#it was a compromise with my doctor because i wouldn't agree to anything else

[factorialsotherfandoms]

This... was not on my to write list. But I was listening to the playlist Barb posted in Mike's stream and... Welp. This is set... after Mike is back, after the fic with him and Felps I'm still writing, before the first time Mike's allowed out post-rescue. Mostly Mike & Cellbit, a tiny bit of Cellbit/Roier at the end.

XCOM2 AU, again, because I live here now. Have some other bits which really need work but... Not as attractive. TW: consensual violence

"Hit me."

Cellbit rolls over, looking at Mike. Both of them are sprawled on the training mats of the gym's floor - Mike in shorts and a t-shirt, Cellbit with his jumpsuit pulled down to his waist and revealing the tank top beneath. Both of them are done with the gym for the day, just cooling down, but there's still something cloying in the air.

"What."

It's not a question. Mike's often nonsensical, but asking Cellbit to hit him? Years ago Cellbit wouldn't even have needed asking, just seeing the man would have been enough, but not now. Not now they're family.

Cellbit can't stand the idea of actually hurting his family.

"This isn't enough," Mike gestures at the weights, at the treadmill, at the bench. "I need you to fucking hit me."

But that?

Cellbit gets that.

He didn't realise Mike was like that, but it makes sense. Sometimes straining your body just isn't enough, sometimes the blood runs too deep in your veins, sometimes the only way to be real is to /hurt/ whatever that means.

Sometimes your soul starts escaping your body, and someone has to wrestle it back in.

Cellbit has fewer of those days, now, but they all know he has them - usually he and Roier fight it out, or he makes himself up a mission just to fight, just to feel something again.

Mike's still officially in recovery, though, nearly as better as he's getting in the short term but being watched for a relapse; there's no convincing anyone to let him out for a /bloody/ sort of fight, at least for another week or two. It's probably why he's suffering, if Cellbit had to guess. Too long spent healing, too long without anything to do, the frustration and the pain and the confusion all building up under his skin.

Cellbit knows it.

Cellbit knows it so well.

"I'll fight you," Cellbit offers, because he knows how to handle this. "Call it training. Surrender or get pushed off the mats to loose."

"No weapons," Mike turns to look at him. "No psionics. Just hands and feet."

"Teeth?" Cellbit asks, because he always does. It's mostly a joke, these days.

Mostly.

Mike considers, "teeth, but no blood. And no claws."

"Sure," Cellbit doesn't really say that'll be easy enough, that his claws are gone.

Instead he sits up, kicking off his shoes. If they're wrestling he doesn't want the heat of his jumpsuit, but neither does he want to give Mike the extra grip. As compromise he folds it into itself, making sure the sleeves are tucked down his trouser legs.

Mike gets up too, putting his shoes in a rack and tucking his glasses inside one for safe keeping; he has spares, yes, but breaking them over training would be stupid.

"And no head shots," Cellbit says, as he remembers that that's probably important to agree on.

He can see Mike's face twitch at that, but thankfully he agrees; Cellbit has no idea how he's explain to the Doctor - or heaven forbid /Pac/ - why he was punching her brain injured patient in the skull.

Just because Mike's feeling destructive and his mood is rubbing off doesn't mean that Cellbit actually /wants/ to hurt him.

A bruise here and there, fine, but for all the years and grief between them Mike's still his god-damned friend.

"Anything else?" Mike asks, a tisk in his voice, adding Cellbit's discarded shoes to the rack before coming back over. "Or can we start."

Cellbit doesn't verbally answer; he waits for Mike to step back onto the mats, and pounces, making them both tumble to the floor.

Mike isn't violent by nature - not like Cellbit is, not like Etoiles or Roier or even, by some definitions, Bagi - but he's not passive either. There's people like Felps, who let the world happen, and there's people like Cellbit who rip what they need from it with nothing but their teeth. Mike isn't either, but in being neither he is both.

Not being the same sort of violent doesn't stop him from flipping Cellbit onto his back, getting a few good hits in before Cellbit grabs his shoulders, and shoves him back onto the bottom of the pile.

Mike laughs and Cellbit snarls and they trace bruises and scratched into one another's skin. Mike puts a hand too close to Cellbit's face, and gets a ring of teeth marks for his effort.

