I see you two in over a year and Katsuki swears at me and you stare at me like I’m an alien. Not a single hello. You’re lucky I don’t take it personally.”

“Sana?” He choked out.

“Who the fuck else would it be, Deku?” Katsuki snapped. She slugged him in the arm.

“What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” He cried, automatically moving to get up before wincing and slumping back onto his cot. Apparently, he’d forgotten his injury.

“I told you I had a surprise for you!” She laughed, coming to stand by his bedside. “I transferred to UA!”

Izuku gaped again, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. “What?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “She had some mystery encounter with a fucking villain and didn’t totally suck at handling herself, so Principal Furry scouted her for the hero course.” He barked. “She’s in 1-A.”

To no one’s surprise, yet Katsuki’s immeasurable horror, Izuku began to tear up. “You’re really transferring to UA? We’ve missed you so much, don’t you dare say sike!” He blubbered, tears already dripping down his face. Sana cooed in comfort, immediately bending to pull him into a tight hug.

“Telling the truth, Zuku.” She promised. He sobbed louder.

“Stop crying, nerd. We brought you dinner.” Katsuki snapped, shoving the tupperware at him as he sat on his other side. “We’ve got shit to talk about, and visiting hours are almost up. We were gonna ask if we could stay past curfew, but that’s probably one too many favors for Recovery Girl, and we’re not gonna get privacy like this in the dorm. So hurry up and get your shit together.”

“You brought me dinner, Kacchan?” Izuku murmured, eyes wide as he stared at the tupperware in wonder. “You made me dinner? Thank you!”

“Whatever, nerd.” He muttered, looking away. Did he really have to act like he’d cured cancer or some shit? “You and I have shit to work out, but we can do that later. Just eat and listen while Princess Shithead explains how she was in a villain attack and didn’t tell us about it.”

Izuku frowned at Sana, simultaneously snapping the lid off his curry. “Why didn’t you tell us, Sana?” he pouted, sounding disappointed. Sana groaned.

“Let me tell you right now, the disappointed for withholding information thing is NOT going to work in your favor, Zuku.” She warned. “You have a quirk.” Izuku turned red, eyes dropping to his hands as they gripped the food container.

“Stop changing the fucking subject!” Katsuki snarled.

“Fine! It’s not that big a deal. There was this super gross villain who had robbed a bank and when he was surrounded, he started destroying everything in sight. I was picking up groceries for dinner and got caught on the scene. I got scouted because I cleared a space for triage and defended it from debris and shit. The only bad part was not having my compression sleeves or braces with me.” She rushed out.

“I saw that attack on the news! That villain leveled three city blocks and nearly took down Gang Orca!” Izuku cried. “You could have gotten seriously hurt!”

“If that’s not the fucking pot calling the kettle black…” Katsuki muttered.

Sana rolled her eyes. “We’re training to be heroes. That’s the territory.Seriously, I didn’t even get that badly hurt. All of my injuries came from my own quirk”.

“The hell is your problem?” Katsuki demanded. “Why didn’t you fucking say anything until now? You could have died! You could have died and you didn’t tell us? I’ll fucking kill you!”

“What good would telling you have done? You couldn’t do anything! Not to mention you were taken by the League like two days later! Izu’s arms got fucked up and he actually almost died because of his showdown with Muscular. You had your own shit to worry about!”

“Fucking christ.” Katsuki spat, dropping his face into his palms.

“Look, we’re all okay, right? That’s what matters.” Sana reasoned. “And next time we’ll be stronger.”

“Do you want a fucking list of how not okay this shit is? Deku has a quirk, and it breaks his bones every fifteen minutes. You could have died in a villain attack and didn’t tell us. I got kidnapped, and I’m the fucking reason All Might retired.” His voice broke on the last point. Deku turned to him so fast, Sana was surprised he didn’t break the sound barrier. “Fuck. This is my fault. Everything that’s wrong between us is my fault.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Sana snapped.

“That’s not true, Kacchan!” Deku hissed. “I’m the reason All Might retired. You’re amazing! You’re so strong and you stayed strong when you were kidnapped, even when most people doubted you. Sure, we had our struggles in middle school, but you’re still important to me and I admire you. The only reason I’ve been able to use this quirk is because I’ve been watching you grow all these years.”

Katsuki looked up at them then, and they were both horrified to find him crying. “If I’d been stronger—or if I’d listened to that cat lady and retreated earlier, All Might would still have his power.”

“No. No no no no no no no.” Deku muttered, scrambling for his phone on the bedside table. “Hold on for a second, but please stop crying Kacchan.” He pleaded. He fired off a quick text, looking unbelievably nervous. He already operated at a baseline anxiety of 60%, so now it looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. “Okay.” He said, looking back at them. “If I tell you this, it has to stay completely secret. Promise me.”

Katsuki sniffed and Sana nodded. “I promise.” She said.

“Whatever. Fine.” Katsuki muttered, wiping at his eyes. Izuku braced himself, anxiety palpably rising with every second. “Just spit it out, nerd!” Katsuki barked, intimidation undermined by the wavering note in his voice.

“All Might was always going to lose his power.” Izuku began. “He was badly injured five years ago, and his control over his power has been fading since then. He came to UA to find a successor.” He told them. Sana gaped at him.

“How the hell do you know that?” She demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Katsuki spat. “All Might chose him. After the sludge villain, right? That’s when you two met.”

Deku looked at him in surprise. “Uh…yeah. The Sludge Villain attacked me first, and All Might saved me. He told me that I couldn’t be a hero without a quirk. But then the sludge villain got free and attacked you, and I happened to pass by. I was ready to give up, but as soon as I saw you, I had to help. It wasn’t a choice, it was an instinct. After you yelled at me, All Might caught up with me. He trained me for ten months, and on the morning of the entrance exam, he gave me his quirk.”

Sana’s jaw dropped, eyes glazing. Katsuki, however, looked barely phased. “I figured it was something like that. After Kamino Ward—All Might’s message…”

“Yeah.” Izuku nodded. “That was for me.” Tears pricked at his eyes. “He was telling me that his time as the symbol of peace was over. That it was my turn.” He looked down at his hands. “If anything, it’s my fault that he lost his power. Just like it’s my fault that you got kidnapped.”

“Come on, what the fuck?” Sana groaned.

“What the hell are you talkin about, Deku?”

“If I’d gotten to you sooner—if I hadn’t broken my arms, if I’d been able to reach you before Kurogiri—“

“I told you not to follow me! I told you to stay back. You know why I’ve been so pissed at you Deku? It’s cause you’re fuckin stupid. You keep getting yourself into shitty situations that you can’t handle. It wouldn’t have made anything better if we’d both died.”

“Kacchan—“

“No. Fuck no. I said we’d talk about it later, but it’s not like Sana doesn’t know what’s been going on. I didn’t want you hanging around me because you kept getting hurt and it drove me fuckin nuts. Sure you don’t need a quirk to be a hero, but you need to fuckin train or something! You were this skinny little nerd and you kept picking fights that you weren’t able to finish!”

“That’s bullshit, Kacchan!” Izuku snapped back. “Even after I got a quirk, you were being an asshole!”

“Yeah, because even though you had a quirk, you still treated your body like garbage and didn’t show any fucking restraint! If you know your bones break every time you use your quirk, you don’t break them twice to win a fucking festival game.” He snarled. “And you kept it from me!”

“I kept it a secret because you were being an asshole!”

“I was being an asshole because you kept breaking your fucking arms!”

“My body wasn’t strong enough to handle my quirk yet!” He argued. “I had to train and figure out how to use it! It’s not my fault the League of Villains kept showing up!”

“STOP!” Sana snapped. “Okay, this is conversation is set up to go in a really aggravating circle. Katsuki, you were worried about Zuku because he was quirkless and reckless, Then you were worried about him because even though he had a quirk, his body wasn’t prepared for it and it kept on hurting him. Despite that, he was still reckless. Gotta say, I’m not too thrilled about that either. I almost puked when I watched your fight with Todoroki.” She pinned him with a glare. “Not to mention, until today he thought you’d chosen to keep your quirk from him for years and just let him panic whenever you did something nuts.”

Izuku gaped. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Well I know that now!”

“Shut it!” She growled. “Deku, you may not have totally given up on him, but you let yourself get intimidated by him, so you started hiding shit from him. He was trying to give you tough love but he went overboard because he was frustrated, and he didn’t explain his point of view. You didn’t really stop consider why he started losing his shit, and just assumed it was because you were quirkless. You let your toxic masculinity force a five-year miscommunication. Now your relationship is a goddamn dumpster fire and the two of you are fucking messes. You should both be in therapy for multiple reasons. I can’t believe you two are still so dense that you need a fucking translator to get along, but fuck it! I’m here now, and I’m done with this bullshit. I hope you’re happy. I’m going to be your interpersonal fire extinguisher and emotional housekeeper until you two dumb-shits can take care of it yourselves.”

Both Izuku and Katsuki were darting their glances between her and each other, growing steadily redder as she ranted. “You can’t just magically fucking turn Deku and me into magical fucking unicorns who fart fucking rainbows.” Katsuki snapped. Despite himself, Izuku snorted.

“Of course I can’t. But you two can stop being such gigantic tools and start talking to each other again. And when you can’t get it right, I’ll just…translate for you.” She nearly hit them both when they both offered her skeptical expressions. “Listen, fuckfaces. Our dreams and goals match because we designed them that way. We’re supposed to be a team. I’m not stopping until we’re a team again. So are you going to try? Or am I going to have to drag you both kicking and screaming?” She leveled them with a hard glare.

After many awkward glances and false starts, Izuku spoke first. “You still want to be a team?”

She scoffed. “I wanted us to be a team even when you were quirkless. Sure, you’d have taken a different role, but at least we’d be together.”

“Fuckin’ psycho. Clearly All Might’s grooming him to be a strong solo hero.”

“Right, and that’s gone so well for society. Now villains are organizing and we’re in deep shit for depending on him so much. Besides, are you really gonna let this self-sacrificial idiot fight by himself? Because let me tell you, if we’re not an official team, I’m just gonna show up wherever he goes to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” Katsuki snorted at that. “I’d rather be a team though. A strong hero team, all three of us symbols in our own right. Hope, Strength, and Victory—Stronghold, Aftershock, and Ground Zero.”

“It’s Last Stand, you motherfucker!” Katsuki barked, leaping to his feet.

“Who’s Last Stand?” Deku asked, a little dazed and confused, and therefore a little slow.

“No one. Your hero name is Stronghold. Kacchan is being overruled.”

“My hero name is Deku.”

“Not anymore. Keep up.” She replied, snapping her fingers for emphasis. “Look you were worried about a theme, right?” She asked Katsuki. “That’s why you wanted Last Stand?”

“That’s what I fuckin said, isn’t it?”

“So the name I chose fits a theme? Not the conceptual names and syllable matching—it’s the metaphor! Zuku’s the bunker, you’re the bomb, I’m the post-explosion shockwave. Stronghold, Ground Zero, and Aftershock! I put a lot of thought into this!”

Katsuki scowled at her mulishly. “Don’t I get a say?” Izuku asked hesitantly.

“If you go with Deku, Kacchan’s going with King Explosion Murder. So, no. We choose each other’s names. You and Kacchan chose mine, you and I chose his. Now we get to choose yours.”

