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blaisenova · 10 months

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(half) brothers

Miguel O'Hara finds out the rather unfortunate truth about his biological father and makes a decision to do something really stupid, but not without properly saying goodbye first.

Gabriel O'Hara does not think it's cool that Miguel suddenly wants to call him his "half-brother."

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a fun little exploration of gabriel and miguel's relationship that's inspired by this post by @/flipsidesfangs! needless to say, i was inspired.

because of sensitive content (suicidal thoughts/ideation as well as implied/referenced self-harm) the actual work will be beneath the cut, but, despite the angst, it does end happily!! gabriel and miguel brotherhood for the win!

i'd also like to apologise if any of the spanish is off at all. i've been learning it for years now, but some of the stuff i wanted to say was a bit beyond the stuff i can consistently get down just yet. i did my best to research the stuff i was unsure about, but the internet will never be as good as an actual speaker. if you speak spanish, please don't hesitate to correct me!! (thank you @/anneichigo for the correction already!)

anyways please enjoy <3

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Maybe, before, there was a time that Gabriel would have been grateful to find out that Miguel was technically his half-brother – namely, when he’d first found out about whatever was going on between Miguel and Dana before that, too, fell apart (which, really, just proved even more that they were family; they both had the shittiest luck with women, though Miguel’s misfortune was, admittedly, a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy) – but, regardless of how much his asshole of a brother could piss him off and make him wish they weren’t related, Miguel was still one of the only good parts of Gabriel’s childhood and would always be the closest family he had.

So, when Miguel had dropped by in the middle of a nasty rainstorm (fortunately, during one of the rare occasions that their mother was out) looking an awful lot like he’d just been told his holographic dog got run over and he was ready to jump in front of the car, too, Gabriel hadn’t hesitated to bring him inside and lead him to his couch; even if the rainwater that had soaked Miguel to the bone jumped to Gabriel’s couch, as well.

There were very few times that Gabriel had seen this look on Miguel’s face – eyes distant, their red hues not hidden behind sunglasses for once, and even redder than usual, like he’d been crying – except for maybe when their parents would fight. Then, Miguel would go distant just like he was now, but, even then, he had never stopped holding Gabriel until the sound of shouts and shattering glass bottles settled back down to silence. It wasn’t often that Gabriel got to return the favour, and even less often that Miguel would let him, though he was, admittedly, kind of miffed that Miguel had chosen right now to finally take him up on the offer; getting beaten by cops didn’t exactly leave him feeling ready to take care of someone else.

It took Gabriel a few moments to collect himself and regain his bearings as he rooted through his still unfolded laundry for a towel in an attempt to save his brother from hypothermia, but, with a deep breath, he clenched the half-threadbare, yellowed fabric in his hands, and returned to the living room where he’d left his brother.

“Think fast,” he quipped, tossing the towel towards his brother in some attempt to bring him back to reality, only to flinch when the towel simply landed haphazardly on Miguel’s head without garnering a reaction.

Gingerly, Gabriel settled himself next to his brother, pausing and scooting a bit away when he felt a bit of water seeping through his pants. He fixed Miguel with a pointed look, though the look quickly turned to a frown when the older wouldn’t meet his eyes. A hand reached up, and he gently flicked one of the man’s cheekbones, mouth falling agape when even that didn’t earn a reaction.

“Dios mío, Miggy,” he mumbled, sitting up just enough to reach the towel that had landed on Miguel’s head to scrub it around enough to sop up the excess water, “And here I thought I was having a bad day.”

Gabriel removed the towel from his brother’s head, leaving behind a fluffy, tangled mop of hair that he couldn’t help but snicker at; strands of half-dry hair stuck up in the air in a gravity defying show. The short sound of laughter was enough to earn a glance from Miguel, though his eyes just as quickly darted away again, and Gabriel just caught the subtle way that his older brother’s brows furrowed even more.

With a frown, he rolled the towel up into a deadly weapon and skillfully snapped it against Miguel’s chest with soggy squelch.

That was enough to earn the older man’s attention in full as he bit out a yelp, sitting up stick straight before fixing Gabriel with a snarl, fangs bared. “¿¡Qué chingados?! What was that for?”

For all of Miguel’s ridiculous height and increasing amount of muscle that turned him into quite the intimidating figure, Gabriel just didn’t have it in him to be afraid of his own brother. Miguel may have been much bigger now, and, even without the super powers, he could have folded Gabriel easily, but that felt more like an older brother staple than just a S-Man thing.

“Mi, mi, mi,” he unabashedly mocked, towel held out threateningly in his hands. “It was for freaking me out, you dick! What the shock is wrong with you tonight?” He shrunk back a bit, a finger pointing at his brother’s fangs accusatorily. “Put those away… I’ve been beat up enough for one day.”

Cheeks reddening a bit, Miguel dropped the snarl, carefully situating his fangs back behind his lips. His voice turned more muffled, almost slurred, as he worked to keep his teeth hidden. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he bit out, venom in the words. “I should’ve just-”

“Ay, coño- Alright, Miguel, I get it,” Gabriel began, raising his hands, only to wince backwards when Miguel all but yelled,

“No, Gabriel, you don’t get it!”

