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clever-fox-studios · 4 months

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After Upgrades (long read)

"I think this is the record for longest repair I've ever had--assuming I count the waiting time for them to trust me enough to do it. But... it was completely worth it. Yeah, it was a bit annoying at first, but... I couldn't blame them for being afraid.

"Initially I had only done the major repairs and let them charge, whatever it took to get them functional and online so I could run a proper diagnostic... But, unsurprisingly, as soon as they were up and about, they scattered. The pink one--I've named her Twii--watched the entire time I repaired the other--who I dubbed Laa because I'm just so creative--just out of easy reach but never out of sight; once Laa was online and charged, they were both happy to see each other. They chirped and chittered right until I made a sound and Laa noticed me in the room.

"She took off and startled Twii, who also bolted into the clutter somewhere. For a while, I thought maybe they'd ran off entirely because I didn't see them while looking around--but after a little bit I started noticing little pink and purple blurs in corners or in the corner of my eye. I think it started as genuine fear and mistrust, but it slowly started to feel like a game almost. If I thought I saw them, I would go look, only for them to be gone; sometimes the patter of tiny feet in the ceiling, or a thump of bumping into something in the next room, would tell me they were around. I left the charging dock plugged in for them and stayed out of that room for a while.

"Weeks of this, and I finally got a goof look at them. They stayed visible once caught before scurrying--though Laa would give me a dirty look when she did. Unsurprisingly, it was Twii who made first contact, about a month into this bizarre trust exercise. I have my routine, and they undoubtedly knew it well by then, knowing when I was working and when I had to eat or where I relaxed. Twii came out while I was reading and tugged on my hair.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't startled, but the little giggle as I saw a pink blur zip onto my bookshelf let me know it wasn't anything to worry about. I saw her peeking out at me from the books, probably seeing if I would come after her. I didn't. Laa was there as well, behind her, and gave her a swat like she wasn't supposed to to that.

"But then Laa started staying out more. She wouldn't make contact, but I saw her sitting on my desk, watching. They really like the loft, probably because it's calm and full of hiding places--I like it too, especially when it rains and the roof makes that nice sound and there's not leaks to worry about. If I looked at her, she'd glare at me, and any motion at all that made her think I was going to touch her made her jump or run off for the day. I absolutely believe she's afraid of contact due to how she was broken.

"Thinking back on it is odd now; I never considered that I was lonely before now. For all their worth, it's not like Rukbat and Aquila are very good at conversation. They aren't made to be, but I'd be remiss to not grasp my lack of interaction as a possible deficit in my well-being. I know they understand me to the degree their system was designed to, but seeing now that they are, for all intents and purposes, animals, while the twins, despite being animal-like in their behaviors, display obvious levels of intelligence that make them very different from Ruk and Quila. Watching them interact and even slowly respond to me when I said something felt... good but also painful.

"I mean, it's been.... years now.

"The house has gotten much... warmer with the little ones running around, hiding things, chirping and reminding me someone is there. They've become a schedule keeper of sorts, peeping or running around at the same time to remind me to eat or check something.

"Even so, it didn't prepare me for the first time they let me touch them. Twii first approached me at my desk, crawling right over my notes to rub into my hand; she curled up and took a nap right there while I was reading, using my hand as a bed. Honestly, I think I almost cried--had to stop myself from making noise while losing my damn mind. Definitely didn't get any work done.

"After that, Twii stayed near me more often, and had been for a few days; Laa kept watching from a distance, sometimes chirping at her sister, other times leaving the room after confirming I wasn't doing anything wrong. It was a time Twii wasn't with me that Laa finally took that step; I was watching something or other--don't ask me what, the signal out here is trash--when I saw movement on the seat. I'd thought Twii had come over and tapped my lap for her, but the one who crawled up was Laa. She nestled onto my thigh like she'd always done that and fell right to sleep.

"I actually did cry that time; it was short-lived though. I touched her with my finger and she woke up, grabbed me and whacked my hand like she was fighting for her life and took off, giving me a dirty look from the end table. I apologized, but she didn't come back that night; I did, however, see her more and more as she seemed to be reading over my shoulder or waiting for me at my seat in the relaxing room.

"All of this leading up to nearly three months of them getting comfortable with me enough that when I offered to give them a proper fix, as they were still scratched and worn out in places, they agreed to it. I'd gathered the parts and material ages ago and had it all ready, and with how small and simple Stardusts were, it wouldn't take long at all to actually do. Four hours later, they were squeaky clean and like new, fully patched into my signal tower and renamed in their personal systems; whoever their original owner was had already been wiped from them, so it was easy to add my information to them without needing to reset them.

"Once they were online... Genuinely, I wasn't prepared. They jumped at me and rubbed my face like they trying to push through me. I haven't felt that happy in... a long time.

"If I find out whoever dumped them, I'm going to have some words for them. After I wrench them in the head."

--Jenn

#oc #robot #azil #jenn&co #stardust personal companion #twii&laa #worldbuilding #backstory #free runner au

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nosuchthingasagruffalo · 1 year

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Chapter 10

Voyager had now spent several weeks in the unfamiliar part of space, they were met with suspicion and mistrust in most places they visited and Tuvok worried that their lack of progress would have them recalled to HQ soon. The had spent several days on the surface of a minor planet that was part of a larger system, Starfleet had initially sent them in several sectors out but had successfully bought them a few weeks. In this sector there were whispers of human like aliens having visited recently, the crew had spent their time on the surface keeping a low profile, listening to whispers and rumours that were more promising than official channels. Chakotay had spent the evening at a grimy and distinctly unpleasant bar where he was listening to an alien with three eyes criticising Chakotay's inferior vision.