“Neither of us agreed to be a team, dumbass. Let him choose whatever shitty name he wants.” Katsuki growled, throwing himself back into his chair. “Eat your fucking curry, Deku. We risked our fucking infirmary privileges to get that in here.”

Deku had slipped into overthinking mode, and so he dociley began eating on autopilot. He wasn’t so tuned out that he didn’t notice the conversation awkwardly picking back up. He even chimed in every now and then, but his gears were turning and they were churning new information into new conclusions at a dizzying pace.

Sana had transferred to UA, and had forced Kacchan to actually talk to him within ten hours of her first class. Kacchan wasn’t mad because of pride or ego damage, or even because he didn’t want to be near someone who was quirkless. He was mad because he was worried and was bad at expressing himself. Kacchan wanted him to be more careful. To take more precaution—both when he was quirkless and now that he had One For All. And, knowing how hard Kacchan had worked to gain control of his quirk, it had probably driven him crazy to see him acting so recklessly and expecting to catch up quickly. Kacchan had thought of a hero name for him. That meant that Kacchan believed in him. Izuku had thought that Kacchan hadn’t even wanted him to try. He thought that Kacchan believed he was useless without a quirk. Hell, he’d believed it, so why wouldn’t someone as amazing as Kacchan?

A knock came at the door.

“Young Midoriya?"

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#bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya #all might #eraserhead #toshinori yagi #shota aizawa #hitoshi shinso #bakudeku #bakudeku fanfic #class 1-a #queen-swagzilla #swagzilla writes #s_the_queen on ao3 #born in dreams forged in blood #bnha

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mtraki · 5 years

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Cor Week Day 7

Day 7: Cake | Cor doesn’t celebrate his birthday | Cor gets thrown a surprise birthday party (Happy Birthday, Cor!)

It was a strange morning. For whatever reason Cor’s body was plagued with a dragging lethargy, despite getting plenty of sleep-- more, in fact, than he’d grown accustomed to. Maybe that was the issue…

Maybe that also explained the quiet, but insistent nagging in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something.

It didn’t explain the other strange things about the morning: like how instead of gathered around for breakfast, the others were scattered in disparate activity. Or how Prompto was avoiding him. Again. Or as well as any of them could avoid one another without leaving the confines of the camp. It was in the way he refused to meet his look-- turning another direction or ducking to the side, busying himself with nothing.

But here was Ariel, bringing him a steaming mug and a smile, pressing the metal and ceramic into his hands before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, “Good morning. Hungry?”

“Mm,” He agreed into the lip of the mug, welcoming the bitter taste and warmth of coffee only barely sweetened. It wasn’t burnt, so she must have made it. Prompto didn’t drink it, and Nyx claimed to like it long over the coals. Before the young woman could continue on, he caught her wrist, and her dark eyes returned to his face, “What’s wrong with Prompto?”

Cor watched confusion flicker over her expression before she gave the blond an inquisitive look herself, “Nothing…? What’s wrong with Prompto?”

“He’s avoiding me.”

“Really?” She frowned, lips pursing slightly, “Do you want me to ask him about it?”

“... No.” And Cor sipped again, releasing his companion, deciding he could ask himself.

“Hey Prompto.”

The blond nearly jolted out of his boots and turned to stare wide-eyed, “Y-y-y-yess-sir?”

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong!” Was the reply with the most unconvincing delivery possible, secrecy and guilt flashing through every line in his face and body.

“Nothing besides how we’re suddenly out of fire-starters and potions,” snarked Nyx as he came back from where he’d been rummaging through their supplies, “Seemed somebody shorted the two we had out…”

“That wasn’t--”

“--Oh no? You’re the only one who uses them for stuff other than lighting fires for cooking, kid.” Ulric had mastered the technique of delivering an effective guilt-trip with an incredibly cheerful tone. The blond’s mouth worked uselessly while his face went from bleached bone to bright red.

“So now I gotta go get another one. And an endless match like I said in the first place…” The Galahdian went on, just as cheerfully.

Furrowing his brow, thinking of their very light wallet, Cor countered, “... Do we really need replacements? We have magic.” “Yeah most of the time we have magic.” Nyx shrugged, “If we’re all together, and Ariel and I are good to go. If that checklist isn’t filled out, are we just gonna stay in the dark and eat cold food? Come on…”

It was a strange morning when Nyx was thinking further ahead than he was… Cor shrugged, “You going now?”

“Yeah. You coming?”

“... Sure. Let me eat first.”

“I’ll get you a plate, old man.”

They were just crossing under the stone arches leading to Lestallum when Nyx looked at him, bemused, “Okay, what are you doing?”

Frowning back at him, Cor answered, “What.”

“You keep messing with your pockets. Are you looking for something or just fondling yourself?”

“Funny.” Sighing, the Marshal withdrew his hands after verifying once again that he did have all his personal effects on his person and hadn’t misplaced one “... I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve forgotten something is all.”

“Really? Like what?” The amusement on Nyx’s scarred face split into a full grin.

It was strange, suspicious almost, so Cor slowed his pace and spoke with more consideration, “... I don’t know.”

The Kingsglaive hadn’t slowed, and was continuing on ahead, casual and confident as ever, “Must be your age catching up with you.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Cor stopped, “... My age.”

“It happens to the best of us, Marshal. No reason to be dramatic about it.”

“... So that’s what was going on…”

Now Nyx turned and looked at him, back to the quirking eyebrow and lazy smirk, “Oh?”

Cor didn’t answer, he was too busy remembering how he’d strangely been the last one out of the tent, and how the others hadn’t been eating together but doing separate tasks around the camp. How Ariel had come immediately to monopolize his attention. How Prompto had been acting so strange and evasive. Nyx’s sudden accusations…

“Ulric,” He snarled, pinning the younger man with a glare, “you’re in on this.”

“In on what?”

“The three of you are planning something for today. For my birthday.” Irritation throbbed through his guts, “... This is entirely unnecessary.”

“Some of us don’t agree.” Nyx shrugged.

“We don’t have resources or time to waste on celebrating a middle-aged has-been getting one year older. You know I don’t want a fuss made over me. At all.”

The amusement left Nyx’s face and he folded his arms, “Okay, I could agree with your sentiment until you called yourself a ‘has-been’. If you’re a has-been, what does that make me? Your self-depreciation has no place in this conversation, Cor.”

“What are they planning?”

“Nothing expensive.”

Irritation threatened to flare into anger, something cold etching along his bones. Cor swallowed it back. “... I don’t want to waste time and energy with this.”

“Can I ask why?”

It was a reasonable request. More reasonable than Cor was feeling, but he sighed slowly and pinched between his eyes, “Bad memories. Birthdays were never a good time growing up. Then… Re--His Majesty found out about it, and tried to make… kind gestures. A crown prince’s kindness looked a lot like pity back then. He and the others learned to… tone it down… over the years. Now they’re gone, and I’m growing older without them.”

He wasn’t sure if Nyx would get it. What he’d learned of Galahdian culture had reinforced their clannish, survival-focused customs-- birthday celebrations were private affairs within close social circles. Nyx might be left wondering if he and the others were somehow outside Cor’s closest social circles. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was just… the tradition. Regis had re-framed the birthday tradition for Cor from what his childhood had made, and now that Regis and Clarus were gone, and Weskham and Cid far away… He just didn’t have the wherewithal to try and establish a new tradition without them. It just didn’t matter that much to him...

Nyx was looking at him, then he shrugged and dropped his arms to his sides, “Okay, sure. I can get behind that.” “Thank you.” “It wasn’t ever me you needed to convince.” Nyx’s smile was apologetic, “Come on, we still have shit to buy.”

Shit…

Altissians had altogether much different and dramatic views on the cultural significance of birthdays and the commemoration of them.

“Please don’t.” Was all he said when he saw the camp. It wasn’t, he admitted, as bad as Cor had dreaded. No balloons or streamers. No crowd of people. Only Cid and Cindy, a small round cake, and a few small gifts wrapped in scrap paper and string.

And his two other companions who were thinking themselves very clever-- though he thought Ariel looked a bit distressed, as if keenly aware that unwritten rules from her childhood demanded that if she really cared, she’d have arranged for so much more.

Prompto was happily preparing to snap photos.

“Happy birthday!” They all cried.

“Thank you.” He was suddenly glad that Nyx had insisted on a bottle of whiskey-- which Ariel was coming over to take from him, along with the other supplies he and the Galahdian had carried.

“--I know.” She interjected before he could tell her, “You’re mad at me. That’s fine. It’s just a little cake and a few small gifts and your friends and then some shots of whiskey, okay?”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“Are ya still on about all that, kid?” Cid groused at him, a scowl on his face but a grin hidden in the creases of his eyes, “When are you gonna grow outta bein’ such a brat?”

“Maybe after you do, you old coot.”

It was, after all, a nice little respite from the usual routine of their days of hard travel broken up by frantic battle, and when they settled down around the campfire with shots of whiskey, Cor could quietly admit to himself that it hadn’t been a waste of a day after all. The cake, now gone, had been tasty and enjoyable-- especially the satisfaction of smashing the remainder of a slice into the side of Nyx’s head so that frosting was still in bits of his hair and probably in his ear after the Kingsglaive had thought himself quick, clever, and ballsy enough to bump Cor’s forkful into his nose. Prompto had graciously taken a slew of shots despite his laughter.

If either Hammerhead mechanic thought anything of how casually the four of them leaned and lounged on each other, they didn’t voice it. Cor figured they knew-- Cid most certainly understood what he was looking at, even if he didn’t understand how it had happened. Cid knew what kind of trust was needed to be able to casually touch Cor.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how it had happened either. It just had. This was his family now, after Insomnia. These were the people he wanted to go through the end of the world with. Even if it took more than one birthday to get there.

#corleonisweek #ffxv cor #cor leonis #happy birthday cor #polyship!au #nyx ulric #prompto argentum #cindy aurum #cid aurum #cake #surprise party #culture clash

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capriciousscorsagian · 5 years

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ArabelLee Series 6 - part 4

Arabella’s Three Failed Attempts in Celebrating Lee’s Birthday

Or, the two times Arabella is numb-tongued, the one times she tries to sneak a gift, and the other time a pair of bells ring a bell.

“I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t give it to him what was I thinking how could I think that he’ll like my present it’s a glove made of doeskin handmade glove my handmade glove gods I should just abort, abort, ab-”

“Hellish Hades, just fricking give it to him.” Vala hissed from Arabella’s side, practically cutting off her neurotic ramblings.

“But why should I give him today? His birthday is tomorrow. And I can’t give this to him what if he-”

“You’ll be giving the present now because you’ll chicken out if you need to wait until tomorrow to give it to him and I have been telling you for the last few hours that he’ll love it and the blue wrappings with the faint swirly pattern on it plus the silver ribbon on its side is honest to Hades P E R F E C T because I told you so and I have impeccable sense and taste.” Vala sighed and held her head in her hands, “Why are these people so dumb? And why am I friends with them? My life is like a romcom in which I am the sensible, cool-headed friend. Which now that I think about it, I am.”

But Arabella overlooked her friends’ agonized rambling at the sight of a tall, warm-eyed archer who currently strode right at their direction. His eyes set on the two girls and his lips curled up on a gentle half-smile.

