Tumgik
#if i could find something all my other unfinished ficlets have in common ...!
yume-fanfare · 2 months
Text
clown crown really did all that
9 notes · View notes
heathtrash · 1 year
Text
tww fans, help me recover from top surgery!!
okay i am freaking oUT bc surgery is in a few hours but i thought of a cute way you might want to support me - by reading/commenting on my fics? comments are my favourite thing to get so i will LOVE reading them while i'm in that very common post-op depression time
hicsqueak
A Clock With No Hands - it's epic, it's angsty, it's action-packed, it's domestic?? pippa pentangle is a horse girl?? if you love confinement slowburn angst this is the one for you. you can read up to the end of chapter 10 if you don't like unfinished things because it has a nice natural pause there. my first ever fanfiction i ever started. i don't know what else to say about it. it's my child i'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places - pippa is engaged! TO A MAN. hecate is furious about being invited? it's the daily update fic that i devoted my full life to for the month of october! i'm told it was exciting to read as it was updating but still remains a very "i'll just read one more chapter" fic. it really does go places
Theft of a Heart (I know this much is true) - go back to the 80s for this dive into teen hisqueak! it's kind of a prequel to a clock with no hands. if you want to see how morgana orchestrates pippa and hecate becoming friends, then this is the fic for you
Blow, Northerne Wynd - rapunzel au!!! hecate's confinement re-imagined as the rapunzel story. pippa is a gallant knight who visits her. technically this doesn't have an ending but i left it in a pretty good place!!!
there’s something about kittens - tiny little one-shot about pippa and hecate taking care of the kittens that the cackle's students will receive
To ready one's heart (hicsqueak Valentine's Day drabble sequence) - i mean, who doesn't love fake dating at a charity auction?
Going Once, Going Twice - (summary-style) non-magical au where hecate is an archaeologist bidding on an important item for her research. a rival from her past, pippa, bids against her. they have to meet up to resolve matters and. well, it's a christmas romcom.
Other ways of keeping warm - hicsqueak at a christmas market. SUCH fluff.
Taking the Initiative - after a workshop from pippa, hecate gets really into dungeon mastering a D&D game for a small group of students. this was never finished but maybe it doesn't have to be?
Raspberry and White Chocolate - very short university au where hecate is a lecturer and pippa is a PhD student. one of the first fics i ever wrote!
hackle
A Witch in Paris (Yours, Hecate) - hecate is staying in paris for research, and her only means of communication with the headmistress she pines after is by letter. if you've never read hackle before, this is a soft introduction! it's actually a remix fic so i can't take all the credit (originally was a series of letters by @emiline-northeto)
A Rather Distinguished Guest - edwardian au where hecate is on her way to a guest-house where she is the housekeeper, and finds herself sharing a carriage with a very interesting stranger. it's historical cottagecore!
A minute before midnight - hackle love confession at midnight on new year's! it's soft
Hush Little Kitty - only very tiny amount of hackle, but the fic is mainly about hecate looking for morgana. if you love cats and soft hecate then here!!
Only Happy When It Rains - super random magical grunge band au, no idea what i was thinking
mumbroom
A Nanny’s Intuition - hecate goes BACK IN TIME to pose as a nanny and protect baby mildred hubble in julie's flat from a magical attack. obviously she'll have no problems at all keep her feelings in check. what could go wrong???
Merry Christmas, Darling (mumbroom ficlets) - THREE one-shot fics showing how julie and hecate get closer over the years at Christmas, from beginning to date, to engagement and marriage
The Best Cure is Company - hecate is sick, julie helps her recover. established relationship that just gets cuter
misc/collections
A Taste of Honey - one of my most beloved fics??? HONEYBROOM. jennifer honey (yes, matilda miss honey) comes to teach at cackle's as a supply teacher. hecate is about to be in for a Lot. this goes deeper than expected
Fly Me To The Moon (Fill My Heart With Song) - starabella! a year after the betrayal, dimity checks up on arabella by taking a date to her jazz gig. starabella never gets enough love
Something Strong About Her - starbroom, where hecate treats dimity to a lovely day out
The Star of My Sky - starbroom, where hecate has a proposal for dimity and her collapsible broomstick. hecate teases dimity relentlessly. if you're wanting a laugh, THIS.
a dance to remember - pippa/hecate/julie, lots of soft care for hecate at ostara. chill lil cottage one-shot
The Cat Omnibus (multiship Valentine's Day drabble collection) - maybe you really like cats. there's a cat in EVERY drabble. some beloved rarepairs
only three sentences to confess my love (Tumblr Ask Box fics) - askbox three-sentence fics. they're gay
A Selection of Chocolates (April 2020 drabble collection) - so i bought a discounted 65p easter egg, and wrote a multiship collection. i've no idea
The Witching Hour: A Celebration of Hallowe'en (TWW October Drabble Challenge 2019) - random hallowe'en/autumn drabbles
Only This Moment (march 2020 drabble collection) - another multiship drabble collection, for my sins
other fandoms
home is where you kiss me - imodna try to make a home together and perhaps there is a little cONFESSION? some mild threat
creepy creeps with eerie eyes - imodna decorate zhudanna's house for hallowe'en. it's silly and cute and i wrote most of it right after the first episode of campaign 3 aired because i was immediately obsessed with imogen and laudna, like a gay
The Importance of Being Subtle - vex and keyleth go on an adventure and there's a sneaky little love confession. if the tag "sapphics on a broomstick" doesn't draw you in, i don't know what will
As Long As You're Here - downton abbey, mary/baxter sickfic. mary is sick and baxter has been left behind in quarantine with her
Just a touch more - downton abbey, mary/baxter. baxter is dressing mary in preparation for a hunt. it takes a turn for the gay
To the Hilt - flemson in an olympics au. joanne davidson and kate fleming fence. it's very uhhh gay word. even if you don't know the ship, you might enjoy the ladies with swords.
Two First Kisses - flemson university au? kate thinks she's straight and goes to the LGBTsoc meet. there's no way she'll fall for jo, right???? it's also 2006 because i'm nostalgic for my own university days. tbh this might as well be original fiction, the ship is barely relevant
Holding Back the Years - doubt, sister aloysius/sister james. is sister aloysius ready for the cOnFeSsIoN sister james is about to give her? lesbian nuns idk
to seduce a stranger (maryisa valentine's day drabble sequence) - maryisa from his dark materials! marisa coulter has to lead mary malone on, but how far will it take her?
anyway thank you so much if you decide to read or re-read anything! i might have some LAMPBROOM (constance hardbroom/lynne lamplighter) in the works but i’ve been so brain empty these past few days. if i have a braincell in recovery i’ll try to edit and post the chapters i have. obviously if that’s not your ship i’ve written plenty of other fics 🫡
32 notes · View notes
secretkeeper13 · 4 years
Text
Declaration
I started this little ficlet about the first time Harry and Ginny say “I love you” to each other last month.  It sat around unfinished in my phone until last night, when I woke up at 2am and couldn’t fall back to sleep.  The end is a complete product of my sleep deprived brain ;) I hope it brightens someone’s Monday.  Some slightly NSFW moments below the break, but nothing explicit.
Also on AO3 here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591689
He lay awake in bed, his mind racing as thoughts of death and destruction began to consume him. At once, the silence of the night was punctuated by the sound of squeaking door hinges, followed by creaking stairs. The room was nearly pitch black, save for a patch of moonlight shining through the window shade.
Instinctively, he grabbed his wand and his glasses from the bedside table. It had been only two weeks since the war ended, and he was still on edge. It didn’t help that sleep had been difficult to come by. The faces of the dead seemed to float in front of him every time he closed his eyes, and when he finally fell asleep, it was fitful, and too often interrupted by nightmares.
A shadowy figure stepped through the doorway. The cool blue glow of wand light illuminated her face. He breathed a sigh of relief and released his wand.
Ginny crouched by Ron’s side, and gently shook his shoulder. “Ron,” she whispered.
Ron’s tall frame sat bolt upright in bed. He was already holding his wand. Harry wondered if he’d fallen asleep with it in his hand, like he did when they were in the tent.
“Ginny,” Ron said, looking down at her and lowering his arm. “What’s wrong?”
Ginny’s brow was furrowed and her face was etched with concern.
“It’s Hermione.” Ginny spoke in a hushed tone. “She had a nightmare, and she’s asking for you.”
“Shit,” Ron swore, and he stood up, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and throwing it on over his pajama bottoms.
“She’s really upset,” Ginny said, the worry in her voice apparent. Harry’s stomach twisted at her words. “I tried to calm her down, but she wants you.”
Ron swore again as he hurried out the door. It was a testament to Ron’s concern, and of all that had happened in the past year, that he didn’t make a joke or comment about leaving them alone together in his bedroom, Harry thought.
Ginny sighed as she moved to sit on the edge of the camp bed. Harry could tell she was shaken. He took her hand in his. He’d tried to be there for her, even in the chaos of the last two weeks.
“How bad was it?” Harry asked quietly.
“Awful,” said Ginny, in a whisper. “She was nearly hysterical when I was able to wake her. I tried to calm her down, but she just kept saying she wanted Ron. I didn’t want to ask her what it was about and upset her more.”
Harry’s stomach twisted with guilt as he thought of the horrible things Hermione had faced in the past year, all because she was helping him.
“I think it’s getting worse because they’ll be leaving in a few days. She’s really worried about finding her parents and reversing the charm,” Ginny continued, her tone still hushed.
The weight of the guilt in Harry’s stomach increased. He ran his hand that wasn’t holding Ginny’s through his hair as he sighed. “I told her I’d go with them. I don’t feel right not helping her after all she’s done for me this year. But she won’t let me. She says there’s too much that needs to be done here.”
As Harry’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he could see the ghost of a smile cross Ginny’s face. “That’s true... but I think she wants to have some time alone with Ron too. Which I do not want to think about,” Ginny shuddered.
Harry chuckled. Ginny looked down at him and smiled. She always knew, instinctively, how to make him feel better.
He stroked his thumb across her hand, and he realized that she felt cooler than usual.
“Come here,” he said, shifting over in the camp bed and pulling back the quilt to make room for her, “You’re cold.”
She brought her legs up onto the bed and snuggled under the quilt next to him. He lay on his back, with one arm underneath her as she turned towards him and nestled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her palm pressed flat against his chest, her leg resting atop his. He wrapped his other arm across her.
Suddenly, it struck him that this was the first time they’d ever laid in a bed together. Of course, they’d only ever been alone in a bedroom together once, on his birthday last year, and Ron had interrupted them. Their position was familiar- they’d laid together like this many times by the lake, and even once on a sofa in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. But there was something so much more intimate about laying with her in a bed, the two of them alone in the still and quiet darkness.
His heart began to race. He’d imagined he and Ginny in bed together too many times to count over the past nearly two years. The images from his many dreams began to flit across his mind, and he felt his cock stir. But he felt ashamed. That can’t happen now, he told himself sternly. Fred had just died. Everything was still fucked up, despite the war being over. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that lives could’ve been saved if he had done things differently.
“What are you thinking about,” Ginny said, her soft voice breaking the stillness.
“I just wish...” Harry broke off. He couldn’t put into words how he felt. The “what if’s” had tormented him since the end of the battle. He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the past year, and thinking of how things could have been different, how Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and the others could’ve all been alive if only he’d figured things out sooner. It didn’t help that he’d had to keep retelling what happened that year- first to Ginny, then to the rest of the Weasleys, and to Kingsley, not to mention the whitewashed version for the public. Each time he recounted what happened, he saw the chances he missed to end it sooner.
The opportunities were there. The diadem haunted him. He’d held it in his fucking hands. He was so busy trying to hide that stupid book that he hadn’t even noticed what was right in front of him. He should have realized. He’d known about the Horcruxes by then. But he’d missed it, in his self-absorption. And for what? A better Potions grade?
Ginny moved her hand from his chest to his bicep and lightly stroked it, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. Even in the darkness, he could feel her piercing look.
“Harry, you can’t blame yourself for any of this. He wouldn’t be gone if not for you. Many more people would be dead. You hardly had anything to go on, but you managed to do it.”
As usual, she knew what he was thinking, and she knew exactly what to say. Her words unknotted the twisting in his stomach, lessened the weight on his chest. He felt that familiar, tender ache inside that he got whenever he thought of Ginny. He’d felt it when he’d stare at her dot on the Map. He’d felt it when they’d kissed after the battle. And now, as he lay with her, holding her.
He realized that he hadn’t even asked her how she was. He pulled her closer to him and gently stroked her back, his fingers slipping across her long, lovely hair.
“What about you,” he asked softly, “How are you feeling?”
She sighed, and he held her tighter. “It’s still... surreal,” she whispered. “I don’t think any of us are ok right now.” She looked up at Harry. “But we will be in time. And we’ve got time now.”
They did have time. That was perhaps the strangest thing of all to him. Since Voldemort’s return, his life had felt like an egg timer winding down, and after Dumbledore died, it felt like it was down to the last minutes. He’d known Voldemort would be at the end, and his own death seemed inevitable and ever approaching. Now, his future stretched wide and unencumbered in front of him. The possibilities for what the rest of his life could be were seemingly endless. As someone who never had a choice before, it was overwhelming. But, with absolute certainty, the one thing that he knew that he wanted in his future was her.