Silence filled the room again, thick and tense like the humid, smog filled rain that pressed down on them outside. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as Miguel’s widened, the light of the overhead lamp doing well to illuminate the bright red of the older brother’s eyes that had replaced the brown they used to share. In a way, it was almost poetic that the physical characteristics they shared would be ripped from them as their sense of blood bond was ripped away, too. After a few moments of tense eye contact, Miguel was the one to break it, eyes darting to the ground with a frown.

“Gabri, I’m-”

“No, no,” Gabriel cut in once more, waving what he hoped was an apology off. Bitter words rested right on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down, forcing himself to remember the uncharacteristic distance that Miguel had entered the house with. “Help me understand, then.”

Suspicion flashed behind Miguel’s eyes as he forced himself to look at his brother again, though his expression softened as he didn’t seem to find the sarcastic vitriol he was searching for. His shoulders remained tense, muscles flexing and unflexing beneath his shirt in an unconscious, nervous rhythm that both impressed and worried Gabriel. Rain sounded from outside enough to make the onward stretching silence just a bit more bearable, though only for so long as seconds turned to minutes.

“Miguel?” Gabriel coaxed carefully, feeling an awful lot like he was talking to a wounded animal, a strange and novel experience with his brother who used to protect the both of them; though whatever had ended up with Miguel becoming 2099’s Spider-Man had seemed to shift something in the man he once knew, for better or for worse. “Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”

Talon tipped fingers came up to rake across Miguel’s face (which only momentarily scared the shit out of Gabriel before he realised that the claws seemed to retract when they came into contact with skin), and the older man sighed.

“I just… came to tell you that I loved you. In case something happens with the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing,” he began, a nervous waver concealed behind monotony that might have fooled anyone else, but not Gabriel. “I know things haven’t always been great between us, considering everything with Ma and Dad, and…” a beat, “with Dana too, I guess. But you’re still my brother…”

The word trailed off, and he sighed again, his fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Coño, estoy jodiendo esto…” Miguel mumbled, so quiet that Gabriel almost didn’t hear it. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I care about you. I wanted you to know just in case anything happened.”

If possible, Miguel only seemed to get even more tense once the words were out there, as if it pained him to say. Gabriel watched him with some semblance of disbelief, eyes narrow and mouth slightly agape. When it became clear that was all his brother was going to say on the matter, his eyes only narrowed even further.

“¿..En serio?” he squeaked out, only to backtrack as Miguel gave him an extremely pointed look. “I mean, you’re a little late on that, aren’t you? You’ve been doing the whole S-Man thing for a while now. Are you in trouble? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Gabri,” came the response, bit out in the same way that things always were when Miguel was lying, “I just wanted to make sure you knew. That’s all.”

“No chingues, man,” he scolded, doing his best to sound angry and only succeeding in expressing his concern. “Seriously, what’s up with you? This sounds like a goodbye.” A nervous laugh fell from him and landed flat; Miguel wouldn’t even look at him, his hands wrapped so tightly around each other that his knuckles were white. Horror settled in Gabriel’s stomach, heavy and nauseating. “...Wait. Wait, Miguel-”

“Don’t be stupid,” Miguel hissed, too little and too late. There was a sort of desperation to the way he shot to his feet, eyes still anywhere but on his brother. “I have to go.”

Gabriel was quick to follow him off of the couch, grabbing onto his brother’s wrist and not letting go even when Miguel bared his fangs at him once more. “‘Go’?” he echoed. “Where are you going?”

“Let go of me,” came the hiss.

Gabriel didn’t deign to fulfil the request. “Answer my question first.”

“What are you, my mom? I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Then you’re not going anywhere.”

That earned a bonafide laugh, dark and bitter, from the larger of the brothers, and Miguel stepped closer, shoulders squared and talons out. His fangs flashed noticeably in the light as his lip curled back in a snarl as he finally met his brother’s eyes, their red almost seeming to have a faint glow to them. “You’re going to stop me?”

To his credit, Gabriel didn’t flinch. “I sure as shock am. I’m not just going to let you leave and kill yourself, Miguel.”

“You can’t keep me here,” he seethed.

Gabriel’s grip on his brother’s arm only tightened, his brows furrowing into something pained. “So, you don’t deny it, then?”

At that, Miguel’s face fell again – eyes wide and terrified – and his shoulders went tense once more. “I…” Then, all at once, the rage was back, and Miguel pulled against his brother’s grasp again, enough to pull Gabriel forward with the force. “I shouldn’t have to deny something that stupid. Let me the shock go, Gabriel, I’m not kidding.”

“And I don’t believe you,” Gabriel retorted, undeterred.

“I didn’t come here to be mothered.”

“Yeah, you came here to say ‘goodbye,’ and I’m not letting you,” he said, grabbing Miguel’s arm with his other hand and practically wrapping himself around his brother. “So help me, Miguel, I’ll latch onto you like a shocking koala. The only way you’re killing yourself is with me attached to your arm.”