“Hi, Bells. Enjoying the song?” asked Lee Fletcher, eyes on Arabella while mussing his sister’s hair with his free hand.

“Well, hello to you too, dear brother.” Vala groused, batting Lee’s hand off her hair then hopped off from where she sat. “Guess it’s my cue to go bother Percy. Play nice and try not to miss me!”

Not that I think you would, Vala thought. Those two are so gone on each other they don’t even realize it. Gods, this whole thing is so stupid.

Lee rubbed the back of his head bashfully, “Um. So. Uh, you enjoy the music?”

“Yeah I enjoy you- it! I mean, it! I enjoy it. The music. Made by you. Uh- not made- composed? Yeah. I mean, I do. Much very. I mean very much!” Arabella hide her face with her hands in mortification. Gods, can I be even more embarrassing than this?

But thankfully Lee just laughed it off and took a seat beside Arabella.

“So… tomorrow’s my birthday…”

“Oh, yeah? Really? N-no kidding!” squeaked Arabella, once again mentally cursed herself.

“Yeah. And… my siblings are going to throw a party in the beach. At the afternoon. They already got permission from Mr. D and Chiron to miss dinner and have a picnic there instead.” Lee explained. “So… I was wondering if you would come?”

From the distance, Michael Yew shouted, calling up his brother. Lee laughed a little and rubbed the back of his head again, “Uh, I need to do some more preparation for the party. Seriously, looks like I’m just being used as an excuse for them to throw a party.”

Arabella didn't know what to say so she just plastered a smile and hoping it didn't look as stupid as she felt.

“So, you’ll come?”

“Uh, okay.”

“Great!” Lee smiled charmingly, “see you tomorrow then!”

Arabella just waved hopelessly as she watched his retreated figure. The small bag containing Arabella’s gift for Lee rested near her feet, ignored. “Gods, I am a wimp.”

>>>>>>>

“You didn't give it to him.”

Arabella choked on her breakfast and Lacy thoughtfully slid a glass of fresh water into her reach.

After recovering from her coughing fits, she turned to glare at the culprit. “What is it with you, Velreya?”

Vala just stared at her, unimpressed, “You really want to talk about it right here, right now?”

Arabella’s face reddened and she pushed away her half-eaten breakfast, “I’m done. Gotta go. Bye.”

She snatched Vala’s arms and dragged her away from the crowded dining pavilion. “Do you have to ambush me this early in the morning while I tried to have some breakfast?” Hissed Arabella.

“Archery. 10 am. No beating around the bush.” Said Vala flatly, ignoring Arabella’s question. “Or you can just give it to him at the party. Where there are tons of people present, who probably will also bring him tons of presents. And your little gift might get mixed up, or even lost! We know how competitive Drew can get, and also, you know, my brother is pretty popular.”

“Oh my gods, that’s actually possible, you’re actually right. What do I do?? Today’s already his birthday what do I do?? Should I really give it to him at archery class?? But there’ll also be a lot of people there I-”

“How much do I get paid for this again?” Vala muttered desperately. “Just pull him aside before or after archery- or during the break! That way you can give it to him in private. Gods, why can’t people just use their brain for a moment?”

Arabella pouted, but for once taking Vala’s word of advice with clearer mind, “Okay. So, I only need to pull Lee aside, saying that I want to talk to him about something, then give him the present. That’s it. Simple. Not hard at all. Ok. I can do that.”

“You sure?” Vala squinted her eyes.

“Of course I am! I’m not helpless!”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this…?” Vala sighed.

>>>>>>>

Arabella dragged her feet nervously towards the archery field, the small bag of horror containing her gift for Lee clutched tightly in her clammy hand, partly hidden behind her body. Her siblings are already ahead of her, probably couldn’t wait to flirt with Apollo kids in disguise of practicing their aims. Arabella still doesn’t know how she’d give the blasted present to Lee, doesn’t even know what she’d say.

“Holy Hestia I am so pathetic,” she whined. “Agh, woman up, Deshoulieres! You didn't spend weeks slaving yourself at the forge and endure Drew Tanaka’s insults about your smell in front of Lee just to dump this godsawful glove at the river.”

“Not to mention the naiads probably wouldn’t like it.”

Arabella’s head shot up to face the lopsided grin of one particular son of Poseidon, “Uh… hi. Uh. Percy.”

Fine, so she momentarily forgot how to use her words, it’s not as stupid as it sounds, okay? All is acceptable in front of this oblivious boy whose deep green eyes have always been the primary daydream material of the girls (and some boys) at camp. For real, having a crush on The Percy Jackson is like, mandatory, for all Camp Half-Blood’s residents interested in the male specimen. It’s not like she cheated on Lee, okay? She just can’t help it. No one can, really.

“Hi, Arabella.” His grin widened and it reminded Arabella that for all his easy going attitude this guy had single-handedly defeated a minotaur when he was twelve. Weaponless.

She suddenly feared for her life.

“So…. Vala told me to look after you since she is busy with Fletcher’s party preparation and can’t make it to the practice.”

Arabella inwardly cursed the cheeky rotten butt of her so-called-friend and promised herself to make sure she’ll be blabbering her mouth non-stop in the deepest of Tartarus.

Percy took one look at her face and roared with laughter.

“I can just imagine what’s going on in your head. Vala’s mischief can rival any Hermes’ kids when she feels like it.”

“Uhm…” Arabella shifted uncomfortably. “So… what exactly did she tell you… to do?”

Percy’s eyes twinkled with mirth and once again Arabella questioned if his and Vala’s foster sibling status isn't mistaken and they actually just separated at birth or something.

“Well for now, we should go to the field. Fletcher’s probably have been wondering why you aren’t there yet.” He grinned.

So she walked the short trip to the field with Percy Freaking Jackson and prayed that this day would not get any worse.

tbc

Other parts of this fic: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

#Lee Fletcher #charles beckendorf #percy jackson #romance #gift #vala velreya #fanfic #Arabella Deshoulieres #birthday #archery #story #camp half blood

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takadasaiko · 6 years

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Breathe Again Beneath the Flames: Chapter Twenty-Three

FFN II AO3

Summary: Agnes receives her own mini op, Scottie approaches Katarina, and the Keens meet with the Task Force to discuss options.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The morning had not gone as planned. They were supposed to be up at the break of dawn, ready to get Agnes up with them and out, but the home video marathon had gone longer than either Tom or Liz had anticipated. Once they had finally gotten to bed, Agnes had come into their room and landed right in the middle of them as they were dozing off. She hadn't just curled up with them and fallen asleep though. Instead she had turned and flailed and wallowed all over them so that no one slept until the earliest hours of the morning. The alarm had gone off twice by the time Tom had finally roused the girls out of bed and breakfast had to be in the go.

"Has your coffee kicked in before mine or did I miss something?" Liz groused as she pulled Agnes out of her car seat in the back of their borrowed vehicle.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked and instantly took the squirming, cranky child when she reached for him. Agnes melted against his shoulder, her little arms right around his neck.

"You've been in a mood the last two days, but you actually look happy to be up at this hour. What am I missing?"

"Just enjoying this," he said, motioning the best he could between them. "We're close, Liz. Not there, but soon."

He didn't miss the hesitant look she shot him as she turned to grab Agnes' bag and shut the car door. "I hope you're right."

He offered her a lopsided smile. "Grab my wallet with the keycard for me? I've got my hands full."

Agnes shifted against him and he kissed the side of her head. Liz went for his wallet as he had asked and, even expecting it, he barely felt her pull it from his jeans pocket. Half asleep she still made a talented pickpocket. "You know, we would have caused a lot of trouble if we'd known each other as kids," he teased, and that finally pulled a smile from his exhausted wife.

She tipped up on her toes and kissed his scruffy cheek. "Trouble would have been an understatement," she promised and pulled the ID card that Scottie had given him to enter the building out, pressing it against the card reader and they received a satisfying beep before the door clicked open for them.

Halcyon's headquarters in New York City housed a little bit of everything. They stretched from the top floor executive offices down to the operations facilities below ground level. Between that lay entire floors dedicated to research, technology, and Halcyon Aegis' own private medical wing. Howard had been transferred despite a grumbling physician at Bellevue, and seeing him was the Keens' goal before leaving to meet with their teams.

The elevator ride up made Agnes squirm, but she didn't fully wake up until the doors opened to release them out into the small lobby. She straightened a little more in her daddy's arms, turning to take in the sights.

The nurse at the front desk let them in without missing a beat and led them back through a set of locked doors to a secured room. Halcyon operatives stood guard at the door, but they gave Tom and his family a sharp nod as they allowed them through.

Howard was already awake and sitting up in the bed. The cast on his left wrist reached halfway up to his arm and his opposite leg was elevated. He looked good though. Certainly better than he had been when they had first seen him after the rescue. He was going over something on a tablet with Dumont DeSoto at his bedside. Dumont looked up and his entire expression lit. "Is that who I think it is?"

Tom echoed the expression. "Hey, baby girl. You get a two for one today. Who's that?"

"Mont!" Agnes cheered, suddenly wide awake and squirming.

Howard chuckled from the bed as the little girl launched herself at the tech expert. "Thanks a lot, princess."

"She only likes me for the toys," Dumont said lightly.

"Do I get a present?" Agnes asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking straight up at him expectedly.

"I'm workin' on something extra special for you," he promised.

Tom leaned over to Liz. "Dumont designed Agnes' tablet and a couple of other toys while she was with me at the bunker. Pretty sure she's claimed him as a lifelong friend."

He watched his wife's expression shift to the a strange mix of amusement and sadness that it always did when he spoke about Agnes coming to stay with him when she had left for Alaska.

"Have you had any luck with the film?"

"Heard back from the labs this morning when I got here. Some of it was damaged, so they're still trying to clear some of the images up."

"Do we know what the photos are, though?" Liz asked.

Dumont shrugged. "Looked like family photos, from what I saw. Hard to tell. I gotta get over to the site. Get everything swept and ready for our visitors."

Liz looked towards the hallway. "Are we sure it's not safer to meet here?"

"We keep a collection of safe sites around the city that are better for what you need," Howard explained. "Out of the way of prying eyes and ears."

"Got a new car for you to take. Everything'll be set up and ready when you get there," Dumont promised, handing over an envelope. "See you two in a bit."

Tom took what was offered and turned back to Howard. Agnes was already crawling up on the bed with him, asking if his leg and arm hurt and if they were still going to the park. "Soon," her grandfather promised before turning his gaze up towards Tom and Liz. "How was the house?"

"Kinda unnerving," Tom laughed and shrugged. "If you and Scottie were hoping to jar any memories by having us stay there it hasn't worked yet."

"She did point us in the direction of some photos last night," Liz said, a little mischief making its way into her eyes.

Tom rolled his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah. The VHS's too."

His wife's expression turned a little more devious and Howard huffed a laugh. "We bought the video recorder not long before you were born and got our money's worth," he explained. There certainly hadn't been any shortage of photos in the library, and while Tom and Liz had plenty of photos and videos of Agnes, it was strange to see his own childhood like that. Up until he had met Scottie and seen the photo of the three of them at the beach, Tom hadn't seen a photo of himself that young. If any of his foster parents had taken photos, they hadn't traveled with him, and the Phelps' sure hadn't been the type to care enough. Scottie, though, had apparently enjoyed documenting the first nearly four years of his life if her collection had been anything to go by.