He stroked the side of her face, down her jaw line to her chin, and kissed her softly. He pulled away before he could deepen the kiss, not trusting himself, knowing how easy it would be to get carried away, and there were things he needed to say to her.
“I wasn’t sure sure of anything this past year,” he began, his voice low. “I didn’t know how to do what Dumbledore tasked me with. I didn’t have a clue at times what he really wanted. Or whether I’d ever be able to accomplish it. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
He felt her stiffen against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter as he continued. “The only thing I was certain of was... that if I somehow made it through, I wanted to be with you.”
She leaned up and kissed him. He felt a swell of emotion as she deepened the kiss, and he held her tightly as her small body pressed into his. Her hands slid into his hair as he stroked her side. His mind went blank as the only thing he could focus on was Ginny, and the feel of her lips on his.
“I love you,” she breathed as she broke away. For a moment, he was stunned. He couldn’t remember anyone ever saying those words to him before. Then, a feeling of elation swelled inside him.
“I love you.” The words tumbled easily, unbidden, from his lips, despite that he’d never said them to anyone before, because he did. He loved her. And he knew that he always would.
He stared at her for a second. Her eyes were shining in the semi-darkness. He cupped her face and brought his lips back to hers. All of the thoughts that had plagued him since the end of the war were gone, wiped away, and replaced by Ginny. He felt joy coursing through him, a feeling he hadn't felt in so long. She loved him.
His body seemed to move on its own accord as his fingers twined in her hair. He deepened the kiss, and as her tongue brushed against his, they both moaned. In an instant, he was hard. They’d kissed since the war ended, of course, but nothing like this since that kiss they’d shared on his birthday last year.
His hand left her hair and traveled down to her waist, and moved underneath the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She let out a small gasp as he stroked the smooth skin of her back. He rolled her gently on top of him, and he shuddered as she pressed against him and rolled her hips.
It was as if they were back by the lake at Hogwarts. Ginny kissed down his neck, hot, open mouthed kisses that sent electricity coursing down his spine. She sucked on his pulse point, and he let out a ragged groan. How could he have forgotten how good this felt?
His hand slid under the front of her shirt and reached the swell of her breast. He cupped it gently, and as his thumb caressed across, she made that breathy “oh,” that had haunted his dreams for the past year.
Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable creak of heavy feet on the stairs. Ginny’s head dropped to his shoulder at the sound. They froze. It took every bit of self control that he had to pull his hand away from her chest.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“Not tonight,” she said, smirking, as she rolled off him and sat back up, her hand lightly caressing down his arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Ron’s timing is shit. Twice in a row he’s interrupted that, actually.”
Harry stared at her, his mouth agape, as the meaning of her words clicked into place. His brain was clouded with a mixture of arousal and elation. Twice? Did she really mean....
“Wait,” he said slowly, “Do you mean that on my birthday last year, you wanted to….”
The door flung open, and Ron, bleary eyed and illuminated by his wand, entered. Harry had never been less pleased to see him.
“How’s Hermione?” Ginny asked, “And nice of you to knock, by the way,” she added sarcastically.
“Better. She’s asleep now,” Ron said. “And why the hell would I knock? It’s my room.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well you see Ron,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s common courtesy when you know a couple is in a bedroom together to knock before entering. Something that you should learn, you prat.”
Ron snorted, “Stop being dramatic. It isn’t like you were doing anything. And if you’re referring to last year, you weren’t technically a couple at the time, which was the reason for it in the first place,” he retorted.
Ginny glared at Ron and shot him the two finger salute. Harry, not for the first time, was struck by his best mate’s inability to read the room.
Harry, sensing Ginny’s anger, and eager to prevent a sibling row in which what they were actually doing before Ron interrupted was revealed, took her hand in his and stroked it with his thumb.
At his touch, Ginny sighed. “I should go back down. Mum will have kittens if she finds me out of bed.”
She leaned down and kissed Harry, and she let the kiss linger much longer than a typical peck, despite Ron’s noise of disgust from across the room.
Her lips grazed his ear as they broke apart. “I love you,” she murmured, quietly, so that only he could hear her.
Harry beamed at her, and he pulled her back down to him and kissed her again, ignoring Ron’s “ugh.”
“I love you too,” he breathed into her ear as they pulled apart.
Ron’s voice sounded from across the room, “I hope you’re done,” he said, “because I really don’t want to watch this.” He made a vague gesture between the two of them.
“Oh, we’re far from done,” Ginny said sweetly, “But you’re killing the mood, so we’ll reconvene without you later.”
Ron snorted.
Ginny stood and walked to the door. “Goodnight,” she said. “Oh and Harry,” she added, turning around as she reached the door. “About your birthday, the answer is yes. Definitely.”
Ginny winked at him, flipped her hair over her shoulder, opened the door, and was gone, leaving Harry stunned (not to mention incredibly turned on) in her wake.
“What about your birthday, mate?” Ron asked.
“Oh, erm, nothing,” Harry said hastily, trying desperately to think of anything aside from the fact that Ginny wanted to have sex with him, and had since last year. “We were just discussing, um, plans.”
“Yeah, I reckon we should have a big party for you this year, since last year’s was shit owing to Voldemort and all,” Ron mused.
“Er, yeah,” said Harry, trying to keep his lips from twitching, “Voldemort ruined my birthday last year for sure.”
“Well, it’ll be better this year.”
“Definitely,” Harry said, thinking only about Ginny.
“Night mate,” said Ron as he laid down in bed.
“Night Ron,” Harry replied, exhaling a deep breath.
The sound of Ron’s snores soon filled the room. Harry still couldn’t sleep, but this time, it was for an entirely different (and far more pleasant reason) than usual.
91 notes · View notes
delta-roseblr · 4 years
Text
Happy Ficlet Wednesday
Oh lovelies my lovelies, I promised you a surprise ficlet today and I’m going to give it to you! I hope you enjoy all 13,000+ words of it because it is a frequently asked about event in the Delix relationship. :)
WARNING: This contains smut!
Like for real, there is smut.
:)
It all started with three or four taps at his window. They were really nothing more than a succession of little rattles like pebbles hitting glass, but it was more than enough to catch Felix’s attention. It probably helped that he was bored as shit. Being grounded, Felix had little more to do than stare up at his ceiling and think. He had plenty to think about since he and Dean had gotten back together (sort of, he guessed - honestly he wasn’t even really sure), and his dad found out he played for both teams, but it was too late for that shit, so he was actually trying to read, like an actual book with pages.
Happy for any distraction, Felix tossed his book aside and went to his window to find a shadowy figure standing in his back yard. Yeah, anyone who had seen a horror movie ever would have known not to open the window, but even shrouded in darkness, there was something familiar about the dark figure with golden blonde hair.
Window open, Felix stuck his head out, and the figure stepped out of the shadows to reveal Dean in all his Adonis-like beauty. To any girl in high school, Dean probably would have looked like some knight in shining armor, and even as Dean waved awkwardly Felix couldn’t help but agree.
“Dean?” Felix questioned in a harsh whisper. His dad was hard out for the night, so Felix wasn’t worried about that, but he didn’t know shit about the neighbors, and the last thing he needed was for one of those fuckers to complain. “What are you doing?”
Even in the darkness, Felix could see how Dean looked down at the ground bashfully and rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. “I wanted to check on you,” he replied. Felix was surprised that Dean’s voice carried because he seemed to speak softly, but Felix didn’t struggle to make out even a single syllable. “And make sure everything was okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he questioned uncertainly.
He knew they probably needed to talk. Felix wasn’t fucking stupid. That had definitely been on his mind, and he might have lost a few hours of sleep over thinking about it, but really that wasn’t so different from his normal state.
Dean did an awkward shrug thing that absolutely should not have been cute but somehow was. “I don’t know, your dad sort of freaked the other day, and I called….” Dean sort of fell off at the end, and he seemed to be taking an intense interest in the grass at his feet.
“Dude, I’m grounded,” Felix explained with a sigh. “My dad took my fucking phone.” Sure, Felix had been keeping a lot of secrets from his dad that Leonard was just now finding out about, but he was going way overboard with the punishment. “I emailed you,” Felix offered in his own defense before realizing how fucking ridiculous that fucking sounded, “Which I am just realizing now that you probably never check your email.”
“Yeah, not really,” Dean admitted in that Dean way that was so fucking southern and cute. Felix thought he caught the glisten of a little half-smile for a brief moment before Dean really looked back up at him. “So, you’re okay?” he questioned with real concern that should have just been annoying but managed to be kind of endearing.
“I mean, I’m not thrilled about being fucking grounded, but yeah, I’m fine,” He assured. He tried to play it off like it was nothing, and that Dean was being stupid even asking, but he doubted that he managed. It was totally fucking selfish, but he liked the idea of Dean being worried about him. That had to mean they were dating again or at least on the verge of it if Felix wanted.
Do I want that? Felix wondered, and it really was the question of the century.
Being with Dean was amazing, and he definitely still loved him, but nothing really had changed. Dean was still going off to college in California of all places. That was just so fucking far, but the way Dean had talked at the graduation party, he had been so certain that they could handle it, and the distance didn’t matter. Felix was sort of afraid he had fucked everything up by breaking up with Dean in the first place.
Stop, Felix told himself. If he went down that line of thought, he was going to get a fucking headache.
He brought his attention back to Dean who was still staring up at him. Even at a distance and in the dark, he could tell that Dean was far from reassured. “What were you afraid Leonard was going to do? Beat me?” he questioned. “Have you seen my dad? I could break him with my thumb.”
The thought was so ridiculous that it hadn’t even crossed Felix’s mind. He had only said it because it seemed like the least likely thing that could have possibly happened. Sure, Felix had known his dad would freak the fuck out if he found out about Dean, which had happened (spectacularly), but Felix wasn’t afraid of him getting violent. He just didn’t want to have a gay son because what would he tell the neighbors and people at work. It was all just so horribly embarrassing, or at least that was how Leonard saw it. He wasn’t the violent type even when he found out that Felix’s mom was cheating on him.
Thing was, as soon as Felix said it, he realized it wasn’t such a crazy thought to have, at least for Dean who didn’t know his dad at all. Leonard had absolutely lost his damned mind when he saw them kiss, and the things he said were just so homophobic. Some of it was more than even Felix had been expecting. For all Dean knew…..
God, I’m such an ass.
“Um, good,” Dean said uncertainly. He looked around the dark yard, and Felix got the impression he was actively avoiding making eye contact. “Yeah, so are we….?” Dean started but wavered, and the question just fell off unfinished.
There was a sense of panic that came with the thought that Dean was asking the same question Felix had been trying to figure out for days. Wasn’t Dean supposed to have the answer to that question? What the fuck did it mean if he was asking Felix?
“Do you seriously want to have that conversation through my fucking window?” Felix questioned more harshly than intended. He guessed eventually they would have to talk about it, but that would involve Felix knowing what the fuck he wanted.
Dean was quiet for a few seconds before Felix would have sworn he could see his head tilt ever so slightly to one side as a show of confusion before he spoke. “I thought your dad took your phone.”
“Holy fuck, Dean, you are supposed to be fucking smart,” Felix groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with complete exasperation. The whole situation between him and Dean was already awkward enough. There was no need to add to the situation. “Just come in!” he declared sharply because honestly, it was common fucking sense.
“Would your dad be okay with that because….” Dean let the rest of his thought go unsaid. He didn’t have to say it because Felix knew what he was thinking about. Leonard probably wouldn’t be cool with Dean stopping by in the middle of fucking night whatever the reason.
“He is asleep,” Felix informed. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” That had practically been Felix’s motto for months, and it had mostly worked out for him, so there was no real point to abandon it now.
Dean looked around the yard for a minute, why Felix had no idea. “Um, okay,” he finally agreed. He sounded so damned nervous it was like he was agreeing to a crime, not coming up to Felix’s bedroom.  
After a painfully long time of doing nothing, Dean took a step toward the house and then another, and that was when Felix realized what Dean was actually thinking of doing. “Oh my god, Dean, this isn’t Dawson’s Creek!” he hissed, and Dean immediately stopped in his tracks, “You’re not climbing in my fucking window in the middle of the night!”
Dean really was fucking smart, so why he suddenly thought they were living out the events from every bad rom-com ever made was beyond Felix.
Dean looked up and asked with genuine bewilderment, “Then how…?”
Felix huffed and rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. It was a real fucking shame that Dean probably couldn’t see it because Felix was positive it perfectly conveyed just how fucking ridiculously impossible Dean was being. “I’ll let you in,” he answered. Why it needed to be said at all, he had no fucking clue. It really should have been more than obvious. He went to take a step back from the window before thinking better of it. Looking back down at a still very confused looking Dean he added, “Just stay there.”
He closed the window before heading downstairs to the back door just off the kitchen. Felix barely had to take a step outside to see Dean standing exactly where he had left him in the backyard.
“Hey, Romeo,” he called out, not loudly but not exactly soft either.
They had some distance from their neighbors, but not enough that Felix was one-hundred percent confident that a shout wouldn’t be heard. The last thing he fucking needed was for someone to call the cops.
Whatever the volume, it was apparently enough for Dean to hear him because he immediately turned. Of course, he had to do that thing where he smiled like simply seeing Felix standing there was the highlight of his day. It was so warm and inviting, Felix might have forgotten how to breathe for a second, which was just unfair.