Cellbit takes a second to shift his weight, and earns five lines of red scratches down his arm for his effort.

There's something animalistic, something feral, something instinctual. Even without his claws Cellbit scratches and hits and is bitten back in turn. They tangle on the floor, swearing and snarling and /laughing/ as they do everything short of drawing blood. There's bruises that will form across their bodies, and marks carved into their skin, but the tension drops and through it all they turn to laughing.

Cellbit wins - of course he wins. Mike is still injured, recovering from months of torture, and even before that he's never had the lazer-focus towards violence that Cellbit does. He's good at what he does - they all are - but Mike fights with numbers and electronics and from the back. Not that Cellbit fights at the front, but he's always a little more ready for a brawl.

And for all they end up laughing, a brawl is what this is.

Mike taps out on the mat, gasping for air between bouts of laughter. Cellbit rolls off him, less giggly but with a chuckle all the same.

They lay there for a minute, tension drained out of the room, before Mike swears.

Cellbit looks at him.

"My shower isn't for another ten hours," Mike groans.

"See if Tubbo will swap with you," at least Cellbit's pretty sure Tubbo is about now on the shower chart. "I'll just share with Roier."

"You'll just- of course you will," Mike rolls his eyes.

"Not like that!" Cellbit reaches over, and flicks one of the forming bruises on Mike's arm. "You're worse than Pac!"

"Do /not/ slander me like that! Pac would ask to join you," Mike points out. "And ten years ago it wouldn't have even been a joke."

Christ, has it been that long?

It has, hasn't it?

And somehow, scarred and bloodied and broken as they are, all five of them are still here.

Fuck.

They might die at any moment but, hey, for a bunch of criminals, washouts, and unwanted sons... ten years is better going than they dreamed of. And with Roier, and Fit, and everyone else they're entangled with... Hell, someone might even remember them for something positive when they're gone.

Mike must sense the change in mood, because he flicks Cellbit back.

"Oi!" Cellbit waves a hand at him, too tired to really do much.

"Pac's traded my shower slot with Tina, and hers is right now," Mike is already sitting up, cracking his bones as he does. "Guess you're cleaning up!"

There's not much to clean, just kicking the mats back into shape; Mike still jogs off before Cellbit can get on his feet. He's steady on his feet, despite the fighting, despite the injury - Cellbit feels like he should be annoyed, but the brawl drained the tension and all that's left is /relief/ that Mike can still hold his own and still be on his feet at the end. People who can't...

Well, there's a reason they protect Felps so hard. But Cellbit doesn't think Mike would survive being benched for all time. Even allowed in the lab, he and Pac would inevitably run off and do something dumb.

But... But Mike's actually healing, and healing fine enough, and maybe just maybe Cellbit can stop worrying about that /specific/ outcome for a bit.

So he kicks at the mats, and pulls his clothes back into place, and plots some petty little revenge - putting one of Tubbo's screwdrivers in Mike's pockets, perhaps.

By the time he's got his boots on, Roier has arrived.

Arms slip around his chest, and three pairs of eyelashes flutter against his neck as Roier tucks himself in.

Cellbit turns his head, and kisses just above one of his eyes.

"Feeling better?" Roier asks, pouting only a little. "You could have asked me."

"Mike was the one asking," Cellbit shrugs. "I wasn't going to say no."

"Huh," Roier's eyes trail to the door. "The more you know... Did you enjoy yourself?"

"It was good," Cellbit relaxes against his husband. "Mike held out longer than I thought he would."

"He's fine?" Roier asks, because of course he knows Cellbit is worried - who else would he share his fears with, if not his beloved?

"He's fine," Cellbit confirms. "Went to shower."

"We could shower too," Roier offers, sweeping conversation along.

"I was hoping you'd offer," Cellbit smiles a bit. "Shall we?"

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp au #qsmp fanfic #qsmp mike #qsmp cellbit #violence #sorry for awkward spacing tumblr being weird today #and too in want of a nap to fix it

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Chapter 41 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

"So... that was Kit," Fanner said. "What did you think of them?"

"Slightly infuriating but I feel like they were being honest in what they did say," Yore said. "They didn't seem malicious, just... a little lost, maybe."

"I still want to understand but I don't think they're interested in sharing."

"No. Not right now, anyway."

"Well, um... do you think we should talk about something? Like Kit said?"