"your kind are short, weak and think you are smarter than you are"

"I might not be seven foot, and maybe I'm weaker than you but my friends and I certainly don't see ourselves as superior"

"not you idiot. Your friends that came through weeks ago, wanting us to join their, I don't know, alliance, club, boy scout meeting. Promising power and our pick of other planet's resources. Full. Of. Shit." the alien went on.

"what sort of club? Starfleet? The Federation? That's not our standard diplomacy"

"I don't know, ridiculous anyway, having to go to sector 356.769. Why can't it be here? Less travelling, better beer, the locals over there are snivelling idiots"

Chakotay reconvened with Tuvok and Janeway later that night.

"I have heard these claims also" Tuvok stated "Human and potentially Klingon like people, promising power and wealth, requiring loyalty and secrecy. To understate, this is not the Starfleet way"

"Do we know where these men were headed?" Janeway asked,

Chakotay answered, "the guy in the bar said 356.7.."

"69" Janeway answered. "Kathryn how did you know?" Chakotay asked but Janeway shook her head and gazed out of the window watching the shadows from the curtains flap across the wall.

**Aboard the Essex**

Captain Abioye stood and addressed the members of staff sat around the briefing room table.

"Commander Hansen you will assume command whilst I am with the away team on the surface, in addition to watching us I expect a full warp core breach drill and a test flight on all out shuttles, I don't expect any surprises from our friends the Llandid so you should have ample time to complete these tasks. Make sure you are resting too, I want you fully recovered in time for the crew's yearly goals meeting" he winked.

"Understood Sir, have you completed your roster for the away team, I have three ensigns, Chan, Rasmussen and Janeway who would relish the opportunity to add to their away team experience"

The planet surface was cold and icy, even Starfleet's advanced thermal technology couldn't keep the away team warm. Charlotte collected her mineral deposits and saw a small pub partially hidden by a wall, she would go inside for a minute she thought, just to warm a little before she moved to the next part of her task.

In the pub it was cosy with an open fire and high backed arm chairs. Being careful not to order anything alcoholic she found a tall chair in a corner and sat with her drink. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a flash of red and a close shaven head, was that the Captain? He was supposed to be on the other side of the city at the parliament building. She noticed he was deep in conversation with a group of aliens that were clearly not from this sector. Someone dropped a glass and the pub cheered, the group looked up and Charlotte sank down in her chair, hoping she had not been seen.

The rest of the mission was excruciatingly long, Charlotte didn't want to speak over the comm line so had to wait several days before she could speak to Seven. Was the Captain looking at her strangely? She felt she needed to let a few hours pass before speaking to Seven upon their arrival, fortunately she saw her in the mess hall the evening of their return. "Commander, I must speak with you in private, it is of the upmost urgency" Charlotte whispered, Seven raised an eyebrow "Ensign, I require a self evaluation of this week's mission meet me in my office.." she saw the look on Lottie's face "forgive me, it is late, let us get a cup of cocoa in my quarters and you can give me the highlights if what you have learned"

Seven retrieved two mugs from the replicator. "Auntie, I must speak to you off the record, how well do you know the Captain, I mean really?"

"As I'm new to Starfleet not well at all, only reputation, which is impeccable. He fought the Cardassians, he spoke up for Holo-rights, he is fair and balanced"

"There's a few things that just don't add up, there's something about him. It's very convenient that you're here, you don't really know many of Stafleet command, you're less familiar with the processes, if I had something to hide I too would employ someone without too much insider information. Someone whom others might unfairly judge or dismiss"

"that is very logical" Seven admitted.

**20 years earlier**

Kathryn came to the sofa Seven was seated on and half rolled, half plopped herself down. "If I explode please deploarise any graviton pulses I cause"

"I have calculated that this is the likely conclusion if you don't go into labour within the next 7 days" the blonde woman retorted. Kathryn couldn't keep a straight face "oh I know I caused this, two babies back to back Chakotay, I said, it will be easier to get it all over and done with Chakotay, let's use two of my frozen eggs Chakotay, there's no way they'll both take at my age" she groaned. "Please, let's take my mind off the fact I'm pulling small moons into my orbit. What's your news, how's it going with Trixana?"

"She called it off, said I wasn't ready for an adult relationship, especially not one with a telepath" Seven sighed. "There's a lot to be said against the Borg but the escape heartbreak".

"oh sweetheart, I'm sorry" Kathryn pulled her in for a hug.

"I wasn't Seven of Nine with her I was One of Two" Seven let a small tear escape "all other women were irrelevant when I was with her".

**Present day**

Seven entered the readyroom. "We are approaching the last known co-ordinates of the Lohengrin Sir. This area of space is not well charted in Federation maps, do you know what we will expect when we arrive?"

"No" the Captain answered curtly. There was a long silence. "Dismissed" he said.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

“Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. “No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #alternative backstory #dead spaces #jessaramine

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zinzinina · 2 years

Note

Hi Sam! 💕 I’ve been thinking about A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement lately, and I was wondering if you had any little headcanons, conversations, or moments that you loved and didn’t make it into the final draft? If you did I’d love to hear about them, your fic is one of my all-time faves! 💖

(Hope you’re having a lovely week! Sending all sorts of nice and good vibes your way ✨)

Aaah Jess my sweet friend this is so very kind 😭 and reading this honestly makes me a tiny little bit emo 💖🥺 thank you so much for indulging me and letting me talk about this—warning, it got so fucking long.