Ignoring the urge to just swoon like a damned preteen, Felix waved a hand in Dean’s direction and ordered, “Come on.”
Dean came trotting over before stopping suddenly at the threshold like a vampire waiting for an invitation in or some shit. His smile faded and was replaced with a look of concern before he looked at Felix and asked nervously, “What if your dad wakes up?”
“Mom is coming out tomorrow, and in preparation for that dad drank a fourth of a bottle of whiskey and took two sleeping pills,” Felix explained flatly.
It had been a rather impressive show from his father, if Felix was being honest, but he guessed it wasn’t every day your ex-wife came to visit.  
“I could have a full orchestra in my bedroom, and he wouldn’t fucking wake up, so you can chill.”
Felix might have been worried about the neighbors seeing or hearing them in the backyard and jumping to conclusions, but he was absolutely positive they wouldn’t have to worry about Leonard. Unlike John Solace, Leonard barely drank, and when he did, it was usually a glass of wine with dinner, and Felix couldn’t remember the last time he had actually taken a sleeping pill.
“Alright,” Dean nodded like he understood, but he still looked hesitant, and he made no move to actually step into the house.
After a few seconds passed it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to move unless something moved him. Felix once again huffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing Dean’s hand. “Come on,” he grumbled as he tugged Dean through the door.
Felix really had to work hard not to grin ear to ear as he pulled Dean into his bedroom. There was no way his dad was waking up anytime soon, but he was still careful to pull the door closed quietly before leaning into Dean’s space and kissing him softly.
Fuck!
Felix hadn’t known just how much he missed kissing Dean. Being broken up with Dean had sucked so bad, but Felix still didn’t realize just how much he missed kissing Dean until he was doing it.
When he pulled away, he actually sighed, the kiss was that good. “Sorry I couldn’t call,” he apologized sincerely. It was funny because at least part of Felix had been dreading talking to Dean. After all, that meant they were going to have to figure things out, but at that moment, he wished he had talked to Dean sooner.
They stayed close to each other even as Felix pulled away from Dean’s lips, and Dean was sort of playing with Felix’s fingers. It was one of those things that Felix had seen other couples do and had always thought it was stupid, but as Dean looked down at his hands playing with Felix‘s fingers with a little smile on his face, Felix was pretty sure he had never liked something so much in his life.
“It’s okay,” Dean assured in a soft voice. He almost sounded dazed like he was drunk off Felix’s lips.
Felix didn’t know what to do with that thought, and it felt like he had butterflies in his stomach. He just looked down at his hand as Dean continued to play with his fingers for a minute. It was nice to be touched by Dean, even in such an innocent way, but the longer the silence stretched the more nervous Felix got. Eventually, he just couldn’t take it another second, he muttered, “Sorry my dad called you a bad influence.”
Why he was bringing up his dad, Felix had no fucking clue, but it was the first thing that came to mind. It was probably because it still bothered Felix that Leonard would ever say something so fucking asinine.
Dean let out the cutest little chuckle as he assured, “It’s okay.”
Fuck, Dean was so damned cute when he smiled. Felix almost couldn’t take it. “Good,” Felix declared happily before leaning in for another kiss.
Dean seemed into it right up until the moment their lips almost touched then Dean suddenly pulled away and took a step back. He couldn’t meet Felix’s gaze and took an intense interest in his shoes.
“So, what is this?” Dean muttered and then he let out this frustrated sound. Felix could tell it wasn’t meant for him, but he still found himself a little taken aback just because he wasn’t used to seeing Dean act like this. “I mean what are we now?” Dean questioned.
It wasn’t like the words added much more in the way of clarity, but Felix still knew what Dean was asking. Felix’s heart was pounding out of his chest at the thought of having to answer.
Dean let out a huff and pushed his fingers through his hair harshly. He found it in himself to meet Felix’s gaze. Felix had been really hoping to see defiance in Dean’s deep blue eyes. but all that stared back at him was raw vulnerability.
Felix was filled with a whole new wave of guilt as Dean spoke. “Because I can’t do the fuck buddy thing,” he stated. Dean was clearly trying to sound more casual, but there was just too much weight in his words, “Not with you.”
Dean looked so wounded. Felix hated it, and he hated himself for causing it. He could have just given Dean the reassurance he clearly needed, but he still felt so nervous and uncertain that he just made things worse. “What?” Felix laughed nervously before adding in attempt to be playful, “Are you doing the fuck buddy thing with someone else?”
Dean actually flinched at the question as if Felix had literally slapped him. “Are you honestly asking?” Dean questioned with disgust written across his face, “I thought I have been pretty obvious about just how much of a mess I have been since you dumped me.”
Why did Dean have to say it that way? That wasn’t what Felix had done. Not really. Yes, he had broken up with Dean, but he had been trying to save their friendship. Yes, Felix had lied about his feelings but …..
Why did they even have to talk about this? It wasn’t like anything had changed. Dean was still going to Berkeley, and Felix was still going to be left behind.
But Dean had looked so depressed since they broke up. He had been an obvious mess that night they had run into each other at Kyle’s party. And he was standing there in front of Felix looking so vulnerable.
How could Felix have been so wrong?
Felix took a step away from Dean because suddenly being so close to him felt like too much. “God damn, Dean,” he groaned. He wanted to sound frustrated, but he couldn’t manage to muster the heat in his voice. “You really want to talk about this?”
Dean pulled his arms over his chest and managed to look more wounded somehow. “No,” he admitted in a whisper as he looked down at his shoes, “But I need to.” He looked up and met Felix’s gaze, and his blue eyes were filled with such emotion as he stated, “Felix, I need to know where we stand.”
“I thought I made it pretty fucking clear where we stand,” Felix replied.
The words came out way harsher than Felix had intended. He just felt so uncertain and guilty, and it came out all wrong. Why he was surprised by this, Felix didn’t fucking know. It was practically the story of his fucking life at this point. He rubbed at his own arm nervously and tried to look anywhere but Dean’s wounded blue eyes.
“I mean, if you still want or whatever,” he added under his breath.
Nothing had changed. Dean was still going to college in California come fall, and Felix was still going to be stuck in Tennessee. Felix was still a complete asshole while Dean was this smart funny guy that just also happened to be gorgeous. Doing the long-distance thing was still bound to fail miserably. Nothing had changed except now Felix knew the hollowed-out feeling that replaced his heart when he and Dean weren’t together. He knew that Dean couldn’t just go back to being friends, and he had seen how broken Dean had seemed.
“Was there an answer in there?” Dean questioned uncertainly.
Felix forced himself to meet Dean’s gaze and found him staring at him expectantly. “If you need me to say it, I’ll say it,” Felix huffed. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to get more comfortable in his own skin. It didn’t help. If anything, the motion felt so awkward and unnatural it just made things worse. He looked down at the floor at his bare feet resting against the carpet as he forced himself to speak, “I was an insecure fucking moron, and I thought….Fuck dude, I should have just said it when you did.”
Dean was silent for a long stretch, patiently waiting for Felix to continue, no doubt. Felix just couldn’t make himself say another word.
“You should have said what?” Dean questioned coaxingly.
Felix let out a frustrated noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “You really aren’t going to give me a fucking inch?” He declared.
He didn’t blame Dean for that, but the idea of saying it made Felix feel so exposed. Dean was just supposed to be the cool guy he met in biology class. Of course, Dean had been a whole lot more than that to him for a really long time. Far more for far longer than Felix wanted to admit out loud. But Dean had put himself out there. Dean had said it, and it had been terrifying to hear because how could it be true? But there Dean was standing in front of him waiting for Felix to say it back.
“Okay, I fucking love you. I’m in fucking love with you,” Felix admitted even though he knew there was no going back from there. Dean truly had him now, and there was nothing Felix could do but trust Dean not to break his heart. Thing was, he really did trust Dean. Maybe that was why he continued to ramble, “And that is scary as fuck because you’re going to leave and-”
Felix had a long list of reasons why his feelings for Dean terrified him, but he didn’t get a chance to even try to explain one of them. Dean stepped forward, took his face in his hands, and pulled Felix into a kiss. Dean was the only person that could kiss in the softest way and could still fill every motion of his lips with a desperate heat like he needed to kiss Felix to survive.
When their lips parted, Felix felt dizzy from Dean’s touch. Dean continued to cup his cheeks and brought his head down, so they were standing with their foreheads pressed together. “I love you so fucking much, you fucking idiot,” Dean assured with such affection, “That isn’t going to change just because I’m in California.”
“Yeah,” Felix admitted as he tried to catch his breath, “I’m starting to get that.”
His head spun with the idea that Dean loved him. Dean loved him like Felix loved Dean even though he really could do better. Even though Felix had acted out of stupidity and hurt him. Dean Solace was in love with him.
Dean’s lips once again met his, and Felix gave into the kiss with every cell of his being. He clung to Dean in any way he could manage, and Dean’s hands eventually moved from cradling his face to pulling him in by pressing against the back of his neck and the small of his back.
With everything that had happened between them, Felix would have expected things to be a little awkward at first, or at least for it to take a minute for them to find a rhythm, but that wasn’t the case. As they kissed it was like they had never broken up at all. It could have been a month earlier, and they could have been making out in Dean’s room for how natural and comfortable it all felt.
Things progressed quickly from a few passionate kisses to full-on making out. With some fumbling, mostly on Felix’s part, they ended up on Felix’s bed with Dean straddling his thighs. As Dean’s fingers managed a brutal grip at Felix’s hair, just at the nape of his neck that practically had Felix seeing stars, it felt so amazing.
Felix became stupidly and ridiculously hard even though he knew it wasn’t the time for that sort of thing. Yeah, there was something hot about the idea of sneaking Dean into his bedroom in the middle of the night so they could have sex, but that night was so not the time to try to play out that little fantasy. He and Dean had just got back together, and Dean was obviously still vulnerable. That wasn’t even considering how badly Felix had fucked up breaking up with Dean in the first place.
Thing was, he could feel that Dean was hard too, and as much as Felix wanted to try to be this great emotionally in touch boyfriend, feeling Dean’s hard dick through his clothes was making him beyond horny.
After a minute of internal debate, Felix gave into his horny teenage urges. He slid his hands down Dean’s chest and stomach before hooking his fingers at the waistband of Dean’s jeans. He had barely started working at the button there when Dean pulled away from him, catching his hand as he did.
Dean didn’t say anything, so they were both left there panting. Felix didn’t chase Dean’s lips even though he wanted to more than he had ever wanted anything, and Dean didn’t release Felix’s hands, which was both confusing and reassuring. When Felix looked up, Dean wasn’t meeting his gaze. Instead, he was staring down at where he was still holding Felix’s hands with an expression Felix knew well.
“We’re good,” Felix assured. He took a quick glance at his bedroom door that had remained, unsurprisingly, closed. Dean had always been nervous about Felix’s dad catching them fooling around, and that was before Leonard knew they were an item. Considering his full-on freak out, Felix could only imagine what was going through Dean’s mind. “I fucking promise, dude,” he added when Dean didn’t visibly respond.
“I know,” Dean admitted sheepishly. His grip on Felix tightened momentarily before loosening, but he still didn’t let go. “I just….,” Dean stammered, “I was….. um……,” he sighed before biting at his lip nervously. His eyes dropped, and Felix got the impression that he was trying to avoid his eye line. There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity before Dean spoke. It was impressive that Dean managed to both whisper and speak like the words were being shot from him. “I want to catch this time,” Dean declared quietly.
Felix heard Dean’s words, and he understood them, but he didn’t really think about them too much. He leaned in to kiss along Dean’s jaw lightly, pausing only momentarily to tease, “Big assumption that we’re having sex.”
He can feel Dean sink into him kissing for a second before pulling away slightly. Felix let him because he didn’t really understand what was wrong. “I’m serious,” Dean stated. He seemed to realize he was still holding onto Felix’s hands, and released them, sitting back a little as he did. “I mean if you want to,” Dean added with such an awkward shrug it actually looked painful, “Have sex, I mean.”
“Eloquent speech there,” Felix teased as he sat up a little more and bringing a hand to rest on Dean’s thigh. Of course, he wanted to have sex. The question was so ridiculous it wasn’t even worth answering that. “English major.”
Dean huffed, but it was clear that it was an attempt to hide a laugh. The little smirk that appeared at the corner of his lips gave him away, but Felix wasn’t going to point that out. It was good to see Dean relax even just a little bit. “Fuck you, dude,” Dean retorted.
“I think that is actually the opposite of what you’re suggesting,” Felix pointed out with a cocked eyebrow. He was trying to keep things light even though he didn’t completely get Dean’s angle. Dean had never really expressed an interest in bottoming before, and until Felix understood his motives, he wasn’t going to get too excited about the idea.
“Felix, seriously,” Dean spoke softly and with a vulnerable sort of sincerity. Felix really wasn’t used to seeing this side of Dean, and he still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then Dean peeked over at him, and Felix saw uncertainty in his eyes as he added, “I mean it, ya know, if you want to.”
What the actual fuck was Felix supposed to do with that? He huffed at the impossibleness of the entire thing. “Dude, yeah, I want to,” he admitted begrudgingly.