"Sure."

Yore sat down in the flowers.

"What would you like to talk about?"

Fanner sat down next to him.

The flowers felt soft beneath him.

It was so strange seeing such vivid, beautiful scenery in a dream.

The fields seemed to stretch forever.

"Um... Oh. Did you get the thing done with the trying to make a baby?"

"Ah. No, unfortunately. We were going to arrange for the woman who's agreed to carry my child to come in. While I was there we just checked my sperm quality, which wasn't fantastic but the doctor said that's to be expected since it takes some time to make new sperm."

"Oh, yes. I suppose it would. So you... there's a doctor?"

"Well... yes, more or less a doctor. She does the whole insemination part. As I mentioned, Aime has a husband. In our culture it's normal for parentage and marriage partners not to match up but it wouldn't be typical for me to make that happen by having sex with someone else's wife. Besides, I'm gay, so that wouldn't really work for me."

"Oh. What's, um..."

"Ah, right. I always forget that humans and by extension mages, have forgotten those terms. It means I'm only attracted to men."

"Oh," Fanner said. "I did not know that. About you or... um... What the word meant. I suppose humans are just told they're not supposed to be like that and mages have to be whatever we're told to be."

"Well, you get a say in things now."

"I always just thought that if someone liked me, it wouldn't matter if they were a man or a woman. I just wanted someone to want me."

"Was that because you genuinely didn't mind or was that because your survival depended on it?"

Fanner looked down at the flowers next to him, his lips twisting together.

"I don't know. I've given up on thinking that way now, so... I don't know. But um... You're handsome."

His words were met with silence.

Fanner couldn't bring himself to look up and see Yore's reaction.

"Sorry, I'm... I know I'm not supposed to say things like that," Fanner said. "Sorry."

"No, no. You're allowed to say whatever you want. Sorry I didn't respond, I was just trying to figure out how to interpret that."

Fanner shrugged.

He wished he hadn't said anything.

What had he thought would happen?

Yore sighed.

"Do you think this is what Kit thought we should talk about?"

A breeze swept across the flowery plains, carrying with it a whisper laced with gentle exasperation...

"Yeeeesss."

"Okay, thank you, Kit, very subtle," Yore said to the empty air around them.

He stretched his legs out in front of himself and rested his weight on his palms.

"Sometimes doing the right thing is... complicated. I think you're attractive too, Fanner and usually I probably would have just been upfront about that but I kept it to myself because of your history and because I was worried about those feelings compromising the role you've asked me to play in your life. On the other hand, as a rule I don't particularly agree with deciding what's best for someone for them. The last thing you need is to be treated like a child."

Fanner's fidgety, absentminded fingers picked one of the flowers and he immediately regretted it, feeling like he'd destroyed a tiny part of something beautiful.

Before he could get too upset, though, a new flower grew in its place, twice as big and beautiful as the one he'd picked.

Of course.

This was a dream.

The only consequences here were the things he said to Yore because he was the only part of this that was real.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Fanner said. "But then I did say it. I don't even know why I did."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Yore assured him. "I'm just trying to figure out if what you want right now is for me to forget about this or for me to do something else."

"What do you want?"

"To not hurt you, more than anything. But I don't think that's what you're asking. Are you asking if I'm interested?"

Fanner nodded.

His feet wouldn't stop squirming, his toes wriggling into the flowers.

"I mean, I don't think you are, so if you aren't you can just say that and that can be all. It's okay. I didn't say it because I expected anything."

"I've distanced myself from people over these last couple of years. I physically couldn't have sex and I didn't think I would live long enough that thinking about relationships would be anything but tragic for everyone involved. But now... now I will have a future, thanks to you and I've found myself looking forward to you being a part of it."

"Oh. I... well, I suppose you know I want to stay with you. I insisted on it."

"I can see you're nervous, so I'll tell you what. I'm just going to be here, open to the idea of something more with you and not looking for sex or a relationship with anyone else. Know that I have no objections to moving in that direction but I realise that's going to be something new for you and you have almost died more than once in the last twenty four hours, so I can imagine you have other things on your mind."

"Some of the other werewolves might not like it if you're with me."

"I'm sure but I don't care. I'm all for everyone having a voice but my personal life isn't a democracy. Challenging me was a serious thing that happened for specific reasons that you've taken care of for me. Nobody's going to fight me because they don't like my choice of boyfriend."