There's actually a ton that didn't make it into the final fic. I try to be a bit sparse with my writing even though I struggle to kill my darlings; I feel like I have a habit of waffling on with plot or psychoanalysis which I know isn't always what's best for the story or necessarily what will be enjoyable to read (especially when it's just supposed to be dumb fucking smut, lol). So the slightly bigger things that didn't make the cut were:

A plotline where they bumped into another hunter while on a job (I was torn on whether it'd be Bossk or Cad Bane) but I wanted it to be someone Boba was friendly-ish with so I could get into the actual extent of how incredibly isolated he was, even among his peers. There was going to be a little bit more of a discussion around when he worked with gangs out of necessity as a kid, the situation with Aurra Sing where he was screwed over, etc. which delved more into Jango a bit and how he worked very strictly alone—apart from Zam—and how living with his universal mistrust had influenced Boba. There was going to be a little more foreshadowing for the fact that somewhere along the line Boba had made a thoroughly shitty deal with the Empire (prior to the Vader revelation) and how the word had started to quietly spread among the hunting community that Boba was operating on his own, more-fucked-up level than everyone else and that people were steering clear of him as a result. It ended up being cut because I realised I could hit all those points more anecdotally than through the clunkiness of introducing a character to have a cameo which just consisted of exposition-heavy dialogue and then disappearing again. I also realised Boba was already talking about Jango to the reader a lot on his own (I mean, for him, that is, considering how quiet he generally is) and so it was all removed because I felt like it was redundant.

Kickback was going to return toward the end and get a slightly happier ending, but then I changed my mind about saying goodbye on Alderaan; I wanted an entirely ambiguous separation wherein we didn't really know where she went after she left, and we all know what happens to Alderaan. Also I didn't think Boba would continue working for the Empire quite so comfortably if he had reason to believe someone he cared about was destroyed by them (although I do think he thought about it; considering Alderaan was destroyed for its alignment with the Rebellion and he had no way of knowing whether she'd stayed with them or moved off on her own—more ambiguity lolol)

The epilogue went through a few different versions; one was of Boba finding Fennec in the desert and deciding to save her, another one involved Boba speaking to Din about "letting go" after he said goodbye to Grogu, and then something completely different that I won't even go into, lol. I ended up paring it right back to a few lines because I thought it would have a greater impact if I kept it extremely simple (and hopefully that came across). I ended up really happy with the silence of the ending in that he was standing completely alone; it was short and direct and I didn't want it to feel like too much of a smug closing monologue pointing out all the beats of his characterisation that I'd tried to emulate, if that makes sense—like hopefully I’ve done a halfway decent enough job that it just comes through on its own merit whether people care to pick it out or not. I always wanted to make sure he ended up essentially where he is now in canon, and that we didn't really get an answer or a tidy resolution, because I think Boba as a character isn't thematically supposed to have clean or complete things happen to him; he's representative of a kind of "chasing around" after loss, and what gets left behind after everything else is said and done.

#thank you so much for indulging me with such a lovely ask my friend #saradika #a mutual arrangement #zin answers #a mutually beneficial arrangement #i am so sorry for this longass wanky answer #if anyone made it all the way through that incoherent rambling you win a prize dskfjlsd #and also pls forgive the fact that this fic is now kind of split between two titles i promise there's some housekeeping coming soon #boba fett #writing meta #happy tings

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eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hey everyone, welcome to the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading through this. I know it’s a crack ship and not everyone’s cup of tea, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you all enjoyed it :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Ten - Moving Forward

Two Weeks Later

"You feelin' okay?"

That was a loaded question, and one Freed wasn't yet ready to deal with. He and Gajeel were walking from the guildhall infirmary side by side, the first time that Freed had been outside since his demon had left him. It was mid morning and an entirely pleasant day, and Freed found himself angry at the sun beating down on them both. If it were raining or stormy then at least it would feel appropriate for his mood.

A cane. For the rest of his life, he would need a cane.

In terms of a mage's possible injuries, ending up with a cane wasn't much to complain about. People had been killed, mutilated and injured beyond recovery, so having to walk with a cane was hardly the worst that could happen. But every time he thought about it, Freed could only see a future limited by a piece of wood he would need to lean on.

The demon, it seemed, wasn't only eating away at his soul. It had slowly been sapping away at his energy both physical and magical, and the effect was more physical than Porlyiusca had thought. Porlyusica had said that, though she didn't know how long it would take, the demon would have eventually started to make Freed wither if it had been left to stay inside of him. The issue had been that, as the demon was being dragged from his soul, it's influence had exploded and affected Freed greatly, particularly in his lower right leg.

Porlyusica had said the influence had been like an ocean, slowly wearing away the coast. But as the demon was taken, it had turned into a tsunami.

He had been assured that the injury wasn't life threatening, and it was something that he could more-or-less get passed. Eventually, he would manage to bring the strength back to his leg, and when that happened the cane would only be a precaution for the occasional moments where the injury flared back up. Apparently he would be able to work as a mage again once the recovery began, though would have to change his fighting styles and work back up to the missions he had been taking.

Maybe he should be thankful that he would be able to continue working at all. He wasn't.

"Conflicted," Freed eventually said, walking beside Gajeel and determined to keep pace with him despite the unfamiliarity of the cane. "I'm glad you're here, though. Thank you."

"I wasn't gonna be anywhere else," Gajeel said firmly, and that was something of a consolation.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Freed knew what it was. Gajeel couldn't think of anything to say, because there was nothing that he could say to make the situation any better. No doubt, Gajeel knew that Freed wasn't fond of pity, and a lot of what a person might say in the situation might be seen as pitying, and so Gajeel was probably remaining quiet. Freed hoped this wasn't going to be a sign of things to come.