It had been a while since he had sex, and the last time had been memorable. More than that, he couldn’t say he hadn’t wondered about topping. The guys in porn always seemed to be all fucking about it, and Dean always seemed to enjoy it. Also, bottoming felt fucking incredible so topping had to too, right? Even if all of that wasn’t true, there was something fucking thrilling about the idea of making Dean feel like he had made Felix feel so many times. But Dean seemed so uncertain, and Felix didn’t want to take advantage of some insecurity. “But Dean, you know everything that happened with the breakup, it wasn’t about that,” he assured. He leaned into Dean a little, so their shoulders bumped together before adding with a smile, “I never had any complaints about the sex.”
“I know,” Dean stated with a bit of a nod as he looked down at his hands resting in his lap. He didn’t sound particularly convinced which was worrying, but Felix stayed quiet and let Dean continue to explain. “But the whole thing gave me time to think,” Dean continued seriously, “Whatever happens you’re always going to be… well, you’re going to be important to me, and I don’t want to have any regrets, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah, it makes sense, but are you sure,” Felix questioned. “No offense, but you seem a little nervous,” he pointed out.
“Oh, I’m nervous as fuck,” Dean admitted as he shot Felix a sincere smile before nodding, “But yeah, I’m sure.”
Felix hesitated for a few seconds. Dean said he was sure, and Dean was capable of making his own decisions. Yeah, he was nervous, and he admitted that, but Felix had been pretty fucking nervous their first time too. Some nerves were to be expected. Felix didn’t know what to say so eventually he settled for saying nothing and instead leaned over to Dean and kissed him softly on his lips. Dean kissed him back as eagerly as ever, and Felix decided that he would have to take that as reassurance enough.
Things easily started to heat back up between them as they continued to kiss. Touching Dean was always so easy. It was instinct, and Felix always went with it. Eventually, they started to shift on the bed. Dean began lying back, and Felix moved so he was on top of him straddling Dean’s thick thighs.
Felix moved his lips from Dean’s and started to kiss along his jaw. He could hear Dean’s shuttering breaths and could practically feel his heart pounding. As much as Felix wanted to credit his skills for that response, he knew Dean too well, and he could tell that he was still seriously nervous. He took a second to lightly suck at a spot on Dean’s throat below his ear that he knew was especially sensitive. It got a response, but not nearly as dramatic as one Felix was used to.
Felix paused and sat up slightly. He was still looming over Dean, and he could see the confusion and slight worry in his blue eyes. He pulled away slightly to shift on the bed. “You know if you change your mind just say the word,” Felix offered, “Because I have no problem taking it.”
Dean made a face. It was short-lived, but it had definitely happened. “I’m not going to change my mind,” Dean assured even though he didn’t sound completely convinced. There was a second, and Felix was pretty sure he felt Dean squirm under him slightly. “Could we not describe it like that?” Dean muttered sheepily under his breath.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” Felix declared because really all he wanted to do was make Dean comfortable.
Nerves were just par for the course when trying something new. Whatever anxiety Dean was feeling wasn’t going to decrease if they waited, and Dean said he wanted to do it. The way Felix saw it, the only thing he could do was try to make Dean as comfortable as possible and make the act itself good, so it was worth all the stress.
He leaned in and kissed Dean lightly on the lips. It took longer than Felix would have liked, but he eventually felt Dean relax a little at his touch. He took that as a sign that Dean was ready to speed things back up a little and let his hands glide down Dean’s chest, over his stomach, and to the waistband of his jeans. He worked open his button and fly, and this time Dean made no move to stop him.
They continued to kiss until Felix curled his fingers around the waist of Dean’s jeans and briefs and tried to tug them downward. It didn’t really work in getting Dean naked, but Dean did pull away to lay back on the bed even more. The new position made wiggling Dean’s pants and underwear down over Dean’s hips easier, and it gave him an absolutely incredible view of Dean’s hard cock springing free before resting heavy on his stomach. Felix heard Dean suck in a shuttered breath as Felix tossed his clothes aside.
“Um,” Dean hummed nervously as he watched Felix with an intensity that Felix wasn’t used to, “Do you have condoms and lube, ‘cause I….?”
Felix leaned in and placed a hungry kiss on Dean’s jaw before pulling back. “You didn’t come prepared?” he teased as he let his hands run over the hard plains of Dean’s chest. “I’m kind of shocked.”
Dean was always so prepared especially when it came to sex. Felix was pretty sure he always had at least one condom with him at all times. Once they had actually started having sex Dean had started carrying around little packs of lube too. Felix didn’t even know those were a thing, but Dean had found them. Felix was grateful for it because those little packets had come in handy more than once. It was kind of weird to be facing a situation where Dean wasn’t overly prepared.
“I didn’t know how this would go,” Dean admitted in a whisper, and Felix could feel the heat of Dean blushing coming off his body, “I didn’t want to come across presumptuous or…um…get my hopes up.”
Fuck, Felix really couldn’t tease Dean for that. He kissed Dean’s throat lightly before replying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered.”
Felix moved to recapture Dean’s lips, but Dean shrank back ever so slightly. Felix looked up to find Dean carefully not looking at him.
“So are they in your nightstand or….?” Dean let the question fall off, which was fine because his meaning was more than obvious.
“I didn’t realize that we were in a rush,” Felix commented with a nervous little laugh of his own. He wanted to ease Dean’s nerves so he could enjoy it, and he could tell he wasn’t. The more he fumbled the more stressed he got.
“I’m not,” Dean stated in a soft voice that wasn’t at all convincing. Maybe it would have been a little if Dean would look at him, but he was still looking down toward the edge of the bed. “I just want to make sure-”
Felix couldn’t take it. He was total crap at being reassuring, and even if he wasn’t, so much of his relationship with Dean involved Dean being the reassuring one. Felix had no fucking practice. He reached toward Dean, cupping his face in both of his hands and gently urged his face upward until Dean’s blue eyes were meeting his own. “Dean, I’ll grab that stuff when I need it,” he stated bluntly. It was probably as far from romantic as Felix could get, but Dean apparently needed to hear it. “But we got time,” he added in a way he at least hoped was reassuring. Then he smirked because as the thought crossed his admittedly dirty mind, he simply couldn’t help himself. “And I’m definitely going to blow you first,” he promised.
He could have waited to see Dean’s response to that, but that would have involved patience Felix just didn’t have at that point. He moved in and pressed his lips against Dean’s hard like he was trying to kiss away any anxiety Dean might have and stop his brain from overthinking.
It worked, at least a little because Dean didn’t pull away. He kissed Felix back, and Felix could all but taste the anticipation on his lips. Felix lingered there for a long moment just enjoying the taste of Dean’s desire on his tongue before moving away from Dean’s lips on his path downward. He took his time as he moved down Dean’s body. Familiarity played to his advantage because Felix knew every sensitive spot and erogenous zone on Dean’s body, and he was careful to pay each one special attention.
By the time Felix reached the magical space between Dean’s belly button and his groin, he could feel how much Dean was working to fight the urge to squirm. He couldn’t think of anything more exhilarating, and it just made him want to do it more. He paused at Dean’s hipbone to suck a mark into his taut flesh.
“Oh,” Dean moaned as Felix felt him shutter, “Fuck, Felix.”
Felix chuckled to himself softly before moving toward his destination, maybe not his final one, but the one he was focused on for the moment. He ran his tongue over Dean’s hard dick starting at the base and slowly moving up to swirl around the head like Dean was the tastiest of ice cream cones.
Dean shuttered again as he gasped, “Holy fuck!”
The only time Dean ever really got noisy during sex stuff was when Felix was blowing him. He made noise during other stuff, but there was always a level of control in it that just went out the fucking window the second Felix’s mouth touched his dick. Felix had never figured out why that was, and he never had the nerve to just ask so it was sort of a mystery. Felix wasn’t going to complain either because he loved hearing the enthusiasm, and this time wasn’t an exception.
Felix gave Dean a few more teasing licks before wrapping his lips around Dean’s girth and really going for it. At first, he just sucked and licked at the head of Dean’s cock, but it wasn’t long before he was moving up and down Dean’s dick with swift slick movements.
“Jesus, Felix,” Dean cried out as Felix felt Dean’s fingers began to tangle in the locks of Felix’s hair gently urging Felix to take more of him, “That…oh….that’s good!”
Felix ignored the tears forming at the corner of his eyes as Dean’s dick hit the back of his throat and kept going. Dean kept moaning and squirming with each movement, and it wasn’t long before Felix detected the distinct flavor of pre-cum in his mouth. He still kept going.
When Dean’s moans become more frantic, a telltale sign Dean was nearing an orgasm, Felix popped off Dean’s dick with an absolutely lewd wet sound. He moved back up Dean’s body and captured Dean’s lips in a quick and rather sloppy kiss.
Pulling away, Felix took a second to take Dean in. His eyes were shut, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly with each breath. He looked absolutely beautiful, and Felix honestly didn’t know how he could have ever convinced himself that he could live without Dean in his life. “I love you,” Felix stated. Saying it out loud still made him a little nervous, but Felix also liked it.
Dean’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled widely, “I love you too.”
Felix still couldn’t believe Dean felt that way. Hearing him say those words made him almost dizzy in the best way. “You’re really sure about this?” Felix questioned.
Dean bit his bottom lip and nodded in the affirmative. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
He leaned in and kissed Dean quickly before leaning over to grab the condoms and the lube from the nightstand. He had planned to grab everything quickly, so Dean wouldn’t have time to overthink anything. It was such a good plan that didn’t work out at all.
Felix had bought condoms and lube when he and Dean first started dating back in January just in case. When his dad first started asking questions about how he and Dean were hanging out a lot, Felix hadn’t really been worried because his dad was oblivious as fuck, but just to be careful, he had made sure that stuff was well hidden. So, he opened the drawer and started rummaging through it, but couldn’t find shit.
He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have much choice, so he jumped off the bed. He went to the nightstand and pushed shit around in the top drawer until he could find the condoms and lube that was buried under an absolute pile of shit. He tossed both on the bed next to Dean and made quick work of stripping out of his remaining clothing so that when he returned to the bed he was as naked as Dean.
In his absence, Dean had sat up a little on his elbows. His eyes were on Felix, and they were still filled with such intensity.
No pressure, Felix thought. More like he was trying to convince himself because it definitely felt like there was pressure. He just needed to not think about it.
He gave Dean a quick kiss in hopes of distracting both of them before moving back down Dean’s body until he was once again stationed between Dean’s legs. He reached over and snatched the bottle of lube. Felix started kissing at Dean’s fuzzy inner thigh as he popped the cap on the bottle.
He and Dean had never actually had sex at Felix’s house before. Dean was always really worried about them getting caught by Felix’s dad, and Dean’s place was just safer. They had fooled around in Dean’s car on a few occasions, but most of the time they just went to Dean’s place. Because of that, Dean was usually the one buying the supplies, and he definitely bought a different brand of lube. Lube was lube, so there shouldn’t have been much of a difference, right? Apparently, that just wasn’t the case. The stuff Dean used was creamier and less sticky feeling than the thick liquid Felix poured on his fingers.
Well, this is going to get messy, Felix thought to himself. He would invest in different lube for the future, but he wasn’t going to skip on the use of lube at that moment. Dean being comfortable meant more to him than keeping his sheets clean and lube free.
Still kissing affectionately at Dean’s thigh, he slid his hand with his lube slicked fingers between Dean’s legs, past his cock and balls, and between his cheeks. He slid his fingers slowly along that crease until he felt the pad of his middle finger glide over the puckered dimple of Dean’s entrance.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Dean hissed at the slightest of Felix’s touches, “That’s fucking cold!”
Felix pulled back his fingers quickly, probably too quickly, but the sound of Dean experiencing any level of discomfort freaked him out more than he had expected. “Oh, sorry,” he apologized and started to rub his fingers together in hopes of warming the lube on his fingers. The feeling of cold lube was definitely intense, but normally Felix found that sort of exhilarating. Something about it usually left Felix all but shaking with anticipation of what was to come. Apparently, Dean felt differently about that particular experience. “I normally kind of like that,” he admitted. Maybe he was a little quiet as he said it, but it felt weirdly embarrassing.
Dean really was the most perfect boyfriend ever, and he managed to prove it yet again. As Felix started feeling like a weird insecure freak, Dean let out the cutest little amused laugh. “Well, aren’t you kinky,” Dean declared. His voice lacked any sign of judgment, and it really helped Felix feel less weird.
“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” Felix questioned teasingly as he regained his confidence. Felix might have been kinky, even if he didn’t think of himself that way, but he really was Dean’s creation. Yeah, he had some sexual experience before Dean, but being with Dean had been like an awakening. Maybe it was trust or love or something else, but when he was with Dean it always felt like it was safe to explore whatever want or need crossed his mind. If he was kinky, it was one hundred percent Dean’s fault.
The lube might not have been up to body temperature, but it felt much closer. Once again, he pressed his fingers between Dean’s cheeks and found that wrinkled bit of flesh. He felt Dean shutter as he started slowly twirling his fingers there, working to help that tight feeling hole to open a bit more for him.
“Just try to stay relaxed,” Felix instructed. Getting tense just made everything less comfortable. Felix knew that from personal experience.