“What is wrong with you?” Miguel tried again to push Gabriel off, to no avail. “You’ve already been beaten all to hell once today, do you seriously want to make it a second?”

The thinly veiled threat drew a scoff from the younger, who looked up at him entirely unimpressed as he tightened his hold on the other’s arm. “What, you’re gonna beat me up if I don’t let you commit suicide? So much for ‘you’re my brother! I love you!’”

“Half-brother,” came the shout, and that was enough to get Gabriel to pause.

“...¿Cómo dices?”

Caught off guard, his grip loosened just enough for Miguel to successfully push him off, giving him a much better view of the anguished expression on his brother’s face.

“Half-brother,” Miguel repeated, the words spat out like they were something foul.

For a moment, Gabriel could only reel at the admission, and, when he finally managed to force something out of his mouth, his voice came out equally as strained. “I… ¿Te cae?”

“Me cae.” Then, again, quiet, until Miguel couldn’t seem to take it anymore. “I was… I was furious about what that bastard Tyler Stone did to you, and I… I was going to kill him, Gabriel. I really was.” He almost seemed horrified with himself at the admission, his hand coming up to his face once more. “I was at his house. I was going to break in, and I was going to kill him. It was going to be so easy. No one would’ve known it was me, and I wouldn’t have regretted it. Not one bit” His own pathetic whine cut him off, and Gabriel, with his own muted horror, could clearly see the way tears had sprung to his eyes once more.

After a moment, he quietly – half afraid, but not in the way Miguel had so desperately wanted him to be mere moments before – pushed, “...but?”

“But Ma was there,” Miguel answered immediately, sounding rather out of breath for how much he was breathing. “Ma was there, and she blackmailed him into letting Kasey go.” A laugh; short, breathless. “I thought she was talking crazy, or lying out of her ass, like always, and I thought I was going to have to break in to save her, but Stone just laughed and- and kissed her.” His expression screwed up into something equal parts disgusted and mortified, but he didn’t pause, even for a moment. “They argued, and he admitted that all the bullshit that led up to me becoming this monster was nothing but a lie, and, as if that wasn’t enough, Ma says he’s my father. Casually. As if it didn’t mean anything. And Stone didn’t deny it.”

Cautiously, Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder, so gently he wasn’t sure it would catch his brother’s attention. “Miguel, breathe-”

Fortunately, the feeling was enough to knock Miguel out of the horrific retelling, but the agony didn’t leave his eyes as his head darted to look at Gabriel as tears finally spilled over. “I can’t live knowing I’m his son, Gabriel. I can’t live knowing all of this was for nothing – just a lie.” His breathing hitched, almost stopping completely, as he mumbled breathlessly, “necesito morir. No quiero vivir. No lo puedo hacer. No puedo más. No puedo más.”

It was, admittedly, extremely frightening to watch Miguel – Gabriel’s older brother, and the one that had, somehow, always managed to keep it together for the both of them, even if he’d become an asshole to do it – unravel before him, nails digging into his own skin as if it was the only thing keeping him from dying on the spot. His chest heaved dangerously fast, and Gabriel could feel the way his body trembled just from the minimal contact he had with Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel,” he called, gently.

The word earned him no response, and Gabriel frowned, concern spiking in his chest like a too firm grasp on his heart, and he rushed to try again, louder this time. “Miguel.”

When that, too, didn’t work, Gabriel was well and truly terrified, and, without thinking, latched onto Miguel’s hands, wrenching them from their grip on his own skin and leaving crescent marks in their wake.

“Miguel!” he cried, loud enough to make Miguel jump, but finally earning the man’s attention. “Mirame. Necesitas respirar, ¿vale? Respira, güey. Si no lo haces, morirás, si quieras o no, y yo no quiero eso, ¿entiendes?”

“No puedo,” Miguel wheezed desperately, voice trembling almost as violently as his hands. “No puedo.”

“Cállate,” his brother immediately shushed, squeezing Miguel’s hands tightly. “Sí, puedes. Hazlo conmigo.” It was a fairly straight forward demand that didn’t need much of an explanation, but, even then, as Gabriel took as exaggerated of a deep breath as he could managed, he was more than a little relieved to see that Miguel was attempting to follow along, albeit shakily.

The first few breaths Gabriel managed to coax out of his brother were still shallow at best, falling back off into wheezes the moment he finished exhaling, but, after a few minutes, Miguel had managed to bring his breathing back into some sort of regular rhythm. His shoulders still shook, and his hands still trembled, but he was, at the very least, no longer on the verge of passing out, or so Gabriel hoped. Once he was sure that Miguel could manage to breathe without his guidance, he allowed his hands to slip off of Miguel’s, brows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?” he asked, going right back to that gentle tone of before.

It took Miguel a moment to answer, heaving a sigh as his hands wrapped around one another again. “...Yeah. Lo siento.”

“Ay, don’t start with that shocking ‘lo siento’ nonsense,” Gabriel immediately huffed. He almost sounded offended, probably because, in a way, he was. The idea that Miguel would ever need to apologise to him of all people for something like that. “That was a heavy discovery,” he reconciled. “It’s not your fault you freaked out over it. In fact, I’d say you earned that panic attack.”