"Daddy, what'sa VS?" Agnes asked from the bed.

He choked on a laugh. "VHS. It's what people used to record on before you could just save it on your phone."

"Like a million years ago?"

"Now you're just being mean," he teased her and she giggled as he hauled her up in the air and kissed one of her round cheeks.

"I take it your mother's already left?" Howard prompted.

"Yeah. She was out before we got up this morning." A small frown tugged at him. "I don't like that she's going without backup."

"Backup would give her away. Trust her. She knows what she's doing."

"Who are you and what have you done with Howard?"

His father chuckled at that, inching down against the pillows a little. He looked tired, but that was to be expected after everything. After a moment he cracked an eye open. "Candy's just getting some coffee. Agnes and I'll be just fine if you need to head out."

That sparked the little girl off and she turned towards her parents, tears building in her blue eyes and a high pitched whine starting in her throat as she reached for her daddy. Tom felt guilt tug at him as he scooped her up and she reached to pull her mom closer too.

"Don't go," Agnes singled and Tom kissed her dark hair.

"Hey?" He waited until she leaned back to look him in the eye. "Here's the thing, kiddo," Tom whispered a little conspiratorially and his daughter perked up at the secretive tone. "Your grandpa's gonna need to stay in bed for a few days, but he's stubborn. He needs someone to make sure he's safe, so it's not so much that he's taking care of you as you're taking care of him. Can you do that for me?"

She thought about that for a second, her little nose scrunching up and she looked back at Howard for a moment, not entirely convinced.

"I need you to be really brave to do this," Tom told her.

"I'm brave," she said firmly.

"I know you are, baby girl. You're so brave." He kissed her forehead. "We love you so much."

"And we'll be back soon," Liz promised and Agnes nodded.

"Okay."

She let him set her down again on the bed and they said their goodbyes, promising that they wouldn't be gone long this time. It was hurting Liz as much as it was him, and he knew it as her hand dropped into his and squeezed hard as they walked down the hall. "You're amazing with her," she said softly.

"She's smart. She may not understand everything that's going on, but she knows it's dangerous. She's scared." He nudged her a little, trying to lighten the heavy conversation just a little. "I think she may like us."

That pulled a smile from Liz. "Are we… do you think we're doing the right thing with her? Do you think-?"

Tom stopped in the empty hall and turned to his wife, locking eyes with her and holding her gaze. "I think we're doing the best we can in an impossible situation. We're trying to keep our family safe."

Liz nodded and he tightened his hold on her hand. "Love you." She tipped up on her toes and the kiss eased his raw nerves. He could feel the desperation and the fear, but he could also feel the hope and trust. They had each other's backs, and they would do whatever they had to to keep their family safe.

Scottie had made contact with Katarina and set up the meet for that morning. She had heard the brief pause of surprise when she had, their last conversation leaving the other woman with no reason to think Scottie would reach out so soon. It had peaked her curiosity, just as Scottie had known it would. That didn't mean that she was fool enough to think Katarina would let her curiosity get the better of her.

The dark haired woman checked her watch, frowning. She had expected Kat to be late, but this was ridiculous. She was an hour past the meet time, which was quickly moving from establishing dominance to wasting Scottie's time.

She was halfway to standing from her place on the park bench when Katarina appeared from behind and took a seat next to her. "They say patience is a virtue."

"They have more time to waste than I do," Scottie half growled.

Katarina hummed, but there would be no explanation- much less an apology - any time soon. "I heard you went in personally after Howard. How did it feel to be in the field again after so long?"

Scottie's dark eyes shifted to look at Katarina without turning her head. A small smirk played on her lips. "Invigorating."

"You're welcome."

"For what, exactly?

The redhead shrugged. "Giving you the chance to experience that again. I take it your gratitude isn't the reason for your visit."

Scottie's lips thinned. "Did you tell Reddington that Christopher is alive?" The question hung in the air for a long moment before Scottie turned to look fully at Kat. "I refuse to stop them from pursuing the Oleander lead and suddenly Reddington knows. The timing is suspicious if nothing else."

"We need Raymond," Katarina answered after a long moment. "He would have found out eventually."

"And now he's leveraging my son's health."

The former KGB operative rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. He's applying pressure where it's needed to keep this running as smoothly as it can." She glanced over and she lost the levity in her voice. "We're moving towards the endgame, Scottie. We've been fighting this war for years, even if it's been quietly. The children are impulsive and only know a fraction of what the Cabal is capable of and we needRaymond as much as we need you and your husband. He won't hurt the boy. You know he won't."

There it was. The opening that Scottie had hoped would present itself. "You can guarantee that?"

"I can, and I will. I just need to know that you're on my side as much as I'm on yours.

Scottie remained silent for a long moment, letting Katarina believe she was weighing her options. "I am," she said softly, "and that's one reason that I wanted to meet today."

Katarina straightened a little. "What do you mean?"

"Elizabeth knows you're alive."

"Did you tell her?"

"No." She waited, hoping that the partial lie would have enough truth in it that it would pass by her old friend. Liz had already known Katarina was alive, Scottie had only confirmed it.

"Her partner," Katarina murmured distractedly before meeting my her gaze again. "How did she react?"

"I thought you didn't care what your daughter thought of you," Scottie said slyly.

Kat shot her a glare. "I need to know how to approach the situation. Ignoring it won't help anyone." She pulled in a deep breath and her gaze was sharp. "I'll need you to set a meet."

The warehouse was locked down tight, though no one on the outside would ever know. It reminded Liz of the times that they had used one of Reddington's locations that he had set up. Personal phones were left at the door, the windows were darkened so that passerbyers couldn't see in, and there was a sense of secrecy that blanketed the space from the moment they walked in. She was a little surprised that no one took their weapons at the door, but they were supposed to be able to trust each other there. Despite everything that had happened between the Task Force and Halcyon's Grey Matters division, they needed to be able to trust each other.

They weren't the first to arrive. Her team was already there and Aram was picking Dumont's brain on some piece of tech, the other man grinning like crazy at the chance to talk to someone who could follow how he put it together. Cooper was standing to the side with Samar and Ressler, the latter peeling off when he saw the Keens enter.

Tom gave Ressler a quick nod of greeting before giving them the moment that her partner seemed to be looking for. "Everything okay?" Liz prompted.

"Your mother paid me a visit," Ressler said roughly.

Well that hadn't been what she expected to hear. "Why?"

"She knew I was looking into her," he said in hushed tones.

"You never actually said why you were."

"Tom didn't tell you?"

"We've been a little busy." She glanced over to where her husband was speaking with the Task Force and Dumont. "It'll be a few minutes before the rest of Tom's team gets here. Why don't you fill me in?"

She watched his expression shift to something like guilt, his gaze dropping. "It's….I assumed he told you."

"Why don't you tell me now?" she pressed again, leaning back against a table to ease her posture. Whatever this was was making him more nervous than she had seen him in years. Maybe since his struggle against drug addiction. Her jaw tightened a little at the thought and she reached out, startling him a little as she touched his hand. "Ress, whatever this is, you know we have your back, right? I have your back."

He swallowed hard and she listened as he spoke in low, halted tones about something he had been struggling with even before Garvey's attack and her time away from her team. This had been going on for well over a year, starting with Laurel Hitchin's death. He had called a fixer and he had covered it up and he had been in the man's pocket since then. Looking back Liz could fill in the gaps in what had happened and things made more sense.

"Rostova killed Prescott," Ressler said softly.

"But why did she go to you?"

"To let me know exactly what she knew about me. She wanted… information."

It felt her temper boil. "About me."

"And what you and Tom have planned." His clear, pained gaze flickered to meet hers. "I told her to go to hell."

Liz tried for a reassuring smile. "We'll figure this out, Ressler. We won't let her ruin your career."

He shook his head. "I don't care. I'm done, Liz. I'm here to help you one last time, but I have my resignation drafted. It's going to Cooper as soon as this is done. I can't live like this anymore."

"This is not your fault. We can fix this."

"No, Liz. It is my fault, and the longer that I wait, the more of myself I'm losing. I've been lying to the team and I'm-"

"Ress, stop. Stop." She waited until he met her gaze. "You remember what you told me when I wanted to turn myself in for the harbour master?"

He winced. "Yeah."

"You told me to remember all the good we do, and you were right. Our team puts the bad ones away. We make sure that this works is just a little safer. We're working to take down a dirty fed with ties to the Cabal and the Nash Syndicate, Ressler."

"I'm not bailing on this, Liz. I know what it means, but I can't live with myself knowing that I'vebecome the dirty cop."

"Hey." She reached out and he looked at her. "You are nota dirty cop. You made a tough call and it went bad. It happens. You can't set that right from prison." The doors to the warehouse opened and drew both of their attention as Matias Solomon strode in with a woman that Liz had to assume was Nez Rowan. She had just missed her over the last couple of days, but now she had a chance to meet her.

"Everyone has their limit on what they can give to this," Ressler murmured. "C'mon. I'm not going to leave you a man down for this."

Liz nodded. There would be time to convince him. There had to be.

"You must be Liz."

The woman in questioned turned, catching the wink Solomon shot her way as he sauntered by and it took everything she had in her not to take a swing then and there. It was the woman he had entered with that had spoken. "And you must be Nez. I hear you kept my husband in line the last year or so."

Nez Rowan flashed a grin. "It ranked as one of the more difficult jobs I've ever had to do."

"I'm not that bad," Tom called from across the room.

"No, you're impossible when you're recovering," Liz answered with a smile and Nez snorted a laugh.

"I knew I was gonna like you."

Liz echoed the grin as they moved to join the others.

Detective Norman Singleton was inbound to arrive at the location, and by the time they received that call tensions were already running high. Tom had called Solomon off his playful harassment of anyone he thought that he could get away with and Liz looked ready to shoot him. Her husband didn't blame her. He was about ready to shoot him. Solomon was on the mend as far as he could tell, but being cooped up in recovery had made him more obnoxious than usual.

"A couple things before Detective Singleton gets here, just that we're clear," he said, drawing all eyes to him as he reposition himself at the front of the crowd. "This op is off-books. Halcyon's board doesn't know about it and no one in the FBI can know. Until further notice, the people in this room are the only ones read in."

"That includes the Hargraves and Reddington," Liz specified. "If you're uncomfortable with that, now's the time to bow out."

"What exactly happened with Reddington?" Samar prompted. "You still haven't told us what's changed to make him less trustworthy than usual."

"Elizabeth, if you're asking for trust, it's time to show a little," Cooper said and Tom saw the conflict in his wife's expression. It was dangerous. Reddington had already shown what lengths he was willing to go to to keep them from delving any deeper into his past and his precious secret, and they really couldn't be sure what he would do to the Task Force if they knew what the Keens knew. Nothing, possibly, or one by one they could find themselves meeting the same fate that Sam and Kate Kaplan did to hold that secret in place. Reddington that claimed to care a great deal about both of them, yet he had smothered Sam and shot Kaplan in the head with every intention to kill her. This secret of his, this truth was something he wanted to keep desperately, and a desperate Reddington was a dangerous one.

Liz drew in a deep breath, her gaze turning sharp and determined. "This whole thing is… complicated, but part of the problem is that Reddington has kept asking for us to trust him without honesty to back it up. I'm not going to do that to you." She clenched her jaw a little and Tom saw the struggle there. He reached over, his fingers brushing hers.