“Yeah, relaxed,” Dean stated in a shaking voice. Or maybe his voice wasn’t shaking, maybe it was just the quality caused by his uneven breath. “I’m relaxed,” he declared in what had to be the least convincing way possible.
After hearing that, Felix wasn’t even sure that Dean knew what the word relaxed meant. He was sure pointing that out wouldn’t help Dean any, so he just muttered, “If you say so.”
He continued to kiss at Dean’s thigh, letting himself be overwhelmed by Dean’s musk, as he continued to swirl his fingers around the puckered flesh of Dean’s hole. He thought about testing the waters a little by trying to press the tip of a finger in, but Dean felt really tense to his touch. He had been expecting Dean to relax at least a little with some gentle touching. Felix knew he normally relaxed at Dean’s touch. At that point, it was pretty much involuntary.
Felix tried to be patient and gently rub at Dean’s entrance to help him ease open a little, but it didn’t seem to be helping. Felix was sure he was doing something wrong because when Dean did it to him it always worked.
“Have you ever…?” Felix questioned curiously as he paused in his gentle motions and pressed the pad of his middle finger against the center of Dean’s pucker. He wasn’t really trying to actually press his finger in, at least not yet. He was just exploring to see how Dean reacted. He did react. Felix felt Dean physically tighten at the tiniest bit of pressure.
“What, like myself?” Dean questioned sounding completely bewildered by the thought. “No,” he declared like the concept didn’t make sense, “Why would I?”
Dean was focusing on the ceiling, which was a good thing because that question had Felix’s face absolutely burning. “Masturbation is a thing, Dean,” he grumbled. God, he could hear the embarrassment in his voice. It wasn’t something Felix had ever imagined himself doing, but the time he and Dean had been apart had been hard. Felix had given it a try at least a few times, and it didn’t compare to sex with Dean, but it was enjoyable.
“Yeah, but that usually doesn’t involve….,” Dean stopped. Felix really hoped that he was just going to let it go, but he didn’t. He didn’t sit up, but he did look down his body at Felix still stationed between his legs. “Wait, have you? I mean like yourself?” Dean questioned. His voice was an octave higher than normal.
So, yes, Felix had, but it was sort of embarrassing, and while he realized that Dean had seen him in plenty of potentially embarrassing positions before, but it still felt strange to admit. “Does it really matter?” he questioned instead of answering.
“Oh my god, you have!” Dean declared with complete certainty as he fell back on the bed. Dean covered his face with his hands for a moment and let out a long whimpering sound. Felix had no idea how he was supposed to take that, and he was genuinely starting to panic when Dean dropped his hands from his face and exclaimed, “That is extremely hot!”
Felix completely forgot about his current goal, pulled his hand back from between Dean’s legs, and sat up to look at Dean in surprise. “Really?” he questioned. Felix would admit that he had tried to picture what Dean looked like when he was touching himself, but Dean’s reaction seemed to be more than that.
“Yes!” Dean replied like that was the stupidest question Felix could have asked. He sat up on his elbows and looked down at Felix. Curiosity filled his bright blue eyes, as he asked, “So how does that work exactly? Would that be something you would do in the shower, or would you lay in bed, or….”
“Are you really asking me about how I prefer to masturbate?” Felix questioned with disbelieve. This wasn’t a conversation that Felix had anticipated having that night, especially considering what they were working to do.
“Um, yeah,” Dean confirmed somewhat bashfully. “I’m sort of trying to picture you…um…you know, to yourself.”
Felix hadn’t actually thought about that, but if it turned Dean on it might serve as a good distraction of sorts. He remembered, especially the first few times he and Dean had had sex, that it was always easier to relax and enjoy the prep the more turned on he was. Likelihood was the same would be true for Dean.
He still wasn’t completely comfortable talking about it, but it seemed worth it if it helped Dean, so he swallowed his nerves. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to actually see Dean as he described the act in hopes that would spare him at least some of the embarrassment he was anticipating. “Normally I lay on my back and have one hand between my legs… um…. doing that while my other hand is on my dick.”
Surprisingly, saying it out loud wasn’t nearly as bad as Felix had been expecting. There was a pang of anxiety when he opened his eyes and found Dean staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but that soon dissipated. “Fuck! I was really hoping that was the way you did it,” Dean declared as he fell back on the bed, “That is so fucking hot.”
Felix chuckled a little at that despite himself. Dean’s reaction had to be purposefully exaggerated, but he seemed a little less anxious, so Felix wasn’t going to complain. “Good, you just keep trying to imagine that,” Felix couldn’t actually believe he was suggesting that, but there he was.
He moved his hand back between Dean’s thighs and pressed his fingers between his cheeks. Felix was a bit bolder this time and pressed the pad of his index finger past Dean’s outer rim. It was barely a penetration, but he felt how Dean immediately tensed. He carefully swirled his finger there as he petted Dean’s leg and kissed at his inner thigh. “Relax, just let yourself adjust,” he purred.
Dean made a little noise somewhere between a whine and a whimper. It took a little time, but Dean did eventually seem to relax at least a bit. Felix pressed his finger in a little deeper and Dean tensed right back up. Felix continued to kiss and suck at Dean’s inner thigh hoping to offer a distraction even if that hadn’t seemed to have worked so far.
“I know it feels weird,” Felix admitted. He remembered how strange it had felt the first few times Dean had fingered him. It had taken some time to get used to it, but once he did it was more than worth any initial discomfort he had felt. “But I promise once you relax it will start feeling good,” he assured.
Dean made another little noise, and if anything, it felt like he tightened even further around Felix’s finger. Felix looked up to see Dean biting at his bottom lip brutally, and Felix could tell he was trying to hold his breath, which was pretty much the worst thing he could be doing. “It helps if you breathe, Dean,” Felix pointed out.
“Breathe?” Dean questioned like the word was completely foreign to him. “Right, I’m breathing.” Dean then took a few short shuttering breaths. It wasn’t perfect, but Felix recognized that it was probably the best he was going to get at that moment.
Felix pressed his finger forward a little deeper, going slow as to not make Dean anymore uncomfortable. It took some serious patience, but he managed to press in his finger as deep as he could go. As he did, he brought his free hand up to palm at Dean’s still quite hard cock.
The action was so uncoordinated and sloppy Felix wouldn’t call it a hand job, but whatever it was it actually seemed to help. Dean relaxed a little, and he started to make little sounds that almost sounded like he was starting to like it.
It was a relief, to say the least, and it made Felix confident enough to start moving his finger a little. Slowly, he started pistoning his finger to help Dean adjust to the motion of something sliding in and out of him. That was definitely something Dean would need to adjust to because it could feel wrong at first, but once he did it would be incredible.
Any initial signs of tension Dean showed to the motion dissipated quickly. Soon enough Felix heard him letting out sighs and little pleasured gasps. Of course, that stopped the moment Felix tried to work in a second finger. Dean immediately went silent, and Felix felt him tense around his fingers.
Felix continued going slowly. It took some time, but he was able to work his second finger into Dean. He ignored how insanely tight Dean felt, hooked his two fingers as best he could, and ran them down Dean’s inner wall looking for that little bundle of nerves that would hopefully have Dean seeing stars. He wouldn’t have been sure by touch alone that he found it, but Dean let him know with a loud moan.
That moan might have been the most beautiful thing Felix had ever heard. He looked up at Dean because he wanted to see the pleasured expression that went with that sound. Felix didn’t really get what he wanted because when he looked up, he found that Dean had clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds he might make.
“Dean,” Felix started. He didn’t stop what he was doing with his fingers because Dean finally seemed like he was enjoying it rather than merely tolerating it, but he did reach up with his free hand and pulled Dean’s hand away from his mouth. “It’s okay if you make a little noise,” he assured. Dean didn’t try to return his hand, but he did bite down on his bottom lip viciously.
Felix returned his other hand to Dean’s dick as he continued to work his fingers in and out. It was shocking how challenging it was to stroke Dean’s length and open him up at the same time. He could manage both for a few seconds before he got too focused on one and would lose his rhythm with the other. Dean didn’t seem to mind or even notice. He just kept whining and whimpering any time Felix’s fingers got anywhere close to that spot again. Felix noticed though, and it was frustrating as fuck that he couldn’t really manage. Dean did that shit all the time when they were fooling around, and he never seemed to have any difficulties. It stuck out to Felix enough that he felt that it warranted a comment as he pulled his fingers back completely, “Multi-tasking is a lot harder than you ever made it seem.”
Felix started fumbling around the bed to find the lube that he had just seconds earlier. Things were finally starting to really move forward, and Felix didn’t want to slow things down any, but there was no way he was going to add another finger without adding more lube first.
“I have been playing the drums since I was little,” Dean commented. He wasn’t panting, but he was close from the sounds of it. Felix was also very aware that Dean had sat up enough to watch him fumble and was trying not to think about that. “It helps with learning to isolate the action of each limb.”
Thanks to some kind deity Felix finally managed to find the god-damned lube. “Well, I have a newfound appreciation for that particular skill,” Felix commented without thinking as he managed to pop the cap on the bottle with his lube covered fingers.
Felix went to tip the bottle and pour more on his fingers when Dean sat up almost completely. The action was so unexpected Felix immediately stopped what he was doing and looked up. He watched Dean pat at the bedding for a minute clearly looking for something. Felix didn’t even think to ask what Dean was looking for. He just watched and waited.
Dean eventually found the unopened box of condoms half-buried in the sheets. He made quick work of ripping the box open and pulling out one of the foil-wrapped packages, before moving to hand it to Felix.
Fuck, Felix thought, we are really doing this.
Felix took the condom and dropped it back on the bed near Dean’s knee for later use. He noticed the confused look Dean gave him and moved his non-lube covered hand to pet Dean’s thigh in a way he really hoped would be reassuring. “Relax, we aren’t quite there yet,” he explained. Dean didn’t look convinced, which was a little worrying, “Are you still sure about this because I really don’t mind-”
Dean cut him off before he could finish his thought with a nod, “I’m sure.”
Felix could have argued or insisted or at least asked again, but Dean seemed dead set, and he had already asked plenty. He sat up and kissed Dean quickly before moving back between his legs.
He slid two fingers back into Dean’s hole and was happy when he was met with minimal resistance. He worked them in and out a few times before slowly adding a third finger. Dean gasped wordlessly at what Felix knew was the first real feeling of being stretched open.
He went extra slow at first so Dean could adjust. Even though he sucked at multitasking he reached up and wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the base of Dean’s cock. He started stroking slowly because he knew that could help. Felix wouldn’t lie about his satisfaction when he felt the telltale stick of pre-cum on the head of Dean’s dick.
Not that there was any question that Dean was enjoying it. He was obviously still trying not to make too much noise, but Dean was still letting out little moans and cries. Felix was paying attention for any signs of discomfort, but there was none that he could hear. Dean genuinely sounded like he was enjoying things.
It was kind of hot, hearing Dean like that. Actually, it was extremely hot, and Felix now understood why Dean always seemed to get such pleasure in teasing Felix through extended foreplay.
Felix ran his fingers over that spot again and felt Dean quiver. “Ah, Felix,” he moaned, “Fuck me!”
“Working on it,” Felix admitted. He pressed his third finger in a little deeper until it too was pressed into Dean as deep as it could go.
“Now..oh…really isn’t the…mmm…time…ah…to be an….fuck….ass,” Dean stammered out between moans and desperate whines. It so wasn’t the time, but Felix couldn’t help but snicker a little at that.
Felix spread his fingers experimentally a few times and was satisfied when Dean seemed to handle the additional stretch without any signs of discomfort. He probably could have kept prepping Dean forever because it was pretty fucking hot, but also three fingers didn’t really equal the girth of his dick. Thing was, fingers, no matter how many he added, were just going to feel different from the real thing. Dean was probably about as prepared as he was going to get for his first time.
He slid his fingers out and started fumbling around the sheets with his other hand to find the condom Dean had previously given. Thankfully he managed to find it quickly because Felix really didn’t have the patience at that point. As he searched, he looked up at Dean, his blue eyes still watching him intensely as his chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. “You doing okay?” Felix checked in.
Dean gave a half-smile as he answered, “Yeah.”
It was a relief to see Dean smile and to hear him enjoying the things they had done so far. Dean had so obviously been nervous to try this that Felix really felt the pressure to make it good. He leaned up and pressed his lips against Dean’s and was sincerely happy when Dean kissed him back eagerly. When he sat back on his hunches, he declared his pleasure, “Good.”
The fucking condom wrapper decided to put up a bit of a fight, and Felix’s lube-covered fingers didn’t help with that any. Just as it started to get really fucking frustrating, Felix heard Dean chuckle, and when he looked up to him, Dean was holding out his hand. “Give it,” he ordered. The amusement was more than evident in his voice.
Felix wasn’t happy about it, but he surrendered the little foil package. Dean took it, opened it with an embarrassing level of ease, and handed it back. Felix removed the condom from its package and tossed the foil wrapper aside carelessly. He rolled the condom over his length and immediately grabbed the container of lube so he could pour a generous amount on himself. Felix moved swiftly because he knew the moment he stopped to think about it he was going to start overthinking the whole thing.