As if reading his thoughts, Gajeel suddenly perked up and looked at Freed with a mischievous smile. It was forced, but Freed didn't want to linger on that and so pushed it to the side and quirked up an eyebrow in a question.

"The stripper and the puppeteer are making Sparky and the flirt do their punishment this week," Gajeel said, and Freed laughed a little. "You wanna see them makin' asses out of themselves while being ordered around by two assholes."

"They actually went through with the butler idea?" Freed chuckled.

"Yeah. Even the thing about them being in their underwear and everything," Gajeel grinned, and maybe he was just happy to hear Freed amused. The last few weeks, he had been downcast at the best of times. "Even made sparky wear bunny ears. Though he was gonna fry all of us with how pissed off he looked. We were all laughin' pretty damn hard,"

"He takes bets seriously," Freed smiled. This topic, as stupid as it was, was a welcome distraction. "Are you sure you wish for me to see my ex in such a state of undress."

"Fuck yeah i do," Gajeel grinned. "You see him, then you see me and realise how much better you are now."

"So you intended to strip off too?" Freed probed. "I am being spoiled."

"Anythin' for my prince," Gajeel said.

Prince. Gajeel had been calling Freed that a lot over the last few weeks, and it always made him blush just a little. There was something so honest about the way he said it, as if Freed really were a man of importance to him as well as being someone to be revered. Freed wasn't the type of man to need complete adoration from a partener, but the fact Gajeel was so unquestioningly open about his reverence for him made Freed delighted. It was certainly better than city-boy, too.

And when he said he would do anything for Freed, it sounded like he meant it. Not just in the sense that he would do anything to make Freed's life easier now that this had happened. No, it felt like Gajeel was naturally happy to do things for Freed because he wanted to. Freed felt the same as Gajeel in that respect; he would do anything for him.

"I think maybe I'd like to go home for tonight," Freed eventually said, and Gajeel nodded.

"Thought you might," He said. "Don't worry about groceries or anything, I sorted 'em out. Spoke to yer team, so I've got everything you normally have, I think. Might make a cottage pie for dinner, Sparky said you like 'em. And I went to that bakery downtown and got you a banoffee pie for dessert."

And with a few statements, Gajeel had gotten Freed to cry.

The man who, less than a month ago, had been nothing more than a tedious acquaintance of Freed's was now somehow one of the most treasured people in his life. Because how could he not be? How could Freed not be entirely enamoured by a man like Gajeel? A man who had visited Freed every day in the infirmary, even sneaking in some nights despite rules saying he shouldn't. A man who, despite being known for his antisocial nature, had spoken to Freed's team to find out what he liked and what he did when the world was getting on top of him. A man who knew that something so trivial and comparatively not important as an empty fridge would be Freed's first thought after what had happened.

Gajeel noticed his sudden emotion and turned immediately. He looked at Freed with such open concern on his face, cupping Freed's cheeks with his large and calloused hands so carefully that Freed might swoon. Damn this brute of a man and his hidden fragility.

"It'll get better," Gajeel whispered. "I know it's shit now, and I ain't gonna tell ya how to feel 'cause that'd be shitty of me, but you'll get past it. Yer Freed fucking Justine, remember."

"I know," Freed chuckled, blinking a few times to cut off the tears. "Thank you."

"I ain't gonna let you do this alone, neither," Gajeel kept on. "Anythin' you need, anytime, I'm gonna do it for you. And you know you've got a whole guild full of people who'll do exactly the same. You'll get through it."

"I will," Freed whispered, and smiled at Gajeel. "You're too good to me."

"Like hell I am," Gajeel argued. "Now move yer ass. I wanna get in that damn bed of yours again. Mine feels shitty after havin' yours and yer runes would only let me in when I was bringing groceries."

Freed laughed at that. Gajeel certainly wasn't going to be treating him like glass. Good.

They walked down the streets of Magnolia side by side. For the most part it seemed normal, and on the few occasions where Freed's grasp on the cane wavered, or his leg buckled under him, Gajeel would help him back to being stable, held him while he walked for a few steps, and then acted like nothing had happened. Respectful, unpatronising, but there for him.

Gajeel was going to be there for him, and at that moment that was all Freed needed.

——

One Month Later

"Come on Prince," Gajeel yelled. "Nearly there, baby. Yer so close."

Gajeel was clapping as a form of motivation, standing on the side of the lake. He and Freed were in the forest that their relationship had begun in, having spent the night camping under the stars. The morning was a brisk and cold one, but Gajeel didn't care, as he watched his boyfriend keenly and with a ridiculous grin across his face.

Freed was so close. He was so close to getting there and Gajeel was so damn proud of him.

The couple had spoken at length about how Freed was going to move past his injury, and Freed had been adamant that he wanted to be as fit as he could and return to his missions as soon as he could. While Gajeel had been a little hesitant, he had worked with Freed on how they would accomplish that, and they had settled on building up his leg's muscle in small bursts. They would make goals for Freed to accomplish, and once he had accomplished one, he would move onto something more strenuous.

Swimming the entire length of the lake was the first goal. Although swimming didn't rely too heavily on his leg muscle, it kept it moving and put some on some burn. Multiple times a week they would get to the forest, and Freed would attempt it. So far, Gajeel had needed to dive in after and help him.

But this time, it looked different.

Freed was getting closer and closer to the shoreline and Gajeel could feel that this was the one. Finally Freed was going to get to the other end of the lake without any assistance. The water parted with each swift motion, and Gajeel was grinning from ear to ear as his boyfriend got closer.

"You can do this baby," He yelled again. "Yer fucking amazing. Yer so close."