"It started about the time I left Halcyon. Late Kaplan reached out to me and said she needed me to pick something up for Liz. It was suitcase with human remains. Long story short, and with a lot of people after these bones, the DNA extracted confirmed that they belong to Raymond Reddington."

Neither of them said anything for a moment, letting the news sink in.

"That's impossible," Ressler chimed in. "I hunted the guy for years. That's him."

"Not according to the DNA report," Liz said softly.

"Who had these bones now?" Cooper asked.

"Ian Garvey," Tom answered immediately. "That's what he was after when he broke into Liz's and my place."

Liz pulled in a steadying breath in next to him. "He killed Nik Korpal for them, nearly killed Tom, and put me into a coma for ten months. He knows the truth, and Reddington is willing to do anything to keep that. He gained control of Richard Whitehall who-."

"Reddington has Whitehall?" Nez demanded, and Tom could almost feel the judgement coming his way that he hadn't filled her in yet, the fact that he hadn't seen her in days not withstanding.

"Yes, and he's using him and the fact that he's the one that has the formula for the meds that Tom needs as leverage against us and the Hargraves to stop the investigation," Liz explained.

A hush followed for just a moment before Ressler took a seat in one of the chairs, his gaze fixed on Tom. "What does that mean for you?"

Tom tried for a reassuring smile, but he knew it fell short. "I'm good for now. I've got some in reserve and Scottie and Howard are looking for an alternative."

"It just means we have to tread carefully. Until we have something to balance the scales, Reddington has the upper hand," Liz warned.

"Keeping him out of the loop is going to help us do what we have to," Tom added. "He wants to get to Garvey, but we think we can get to him first."

A knock at the door drew their attention and Nez unfolded herself from her chair to walk towards it the moment Dumont gave the all-clear. She opened the door to a startled looking Norman Singleton and Tom motioned him in.

"For those of you that don't know," Liz said, "this is Detective Singleton with Metro PD. He was in charge of Tom's case-"

"Still am, technically," the detective said as he joined in. "I've kept your secret like you asked. Not that anybody'd believe me if I told them."

"Appreciate that," Tom said with a lopsided grin. "And in turn we've made sure that your family is safe and out of Garvey's reach."

"Detective Singleton is also part of Ian Garvey's task force," Liz added and there was a quiet murmur amongst the crowd. "And that gives him a unique perspective and access to information."

"So you're the one," Solomon said lightly and Singleton looked uneasy.

Tom didn't blame him with the shark-like grin that Solomon wore.

"You have a lead to get to Garvey?" Cooper prompted.

Tom nodded towards Solomon who stood. His expression tighten into a subtle grimace as his hand went to what must have been the injury Garvey had left him with. "We do. I've been following a couple different trails, and while one ended… in a less than desirable manner -"

"Garvey shot him," Tom offered with a quirked eyebrow.

"You're just sorry it wasn't you."

He grinned. "There's something about shooting you that's cathartic."

"Boys," Nez snapped and Solomon offered a lazy shrug.

He motioned and Dumont pulled a set of photos up on his screens he had set up. "The other lead I was on has merit, though. Meet Lillian May Roth. Thirty-six years old, no known family, but she's something to Garvey. He drives an hour both ways on his lunch to go see her."

"Lilly," Singleton volunteered. "He doesn't really talk about her, but I've heard the name come up on phone calls."

Tom glanced over. "Mistress?"

"Not his wife, but my gut says no on the mistress. Not that Garvey's squeaky clean in that department."

Solomon snorted, his voice bringing them back to the reason he was there. "The plan's simple enough. We snag Roth-"

"By snag you mean abduct her?" Ressler demanded.

"Call it what you will," Solomon drawled.

Cooper straightened where he was seated. "Why not go after Garvey directly? Why involve a civilian?"

Solomon ducked his head at that one and Nez answered for him. "We found out that Garvey has ties to the Cabal because he recognized Solomon and had intel about an op that he ran while working for them."

"When he was trying to kill Liz when the Cabal framed her, perhaps?" Samar deadpanned.

"Before that," Solomon answered lightly.

Tom saw his wife rolled her eyes at the statement. "Garvey is on high alert because he knows Solomon has ties to Halcyon," he explained. "He's difficult to grab right now. It would be easier to lure him out. We're not going to hurt her, Ressler. All we need to do is have her make the call." Tom knew that team wouldn't blink at the tactic, but he also knew what they were asking the Task Force to do. It wasn't the first time they had bent the rules, not by a long shot, but he and Liz needed their help. They needed them to agree to this.

"Alright. We'll bring the girl in for questioning," Cooper agreed. "Where is she?"

"Currently in Maryland," Solomon offered.

"Then we'll bring her into the Post Office. Halcyon will have more leeway when we get Garvey, but until then, while there's an innocent civilian involved, the Task Force is running point on this. Is that clear?"

Cooper's question was directed at the Keens. Tom had hoped to bring her to New York and keep the op under Grey Matter's control to keep Reddington as far away as possible, but that wasn't going to pan out. They were going to have to give to get on this, and more than just the truth.

"Clear," Liz answered, startling her husband from his thoughts.

He turned to Cooper. "We need to tie up a couple of things and we'll meet you at the airport. We can take one of Halcyon's planes." He looked over at Nez and she nodded.

"I'll make sure the jet's fueled and ready."

"We'll call when we're in our way there." He motioned to Singleton. "You ready to go see your girls?"

The detective moved towards them. "This isn't over yet. Garvey-"

"You've done enough," Liz said firmly and the detective looked over to her. "We're not going to risk you getting caught."

Tom saw the hesitation. He was a good guy. An honest guy, and he may not have caught the dangerous side of Ian Garvey yet, but he felt betrayed by the man he was supposed to be able to trust. "We promised you protection. Let us make good on it."

There was a long moment where he wasn't sure Singleton was going to give, but then he saw it. The other man sighed, his shoulder falling just a little. "You'll let me know how it all goes?"

"We will," Liz swore.

He nodded then, and without another word he started for the door. They would get him to the relocation team from Halcyon and then the Keens would be on their way to getting Garvey.

Notes: Agnes may not know what all is going on, but she wants to help. I love that kid so freakin' much. She's too cute.

Next Time: Katarina pushes for a meet, the Keens and their teams find out that Lilly Roth is more than they thought, and a plan is put into motion to bring Garvey in.

#the blacklist #au fanfiction #Tom Keen #Elizabeth Keen #Scottie Hargrave #Nez Rowan #Donald Ressler #Matias Solomon #Samar Navabi #Aram Mojtabai #Harold Cooper #Norman Singleton

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queen-scribbles · 7 years

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Hidden Talents

For @pillarspromptsweekly #7, finally get to do something with Tavi and Edér’s friendship. :3

She really should have seen it coming.

Months of fighting alongside someone, she really should’ve been more familiar with his fighting style. But whether due to the pounding adrenaline or simply being out of practice, Tavi missed the body language cues. And the wooden shield made hard enough contact to land her on her ass, then flat on her back, looking up at a sunny blue sky and the beard-framed grin of one of her best friends.

“Sorry,” Edér chuckled as he offered her a hand up. “Thought you were gonna block that.”

“I should’ve,” Tavi groused, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. “I fuckin’ missed somethin’. Must be out of practice.”

He clapped her on the back, grin widening at the puff of dust that rose from her shirt. “You’ve been busy runnin’ Caed Nua and chasin’ off suitors. Guess there ain’t much time in there for fightin’, even to practice.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Hasn’t stopped you, Mayor Teylecg.”

Edér snorted. “I ain’t chasin’ off suitors who wanna marry me for my title. An’ one village is a sight more manageable than everywhere you’re in charge of.”

Tavi grinned. “You mean the ladies of Dyrford aren’t after you like fampyrs after fresh blood? I think I might be offended on your behalf.”

“Don’t be,” he said wryly. “‘Specially not with that analogy.”

“Oh, come on, Teylecg,” she needled as she bent down to retrieve her swords. “I know you’re jealous of my good looks.”

“An’ I know you’re only visitin’ Dyrford to distract yourself from the fact Aloth’s been gone a month,” Edér shot back as they stowed the practice weapons in the small shed by the training ground.

“No!” Tavi protested, pretending wounded outrage. She rocked up on the balls of her feet and bit her lip. “‘M also hidin’ from a-fuckin’-nother wave of gods-damned suitors.”

Edér chuckled. “Gotta hand it to Dyrwoodans, we’re a stubborn lot. You’re gonna have to do somethin’ big if you wanna scare ‘em off for good.”

“How big’re we talkin’?” Tavi pushed the door of the shed closed. “‘Cause I already tried claimin’ Aloth was my consort. He didn’t like that much, and it didn’t discourage Thayn Whatsisname in the slightest.”

“I dunno,” Edér shrugged as they started walking back to his house. “I’ve only been mayor a couple months, Tav. Haven’t had time t’ brush up on all the nobility’s tricks yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re no help.”

He grinned. “I have a private stash of really good ale an’ I’ll listen to ya vent.”

“I take it back, you’re a huge help.”

>|<

Edér’s house looked exactly as you’d expect if you knew the man--simple and cozy--and much the same as it had on Tavi’s last visit. With one exception.

“Didn’t have you figured for a flowers guy, Edér,” Tavi needled, brushing her fingers against the fringes of the arrangement that sat in the middle of the table.

He shrugged. “’M not. Those were a gift. Woulda been rude to just pitch ‘em.”

“From who? An’ for what?” Tavi asked, grinning as she slouched in one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace. The fact she was having to probe for more details instead of the usually-chatty blond just offering them made her think there was a story there.

“One of the new settlers we got thanks t’ the offer of free land. We got to talkin’ and it came out she’s also Eothasian. Priest, even. Seein’ as we’re just about the only two for a day’s walk any direction, I helped her set up a spot on her land, just a little place for us to pray away from pryin’ eyes.” He shrugged again and lit his pipe as he dropped into the chair across from Tavi. “I don’t much care who knows what god I follow, and they’re welcome to keep movin’ if they don’t like it, but it’s nice to have someone who believes the same.”

“I’ll bet,” Tavi said, picking dirt from under her nails and fighting a smile as she studied the flowers. “Does this Eothasian priest who gives flowers as a thank you have a name?”

“Charity,” Edér replied around a puff of smoke. “And I gotta ask; what’s so funny?”

“Just wonderin’ how much Charity knows about flower language,” Tavi replied innocently. She wasn’t hiding the smile anymore. “Or if she just picked things that look pretty and got really lucky.”

“Flower what?” Edér shot her a skeptical look.

“Flowers have meanings,” Tavi explained. “Like a language. You can use ‘em to send messages an’ stand for shit an- what?”

Edér grinned and blew out more smoke. “That just seems like a very not-you thing for you to know,” he laughed.

She rolled her eyes. “It is probably the most cultured and least fuckin’ useful thing I know. Blame my mother. She was a florist. Livin’ with that for almost thirty fuckin’ years... I couldn’t avoid learnin’ it. The only plant knowledge that’s useful is what’ll kill ya versus cure ya. A lot of the plants in the Dyrwood are different from Old Vailia, but some things are hardy enough to be universal.”

Edér was still grinning. “All that time travelin’ together and we never knew. Got any more hidden talents?”