“Right, so here we go,” Felix declared. Ready as he was going to be, Felix moved to support himself over Dean and to line himself up with Dean’s entrance. “Just try to stay relaxed, okay?” he reminded. At this point, Felix was pretty sure he was more nervous than Dean was, but he tried to act confident.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Dean replied sounding mostly at ease. “I’m relaxed,” he assured. It did sound a little like he was trying to assure himself as much as he was trying to assure Felix, but Felix wasn’t going to question it.
They exchanged another quick kiss before Felix pressed forward. Even with all the prep there was still a moment of resistance before Felix felt himself sink in past the tight ring of Dean’s entrance to the warmth that laid beyond.
Dean gasped at the initial penetration, but it quickly turned into a moan. All Felix could manage was a desperate groan through clenched teeth. Dean was just so tight and so warm. Felix hadn’t anticipated that, and he definitely wasn’t prepared for it. He had barely managed to press in just the head of his erection before he had to pull back or risk cumming just from the new and blinding sensation of Dean. Felix heard Dean sigh, and his breathing eased slightly when Felix pulled out.
It took some trial and error but they, or at least Felix, fell into a bit of a rhythm. He would slowly press into Dean until the feeling of him became almost too much to fight and then he would pull back to recollect himself a little. Dean would moan with each penetration and would sigh each time Felix would pull back. With each motion forward Felix managed to get a little deeper.
It felt like the slowest, most agonizing process for Felix to be able to press into Dean so deep that his hipbones met the back of Dean’s thighs. The feeling of being fully within Dean was so intensely amazing Felix could only barely take it.
Felix was only barely aware of the sounds of both he and Dean panting as he stilled within Dean just trying to adjust to the pure ecstasy of him. Felix felt Dean’s calloused fingers wrap around the bicep of his right arm and squeeze there gently.
That silent exchange was enough to have Felix moving. His first few thrusts were uncertain and slow because just being inside Dean felt blindingly good, he knew he wasn’t prepared for the feeling of actually moving within that tightness. The ecstasy of it still almost overtook him.
Dean moaned with even the smallest of motions which helped. Felix focused on Dean - the sounds of his moans, the way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breath, the feel of his hands wandering with clear need over Felix’s back and arms. It all served as an anchor of sorts that Felix could use to hold himself off from finishing too quickly.
With that, Felix’s motions became more confident. His pace became more steady, and he got bold enough to use the hand that wasn’t holding himself up to grip at Dean’s thick thigh.
“You are so tight,” Felix purred as he kissed at Dean’s throat somewhat sloppily, “And warm.” He kept thrusting into Dean, and each motion was like an injection of pure bliss. “Fuck.”
Dean tightened his grip on Felix’s arm with that and let out a desperately sounding moan, “Felix!”
It wasn’t like Dean was normally quiet during sex because he definitely wasn’t. It was just that every time they had been together Dean had been in control, and the noises he would make were in line with that. As Felix continued to move Dean sounded anything but in control. He sounded wanton and completely overtaken with pleasure. The only other time Dean ever sounded like that was when Felix was blowing him, but this was way more.
Felix was already barely holding it together. The feeling of being in Dean was so intense. The moans and desperate sounds Dean was making quickly became a soundtrack to the pleasure, which made it so much harder to resist the inevitable conclusion.
They both lost words quickly, and moans turned into nothing more than sounds and desperate cries. All Dean’s worries about being overheard had apparently been forgotten because the sounds he kept making just got louder and more needful with every second.
Felix felt everything with a new level of clarity and intensity. The way Dean’s thighs tightened around his waist as he started to lose the rhythm of his thrusts, Dean’s short nails and calloused fingers running over his back and arms possessively, the heat rising between their bodies and the pounding of his own heart. It was all so perfect and yet too much to take. He felt his body start to give way like a spark that was destined to become a wildfire, and that was when it happened.
Before Felix reached his own climax, Dean let out the most explosive sound as a signal of his own. Felix had known that watching Dean wither under him as he absolutely quaked with pleasure as he came was going to be one of the most indescribably hot experiences in his life, and it was, but it was nothing compared to the feel. As Dean’s hard dick sent white streaking across his stomach and chest in long ropes, that ring of muscle that was squeezing Felix cock with his every motion began to pulse around Felix’s girth with the chaotic and intense rhythm of Dean’s orgasm.
That was enough. A blinding wave of pleasure rushed through Felix’s very soul as he came with one last desperate thrust.
It could have been an hour, or it could have been only seconds before the world slowly started coming back to Felix like watercolor slowly creeping across a page. At first, it was just the sound of Felix’s still pounding heart, but he eventually became aware of both their labored breathing and their damp skin pressed against each other.
He wasn’t actually sure when he had practically collapsed on top of Dean, but he definitely had. When he tried to push himself up Felix was shocked when his arms shook and felt like they were going to give out. Felix had been playing lacrosse since he was eight and started weightlifting when he was twelve. He could support his own damn weight, but Dean had turned him into jelly.
Felix managed to push himself up after an embarrassing amount of effort to look down at Dean. He looked rather pleased with his eyes closed, and his mouth open as he continued to breathe heavily. When his eyes fluttered open Felix asked, “You okay?”
Dean let out a little euphoric sounding laugh before answering, “Yeah.”
“Me too,” Felix stated somewhat nonsensically. He sounded like an idiot, and he knew it, but after that whole thing, he was a little delirious. The fact that he was making words at all was at least a little impressive.
Unexpectedly, Dean pushed up enough to catch Felix in another kiss. Felix was happy to take advantage of the kiss and Dean’s distraction to pull out of him completely. Dean definitely let out a little gasp, but he didn’t sound pained or uncomfortable which was good.
Pulling away, Felix looked down at Dean under him. “Just don’t move,” he told Dean before quickly hopping off the bed.
He pulled off the condom and tossed it in the trash can near his desk before looking for something to use to clean up. As a teenage guy, he should have had something laying around, but as he looked, Felix realized he had nothing. He didn’t even have a box of tissues.
That just wasn’t going to fly, Felix thought to himself. He took another second to assess the situation before going for a pile of laundry that was in front of his closet door. He snatched up a t-shirt off the top and headed back to the bed.
He was pretty sure that Dean had been watching him the whole time. His eyes were certainly on him when Felix came back and sat next to him on the bed. Felix sort of waded up the t-shirt before moving to gently wipe at the white streaks of cum across Dean’s stomach and chest. It wasn’t the most effective cleaning device, but it was at least doing something.
“Really?” Dean questioned as he allowed Felix to wipe at the streaks that laid across his stomach, “A dirty t-shirt?”
Felix looked up because there was a moment where he thought Dean really didn’t approve, but then he saw Dean grinning at him as he watched Felix’s hands on his stomach.
“It does the job,” Felix defended as he smiled to himself, “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not,” Dean assured, “I think you’re being sweet.”
“Well, I did sort of just pop your cherry,” Felix commented almost absently as he turned his attention back to the work at hand. He was pretty sure he had gotten most of the cum, but both he and Dean were still a sweaty mess. If they didn’t have to worry about waking up fucking Leonard, Felix would have suggested a shower, but unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. “So, it’s probably the least I can do.”
Dean hummed thoughtfully at that before commenting, “I got to admit I didn’t anticipate losing my virginity twice.”
“How’d I live up?” Felix asked before he even really thought about it. Normally, he didn’t worry about comparing himself to Dean’s exes. What would have been the point? It would be like trying to compare apples and oranges, and even if it wasn’t, Dean broke up with his exes for a reason, so Felix wasn’t really interested in following in their footsteps. He didn’t know why, but with this, he sort of wondered even though he knew he shouldn’t. “I mean compared to last time.”
“You win,” Dean answered immediately and with such sincerity, Felix really had no choice than to believe him, “No contest!” Felix couldn’t find words. All he could do was smile with pride at that.
Felix swiped at a few last obvious streaks of cum off Dean’s stomach before calling it good enough and tossed the shirt toward the closet where he had found it. He would deal with that in the morning, but at that moment the only thing Felix cared about was being near Dean.
He dropped on the bed on his side next to Dean. Comfortable, Felix started tracing patterns in the freckles that covered Dean’s chest, and he enjoyed just looking at Dean in all his naked glory. Dean laid back on the bed and took in the attention without complaint. His steady breathing suggested that he was just as relaxed as Felix was feeling.
Felix could have fallen asleep there, laying next to Dean naked. He had done it before plenty of times so he knew it would be absolutely blissful. Dean seemed to be nodding off which Felix was all for.
He honestly didn’t know what changed between one moment and the next, but Dean seemed to go from dozing off to being wide awake and visibly tense. Before Felix could do or say anything Dean pulled away. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed as he declared, “I should probably get dressed.” His voice sounded muffled since his back was to Felix, but he also spoke quietly, and Felix hoped that was because of reluctance.
“No,” Felix replied.
He wasn’t sure where he was going with what he had just said. Maybe he wanted to sound commanding. That wouldn’t have been his normal style, but that would have worked. Unfortunately, he just came out sounding kind of whiny. It wasn’t far off from how he was feeling because he did NOT want Dean to get dressed, but still.
Sitting up, Felix reached out and ran his fingers gently down Dean’s back. “Why?”
“Because,” Dean replied as he looked back at Felix over his shoulder, “I should leave, and I’m pretty sure climbing out of your window naked would probably draw the attention of your neighbors.”
Dean stood up and started making his way around the room, picking up clothes as he went. Felix sat up more and pulled his legs in until he was sitting cross-legged. He watched Dean move around the room for a few seconds before speaking. “You don’t have to leave,” he pointed out.
“Felix, what if your dad-”
“He’s sleeping,” Felix interrupted with the reminder. If his dad didn’t wake up to check on him when they were having sex with all the noise Dean had been making there was no way he was waking up now. Dean seriously had nothing to worry about, and Felix had no problem reminding Dean of that as many times as necessary.
Felix moved over a little on the bed to create more space next to him and ran his hand over the wrinkled sheets invitingly. “I know you have to go eventually, but not yet.”
He could see how conflicted Dean was as he looked at the space Felix had made him on the bed longingly. “Felix, I-”
“Just for a little while,” Felix cut off Dean’s protest with the most affectionate form of insistence he had in him. “I’ve missed cuddling with you,” he admitted with a coy smile. It was the truth after all, and it was only slightly manipulative because he hoped Dean missed it too.
Dean sighed, and let his head fall back as he questioned, “God, how am I supposed to say no when you say things like that?”
“You’re not,” Felix admitted. He couldn’t hold back his grin because at that point he knew he had won. It was really fucking hard not to be happy about that. “That was my plan.”
“I can’t stay long, Felix,” Dean stated insistently. He sounded so serious, Felix might have even described it as a warning, but it was hard to take too seriously when he was moving to climb back into the bed as he talked.
Dean came to the bed, and Felix shifted and moved as Dean settled so they could get into their perfect cuddling position. As he settled on his back, and Dean rested his head on the crook that connected Felix’s arm and shoulder, Felix hummed his reply contently, “Understood.”
It had been a few weeks since he and Dean had laid together like that. It had barely been a month since that fateful night when Dean had muttered I love you as they were dozing off. As they laid there it felt like no time had passed at all. It just felt natural to have Dean curled up next to him.
Felix could feel his eyes growing heavy, and he thought he could hear Dean’s breath slow and even out as he inched closer to sleep. It was a perfect moment, and it felt like a cherry on top of an incredible experience.
He felt Dean’s fingers begin to trace lazy circles lightly on his chest which was almost hypnotic. It was only Dean’s voice that stopped Felix from giving into his instinctual desire to sleep. His voice was so soft and uncertain it was almost lost even though the room was otherwise silent. “Felix, about Berkeley-”
Felix wasn’t sure what Dean wanted to say, but he had some serious suspicions. Felix still had his insecurities, like a lot of them, but at that moment, he didn’t want to think about it, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about it. “Dean-”
“No, listen,” Dean insisted. Felix felt him shift and forced his heavy eyes open to see Dean had pushed up enough on one elbow to look down at Felix. His expression was about as serious as Felix had ever seen. “I seriously don’t have to go,” he stated insistently. “I can take the year off and work. I could use the money.” Dean paused and looked away before adding in a barely audible voice, “And then we can maybe look at colleges together.”
There was that temptation again because Felix could think of nothing more amazing than going to college with Dean. Felix could practically picture how perfect it would be. It could almost be like nothing had to change, and Felix wouldn’t have to worry about Dean meeting someone new (and better).
Of course, it wasn’t really an option. Not that Felix didn’t believe Dean meant what he was saying. Actually, Felix was sure if he told Dean he wanted that then Dean would have done it without hesitation. But Felix couldn’t ask Dean to do that. He couldn’t be that selfish.
“Dean, you have a full scholarship to Berkeley,” Felix reminded. He reached out and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as he continued with a soft sort of insistence, “You’re going.”
Dean let out a long sigh. When he looked up to meet Felix’s gaze, he looked so vulnerable. “I don’t want to leave you,” Dean admitted softly.
“You’re not,” Felix assured with a smile. And as much as he didn’t like thinking about Dean leaving, the smile was sincere. Maybe it was Dean’s vulnerability or the fact he had shown up at Felix’s window, or maybe it was just the post-sex endorphins, but Felix wasn’t quite as panicked at the thought. “You’re giving me a reason to visit California,” he reasoned as he let his hand glide down from Dean’s hair, over his shoulder, and down to his arm in an attempt to coax him to lay back down. “I’ll visit, and you’ll come home for holidays and the occasional weekend,” he stated. In the light of day, Felix wasn’t sure if he would believe that was sustainable, but at the moment, he believed it, or at least he wanted to enough that he sounded convincing. “We’ll talk on the phone so fucking much it would almost be annoying, and we can Skype.”