The wording earned Gabriel a glare, which he took as a sign that his brother really was feeling better, and he returned the look with his own shit eating grin.

“Gee, thanks, asshole,” Miguel drawled sarcastically, making Gabriel snicker.

“Hey, I’m your brother. I’m contractually obligated to be an asshole to you in your lowest moments,” came the retort, and there was a certain sort of pride to the words that only seemed to lighten the mood for a moment.

Visibly deflating again, Miguel mumbled, “half-brother.”

Whatever playfulness that had managed to find its way back into the atmosphere was immediately iced once more, and Gabriel couldn’t help but frown, his grin chased away by the sombre mood. For a moment, the two were quiet again as Gabriel considered and Miguel wallowed, before he not-so-gently pinched his brother’s bicep, drawing an ungraceful yelp from Miguel who immediately swatted away the offending hand with a snarl.

“¿¡Qué mierda?! ¡Pendejo!” he all but shouted. “Have I not suffered enough today? What’s your problem?”

“Don’t call me your half-brother, stupid,” Gabriel said instead of answering. His tone left no room for argument. “There is nothing half about us being brothers.”

Apparently not having the impact Gabriel had hoped for, Miguel gawked openly, blinking in disbelief. “Gabri, were you listening to none of what I just told you?”

“Oh, my god, Miguel-”

“No, I’m serious,” he said. “Did none of that mean anything to you?”

“Yeah, actually!” Gabriel answered bluntly. He fixed his brother with a look that said he was the one being weird here that Miguel clearly didn’t buy. “Who the shock cares who your biological dad is?”

“I do!” he hissed, clearly not getting the message as he gestured to himself furiously.

“Well, I don’t!” Gabriel hissed right back, shoving Miguel’s shoulder and trying not to be embarrassed by the fact that Miguel hardly moved. “We grew up together, man. I beat you when you’re already down. It literally does not get more brotherly than that.”

“Acting like you’re my brother does not make you my brother,” Miguel groaned back, and there was a beat as Gabriel just frowned up at him.

“I don’t care who your ‘real’ dad is,” he repeated, making his position clear and impossible to miss. “He’s clearly just as much of a dick as the one we grew up with, and that means he’s close enough for me.”

And there was that suspicious glare again, as if there was no possible way that what Gabriel was saying could be true, and that meant he must be lying. It would have been hurtful if Gabriel wasn’t acutely aware of the fact that it was more a reflection of Miguel’s shit mental state than of him. Red eyes searched brown and were once again left without finding whatever they were looking for. For the second time, Miguel’s face fell, and he leaned forward to hide his frown in his hands.

“I don’t get how this doesn’t bother you,” he mumbled.

“Miguel, how do you want me to react? I’m being honest with you, and I don’t care. Please tell me what you want from me,” Gabriel practically pleaded. “Do you want me to have a panic attack, too? Disown you? Tell you that if you’re not my full brother that you’re not my brother at all?”

There was a short huff of what was either a laugh or a sob; Gabriel couldn’t tell which with Miguel’s face hidden the way it was. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

“You cannot be serious,” Gabriel deadpanned.

The tone made Miguel sit back up, frown clear as day. “I said maybe-”

Immediately, his brother cut him off, “Like that makes it any better?!”

“Wha- Doesn’t it?”

“No?!”

With a groan, Miguel raised his hands in surrender, though his expression more screamed frustration than defeat if the way his lips unconsciously twisted into a snarl said anything. “Ay, coño- Alright, alright. I didn’t mean it.”

And, for a moment, Gabriel simply studied his brother’s face again. They had the same eyes – or, at least, they used to, before brown turned to red – and the same nose. They shared their mother’s rich, caramel skin tone and prominent cheekbones, and the same deep brown hair colour that almost looked red in the right lighting. Really, they were the spitting image of one another, stress induced wrinkling included, though Gabriel, admittedly, hadn’t quite earned the few grey hairs that Miguel had already managed to grow despite only being in his late twenties. Nevertheless, Gabriel couldn’t understand how Miguel didn’t see their similarities; the things that screamed beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were related; that they were brothers.

His brows furrowed as he continued to stare, and Miguel’s furrowed in turn. He glanced between his brother’s eyes and anything else uncomfortably, hands shifting in his lap.

“...What-”

“Were you really going to kill yourself?” Gabriel interrupted instead, and Miguel immediately went tense again.

“I… was thinking about it,” he finally admitted; whisper quiet as if he was afraid what would happen if someone else heard.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed once more, the glance of suspicion now on his brother. He could only hope his look was as effective as Miguel’s was; that Miguel’s skin was crawling just a little bit under the glare. “‘Thinking’ as in ‘the thought crossed your mind?’ Or ‘thinking’ as in ‘you actually had a plan?’”

“What difference does it make?” Miguel murmured, eyes boring holes into the floor. “I’m here. I’m not dead.”

“Miggy, I don’t think you realise how much a non-answer reveals,” Gabriel stressed a bit desperately, though he quickly cut himself off as his brother shifted.