“Does singin’ like a fuckin’ rusty hinge count?” Tavi asked snarkily, deliberately steering away from the rest of the list.

“Depends on how drunk your audience is,” he returned.

“Touche,” she laughed, then nodded toward the flowers. “You wanna know what they mean? If she wasn’t just going for pretty?”

Edér slouched further into his seat. “Sure. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

Tavi pushed out of her chair and walked back over to the flowers rubbing petals gently between her fingers. “Well, first of all, the part that made me laugh is the moss. You don’t need moss on somethin’ that’s gonna be fuckin’ indoors. But moss signifies charity, so that’s her havin’ a damn good sense of humor an’ essentially signin’ her name. You better stay friends with her.”

“Aye, aye,” Edér laughed, running a hand through his hair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her.

“The cattails are what tipped me off,” she explained, tracing along one with her index finger. “You don’t often use them you’re aimin’ for pretty, but they symbolize prosperity, so they’re perfect for an arrangement put together for, say, the mayor of your new hometown. Same with the white heather; that’s for... protection, I’m pretty sure.” She shot him a playful smile as she stroked deep blue-ish purple petals. “Iris stands for friendship. So you haven’t scared her off.”

Edér made a face at her. “Hey, I was a perfect gentleman. Y’know, as suits a mayor.”

“Good for you,” Tavi said teasingly, even as she frowned at the last of the flowers; a round white bloom, with overlapping layers of petals circling a cheery yellow center. “I... don’t know this one...” she finally admitted.

“Well, you’re no help,” Edér teased, mirroring her ribbing.

“Fuck you,” Tavi retorted, but the smile she couldn’t hide took all the venom from the words. “So I’m out of practice, or this is one of your stupid Dyrwoodan flowers I don’t know. You get the fuckin’ point; she appreciates your friendship and wishes for protection and prosperity for you and presumably the village. So there.”

“I take it back, you’re a huge help.”

She rolled her eyes. “You-”

Someone knocked on the door.

Tavi let her burgeoning exasperation out in a huff. “I’ll get it. I’m closer.”

Edér just grinned and didn’t argue. Tavi opened the door to reveal an athletically built woman with dark red hair tied back in a ponytail, her hands curled under a small black pot.

She blinked at the sight of Tavi. “Oh, hello.”

Tavi grinned. “Hello yourself. I’m-”

“Tavi,” the redhead finished for her. “Edér’s talked about you.” She shifted her grip on the cast iron pot so she could shake hands. “I’m Charity.”

“Ah, you’re the priest.” Tavi’s grin widened. “Here, that looks heavy, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Charity stepped past her and set the pot on the table. “Hey, Edér. Just wanted to bring this back. Wasn’t sure when you’d need it again.”

Edér chuckled as he pushed to his feet. “That didn’t last long.”

Charity shrugged. “What can I say; workin’ hard builds a good appetite, and you’re a much better cook than me.” She gave a self-deprecating snort. “Which isn’t saying much.”

“Well, if you liked it that much, I’ll hafta make ya some more,” Edér said, setting down his pipe and reaching for the pot. “Maybe teach ya the recipe. It ain’t that hard.”

Charity laughed. “ Edér, I can and have burned water. But if you think I ave a chance...”

“’Course. No one’s a completely lost cause,” he smiled. “Might take a little work, but I’m sure you could learn. If you wanna.”

“Why not?” She returned his smile. “I’ll stop by later so we can work out a time. Right now I need to get to Hendyna’s. She got a really big potion order and I told her I’d help whip ‘em up.”

“Oh, are you good with plants?” Tavi interject, barely holding back a laugh when Edér and Charity started as if they’d forgotten she was there.

“Um, yeah, I am,” Chairty said, playing with the end of her ponytail.

“Can you tell me what this flower is?” Tavi pointed to the white blossom she’d been unable to identify. “It’s the only one in here I don’t know, and it’s drivin’ me crazy.”

“That’s a camellia,” Charity enlightened her. “They’re not very common in the Dyrwood, but I’m determined to keep the ones in my garden alive.”

“Thanks, that would’ve bugged me forever,” Tavi said, raking her fingers through her hair. “We’ll let you go now.”

“Oh, thank you.” Charity started toward the door. “It was nice to meet you, Tavi. And, Edér, I’ll stop by later to chat?”

“Sure thing,” he drawled. “See ya then.”

Tavi barely waited for the door to close behind Charity before breaking out in an ear to ear grin. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” Edér asked as he picked up the pot.

“You an’ Charity. Hylea’s motherfuckin’ tits, Edér. Were me an’ Aloth that bad before we, y’know, caved?”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” From his grin, he was either dead serious or fucking with her.

Either way, Tavi growled in frustration and decided to drop it. “Never mind. What’s this about you bein’ a good cook? I didn’t know you could fuckin’ cook.”

Edér shrugged. “‘S ‘cause I didn’t tell ya. You ain’t the only one with hidden talents.”

She whacked his arm. “No shit, bazzo. Why?”

“Was afraid you’d make me share cookin’ duties,” he needled. The grin was back, and Tavi smacked him again. “Hey, now. You’re a good cook, too, Tavi. Why would I deprive everyone of that?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re still an asshole.”

“Guilty.”

“I think you owe me dinner for that,” she groused, fighting a smile.

“Sure,” Edér nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“An’ if you ever want help puttin’ together flowers for Charity, just say the word,” Tavi hinted.

“Dunno when I’d need that, but good to know. Y’wanna help cut up vegetables?” He turned to head for the kitchen, taking the pot with him.

Tavi huffed an exasperated breath through her nose, hands curling in a strangling motion behind his back. “Sure, why not?” She pitched her voice lower as she followed. ”Swear to Hylea, if we were half that blind...”

“You were worse,” Edér called over his shoulder.

Tavi skidded to a halt, knees briefly locking. “What?”

“Much worse,” he elaborated cheerfully, before resuming course.

She was left staring at his back, eyes narrowing as she conceded, Okay, I should have seen that coming.

Now if she could just get him to be honest about Charity... Tavi grinned as she glanced at the flowers. She was fairly confident she could make it happen. Despite her earlier deflection, she was a woman of many hidden talents.

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

(white camellia is for affection, btw, so Charity’s not being subtle at all--if you know what she’s ‘saying’)

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #tavi illani #eder teylecg

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dannysghostgirl · 7 years

Text

YGOtober Day 5 - Corn Maze

“Finally!” Chazz exclaimed with an exasperated sigh. “Took you guys long enough.” “We have a good reason!” Jaden argued as he and Hassleberry plodded toward the rest of their friends. “Hang on. Wasn’t Syrus in your group, too?” queried Alexis. Hassleberry bit his lip. “Yeah,” Jaden scratched the back of his head. “We might have lost him...in the corn maze.” Alexis, Chazz, and Atticus gawked at the Slifer. “Are you serious?” Chazz snapped. “How do you lose someone in a corn maze?” “Well, it is a maze,” chuckled Atticus with a shrug. “It was built by the students here for Duel Monsters Spirit Day! How intricate can it be, Atticus?” “Clearly it’s intricate enough if Syrus is stuck in there somewhere,” the older male grinned. “Hang on a second. Exactly how did Syrus get lost?” Alexis raised an eyebrow. “Well…” Hassleberry fidgeted. “The little guy might have been a little nervous as we were walkin’ through, and I…may have…scared him… And then he may have…taken off runnin’…and the Sarge and I haven’t seen him since…” Atticus burst out into laughter causing his sister to smack him on the arm. “I really hate you guys,” Chazz huffed as he folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t make Syrus run away!” Jaden shook his head. “Why was he nervous about a corn maze?” Atticus hooted. “It’s not even a haunted maze!” “Atticus, this isn’t funny!” his sister chided. “Yes, it is!” “Did you guys check the whole thing?” groused Chazz. “Yeah. Why do you think it took so long for us to get out?” answered Jaden. “Are you sure he’s still in there?” asked the female. “Yeah? Did you see a Syrus-shaped hole in one of the walls?” Atticus doubled over. “Okay. Here’s the plan,” commanded Chazz. “I vote that these two lug heads venture on back into the corn maze just to make sure they didn’t miss Syrus somewhere in there.” “Can do, soldier,” Hassleberry saluted. The raven-haired male rolled his eyes. “Alexis, you check the dorms. Atticus, check the classrooms. I’ll check out the beach and the pier. Got it?” The siblings nodded. “All right. Let’s go.” “Out of my way! Out of my way! Out of my way! Out of my way!” Everyone froze, turning their attention toward the exit to the maze. “I think we found him!” Atticus chuckled. “Syrus!” Jaden called into the maze. “Where are you?” “Yeah! Head toward our voices!” Hassleberry added. “I cannot believe I hang out with these people,” Chazz muttered to himself as he turned around and rolled his eyes. “Chazz, watch out!” Alexis’ warning came too late. The black-clad male let out a yelp just as Syrus toppled into him while sprinting from the maze, leaving Chazz sprawled on the ground as Syrus continued to run. “Hold up, Private! Where ya’ goin’?” Hassleberry asked as he took off after his friend. “You act like you’ve seen a ghost!” “Woo! Go, Syrus! Go!” Atticus egged him on, causing him to receive another look from his younger sister. “Whoa. Chazz, are you okay?” Jaden knelt beside his friend. The male’s only response was to twitch and groan, still dazed from being knocked down. “Oh, man. I gotta tell Zane about this!” Atticus rushed away, presumably to contact his best friend, leaving Alexis behind just shaking her head. “Should we take Chazz to the nurse’s office?” blinked Jaden. “Yeah. Probably to be on the safe side,” nodded the female as she helped the Slifer pull the dazed male to his feet. “It’s never a dull moment around here, is it, Alexis?” “No. It sure isn’t,” she agreed.

~DGG

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itsclydebitches · 7 years

Link

Summary:

“He likes this song.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

In which Cisco is given seven months to fall in love with Barry Allen. It’s admittedly a little weird - what with Barry being unconscious and all - but since when was anything normal nowadays?