Maybe Freed heard, because he seemed to speed up. As he approached the shoreline, Gajeel picked up his cane and rushed to where Freed was going to end up. He was going to do it! He was going to make it.

The moment Freed's hand hit the side of the lake, he removed his head from under the water. A look of shock turned to something close to joy, and Gajeel relished every second of it. To see the man he loved so happy, so proud of himself, was tremendous. Better still, Freed pushed himself out of the lake with no assistance, perhaps on an adrenaline high, and managed to stand up. It was wobbly, and he reached for his cane the moment it was within reach so he could prop himself up on it, but the fact he could do that after pushing his body so hard in swimming was incredible.

"Shit," Gajeel grinned. "You fucking-"

He was cut off when Freed grabbed Gajeel by the collar, pulled him down into a strong, passionate kiss. Gajeel stepped into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Freed's waist, not caring for how wet his clothes were going to be. He kissed back with as much passion as he could, because fuck - Freed had done it!

When they pulled apart, Freed had his left hand wrapped around Gajeel's neck. He looked practically giddy at his achievement. Fuck that was a handsome look on Freed, and Gajeel wanted to see it more. He pulled away, looked his man up and down and grinned.

Bastard shouldn't be able to kiss like that while dressed in a speedo.

Only Freed would be able to take the choice to give up sex until he was feeling reovered and turn it into a game where he'd try and turn Gajeel on every chance he got, just to piss him off. Motherfucking tease

"How d'you feel?" He asked, because Freed's health was more important than his arousal. "Nothing hurting too bad?"

"It burns, but like my arms do after lifting weights," Freed said, tentatively raising his right leg and moving it slightly. "But overall, I feel fantastic. Better than I have since everything began, I think."

"I'm glad," Gajeel grinned. "You wanna have some breakfast. Brought some pancake mix from the store if you wanna try it."

"Great," Freed grinned, and began to walk beside Gajeel to where they had set up camp. He looked up towards Gajeel with a spark in his eye that had been missing for some time. It was incredible to see it again. "I want to try and do it again tomorrow, to make sure that it wasn't a fluke. Would you mind sleeping here another night?"

"Of course not," Gajeel said immediately. Freed didn't need to ask.

"Once I'm sure that I can swim the length consistently, I think it makes sense to start working on exercises that focus on my leg, rather than using it as a secondary point of focus," Freed continued, seemingly unaware as Gajeel wrapped a towel around his bare shoulders. "I have a leg press at home which I could use, though perhaps that might be too much too soon. I suppose we can test it, can't we? You wouldn't mind being there, just in case something goes wrong."

"That's fine," Gajeel nodded, grinning at his boyfriend.

"Or perhaps some kind of ankle weights would be better," Freed continued, walking towards their camp as if walking on air. "They're not the most elegant solution, but they would certainly help build up muscle without too much strain. Perhaps you could make some for me, if you found the time of course. Maybe a continuous piece of iron that would snake around my calf, that way the weight would be distributed better around the leg."

"Makes sense," Gajeel said, chuckling. He was fairly sure he wasn't really a part of this conversation Freed was having with himself.

"I did want to start work on making the barn at the back of my property into a gym, but I've kept putting it off," Freed continued. "The space is rather a mess. Maybe the two of us could clean it out together. That would get me moving and help me be physical while using the cane," He then looked up to Gajeel and frowned. "Why are you smiling like that at me?"

"Yer cute when yer scheemin'," Gajeel grinned. "Glad I get to watch it."

Freed looked like he wanted to argue, so Gajeel leant over, pressed a kiss on the crown of his head, and smiled. Things were getting better.

——

Two Months Later

"Freed, no," Bickslow said firmly. "You can't do this to us."

"Why did you think this was a good idea?" Gray demanded, resting his head in his hands. "You've doomed us all."

"You're all so dramatic," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the chair and moving the wrapped box so it was out of sight again. "And I'm afraid that, when I'm choosing a gift for my boyfriend, I didn't prioritise the opinions of my friends."

"You should have," Evergreen huffed. "This is going to be awful."

The guild's New Years party had been going for hours now, and it had been a fun affair. People had drunk, made fools of themselves, and shared tender moments with their fellow guild members. While Freed hadn't engaged in much of the action, other than beating Max, Loke and Natsu in an arm wrestling contest, he had enjoyed a night of people watching and drinking with his friends and boyfriend.

As the night wore on, The Raijinshuu had flocked to a corner and sat at a table. Not only The Raijinshuu though, as Gajeel, Gray and Elfman were now mainstays of their table. It was odd, how quickly their small group had expanded and how easy these new friendships had been formed. Even Laxus, who had openly shown frustration at the fact he could have to go through the torture of becoming friendly with new people, had managed to find common ground with their new partners, even if he did pretend to be annoyed by their presence.

Or perhaps he was distracted. He and Loke could often be found glancing across at each other in subtle moments. Perhaps being forced to dress as sexy bunny-butlers had brought them together in a way fighting side by side just couldn't.

They were less subtle than Evergreen and Elfman, though. It was frustrating.

At that moment, Gajeel and Laxus had gone to the bar to collect the latest round. Freed had taken the opportunity to have a little fun with everyone else sitting at the table, and told them what his specific gift for Gajeel was. They had been less than pleased when they found out what it was, which only made Freed even more sure he had chosen the correct present.

"Hey," Gajeel said, placing a tray of drinks on the table and kissing Freed atop the head as he passed. "Why does everyone but you look pissy?"

"I told them that we couldn't open our gifts without you and Laxus being here," Freed lied smoothly, ignoring the roll of the eyes from Gray and Bickslow. "They were so enthusiastic to see what we've all got for each other, they didn't want to wait."