Dean didn’t settle back on the bed and instead gave him a suspicious look, “You’re not worried about the long-distance thing?”
The short answer was yeah, Felix was worried about the long-distance thing. It wasn’t really Dean’s fault, but Felix’s history with long-distance had been a disaster. Going into the whole Vee thing wasn’t going to make Dean feel any better, and it wasn’t like it was Dean’s problem. Felix was going to have to get past it. “We’re going to make it work,” he assured, “If anyone could, it’s us.”
That did it. A smile spread across Dean’s face. He leaned in and caught Felix in a quick kiss. “I love you,” Dean declared happily as he slowly pulled away from Felix’s lips.
“I love you too,” Felix replied easily. It still felt weird to Felix that he got to actually say that out loud, but he also really liked it. He had felt that way for so long and was almost a relief to give voice to it. Giving Dean’s arm a little nudge he commented, “Now lay the fuck down, Solace. I really do want to cuddle.”
“So pushy,” Dean declared teasingly as he moved to lay back down with his head resting on Felix’s chest, “And kind of sweaty.”
Felix just hummed contently and started rubbing Dean’s back absently. They were both still sweaty messes, and Dean seemed more amused than anything else. “That is your fault,” he stated confidently.
“I’m not complaining,” Dean assured, and he already sounded sort of sleepy, “I kind of like it.”
Felix yawned involuntarily. He had felt pretty awake moments before, but just hearing Dean sound sleepy had sleep overtaking him, “You’re fucking weird, Solace.”
48 notes · View notes
vulpesmellifera · 4 years
Text
Fic Offerings of 2019
Ahhhh!!! I can’t believe the end of 2019 is here!
My goal at the beginning of 2019? Post six short stories and start posting one long fic. Instead, I posted 15 stories of varying length, and wrote the long fic, (two long fics, in fact), but it needs some attention I wasn’t really willing to give it in 2019.
And I’m okay with that. 
I expected to write Mystrade, and I ended up writing that plus Sherstrade, Johnlock, and Hannigram. 
Mystrade: The Longer Fics
The Tenth Muse - Two parts comprise this work, with 27,605 words between them. Mycroft sees things other people can’t. Lights, spectres, shades, demons, phantasms, and creatures that no one else can see. Voices no one else can hear. Colours eddying around people’s bodies, visible only to his eyes. It isn't deduction for Mycroft; it's a living nightmare that leads to self-imposed isolation. When Sherlock "dies," Mycroft finds himself reaching out for a golden slice of happiness, just one person to call his own in a landscape of horrors.
(On a lark, an absolute lark, I tell you, I wrote The Tenth Muse. In no way did I expect the reception it got, and I thank every one of you who read it, and left a kudos or a comment, from the bottom of my heart.) 
Craquelure - Two parts, 44,172 words. Part 1, To Capture Light, was actually posted in December of 2018. Part 2, Shaping the Negative, was posted this year, and takes up soon after where the first part left off. Mycroft Holmes had everything in hand: a powerful position in civil service to the Crown with the ability to affect politics across the globe, an impeccable taste in modern luxuries, and an iron-clad philosophy on life and how one should live it. He didn't expect it to shatter around him in a series of events facilitated by his siblings.This is the story of his rebirth.
(The reception to this one also included personal family stories from readers, and I treasure every one of you, particularly those among us who have suffered toxic family relationships, and have found our way out or above them. Part 3, The Hue of Loss, planned for 2020!)
Mystrade: The Shorter Fics
Woes of the Pharynx - Sickfic. Fluff. Humor. 844 words. The British Government felled by a cold. Oh, who could possibly take care of him?
The Petal Painter - Part of the #MystradeStoryTime series. Each part stands alone. 1,897 words. Gregorios is the beloved son of the Grain Goddess, safe and treasured inside her gardens. One day, he meets an alluring stranger dressed in black.
Marry Me - Part of the #MystradeStoryTime series. Each part stands alone. 1,684 words. Mycroft doesn't care for marriage; it's a vestigial organ on a modern society. Greg cares about marriage. Yet, he's never brought it up with Mycroft. That begins to chafe at the civil servant.
Sun-Bleached - Part of The Songs of Solomon series. Each part stands alone. 2,154 words. Sherlock would find curious things: the dried exoskeletons of crustaceans, hollowed out shells of mollusks, and one time, the sun-bleached bones of a little bird that usually nested along rivers. Alcedo atthis, the common kingfisher. That image never quite left my mind. Sherlock’s face like a bright beacon on an overcast day, the skeletonized remains of a bird that waved with his movements, held between two fingers. This is how I want Greg Lestrade: pinched between two fingers, a flag in the breeze, unshielded from the elements of me.
With Appetite - Part 2 of Imperfections Can Be Loved. Can stand alone. 2,937 words. Sometimes when he thinks of that fat little boy, he is reminded of the monster Charybdis. She was a fleshy thing with a gargantuan maw who was chained to the rocks on one side of a strait. She waited for passing ships, sucking down her prey in a voracious whirlpool before her neighbour Scylla snatched up too many of the sailors. He doesn’t have to wonder what it is, to be a despised thing that aches with appetite. Mycroft Holmes is a proud man, particularly when it comes to his work and his massive intellect. But for his new fiance, he thinks he can do better in terms of appearances.
Night of the Grey Mare - Christmas Fic with a touch of horror. 8,606 words. Every Christmas Eve, Mycroft visits the Watson-Holmes family to deliver a story to his precious niece, and share in a little of the mulled wine. This year, Rosie wants to hear something scary. Mycroft tells her a frightening tale of The Christmas Witch, and then takes his leave before Sherlock and John can enact their usual routine to make him feel unwelcome.The way home is fraught with unforeseen events and Mycroft soon finds himself in his own frightening tale of horror. Or does he?
Pillow Fights - Humorous ficlet. 821 words. Mycroft returns home early from a business trip to surprise Greg. Greg isn't the only one who gets surprised.
Pillow Fights, Redux - A different take, still a humorous ficlet. 952 words. Greg gets back early from a conference, to find Mycroft pining in a way he would never have thought.
Sherstrade 
[Deleted] - 10,400 words. Greg Lestrade and John Watson awake to find themselves locked in an unfinished basement. While they are well acquainted with one another, the two men aren't friends. But, the darkness has ways of bringing people closer together. Meanwhile, Sherlock and Sally must work together to solve the case of a missing John Watson.They're running out of time.
Johnlock 
Haunted -  Horror Fic. 22,369 words. Plagued by the past, John moves himself and his daughter to a new flat for a fresh start - and it's not 221B Baker Street. While he grapples with new knowledge and old guilt, he's confronted with odd neighbors and strange noises in the night. But is it the new flat, or is John Watson losing his grip on reality?
The Stars Upon Your Back - Part 1 of Imperfections Can Be Loved. 1,735 words. Sherlock prefers shadows to sunlight, his coat collar popped and his scarf wrapped about his neck like a hug. He wears bespoke because he’s trim, but he prefers to feel covered, and wears the dressing gown more often than not. The first time John Watson kisses him, he’s stricken. Sherlock Holmes is painfully aware of his ugly parts and his failures when it comes to John Watson.
Hannigram
Leftovers - Post-Canon Domestic Fluff. Basically, this is my headcanon for what Hannibal does with his leftovers. 1,311 words.  Will discovers that Hannibal has a soft spot for one other kind of creature in his life.
Aaaaannnnddd that’s all she wrote, folks! (Well, not all...but everything that got posted!) A Happy New Year to everyone! <3
Cheers,
Vulpes
35 notes · View notes
Text
[untitled]
Nanowrimo day 11 and 12 Featuring Batman, Harley Quinn, Ivy, the Joker, Jim Gordon and some fishies Shit’s a batman ficlet idk B A T M A N... lemme see, abuse implications, kidnapping, no ACTUAL abuse in here, but there’s definitely residual emotional manipulation Unfinished and unedited
Rain pelted the pavement mercilessly as the storm which had been hanging over Gotham finally broke. It was a release of days and days of merciless humidity and a stillness unlike anyone had seen in a very long time. The farmer’s almanac called for vicious storms for several days and the way this was looking, the Dark Detective had no choice but to believe it. 
“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s calm, cultured tone filtered gently through the warble of static caused by the storm. Batman touched his earpiece and responded with a grunt. 
“Need I remind you that being out in this weather is somewhat hazardous? No common criminal would bother with a robbery in this.” 
“No,” responded the Bat gravely, “but I’m not after a common criminal.”
Batman had been stalking the culprit of a series of murders which smacked of his nemesis, the Joker, so random they had been in nature and each one a pun of the victim’s favorite hobby. The Joker had managed, somehow, to turn relief and relaxation into hell for theses ostensibly innocent people. In fact, had Batman not seen this type of pattern a thousand times before, he might have chalked it up to a common serial killer. Oh, how he yearned for one of those for once. 
It was an awful sentiment, he knew, and one for which Clark would surely scold him. Boyscout, Bruce thought with an odd ring of affection to his internal monologue which, in general, maintained a steady, harsh monotone. Batman had settled himself on the roof of central Gotham’s largest cathedral, looking for all the world like a gargoyle even when lightning lit up the city for a brief second or two, when the Bat Signal shone off the low-hanging clouds. 
Without a thought, he was off like a shot, gliding through the city on bat wings of a patented Wayne Tech polymer. If anyone could find a clue to the identity of the next victim, it would absolutely be the Gotham City Police Commissioner James Gordon. The man had the sharpest mind in the city, aside perhaps from Bruce himself. 
Still the rain roared on, washing the gutters clean and affecting a feeling of ablution upon the soiled city. It was an awful place, Gotham, and had appropriately gained an awful guardian. Batman knew damn well that he was no hero. He did what needed to be done, an opportunist at the best of times, with only a strong sense of justice to separate him from men like the Joker. 
Alighting upon the roof of the Gotham City Police Department, a lovely old building with vestiges of the art deco era in which it had been erected, he approached Jim Gordon from the shadows, as ever. The man did not move, an unlit cigarette hanging out of one side of his mouth, hands stuffed into his pockets, waiting in the rain, impassive, for Batman to arrive. 
Something was amiss. There was no way to properly place it beyond a “gut feeling”, but Batman had been in the business, as it were, long enough to know when to listen to those. He moved like a shade as the figure turned and brought a massive, toy-looking mallet down upon the spot where he had just stood, cracking the concrete of the rooftop. 
“OOPs! Ah well! Mistah J woulda been mad if I’d hitchya anyoo,” came a screechy declaration from the figure of the person who was supposed to have been Jim Gordon. 
“Harley,” Batman rumbled, his entire body coiled like a spring, watching the possible trajectory of her mallet, but also observing the woman herself. She affected, as always, a joyful grin and a bouncy, playful countenance, but it did not reach her eyes. He would not have required a flash of lightning to ascertain that, but the sky obliged him nevertheless. “I thought you’d moved on.”
“Oh no, nope, not me, no way--me an’ Mistah J are ‘mad love’ y’know? Endgame stuff, Batsy! So if you’ll just hold still so I can ding ya up a little!” Batman evaded a swing yet again, observing the sluggish movements, wondering if she had been drugged. Her heart was not in this. “Maybe one day you’ll undah-stand!”
Somehow, he considered internally, I doubt that. He did not pity her, per se, Batman knew better than to stoop to such a level, but the Dark Detective also knew an abuser when he saw one. The Joker was no lover, nor was he a fighter. Point of fact, the man was a deranged bully. Harley was a survivor, though at this point, she was a victim, caught once more in the tangled web of her misplaced devotion and the Joker and his utterly inexplicable charisma. 
“Put it down, Harley,” Batman warned. He did not want to do her harm, especially if she was not fully in control of her faculties. Something must have happened between her and Ivy, he thought, if she went back to him. It was probably bad. His mind, honed to a fine edge, quickly settled on a course of action. 
“Nope!” She swung again, a little harder this time. The lightning made itself known, followed by a peal of thunder, well-timed given her swings. Once more, Batman danced around the end of her mallet, a hair’s breadth from being clobbered. This was, of course, by design. If he could keep her swinging, he might be able to tire her out. Tiring her out meant speaking with her, which was the ultimate goal here. 
“Where has the Joker taken Jim Gordon?” His words came out measured, even, without panic. He knew he had the upper hand and he surmised that Harley Quinn knew it too. It was only a matter of time before her previous commotion with the mallet alerted the rest of the police department and Captain Harvey Bullock raced to the rooftop to find this scene. 
Batman was of the opinion that Bullock was far more apt to pull his service revolver on him than he was upon Harley, which was just as well, given that she was not wearing armor of any kind. What was the Joker thinking, sending her like this? There was really no explaining his motivations in the end, but that did not stop Batman trying. Delving into that mind was a dangerous game, he knew, but to beat them, sometimes you had to be them. 
“Harley,” he barked, “start talking or the GCPD will likely open fire.”