Fandom: The Flash (TV show)

Words: Through Chapter Two: 4,769 (will be around 12k total)

Warnings: None

Pairings: Barry/Cisco

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

~~~

Worth the Wait: Chapter Two

Bartholomew Please-Call-Me-Barry Allen. Born 1989 to a Henry and Nora Allen, in their small, shockingly normal suburban home. That alone sent Cisco’s mind into a tailspin and really—he’d think later—it should have been a hint too. Because who the hell had a bio that was somehow this normal and this interesting? In the first freaking sentence?

Forget the god-awful name. Or even the fact that Barry was only a year younger than Cisco—thoughts of how they might have ended up in the same space taking up far too much of his time. All of it paled in comparison to the tragedy that was the guy’s home life and, like a multi-car pile up, it was the sort of horrible you just couldn’t look away from. Cisco spent hours that night flying through every article he could find, piecing all that horrible-ness together: the seemingly idyllic, nuclear family; Henry Allen suddenly going off the rails, the gory descriptions of Nora’s stab wounds; rumors that young Barry got a good look at the body (Jesus Christ); his insistence, for years, that there had been streaks of lightning in the house that night...

Cisco might have found the coincidence funny if it weren’t so goddamn sad. Who only knew how many shrinks the kid had needed to see.

Actually... Cisco knew. It was six, and he got the feeling from the notes he may or may not have illegally hacked into that either a) smarty-pants Barry had just started telling the grownups what they wanted to hear, or b) his adopted cop-dad started doing the exact same thing.

Cisco was really starting to like this guy.

He’d made it through to Barry’s work with the CCPD (“Dude. How are you still such a do-gooder after all that?”) when Caitlin startled him with a flood of light.

“Ahh, bright—bright!” Cisco cowered and hissed like a vampire. When his sight recovered from the assault he found Caitlin looking very unimpressed.

“Are you still here?” she breathed, managing to sound scandalized despite the fact that they’d both pulled all-nighters more times than he could count. She marched over, already ignoring Cisco in favor of checking Barry’s vitals. Her hands did that little fluttery, nervous thing before increasing his... something or other. That’s why she was the doctor.

Cisco just settled for groaning. His back was stiff and he really needed the little boy’s room. ASAP.

“You’re one to talk,” he groused. “It’s—five am!? What the hell, Caitlin!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, looking about as haggard as Cisco felt. “Do you have any idea the sort of responsibility Dr. Wells has just placed on us? On me? My specialty is in bio-engineering, Cisco. I like my people in their culture dishes. And yes, I took on a broader role when Dr. Wells asked it of me. I do have my medical degree and I do have training in first responder treatments, but I know next to nothing about treating someone in a persistent, vegetative state, let alone someone exhibiting Mr. Allen’s strange, and frankly impossible, tissue regeneration, and—”

Cisco threw up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, slow it all down. No one is asking for a miracle here. If anyone can keep this guy fine and fair, it’s you, Caitlin. Besides, he—” Cisco stopped. “Wait. Did you just say tissue regeneration?”

Caitlin smiled wide and fake in that patronizing way of hers, pointing fiercely at Barry. “Yes. Apparently there was an incident where a nurse accidentally cut him—heaven only knows what she was doing—and the injury healed in seconds. Dr. Wells gave me the report last night and emphasized that it was the only copy. Told me to destroy it when I was done reading. Hush, hush!” and she put a finger to her lips, only slightly hysterical.

Cisco just blinked dumbly. “I didn’t get that far reading up on him.”

“...what?”

“What.”

They stared at one another across the bed. Barry breathed deeply between them.

Cisco stood. “That’s it. Coffee. Now. You and me. We spill all.”

“But—” Caitlin glanced worryingly at Barry, gnawing at her lip.

“He’s been asleep eight weeks, Caitlin. He’ll be fine without us for a hour.”

Dragging her out of the Cortex was easier after that, but, if pressed, Cisco would have admitted that even he was a little hesitant at leaving Barry’s side.

Get ahold of yourself, dude. He thought. It’s been a day.

Somehow, that wasn’t at all reassuring.

***

The facts, when summed up, were these:

The particle accelerator, heralded as Dr. Wells’ magnum opus and one of the greatest scientific achievements in modern day history, was meant to change the world. For the better.

It did that for exactly twenty-seven minutes.

Then, inexplicitly, there was an explosion that sent a wave of dark matter across Central City. That same shockwave merged with an incoming storm, binding at the molecular level.

A lightning bolt from said storm struck Barry Allen.

Barry Allen was now experiencing some freaky-ass side effects.

+1 No one else in Central City had come forward about similar freaky-ass side effects. However, as any decent scientist knew, the absence of data did not necessarily preclude the hypothesis’ possibility. There could be others.

But that was so not their problem. Cisco felt that one crazy science fiction experiment was enough for them, thank you very much.

“Do you think the government’s involved?” he whispered, stirring his coffee extra hard. Caitlin gave him a withering look over her tea.

“Do you think before you talk? You know STAR labs is privately funded.” Caitlin hesitated. “I think Dr. Wells is actually working to keep the government out of this. Mr. Allen has only been showing these... symptoms,” she lowered her voice anxiously, “for the last few days or so. It looks like Dr. Wells got him here just in time.”

Or decided the time was right, Cisco thought. Yeah, ‘course STAR labs was privately funded, notoriously so, and only about 15% of that came from donations. The rest was staggeringly out of pocket. Cisco had honestly called bullshit on that his first few weeks in, until Dr. Wells had offhandedly mentioned a family fortune as well as his “not insubstantial” number of patents. A quick google search had proven that true enough.

It all meant that Dr. Wells had more than enough money to pour into a victim’s treatment. One who, oh, might be a lowly forensic scientist not making enough to pay those kinds of medical bills. Easy enough then to get frequent ‘updates’ on the patient. Plenty of time to pull the guy out when things got... strange.

Cisco nodded, a number of things clicking together. Like what Dr. Wells might have been doing these last few weeks. Like the enthralled look in his eye when they set Barry up in the Cortex, laid out like some sort of strange museum display. Or an offering.

Cisco shivered. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, finding it cold.

“What now?” he muttered.

Caitlin’s wide-eyed stare said it all. They’d been rather lost since STAR Labs had closed, but they both had new jobs now. Caitlin needed to keep Barry alive. Cisco needed to keep his mouth shut.

And they both needed to make sure Dr. Wells didn’t do anything regrettable. Because like hell would Cisco let him mentor get caught up in some crazy, secret government conspiracy thing. They’d both stuck by him through the media backlash and endless lawsuits. The death threats slipped in the mail and—Cisco shivered again—the one bomb left outside their door. The one that was, thankfully, just a fake. They’d weathered that.

They’d weather this too.

“To the strange,” Cisco settled on, lifting his drink. Caitlin companionably toasted him back.

When Cisco drank the coffee it was still fucking cold.

***

Keep his mouth shut, sure. Cisco had never been very good at it, but at least he didn’t have anyone to blab to. It was kind of a blessing if he bothered to rationalize it. Except not. Looking around at his family—disappointed mother, too perfect brother, a sister in Caitlin (who’d just lost family of her own) and a pseudo-father figure in a reclusive Wells—Cisco realized that he really didn’t have anyone to confide in anyway. Being frank, he had colleagues and people bound to him by blood… but not many friends.

Fuck. No friends at all.

It made stalking Barry Allen so much easier.

Because Cisco didn’t stop with the guy’s tragic backstory. Of course not. Where was the fun in that? He wanted to dude’s social media.

And oh... holy hannah. Was it worth it.

“What a dork,” Cisco breathed. He said it with reverence, the kind of awe that could only come from a like-minded fella, the kind of breed who’d been bullied all through school and still had Magic the Gathering cards stuffed under his bed. Cisco knew Barry Allen. Barry Allen was him.

If, of course, he was a 6’2’’ model-type with a social life the size of a small planet. He could scroll through Barry’s Facebook and Instagram for weeks and still not reach the previous year. Didn’t the guy ever run into post limits?

“Awkward pic with hot girl, third wheel with hot guy and girl,” Cisco shook his head, scrolling quickly. “Eating. Lame-o sunglasses. More eating. What is that face? Tumbling down the stairs—okay, that one has gotta be staged.”

Except that Cisco looked across the room at this gangly sasquatch and was suddenly positive that he made it through life by tripping over his own feet and acquiring bruises he couldn’t explain. Barry probably got his shoelaces tangled together. He’d probably slip on a banana peel if one suddenly appeared.

Cisco snorted. “You would. You totally would.”

“Would what?”

“Oh my—” Cisco very nearly upended his laptop as he jumped, thinking for one shocking second that the coma guy had actually spoken. By the time his brain had re-booted Dr. Wells had already rolled into view, a slightly teasing look in his eyes.

And wow. He hadn’t seen that in a while.

It was a small improvement, but noticeable, and Cisco saw why as Dr. Wells bypassed him completely to get at Barry. There was a collection of saline drips in the back pocket of his chair that he immediately began hooking one up, taking care not to jostle the needle in Barry’s arm. A small dusting of crumbs on his shirt spoke of lunch actually eaten and—Cisco noticed with a pang—he had pile of journals in his lap, ready to be read. He didn’t need to see the titles to know they dealt primarily with long-term coma patients; theories on how to treat any... unexpected side-effects.

In the week since Barry had come to STAR labs his abnormal cellular structure had hung between the three of them, unacknowledged overtly, but driving them all the same. It was like they’d just been waiting for the world to give them something new to focus their talents on, something more personal than a particle accelerator. Caitlin had taken a dive into her research with real enthusiasm, the first since Ronnie’s passing. Dr. Wells was playing overseer once more. And Cisco...

Cisco was having the sudden, utterly crazy image of Barry in his Suit.

Yes, the Suit had a capital ‘s’ in his mind because it was the biggest and best-est thing he was ever going to make. A state of the art, indestructible, lightweight body armor that would completely revolutionize the world of protective gear. Big dreams, sure, but Cisco was confident enough in his abilities to imagine the outcome, even if it was years—decades even—down the line. Someday every fire fighter, police officer, and first responder would wear armor developed in STAR labs, capable of withstanding whatever the world chose to throw at them. In the Before it had been just a way to save lives. In the After it was also a way to save the Lab’s reputation.

He kept it on the table downstairs, pieces thrown into a hazardous pile that would only seem disrespectful to someone who didn’t know Cisco’s style. He could have put it up on a mannequin, sure, but for some reason Cisco didn’t want to give the Suit a face yet, even a blank one. It was too... individualized.

That is, until he started imagining Barry in it instead. Randomly. Little flashes like day dreams that just sort of came to him with no real context. It wasn’t even the Suit as it was now, but what Cisco wanted it to be someday. Slick and lean, dynamic, skin tight to allow for complete freedom of movement. Barry’s measurements were perfect for it.

Even weirder though was that Cisco hadn’t realized he’d wanted it in red until he’d seen that pic of Barry from last fall: sporting a fire-engine sweater that had him glowing amongst the crowd. That was exactly what Cisco’s Suit needed: a color that both stood out and oozed confidence. Don’t worry, we’re here to help. Don’t worry—you won’t get to see me bleed.

Too bad forensic scientists don’t need a Suit, he thought.

“Cisco?”

The realization that Dr. Wells was still waiting on an answer made a flush run up Cisco’s neck. His mind blanked on what they’d been talking about.

Dr. Wells seemed to realize. He folded his hands, not in his lap, but atop the blankets where Barry’s legs lay. It was the exact spot where Cisco had rested his feet on that first night together.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dr. Wells asked.

“They’re worth more than that,” Cisco said, but the joke didn’t land. He just shrugged, wondering if he could articulate everything his mind had been running through. Whether Dr. Wells, with that faraway look still lurking in his eyes, would be able to understand.