"Okay?" Gajeel frowned. "I don't believe ya, but if that's the story yer gonna go with, then I ain't gonna fight ya."

Freed chuckled. Gajeel really could see right through him.

Even though he didn't believe Freed's lie, the group did begin to open the presents they had gotten for each other. Elfman and Evergreen exchanged gifts first, doing so with the maturity of a woman who didn't know how to show off her affection, and the blush of a man who was delighted at even the smallest of compliments. Next, Bickslow and Gray, who had similar minds and had gotten each other gag gifts; Gray had been gifted ten coupons for a night with Bickslow, Bickslow had been gifted a pair of mens lingerie. Even Laxus had been given a gift from an 'anonymous' source, who had gotten him a small pendant shaped like a lion.

They really needed to be more subtle.

When it came to Freed and Gajeel, Gajeel offered his wrapped gift first. The box was long and thin, and Freed looked at it with curiosity as he began to unwrap it. When he looked at Gajeel, the dragon slayer was nervous.

"If you don't like it, that's okay?" Gajeel said, and Freed frowned. "It was kinda risky. So don't feel bad if you wanna change it back."

Not entirely sure what to expect, Freed opened the box. Inside of it was a new walking cane, one made of both wood and metal, a hell of a lot nicer than the one he'd gotten from Porlyusica. For a moment he wondered what Gajeel had been so nervous about, and what he meant by 'change it back', when he saw the handle. Rather than a simple handle, Gajeel had placed the hilt of Freed's sword on top of it.

The sword had been a constant burden for Freed over the past few months. He couldn't use it as his hand was occupied with the cane, so he had been forced to retire it. Looking at it was like a reflection of how much he had lost, and it had gotten so bad that he had put it in the attic and locked it away. Gajeel had apparently found it.

"I know the sword meant a lot to ya, but after what happened it made you feel shitty," Gajeel explained. "But I wanted it to make you feel good. Not something from yer past, but something from yer future."

"It's beautiful," Freed whispered, running his hand over the metal that had once been his hilt.

The sword had been the first thing he had brought with his own money, and the hilt had been the deciding factor over all the other weapons the armory had. For most of his life, it had been his most prized possession. Now, with the hilt attached to something that he could use, rather than something that taunted him with it's past importance, he could look at it with fondness and pride again.

"You sure?" Gajeel asked.

"Yes," Freed said earnestly. "It's perfect."

"You ain't seen everythin' yet," Gajeel was grinning now, and Freed removed it from it's box. "If y' push it into the ground and twist it anti-clockwise, you'll see what else I did."

Freed did as instructed, and heard a small click come from inside the cane. He lifted it up, and a thin blade was revealed to him. He looked at the shining metal with wonderment, and slowly brought the blade towards him. Another sword, more lightweight and agile than his previous blade had been, which worked better for his current state.

"I smelted down the old one and made it from the same metal, so it'll carry all the enchantments you put on it," Gajeel explained. "Thought you'd need one for when you started working again."

"It's perfect," Freed whispered, grinning at the blade. "Thank you so much, Gajeel."

"Happy new year, prince," Gajeel mumbled, pressing his lips against Freed's for a chaste kiss. "Yer gonna kick ass, I know it."

"I certainly intend to," Freed smiled, reaching for his gift to Gajeel. "While I admit it's not as thought out as yours was - I don't think anything could be - I do hope you enjoy what I got you."

Gajeel grinned and began to rip open the present, and everyone at the table who knew what he'd been gifted seemed downtrodden at the thought. Gajeel, however, looked into the large box with sparkling eyes and the biggest, most excited grin on his face. A moment later, he brandished his new electric guitar with anticipation rushing through him. Yes, Freed had definitely gotten him the right gift.

"Holy shit," Gajeel said with an excited laugh. "This is fucking kickass."

"I'm glad you like it," Freed smiled. "I should say, I expect a show."

Everyone groaned, but Gajeel ignored them. "Fuck yeah yer getting a show."

Before leaving, however, Gajeel leant down and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss that was perhaps too deep for the situation. But with the constant PDA from Gray and Bickslow, the love/hate flirting from Elfman and Evergreen, and whatever the hell Loke and Laxus had between them, Freed felt he was allowed to kiss his boyfriend how he pleased.

"I should say," Freed murmured into Gajeel's ear as he pulled away. "I find musicians very sexy."

"Y' do, huh?" Gajeel grinned, voice a little husky.

"And if a musician were to dedicate a song to me, I could be persuaded to let him do anything at all to me," Freed continued, voice a sexy tease which he hopes would go right down Gajeel's spine. "Including, perhaps allowing him to bind me to my bed with the manicals that he thinks I don't know are hidden in the spare room," Gajeel's breath hitched. "I might let him keep me there all night, even. Though, I suppose, once I was bound, he'd be in complete control of me, so I'd have to do as instructed no matter what."

"Fuck yeah you would," Gajeel growled a little, and Freed smirked.

Once Freed had been recovered enough, the two men had restarted their sex life. Freed was happy both topping and bottoming, but Gajeel had shown himself to enjoy taking the top roll with sadistic glee. Freed had been happy to accommodate, and he'd been beaten and bruised by the man night after night.

"Something to consider before you start," Freed grinned, pulling away from Gajeel's ear to lean back in his seat.

Gajeel walked to the guildhall's stage with purpose, hefting his new guitar and plugging it into the amplifier. It seemed like everyone but Freed was unhappy with this turn of events, but neither man cared. This was for them, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

"I'm gonna dedicate this to my Prince, the hottest motherfucker in this guild," He looked towards Freed with an evil grin. "And this is a warnin' baby. You better be dancin' now, 'cause yer gonna be too fuckin sore to do it tomorrow."