With a growl, Miguel threw his hands up in frustrated defeat, turning his glare to Gabriel once more. It looked more tired than he probably meant for it to, and there was a pang of guilt that hit Gabriel at the realisation. “Alright, fine, yes, okay? I was going to do it,” he hissed. “I fought with Dana, and I said goodbye to you. All I needed was to see Xina, and then I was done. So what?”

“So what?” Gabriel echoed in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, the high of frustration still pulling the words out of him with ease. “So what?”

All of the anger seemed to dissipate as Miguel caught sight of Gabriel’s face; he looked crushed, and, honestly, he felt it, too. Tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks, and, honestly, Gabriel had half a mind to let them just to try and knock some sense into his brother. It was a bit of a petty thought, and maybe selfish, too, but if selfishness was what would keep Miguel around for another day, then so be it. He could have thrown the Spider-Man card – told Miguel that he was the only one that could save people – but it wasn’t Spider-Man that Gabriel was trying to save.

“‘Lito, eres muy estupido,” he nearly whispered, voice strained. “Me importas. Te quiero mucho. No puedes decir ‘so what’ como si no estuviera loco si estuvieras muerto. ¿A ti eso no te importa? No quiero que mueras. Te necesito.”

Miguel shook his head, brows furrowing again, though his voice didn’t have the same bite as it did before. “Eso no es justo. No es sobre ti.”

“Pero estaría herido,” Gabriel insisted, and Miguel grit his teeth, averting his gaze once more.

“Me vale verga,” he spat, the words intentionally harsh and biting.

But Gabriel didn’t believe them. “Mentiroso,” he shot back without hesitation. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have bothered to say goodbye.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have,” Miguel snapped.

Again, there was a brief moment that Gabriel really wanted to be hurt, but he’d seen enough textbook cases of Miguel lashing out because he was frustrated with himself that he didn’t believe for a second that his brother meant what he was saying. He could be upset later, when his brother’s life wasn’t on the line. They could have that conversation once they finished having the more important one.

“But you did,” he insisted once more. “No es neta que te vale verga.”

“God, you’re so shocking full of it,” Miguel bit back, face flushed a furious red that almost matched his eyes.

“Yeah, if ‘it’ is knowledge,” Gabriel huffed.

Talons flipped in and out of hiding in a frustrated rhythm that, admittedly, made Gabriel a bit nervous as Miguel continued his furious rant. “Por el amor de Dios, why the shock did I have to end up related to you? You’re the worst brother anyone could ever get the misfortune of being stuck with.”

And, really, this time Gabriel couldn’t even want to be offended because how could he do anything but grin at that? “Yeah,” he agreed, “brother.”

Anger was driven away once more – and, really when had Miguel ever been able to stay mad at Gabriel – replaced by some sort of actual defeat, and he sighed as he placed his head in his hands again, correcting himself. “Half-brother.”

“Brother,” Gabriel insisted.

As if he was too exhausted to even feign anger for the fourth time in quick succession, Miguel simply allowed a half-hearted scowl to peek out from his hands. There was a hurt behind his eyes that he didn’t seem willing to acknowledge, but Gabriel knew him plenty well enough to see it clear as day.

“What is it with you?” Miguel feebly sputtered. “I’m not worth it.”

With his own sigh, Gabriel carefully leaned against Miguel’s shoulder, peering down at him with an equally as tired look and allowing his own hurt to shine through, too. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t move to try and push him away. “Shouldn’t I be the one who gets to decide if you’re worth my effort?”

“Maybe you don’t know what’s good for you,” came the weak retort.

“Oh, yeah, bold words from you,” Gabriel shot back; a much better counter, he felt.

Apparently, Miguel felt the same, grumbling out a frustrated and almost inaudible, “touche.” He allowed his hand to slip back over his face and hide the way his eyes shut wearily. “Can I leave now?” he tried, though he certainly already knew the answer.

Nevertheless, Gabriel humoured him with a snicker, leaning even harder onto his brother as if to weigh him down. “After all this? Fat shocking chance.”

“You know I’m stronger than you, right?” Miguel hummed. “That I’ve got superhuman strength?”

Unfettered, Gabriel wrapped an arm around Miguel’s with an exaggerated yawn. “Yeah, yeah, and you’re gonna, what, beat me up?”

Miguel sat up, knocking Gabriel’s head off of his shoulder but not managing to get his brother to let go completely, much to his chagrin and, even moreso, to Gabriel’s delight. Miguel fixed him with the same suspicious look as before, though there was a certain lightheartedness to it that hadn’t been there before, something else that added to the intensity of Gabriel’s shit eating grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Maybe I will beat you up,” he threatened, but Gabriel was a brave man when it came to empty threats.

“You wouldn’t.”

At the very least, his unhesitant bluntness seemed to catch Miguel a bit off guard, his eyes widening for a moment before his face dropped back into a scowl. “Do you really wanna risk that?”

Again, Gabriel just yawned, being so daring as to release Miguel’s arm only to lay entirely across his lap. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he were mere moments away from falling asleep, and he made a show of settling into his position before meeting his brother’s eyes. “As a matter of fact, I think I do.”