"I could be... um..." the word refused to come out of Fanner's mouth. "That?"

"My boyfriend?"

Fanner nodded.

"Yes. I've never actually had a relationship before but I feel like, now that you've given me this second chance at life, there are some things I want to do differently. I can't just put off important parts of living life until later. Again, though, I don't know how you feel and I don't want to put you in a position where you feel like you have to make this decision when you have a million other things to worry about right now."

Fanner wanted to say no, let's just be boyfriends and date and kiss and do other boyfriend things but Yore had a point.

They were right in the middle of trying not to die and this was a lot to process.

Fanner had never thought Yore would be interested but if he was, Fanner wasn't about to turn him down.

But once it became a thing, Fanner would have to step into the role of boyfriend.

He needed time to think about what that would mean before he tried to be that for Yore.

"Thank you," Fanner said. "Um... even if we're not dating yet, can I have a hug when we wake up?"

"I can do that," Yore said as the dream began to fade out around them.

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Human Warriors: Grocery Store Encounter

In this AU, they were originally cats. The forest has gone for good. When StarClan's chosen can't find anywhere to go that isn't infested by Twolegs, the Clans find that they must adapt. Adapt they will, since they now have the ability to take human form.

Key note for Leafpool: Healers can choose to take mates because humans don't let their jobs get in the way of having family. (Of course nuns and bishops exist, but that would take explaining their religion and honestly, it's easier to just let some things go. StarClan is stumbling through this just as much as everyone else.)

Years after Layla and Corey part ways, the ThunderClan healer meets one Nika Cloust and they chat about their respective picky Clanmates.

Leafpool stood in the center of the aisle, two jars of peanut butter in her hands. Jayfeather and Hollyleaf liked creamy, while Lionblaze preferred crunchy, and they were out of both at the house. Squirrelflight insisted (to which Leafpool and Brambleclaw both agreed) that they would only get one jar of their favorite sandwich-filler, and to make a choice. They had staunchly made up their minds and compromise seemed to be nowhere in sight. So now Leafpool was stuck with the same dilemma the kids were. She really just wanted whatever version would keep them complacent for the next few days. Stars, children were so hard to buy for… 

“Kids picky?” While the doctor had never met Nika Cloust personally, she could say that the woman left a pretty good impression. Leafpool nodded absently. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” The tabby chuckled. “Two of them like creamy while the other likes crunchy and if they don't get exactly what they want, one of them is going to hate me until they do. Their aunt and uncle aren't much help so it's up to me for the final decision.” 

“My husband and son may look alike, but Stars, I can't get them to agree on anything, much less a flavor of peanut butter. Good luck with that one.” 

“The same to you. I put a stop to my youngest’s grumpy phase. The second he said “I hate you.” I told him we'd either talk about it or he'd be treated like a kit for the rest of his life. He likes to be independent, my little Jay, so of course that was the worst thing in the world to him. Turns out that he was being pitied for being blind, and that didn't mesh well with his independence, so he reacted pretty badly.” 

“Breeze finds it hard to make friends, so imagine my surprise when he finds one of your cats and they end up practically littermates. More power to them, I suppose. I've got to find the cheese that Corey and Breeze like or they'll never forgive me.” 

“Oh boy, can't have that. Good luck, Nightcloud.” 

“To you as well, Leafpool. I'm glad your family was so willing to help with your kits.” 

“StarClan has definitely blessed us in that regard. Nightcloud…” 

“Yes?” 

“It might not be my place, but Crowfeather can be a bit… too isolated. Perhaps Breezepelt would benefit more if you reminded him that his son needs him more than he thinks. The past isn't going anywhere, but if he keeps being stuck in it then poor Breeze will be grown right before his eyes. I've seen it before, kits resenting their parents, and I don't want that for you guys. I hope StarClan lights your path.” 

“And yours as well, Doctor. It would seem that your kits are in good paws.” 

Nightcloud watched the young doctor go, admiring that the ThunderClan healer could keep such a level head with three kids and her day job.

Leafpool walked out of the store with a slight spring in her step, praying that Crowfeather’s temper wouldn't ruin his son.

#leafpool #nightcloud #adventures in grocery shopping for picky eaters #human warrior cats