Freed laughed, raised a glass to toast the sentiment, and sat back to watch his boyfriend perform.

——

Nine Months Later

Gajeel woke up with Freed wrapped up in his arms, and he still smiled at the sight of the sleeping man despite how much he'd seen it.

One year. He'd spent one year with Freed, and enjoyed every damn day of it.

Even if the start had been rocky, both with how they first felt anger towards each other as well as the difficulties Freed was facing with his leg, Gajeel wouldn't have changed a single day. Without their arguments on that first week, then Gajeel couldn't be sure that their passion would have turned into something more beautiful and more important than Gajeel would have ever predicted. And while he would give anything for Freed not to have had to face the demon and all the consequences of its possession, Gajeel was so proud of Freed for fighting through it all and was so glad he could be there to help him.

Now, Freed was a lot better. He was stronger on his feet and his cane was rarely needed, even if he always kept it with him. He could go on missions, both with Gajeel and with his team. While they weren't as action-filled as his previous missions, Freed was relearning his craft and creating a new fighting style that could accommodate his needs.

He was a fucking badass, and Gajeel loved him so much.

Life had changed for Gajeel too. Months prior, his contract in the shitty apartment had ended and Freed had invited him to move in with him. Now, every morning he got to wake up with Freed in their shared bed, in their shared home, in their shared lives.

Life was good.

With careful movements, he pressed his lips against Freed's to coax him awake. One thing that hadn't changed was Freed's adorable habit of sleeping in as late as he could, and normally Gajeel would be happy to accommodate. But today was their anniversary and he wanted to spend as much time as he could with his boyfriend. The afternoon and the evening were all planned by Freed, but Gajeel had a few ways of making the morning more fun.

"Wake up, baby," He murmured. "I got a surprise for ya."

Freed, as he always did when he was woken up before he wanted, blinked a few times and pushed his face into Gajeel's chest as if in protest to waking up. Gajeel chuckled, stroked his hand through Freed's hair, and gently pulled the man out from his chest. Freed was sleep worn and tired, but still smiled up at Gajeel.

"Morning," He greeted through a yawn.

"G' mornin'," Gajeel said with a grin. "Y' better not be tired all day. I've got plans for ya."

"Oh have you," Freed grinned lazily, hand resting on Gajeel. "Do tell."

"Not like that, y' horny fucker," Gajeel grinned. Of course, part of the day would be dedicated to screwing Freed senseless, but just not now. "Put on a robe or somethin', I'm gonna make ya breakfast."

Freed raised an eyebrow, but did as instructed and slowly removed himself from the bed. Once out from under the covers, Gajeel saw the man in his naked glory and smirked. Over the year, Freed had shown an interest in getting more piercings, and Gajeel had happily obliged. He had rings decorating his other ear, a stud on his nose, and a single barbell at the base of his cock. That was Gajeel's favourite. Day by day, he was turning his prince more punk.

In response, Gajeel had gotten himself some new tattoos in the shape of Freed's runes. They hadn't figured out how to implant actual runes, but the tattoos looked just the same. He now had the runic word for Dragon on his left arm, and he looked fucking kickass.

"When you said you were going to make breakfast, I hope you meant food," Freed teased gently. "Because at the moment, you look ready to eat me."

"Later, Prince," Gajeel promised, wrapping an arm around Freed.

They walked to the kitchen, and Freed sat at the table while Gajeel got to cooking. Freed mainly cooked for them both as he was better, but Gajeel was by no means bad when tasked with a meal. He also knew each and every one of Freed's guilty pleasure meals, and as such had decided to cook them both pancakes and bacon for their breakfast. They would need the energy for the rest of the day. No doubt Freed had something good planned, and then of course there was the double date dinner with Gray and Bickslow.

Apparently, according to Bickslow, they shared an anniversary, and as such had to celebrate together.

"Y' see that box on the table," Gajeel spoke over his shoulder. "Got you a present. Open it."

"I thought we agreed not to," Freed said, picking up the box.

"Yeah, I know. I had this already and thought it would be good for ya," Gajeel smiled to himself as he whisked the mixture. He heard paper ruffling behind him, and grinned when he heard Freed laugh. "Put it on. Every prince needs one, after all."

It was the wooden crown that he had carved when worrying about Freed in the forest. Once he had been sure Freed was okay, he had gone back to the forest and found where he'd left the carving. He had promised himself that, if he and Freed made it a year as a couple, he would give it to the man. By the amused expression on Freed's face, he had made the right choice.

Freed placed the crown on his head, rolling his eyes a little but smiling. Gajeel grinned and sauntered over to him. He pressed their lips together, grinning.

"Never thought I'd kiss a real prince," He teased. "Ain't I lucky."

"Not as lucky as me, I fear," Freed teased, running a hand up Gajeel's arms. When his fingers traced his runes, he stopped and smiled. "I never did tell you what this meant, did I? I suppose I was embarrassed. Would you like to know?"

"Yeah!" Gajeel exclaimed. He had always been curious.

"It means 'ownership'," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel's inner dragon leapt with joy. "It seems my magic has claimed you, Gajeel."

Gajeel grinned, wrapped Freed in his arms and kissed the hell out of him.

Yeah, life was pretty fucking good.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #Freed Justine #Gajeel Redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #Writing #multi chapter #chapter ten #word count: 5.2k

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raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 4 years

Text

Mommy Dearest, Part 1

"What if Leonardo was already married when he met Patience?"