“Do you think he’ll ever wake up?” Cisco finally settled on. It was, in a way, all his thoughts rolled into one.

Instead of answering though Dr. Wells just regarded him. Insert here: bug under the microscope feeling.

“You’re growing attached to him,” he observed. It wasn’t necessarily a condemnation.

Cisco scoffed. “He just got here.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

He rolled past, the soft whrrr of his chair the only sound in the room. There might have been a time when Dr. Wells laid a rare, complimentary hand on Cisco’s shoulder. Now he just called out as he left:

“I’m growing fond of him too.”

He’ll wake up. He has to.

Cisco blew out a breath. At least he wasn’t the only one.

#Flash #The Flash #Barry/Cisco #Barry Allen #Cisco Ramon #flashfic

0 notes

queen-swagzilla · 4 years

Text

Born in Dreams, Forged In Blood - Chapter 2

Rated: M (largely for profanity)

Chapter 2 summary: Miscommunication and repressed emotions are for losers. It's time to get it all out in the open.

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

“She’s impressive, but she’s nosy, and she gets really territorial about Deku. Think she has some kinda claim over him or something.” He replied. “She has more right to be in Deku’s business than I do, though.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough shit, Kacchan! The three of us are supposed to have each other’s backs against the world. It’s been that way since we were in diapers.”

“We still have each other’s backs. I’ve saved him. He’s saved me. I’m not turning my back when he’s in trouble or anything.”

“Yeah, well Deku and I aren’t there anymore, okay? Drop it.”

“No! Tell me what happened!”

“Fine.” She barked back, allowing him to pull her into his room and slam the door. “You could have just whispered. I would have heard you.”

“So you told him to kill himself?” She demanded. “You’re one of my best friends, but that’s seriously fucked up.”

“Have you considered apologizing?”

“No, because now I’m pissed off for a different reason. He had a quirk, and he let me have a fucking heart attack every time he pulled some crazy self-sacrificing stunt.”

“He said he was a super-late bloomer. Maybe it was triggered during the sludge villain attack? That’s when he started getting cagey with me, at least.”

“That’s not it,” Katsuki muttered. “I have a theory now. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Wanna share with the class?” She replied when he didn’t elaborate.

“Not yet. But we should talk about it with Deku when we go see him later.” He admitted. “And your villain encounter. Don’t think I forgot.”

“You’ve had way more villain encounters than I have.” She paused. “Are you okay, by the way? After the kidnapping, I mean?”

He scowled. “Add that to the ‘we’ll talk about it later’ list.” He grumbled. “I mean physically, I’m fine. Mentally, I’m working on it.”

“See? That’s a good first step!” She cheered. “Come on. Show me around.” She urged, pulling him back through the door.

He gave her a perfunctory tour and ended up in the kitchen making food while he told her about their classmates.

“That’s really sweet of you, Kacchan.” She grinned, only smiling wider when he glowered. “Sounds like a plan. As long as we’re allowed to eat in the infirmary.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You. Make up some bullshit about how much you miss Deku until she lets us stay.”

“I do miss Deku.” She deadpanned.

“Exactly. That’s fuckin' perfect.”

“Kacchan.”

“Let’s go.”

“They already had their turn. Can’t you kick them out?” Katsuki growled. Sana smacked his arm (hard).

She squinted at the newcomer. “Why does Bakugo have to join you?”

“We’re all childhood friends! Its been a long time since we’ve been able to spend time together. Besides, Kacchan is helping me navigate campus until I get settled.”

Sana bristled, but Katsuki spoke before she could interject. “I understand. And uh…sorry. About the last time, I mean. I was out of line, and I destroyed a lot of your equipment.”

Recovery Girl smiled at him. “Thank you for your apology. I understand how frustrated you must have been. I must have scolded Miss Midnight for an hour after she put that muzzle on you.”

“You watched the Sports Festival?”

She snorted. “Of course I did. You and Zuku were both competing. Besides, Auntie Inko sent me about six million reminders. I wouldn’t have missed it, but I also couldn’t have missed it.”

“Oh. Well, what did you think?”

“About you? Or did you want me to give you a complete analysis of each match?”

“Just fucking tell me, dammit.”

“I agree. But really, yelling ‘die’ makes you sound unhinged. I’m pretty sure it’s a leftover habit from playing too many first-person shooters, but really.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it.” He conceded, pleased that she was impressed, but annoyed that she found his flaws noteworthy.

It didn’t escape her notice that Katsuki clammed up and bristled as soon as Uraraka and Iida entered the hallway.

“You got us kicked out?” Uraraka demanded, eyes fixed on Katsuki. “You actually think he wants you in his infirmary room? You’re usually the one who puts him in here!”

“He’s here because I’m here. Not that it’s any of your business. Just because you’re his friend, doesn’t mean you can dictate who Zuku spends time with.”

“Leave it alone,” Katsuki muttered, already walking into Izuku’s room. Sana looked like she wanted to argue, but if Katsuki was being the calm and reasonable one, she should probably leave it alone. She met Uraraka’s glare and Iida’s affronted, scandalized face with a venomous stare of her own, then followed Katsuki into the room.

“Kacchan? You’re my other visitor? Why are you here? Is everything—“ Izuku fell silent when Sana walked through the door and stared, mouth ajar.

“Sana?” He choked out.

“Who the fuck else would it be, Deku?” Katsuki snapped. She slugged him in the arm.

“What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” He cried, automatically moving to get up before wincing and slumping back onto his cot. Apparently, he’d forgotten his injury.

“I told you I had a surprise for you!” She laughed, coming to stand by his bedside. “I transferred to UA!”

Izuku gaped again, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. “What?”

“Telling the truth, Zuku.” She promised. He sobbed louder.

“You brought me dinner, Kacchan?” Izuku murmured, eyes wide as he stared at the tupperware in wonder. “You made me dinner? Thank you!”

Izuku frowned at Sana, simultaneously snapping the lid off his curry. “Why didn’t you tell us, Sana?” he pouted, sounding disappointed. Sana groaned.

“Stop changing the fucking subject!” Katsuki snarled.

“I saw that attack on the news! That villain leveled three city blocks and nearly took down Gang Orca!” Izuku cried. “You could have gotten seriously hurt!”

“If that’s not the fucking pot calling the kettle black…” Katsuki muttered.

Sana rolled her eyes. “We’re training to be heroes. That’s the territory. Seriously, I didn’t even get that badly hurt. All of my injuries came from my own quirk.”

“The hell is your problem?” Katsuki demanded. “Why didn’t you fucking say anything until now? You could have died! You could have died and you didn’t tell us? I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Fucking Christ.” Katsuki spat, dropping his face into his palms.

“Look, we’re all okay, right? That’s what matters.” Sana reasoned. “And next time we’ll be stronger.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Sana snapped.

“No. No no no no no no no.” Deku muttered, scrambling for his phone on the bedside table. “Hold on for a second, but please stop crying Kacchan.” He pleaded. He fired off a quick text, looking unbelievably nervous. He already operated at a baseline anxiety level of 60%, so now it looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. “Okay.” He said, looking back at them. “If I tell you this, it has to stay completely secret. Promise me.”

Katsuki sniffed and Sana nodded. “I promise.” She said.

“How the hell do you know that?” She demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Katsuki spat. “All Might chose him. After the sludge villain, right? That’s when you two met.”

Sana’s jaw dropped, eyes glazing. Katsuki, however, looked barely phased. “I figured it was something like that. After Kamino Ward—All Might’s message…”

“Come on, what the fuck?” Sana groaned.

“What the hell are you talkin' about, Deku?”

“If I’d gotten to you sooner—if I hadn’t broken my arms, if I’d been able to reach you before Kurogiri—“

“I told you not to follow me! I told you to stay back. You know why I’ve been so pissed at you Deku? It’s 'cause you’re fuckin' stupid. You keep getting yourself into shitty situations that you can’t handle. It wouldn’t have made anything better if we’d both died.”

“Kacchan—“

“No. Fuck no. I said we’d talk about it later, but it’s not like Sana doesn’t know what’s been going on. I didn’t want you hanging around me because you kept getting hurt and it drove me fuckin' nuts. Sure you don’t need a quirk to be a hero, but you need to fuckin' train or something! You were this skinny little nerd and you kept picking fights that you weren’t able to finish!”

“That’s bullshit, Kacchan!” Izuku snapped back. “Even after I got a quirk, you were being an asshole!”

“I kept it a secret because you were being an asshole!”

“I was being an asshole because you kept breaking your fucking arms!”

“My body wasn’t strong enough to handle my quirk yet!” He argued. “I had to train and figure out how to use it! It’s not my fault the League of Villains kept showing up!”

“STOP!” Sana snapped. “Okay, this conversation is set up to go in a really aggravating circle. Katsuki, you were worried about Zuku because he was quirkless and reckless, Then you were worried about him because even though he had a quirk, his body wasn’t prepared for it and it kept on hurting him. Despite that, he was still reckless. Gotta say, I’m not too thrilled about that either. I almost puked when I watched your fight with Todoroki.” She pinned him with a glare. “Not to mention, until today he thought you’d chosen to keep your quirk from him for years and just let him panic whenever you did something nuts.”

Izuku gaped. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Well, I know that now!”

After many awkward glances and false starts, Izuku spoke first. “You still want to be a team?”

She scoffed. “I wanted us to be a team even when you were quirkless. Sure, you’d have taken a different role, but at least we’d be together.”

“Fuckin’ psycho. Clearly All Might’s grooming him to be a strong solo hero.”

“Right, and that’s gone so well for society. Now villains are organizing and we’re in deep shit for depending on him so much. Besides, are you really gonna let this self-sacrificial idiot fight by himself? Because let me tell you, if we’re not an official team, I’m just gonna show up wherever he goes to make sure he doesn’t do something idiotic.” Katsuki snorted at that. “I’d rather be a team though. A strong hero team, all three of us symbols in our own right. Hope, Strength, and Victory—Stronghold, Aftershock, and Ground Zero.”

“It’s Last Stand, you motherfucker!” Katsuki barked, leaping to his feet.

“Who’s Last Stand?” Deku asked, a little dazed and confused, and therefore a little slow.

“No one. Your hero name is Stronghold. Kacchan is being overruled.”

“My hero name is Deku.”

“Not anymore. Keep up.” She replied, snapping her fingers for emphasis. “Look you were worried about a theme, right?” She asked Katsuki. “That’s why you wanted Last Stand?”

“That’s what I fuckin' said, isn’t it?”

“So the name I chose fits a theme! Not the conceptual names and syllable matching—it’s the metaphor! Zuku’s the bunker, you’re the bomb, I’m the post-explosion shockwave. Stronghold, Ground Zero, and Aftershock! I put a lot of thought into this!”

Katsuki scowled at her mulishly. “Don’t I get a say?” Izuku asked hesitantly.

“If you go with Deku, Kacchan’s going with King Explosion Murder. So, no. We choose each other’s names. You and Kacchan chose mine, you and I chose his. Now we get to choose yours.”

Deku had slipped into overthinking mode, and so he docilely began eating on autopilot. He wasn’t so tuned out that he didn’t notice the conversation awkwardly picking back up. He even chimed in every now and then, but his gears were turning and they were churning new information into new conclusions at a dizzying pace.

Sana had transferred to UA and had forced Kacchan to actually talk to him within ten hours of her first class. Kacchan wasn’t mad because of pride or ego damage, or even because he didn’t want to be near someone who was quirkless. He was mad because he was worried and was bad at expressing himself. Kacchan wanted him to be more careful. To take more precaution—both when he was quirkless and now that he had One For All. And, knowing how hard Kacchan had worked to gain control of his quirk, it had probably driven him crazy to see him acting so recklessly and expecting to catch up quickly. Kacchan had though of a hero name for him. That meant that Kacchan believed in him. Izuku had thought that Kacchan hadn’t even wanted him to try. He thought that Kacchan believed he was useless without a quirk. Hell, he’d believed it, so why wouldn’t someone as amazing as Kacchan?

A knock came at the door.

“Young Midoriya?"

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