They had no love for the Joker and his on-and-off companion and would spare no bullet taking her out, especially if there was a chance she had harmed the beloved Jim Gordon. If they could take out Batman as well, all the better. Bullock harbored him no love. Indeed, none was lost between them. 
“I’m not here to talk, sweetie,” she mocked, dancing about and then bringing the mallet down violently between them. This time, Batman laid a hand over hers and stopped the movement with firm, downward pressure. 
“Harley,” he said, his voice just audible above the deluge. “I know you’re scared. I can protect you, but you have to tell me where Jim Gordon is.”
“I don’t need your protection, Bats,” she hissed. “I’m jus’ fine on my own.”
He had no doubt she was, but that was not what was motivating her. Either she and Ivy had fought, as he had first assumed, or the Joker had Ivy and was essentially using her as incentive, e.g.: “do as I say or the broad dies”. The idea turned Batman’s guts, which meant that it was most likely the case. 
“He has Ivy too, doesn’t he?” He did not release the mallet’s handle and at his words, her struggles ceased. She looked him in the eyes, her big, baby blues watery with what she would like to have said was rain. “You don’t have to say a word, just nod.”
Her head moved up and down, ever-so-slowly, a motion that was almost imperceptible. Batman’s jaw tightened. He swallowed down volcanic rage, mastering it as he mastered all things in his life, with calm persistence and incredible willpower. Insead of unleashing it unjustly upon Harley Quinn, he redirected his attention to the very real threat of the police department just below them. 
Ra’s Al Ghul had done him a favor by granting him use of the Lazarus Pit, but so too had the man doomed Bruce Wayne to a lifetime of recalibrating himself to his new, enhanced senses, perceptions that were beyond human ken and yet hardly foreign to him. He heard the stamp of footsteps upon the stairway leading to the roof access door and, without another thought, grasped Harley about the midsection and tossed the two of them off the side of the building. 
At the last moment, Batman deployed his grappling hook and, with preternatural strength, supported their weight as they swung away from Gotham City law enforcement, spearheaded by no less than Harvey Bullock himself. Batman was not surprised. A few buildings away, it was much easier to enjoy this sensation. Any closer and they would have had bullets whizzing past their heads. 
Harley was clinging to him, her gaze far, far away, staring into some middle distance that may or may not have existed at one point or another. She was mumbling something, but Batman was too focused on potential pursuers to listen properly. After a moment, he refocused, but she was done speaking. 
“Harley,” he prompted, speaking her name for the fifth time that evening. This time, it was followed by no other sentiment but his demand for attention and consciousness. She wrung her hands, having abandoned the mallet on the roof of the GCPD. That was just as well. They would feel they had a clue and might just leave the Bat in peace. Unlikely, the detective reminded himself, but I’ll take any head start at this point.
“I’m here,” she whispered, finally, her knees giving way. She sank to the rooftop of the building they’d found and wrapped her hands about her knees. Batman did not move to aid her. Lightning flashed and thunder roared at them, the heavy rain continuing its torrential downpour upon their heads. Wordlessly, Batman lifted his cape and solidified one section of it, using his cutting edge Wayne Tech patent for little more than an umbrella for the soaking woman in red and white spandex. 
“Are you really?” 
He was not expecting an answer. Batman just needed to keep her taking. She was a chatty one when she wanted to be, but in distress, the poor thing had a tendency to clam right up. Batman did not bother to wonder where she had learned that. 
“Yeah,” she said after a few moments. “I’m here. Mistah J jus’... he needed a favor y’see? An’ I didn’t wanna help him. So he made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“He took Ivy.” This was not a question. While Batman was surprised the Joker had somehow found a way to overcome the plant woman’s frankly prodigious strength, he was not surprised at the depths to which the so-called Clown Prince of Crime would go to extract obedience from his subordinates, even those who no longer considered themselves such.
She tilted her gaze upward to meet his. The response was evident in her expression, painted as it was. The rain would have made short work of anything less than full clown makeup and, unfortunately, the Joker never settled for anything less. Harley’s face, therefore, was a mask of sorrow and manufactured glee. 
Batman wasn’t certain he could continue to meet her gaze the way it was now. Pity was beneath him, but if anyone was pitiable, it was Harley Quinn in her current state. She was not a weak-willed woman, but the Joker had always held some kind of sway over her that Batman both found distasteful and completely, utterly, inexorably understandable. He despised this latter principle, finding it, like pity, base and beneath him. 
This time, the Joker had taken things one step further it seemed, and had withdrawn a compelling insurance policy. There was nothing Harley would not do for Poison Ivy, and who could blame her. Ivy had given her a new lease on life, autonomy she would not have known at Joker’s side, and a sense of self worth that had been well-deserved, but long in coming. 
Batman’s fist closed, tight and threatening, though he was not directing it at her. It was yet another tool he used to control his rage. She did not detect the gesture, focused instead upon the city’s skyline, highlighted randomly by flashes of lightning. Harley was worried about Ivy, almost paralyzed with that fear. Sitting here was doing her absolutely no good, however. 
“We gotta… go,” she said, forcing herself to speak and then, shakily, to stand. “Mistah J has ‘em at the aquarium. Saltwater ain’t too good for a plant y’know?” Her speech was casual, upbeat and almost a little manic, as always, but there was an edge to it that suggested to Batman that, were he to deliver the Joker to these women, there would be little left. 
He was sorely tempted. 
“Where?” The repetition of the question felt grating even as it passed his lips, but he spoke it anyway, Harley would snap back to herself at least long enough to tell him where he could find those whom he sought. She could sit this one out. She was shaken and in no condition for combat of any kind, in his estimation. 
“Aquarium,” she said, shoulders sagging even as she stood erect, swaying a little, but still upright. Her resolve was impressive, there was no denying that. All the same, pushing herself would do Ivy no good and might jeopardize the lives of both hostages. 
“Stay here,” he instructed. “I won’t be long.”
An iron grip around his arm stopped him mid stride. Batman turned to look once more into Harley’s eyes. She was not a tall woman, at all, but she commanded a remarkable presence and held his attention with little more than her own charisma. This attribute, he thought, more than rivaled the Joker’s. It was a more sincere sort of charisma, to boot, almost endearing. The Dark Detective reminded himself that she was, of course, a world-class criminal and could have killed him on more than one occasion. Only his luck and the Joker’s arrogance had stopped her. 
Now, they had a common goal and Batman wondered just what her formidable intellect could do when put to a use other than something maniacally nefarious. She held tightly to his arm with one hand, the other one balling into a fist beneath her downturned face. It appeared, from this angle, as if she was chewing intently upon the middle knuckle of her first finger, as if weighing her options. 
“We don’t have long,” he warned, knowing she of all people understood this, but feeling the need to reiterate. She shifted her weight a little then and released his arm. Harley brought one fist into her other hand, hard and looked up from under pale lashes. 
“I’m gunna kill him,” she hissed, jaw tight. Batman laughed through his nose, a dry sound, barely audible above the growl of thunder. He was not laughing at her, but rather at the circumstances which had forced this strange union. Pity was beneath him, sure enough, but for a brief moment, he pitied the Joker. He had little time to consider this strange turn of events because she, without warning, took off toward the edge of the building in the direction of the Gotham City Municipal Aquarium. Tossing herself over the ledge, Harley Quinn fell without a care in the world, knowing damn well the Dark Knight was there to catch her.
True to form, he did, and guided them expertly through the labyrinthine streets of Gotham City. Overhead, the storm raged, driving pedestrians inside and drowning the sounds of enraged nighttime traffic, softening the glow of neon and muffling much other than the maelstrom itself. The wind tossed rain this way and that, forcing it every direction save downward, though it all eventually ended up in the same place. The sewers would be a nightmare this evening. Batman silently thanked whatever god was listening that he was dealing with Joker and not Killer Croc. 
When they landed near the rear entrance of the aquarium, Harley was sufficiently worked up and it was only physical intervention which stopped her marching right on in. She bristled and tugged her arm away from Batman’s restraining grasp. He loosed his grip but gave a warning shake of his head, indicating that if she just stormed in, the Joker would know exactly what had happened and would perhaps execute both hostages. The man was woefully unstable, but he was no fool. 
On the other hand, it was very likely the Joker had anticipated this, as well. 
“Get me in there,” Batman said, “and I’ll handle it.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” She was utterly incredulous, almost irritated at the very idea that the Joker would believe that she actually managed to lay low the Dark Detective himself with only her silly mallet which, notably, she no longer possessed. It was only at that point she seemed to realize just how twisted his perception of her must have been. Her hackles rose once more. I’ll show you, she thought venomously. "What, are we supposed to play pretend or somethin'?"
“I have a feeling the Joker won’t buy whatever we’re selling,” Batman observed. Harley seemed to understand his meaning and nodded, cracking her knuckles menacingly. He could feel the shift in her demeanor. The rain would not be enough to cool her down and it was falling harder than ever. The dismally hot spell had broken spectacularly and made for a cacophonous backdrop to their entry. 
Batman stooped to pick the lock of the employee entrance. He felt a rush of air and tilted his body to the side just in time to evade Harley’s heel, booting her way through the set of double doors, kicking them inward with an almost animal fury. He wondered what the Joker had doped her up with, because the old Harley Quinn wouldn’t have been able to break a stick over her knee—or maybe she just hadn’t been inclined.
“Afta you, Bats,” she said, in her usual timbre, but without that manic enthusiasm characteristic of her villainous persona. She’s pissed. Batman made a mental note to give her a wide berth when they finally came upon the Joker and his prey. For now, he would allow her to be at his back, but the moment he saw the Clown Prince, he resolved to make certain he was never between the two of them. Batman inclined his head slightly and moved into the dark beyond, his cape and cowl blending seamlessly in with the utter lack of illumination. Before his eyes adjusted, he was forced to rely on his other senses. Batman had learned years ago that technology could only get you so far and, where the Joker was concerned, less really was invariably more.
The shift in noise level as the door closed was almost enough to mask the incoming blow. He had all but expected this and shifted his weight, whirling to deflect her two-fisted blow which had likely been aimed at his upper back. She stumbled a few feet and hit the wall with a thud. The sound of her sliding downward told him all he needed to know. She was not out cold, just defeated, assured that she could not hope to attain that which her “puddin” so desired.
“Can’t blame a girl for tryin’,” she offered. The fight—with him at least—had gone out of her. He hoped this would be the last instance of it. The Fury who had kicked the door in was better suited to rescuing Ivy and Jim Gordon than making an attempt on Batman’s consciousness.
“No,” he confirmed, “I can’t.” He offered her a hand. She groped blindly for it and allowed herself to be pulled upward. She was light, more than usual, and he wondered how long she had been in the Joker’s service. How long had he been holding Ivy? What promises had he uttered? What threats? It did not bear consideration, but Batman could not stop himself.
“Yowch, easy!” He had been squeezing her hand and only her cry drew him back from dark contemplations. He released it with a grunt and turned his attention up the hallway. Even the auxiliary lighting had been shut down, so the exit sign above their point of entry offered no help. They were in a windowless, concrete corridor which felt as if it sloped down, probably toward the larger tanks. The Gotham Municipal Aquarium was known for its diverse specimens and rehabilitation program, but most of all for its rescued orca. A bad-tempered, giant dolphin with teeth, Batman thought. He knew that the species was not inherently vicious, but anything kept in an enclosure that was barely a drop in the bucket compared to its natural habitat was bound to have bouts of aggression. He was willing to place money on the chances that the Joker’s great game revolved around the whale.
Batman shuddered inwardly at the thought. There were few methods and forms of combat with which he was unfamiliar and he had all but mastered most of the ones he did know. Aquatic combat was far outside his range of expertise, however, and he would have been more than willing to defer to Arthur Curry, better known as Aquaman. But they did not have time to raise the League. Only Alfred knew where they were. If he suspected trouble, he would raise Nightwing and the others as quickly as possible, but there was simply no guarantee of timely arrival.
Every single day (and night) in Gotham was a game of chance, however. Batman knew this better than most and threw himself into each foray into his hateful, beloved city with fervor and conviction. He reflected that the risk into which he willingly stepped was something the citizens of Gotham navigated every second of every day on their own, without his unique set of skills. He admired that kind of tenacity. He was a hero born of that tenacity, though if one had asked him, Batman would hardly have used the word “hero”. I do what needs to be done, he reminded himself as they made their way down the sloping corridor, now side by side. Harley, he was sure, was going to make no more moves against him, but he did not get where he was by being careless.
“He’s in the whale cage,” she informed Batman in a harsh stage whisper. There was little point in sneaking, they both knew. The Joker’s plans usually came to at least some form of fruition and that usually meant the Dark Detective showing up right on time for the “main event”.
“I know,” he said, holding his hand up, signaling that she should stop. She did not. Harley bullied her way past him and strode right down into the orca enclosure’s backstage area. This door, she did not need to break, and simply walked right through before Batman could stop her. He was right behind, but with an air of caution she simply did not possess. Calling out to her at that point would have done no good. She had already seen her target. He stood center stage, so to speak, with the pair of them, Ivy and Gordon, tied firmly, one off to the side and clearly unconscious, the other awake and struggling, standing precariously at the end of the performers’ high dive. Below, the orca circled, his massive, drooping dorsal fin trailing in the water like a shark’s.
0 notes