An indignant choked sound was pulled from Miguel’s throat, though he didn’t move to stand up, which would have easily solved his problem and given Gabriel a few to deal with himself. The man crossed his arms over his chest, scowl deepening as he gave his brother the most overtly annoyed look he could possibly manage, complete with flared nostrils and a twitching vein in his forehead. Despite how many times Gabriel had drawn that exact look from the other, it still never managed to get old.

“I’m not feeling very beat up,” he teased. “Or, at least not any more than I already was.”

“Some half-brother you are,” Miguel mumbled, but he still didn’t move.

“Brother,” Gabriel corrected, allowing his eyes to slip shut.

And, a moment later, “brother,” Miguel agreed.

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skrittkicking · 4 months

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oc introduction: iovitus rainbreak

TLDR: iovitus rainbreak is a 28 year old ex-blood legion soldier turned gladium following a traumatic event that left them without a warband and resulted in their expulsion from the legions. nowadays, they live with their older, also ex-blood cousin – gratta rainsunder, played by @rytlockdripstone – and are trying their best to move on from their past, but really, they’re just ignoring it and calling it an improvement

content warning: death, verbal abuse, bullying, ableism, drug use, mild torture, suicidal ideation

word count: 3049

born to two blood legion charr in a futile attempt to fix their failing relationship, iovitus was the second cub of lia windwalker (dame) and silas firekeep (sire). they had an older sister, eudocia, who died in infancy due to an unknown genetic illness. they were healthy for their early life and were sent to the fahrar when they came of age – things would quickly turn there, however, as a young iovitus soon fell into an intense illness – the same genetic one that had taken their sister, years before. it seemed to have sat dormant for a while, but the unfamiliar environment of the fahrar sprung it on. during their time spent in the hospital, iovitus would be visited by their mother whenever possible, though her visits were far and few between. she just wanted to see to it that her only remaining cub would survive – silas had been killed just a few months prior in a skirmish, so there would be no third chance. iovitus would survive this, but it left them permanently immunocompromised and threw off their hormonal balance, rendering them much smaller and scrawnier than their peers, and the young charr would never quite grow out of it.

once strong enough to get back into the fahrar, iovitus had fallen quite behind their peers and had to work hard to catch up, all the while enduring relentless bullying for their comparatively scraggly stature and somewhat delayed social skills. to cope with this, iovitus eagerly seeks to prove themselves to their peers, taking on more and more dangerous dares and doing incredibly stupid things that a cub of their age should not be doing. in this time, though, they do make one true friend. he’s a year their senior, but the two grow very close, though doesn’t do much to protect them from the bullying at the hands of the cubs. in spite of this, however, iovitus continues to seek out validation from people who don’t have their best interest in mind, and this most certainly comes back to bite them in the ass. at one point around the age of six or seven, iovitus and a few other cubs sneak out of the fahrar’s grounds and explore the surrounding area; sometime during this, iovitus is either pushed into or falls into (they can’t really remember which) a ventilation shaft and breaks their right leg at the ankle. ouch! due to the nature of the breakage, it’s determined that the best course of action is amputation below the knee, so, goodbye leg.

after spending some more time in the hospital to recover, iovitus is thrown back into the fahrar and continues their studies to the best of their ability, though they now have to walk with a mobility aid. no accommodations are given to them by their no-nonsense primus, tullia wildrush, which iovitus sees as some sort of punishment for their misbehavior, and begins to harbor a dislike for her authority, which will only continue to grow as time goes on. in actuality, tullia is attempting (for better or for worse) to push iovitus harder, knowing that if they do survive to adulthood, their opponents on the battlefield will actively target their newfound disability. the bullying they’d endured previously stalled briefly as the cubs had been harshly punished for their behavior by tullia, but it slowly fell back into where it was before – if not worse. before, iovitus might’ve been lightly pushed around, but now the cubs had something they could physically take from them: their walking cane. this continued till they were 10, when things shifted drastically: iovitus got into a physical fight with a girl who’d taken their cane and refused to give it back, pushing her down onto the ground and hitting her till she was still. oh. oops! after this incident, iovitus would be given a proper prosthetic limb by the primus, and the bullying died down – though it didn’t quite come to a complete halt, it was marginally less severe than it’d been previously. iovitus was never properly punished for the death of the other cub by their hands.

time passes, and iovitus continues to train hard in the fahrar, doing exceedingly well with both the longbow and throwing axes. as they shift into a teenager and are enveloped in the throes of puberty™, they go through what could be called a rebellious phase, purposefully going against what their primus says just for the fun of it – it earns them something of a respect amongst their peers, and iovitus relishes in that feeling, doubling down on their misbehavior. they also begin whatever the fuck the tyrian equivalent of hrt is, deepening their voice and earning them a neat little row of spines down the back of their neck, amongst other things. it’s only taken temporarily, as iovitus is satisfied with what they get out of it and don’t feel the need to continue. iovitus acquires a lot of piercings during this angsty bout of teenagehood. it is also during this time that they are introduced to the realm of illegal substances, doing whatever fun little hard drugs they can get their paws on. it never becomes an addiction, however, and iovitus is still keen to do well in the fahrar, despite everything. additionally, their close friend comes out to them as a trans woman, taking on the name cassia. she seems much happier afterwards, and the two blossom into a couple. win for the gays!

soon after, the two of them graduate from the fahrar – cassia, despite being a year older than iovitus, stayed behind an extra year so the two of them could graduate together. rather than forming their own warband, however, they are invited to join the rain warband, as the both of them were amongst some of the best combatants in their year’s crop. iovitus took on the surname rainbreak, and cassia, rainsong. the rain warband was a spec-ops unit, operating as a sort of jack of all trades, doing whatever was needed of them – which usually meant killing what needed to be killed, interrogations, search and destroy/rescue missions, et cetera. all was well for a period of time, and cassia was quickly promoted to second-in-command, despite her young age. her prowess with the blade was incredible, as were her quick problem-solving capabilities and general badassery. iovitus also fell out of their drug usage during this period, though still did so recreationally whenever there wasn’t much to be done. things were good for a while, but they didn’t last long, thanks to the brewing conflict between the legions. wartime was fast approaching.

due to the nature of their warband, iovitus was spared from ever having to fight directly on the front lines, but that does not mean they are out of harms way; the rain warband is constantly moving from area to area, securing different zones, conducting quiet cullings, extracting information where they can, and doing whatever was needed of them without asking any questions. cassia was promoted to legionnaire after her predecessor was killed in a run-in with some flame legion soldiers. life went on and it kind of sucked because war sucks! iovitus gained a few cool new scars, so on and so forth. in the brief downtime that they have, iovitus and cassia talk about what kind of a life they’d like to live together when everything’s said and done. eventually, 2 members of the ‘band would be killed in an escort mission gone awry, leaving only 6 members alive. still reeling from the death of their previous legionnaire, this would hurt – but it was nothing in comparison to the event that would perspire in just a short few weeks time, so close to the end of the civil war.

responding to a distress call from a nearby allied warband, the rain warband would find themselves locked in combat with a much larger, well-prepared set of flame legion soldiers. the warband they had been responding to were all already dead, so any attempt at rescue was out of the question. overwhelmed and underprepared, iovitus’ bandmates slowly fell till it was just them and cassia left – the flame legion warband had taken a few hits too, however, with a generous number of their bandmates dying. exhausted and grieving their fallen bandmates, iovitus and cassia are captured by the flame legion soldiers – rather than just killing them outright, however, they are tied up and beaten half to death in a futile attempt to squeeze any information out of them. being a spec-ops unit, however, they don’t really have access to anything they’d find useful, leaving the flame warband dissatisfied. there was no point in keeping the two of them alive, so they make the easy decision to just cut their throats and be done with it. cassia is first, and iovitus can do nothing but sit and watch as she bleeds out in front of them, coughing and sputtering, choking on her own blood. it’s an image that’s permanently burned into their head, and they watch the life slowly disappear from her eyes.

its their turn now, but just as the blade is put to their throat, their impending execution is interrupted by another blood legion warband – the tremble warband, who’d come to their aid, also having received the distress call from earlier. too little, too late. they are able to find and cull the remaining flame legion soldiers and rescue iovitus, but iovitus is, naturally, very upset. they’d just lost their entire warband in the span of a few hours and their partner – a staggering amount of grief overtakes them, and they’re not thinking properly. iovitus begs the tremble warband to kill them and be done with it – they reason that there’d be no witnesses to know what truly happened, and iovitus’ death could just be attributed to the fallen flame legion warband. the tremble warband refuses, obviously, no matter how much iovitus pleads for them to change their minds and reconsider. if they’re not going to kill them that easily, maybe iovitus can give them a proper reason to take them out. without any inclination as to what they’re doing, iovitus lashes out against their fellow blood legion soldiers, striking true with their axes – they manage to kill three before they’re knocked down onto the ground and hit hard enough to fall unconscious. iovitus wasn’t given what they desired – the release of death. they tried their hardest, though, having taken down the legionnaire and two bandmates.

following this, iovitus was brought to the blood legion homelands where they were put on trial for treason. iovitus didn’t care to fight the case, admitting guilt, hoping they’d be thrown into and die in some sort of gladiatorial combat. for whatever reason, however, the newfound legionnaire of the tremble warband, omiros tremblecut, decides to withdraw his case, instead allowing for iovitus to live freely as a gladium, much to the dismay of his bandmates. they are still found guilty of treason, though, and are expelled from the blood legion. at the time, iovitus did not know why the legionnaire did this. if they were in the place of the tremble warband, they knew that they’d certainly press for a painful death. iovitus knows now, though: the life of a gladium is a difficult one, ridden with grief, constantly followed by the things that they have done, knowing they can never return. there is no second chance; word of their crimes would spread, and even if iovitus was permitted back into the blood legion for whatever reason, they’d never find a warband willing to take them. it was a sentence worse than death, in a way.

leaving with nothing but the clothes on their back and a (stolen) raptor, iovitus wanders tyria for a few weeks, surviving off what little money they have on them. they don’t know what to do with themselves – it’s a brand new, unfamiliar, and quite terrifying world, and they have to navigate it all by themselves. part of them hungers for an easy death, but iovitus is too much of a coward to actually do anything. eventually, their funds run dry, and iovitus takes on a few odd jobs to get by. they purposefully pick and choose jobs that are dangerous, like mercenary work, hoping they’ll have an unlucky accident and end up dead. despite their best efforts, however, it doesn’t happen, and time slowly goes on. during this time, iovitus develops a fear towards other charr, avoiding them to the best of their ability – really, they avoid most social interaction in general, only talking to people when they absolutely have to. they’re also technically homeless, sort of just camping out in the woods when not actively enrolled in a job. life is miserable. iovitus takes out most of their piercings and begins smoking more regularly – it’s an easy distraction from their thoughts. they know it’s bad for them, but they do it anyways. maybe on purpose. since their expulsion, iovitus has actively worked to distance themselves from their charr heritage, taking on a more passive approach to life, and harboring a distaste for violence.

at some point, iovitus picks up a job as a ranch hand, and discovers a previously unknown love for and skill with animals. iovitus takes comfort in them – sure, they have their raptor, but she wasn’t something iovitus really thought too hard about before. she was just kind of there. from here on out, iovitus begins to take on more and more work that deals with animal care and studies, slowly making a name for themselves in the community. the gladium begins to do their own simple research on genetics on the side, though they’re never confident enough to post anything they find. it’s all kept to themselves. time passes, and iovitus continues to work, pushing aside any thoughts of their past and pretending their heritage is nonexistent. they gain a few new companions along the way – first is meatball, an undead, underbaked minion of zhaitan who is too small to really do any actual harm. he’s free from the control of zhaitan, and sort of just acts like a bitchy cat most of the time. then, the aptly-named meathead, a smokescale whom iovitus rescued in maguuma after he’d broken his leg. meathead is trained in combat, and acts as iovitus’ companion. their most recently acquired little beasty is a griffon. he’s gifted to them as an egg by one of their coworkers, and though iovitus is hesitant to take him at first, they concede, raising him from a hatchling. he’s named W.P., and don’t ask what it stands for, because iovitus will never tell.

as much as iovitus loves their animal companions, they are getting more and more lonely – it’s been a few years now. they are more social with their coworkers now than they were before, but don’t form any real meaningful relationships – most jobs are just a one-off thing, and iovitus loses contact with anyone they work with after they’re done. they crave the comfort of a warband – or, really, just anyone in general. the thought of another romantic relationship is overwhelmingly painful for iovitus to even consider. iovitus isn’t really sure where to start looking for companions. they don’t really like the limited feeling of living in a city – besides, the kind of work that they do requires them to move from place to place constantly. living in the woods also means iovitus has all the space to do whatever the hell they want and they don’t have to worry about neighbors or anything. it's fun! sort of. they do have to worry about bears and stuff, though, but that’s manageable.

as terrifying as the prospect is, iovitus begins to look into their own family heritage, tracking down bloodlines and listing out all of their still-living relatives. charr don’t particularly care for their families, but iovitus doesn’t know where else to look – and they’re already not a very traditional charr, anyways. they have no siblings, so that’s out of the question. most of their aunts and uncles have been dead for a while, but iovitus’ mother is still around, as are a handful of cousins. well. it’s better than nothing, they suppose. it takes months of them building up the courage, but iovitus sends out a bundle of letters to any relatives they deem worth it, hoping they are unaware of their status as a gladium or don’t really care too much. most of them don’t respond, but iovitus does get two letters back – one from their mother, a harshly-worded response calling them a slew of insults and a blemish on their bloodline. ouch! thanks, ma. the other is from an older cousin – legionnaire gratta flashshot of the flash warband. she’s unaware of the things iovitus has done, but knows of their gladium ranking. she doesn’t seem bothered by it, and the two grow close, spending more and more time with each other as time goes on. iovitus seems happier. are they? uhhh lol

gratta sort of moves in with iovitus, and eventually she leaves the legions altogether to live with them full time, all while iovitus continues to work – though at a much slower pace than they had been doing previously. they also spend more time in the human city of divinity’s reach, having made a couple of friends due to gratta’s unintentional influence. they have yet to connect with any charr outside of gratta in any meaningful way, still put off by the thought. iovitus also doesn’t really talk about their past unless prompted to, but there’s some things they haven’t told anyone – and they’d like to keep it that way. the thought of their friends – and, primarily, gratta – finding out of their crimes and wrongdoings terrifies them. so they’ll just bury it deep inside of them, and that’s that. it’s not healthy, but iovitus pretends it is. recently, iovitus has learned of their cousin’s occupation as a rift hunter, and are worried for her. it’s dangerous work, and she’s been doing it for a while. iovitus would much rather be doing it with her, to ensure she doesn’t get herself killed. they just don’t really know how to ask. oh, yeah, they also smoke a shit ton of weed, i guess

and that's where things stand currently! who knows what's in store for this kitty cat! wow i sure hope nothing bad happens to them!

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