****

Francesca ironed her husband's white dress shirt, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles. He was a dapper, handsome man and she wanted him to look perfect. Nothing less would do.

A distant cry made her look up and out the living room window. Her boys were carousing in their roomy green yard. Chris was trying to yank his brother down, fingers entangled in his black hair.

"Bambini!" She called out in warning, but they still tussled, and didn't separate until they heard the engine of their father's black car as he pulled into the garage.

The kids nearly stumbled over themselves, shouting joyously and running in through the back door as the front door opened. Her husband put down his suitcase, picked up Chris and swung him around. "You're being a good boy for your mama?"

As he passed, Leonardo brushed a soft, affectionate kiss on the nape of Francesca's neck. "How is our little Fiorella?"

"Sleeping. Finally." She smiled prettily and tucked a strand of her long, thick black hair behind her ear.

"We're having pasta e fagiole for dinner. No, don't get up. I'll make it. You've been busy all day, deserve a break."

Sometimes Francesca wondered what he did out all day. He said he was managing his father's businesses, but Francesca was from Sicily. And she knew what kind of a man Silvio had been. So sometimes, as she fed the baby or did the laundry, her mind wandered, and she wondered.

But watching her husband's back, head bent and light shining off his beautiful golden curls as he tilted his head to listen to his son's chatter...

She wasn't sure why she would even want to.

***

Patience flexed her fists. In. Out. In. Out.

Fifteen minutes.

Michael had fifteen minutes to plant the wire.

Borghese was lingering by an oak tree, by Central Park. He was carefully watching something in the distance in the grove of trees that surrounded them.

Patience stomped up, gripped his leather-clad coat and turned him around.

"You better LISTEN to me," she spat in his face. "I know what you're doing. You fucking criminal. You can hire as many fancy lawyers as you like--"

His eyes were clear blue and opaque as the day she had stormed up on the courthouse steps and screamed at him. "Ssh," he said, voice a hush. His pupils focused on hers, fixed in a terrifyingly intense way. He pressed a finger to her lips just as a dirty-faced toddler stumbled out of the sandbox and latched on her leg.

"Leonardo, cosa non va?" Chirped a pretty voice. A dainty dark-haired woman was walking towards them, holding the hand of a little boy.

Patience stood there, bare in front of his devouring eyes, the warmth of a child against her leg.

"I--I'm sorry," she stammered, picking up the baby girl and clumsily cradling into her shoulder. "I never meant--"

The woman--Mrs. Borghese--regarding her hesitantly. "Who are you?"

The baby kicked at her chest and babbled. Patience looked down. "I'm sorry. I thought you were--" alone "someone else. What a beautiful girl you have."

"Her name is Fiorella," said Borghese softly, taking his daughter from her arms. "You are good with children. Do you have any of your own?"

His gaze was making her tremble. "No," she said quickly, under the disturbing eyes of Borghese and the more confused ones of his wife. "I need--I need to go now." Michael should have had plenty of time to plant the wire. Plenty. She hurried away, hearing Mrs. Borghese erupt in a chattering of Sicilian behind her. Borghese himself did not answer. He was silent, and the silence echoed behind her, and it disturbed her more anything in her life.

***

Patience stumbled backwards, her torn ankle wrenching in pain. "You disgusting murderer," she spat. "You--you let me go r-right now, I have friends, friends in high places."

"No one's going to look for you, Pazienza, and you know it." He was calmly taking off his jacket.

She cast a desperate look outside the window. They were in an apartment--high up, too high up for her to jump out the window.

"You're a married father, Leonardo BORGHESE! You have a god damn family and you're kidnapping young women! I feel sorry for your wife, I really do, unless that whore is in on it with you."

He didn't seem to be particularly bothered by her spat threats, even when she called his wife a whore. "She's a good wife. That's all she is."

For some reason, that infuriated her father. "Two sons. They're old enough to know what their father gets up to. And I pity your daughter."

That seemed to irritate him. "Lie down and take your dress off."

She spat in his face, and he slapped her without his face twitching or changing. "Oh, dolcezza. You're, as they say, a tough nut to crack."

***

Francesca could not get the worry out from her mind.

"I had the ball!"

"No, I had it!"

Christoforo and Giuseppe. Chris and Johnny. Different as night and day. Both had their mother's thick, dark hair and father's elegant features, but Johnny was loud and rambunctious, his brother quiet and thoughtful. Chris had always been her favorite. He always helped his mama in the kitchen and looking after his baby sister, Fiorella.

"I'm off, my darling," Leo said to her as he shrugged on his dress jacket. He looked so handsome with his hair slicked back, those golden curls teased straight. Where was he going? Why was he dressing up?

"You be careful, dear," Francesca murmured, kissing Leonardo on the cheek. Instead of turning and kissing her back, he simply smiled warmly at her and left through the front door.

As he left, and as she saw him turn, his neck shifted, and Francesca saw a faint bruise on his nape. One that looked like a…

Hickey.

***

A hickey.

Francesca agonized and mulled and worried. The thought festered and nibbled at her even as she fed her baby.

"Mama, Johnny won't let me have the football," whined Chris, who instead of fighting his brother, had come to her. Francesca barely spared him a glance. "You sort it out with him then."

Francesca was from Sicily. She knew what her husband was involved with. He was a good husband--she wanted for nothing. He took her along on his galas, made love to her, bought her jewelry, adored their children. Even if their marriage had been arranged, she had dared to think he loved her.

Until now.

She knew that men--especially men as powerful as Leonardo--liked to have mistresses. It was natural. However much he had spoiled her, he was a man.

But it didn't stop worrying her.

She had been a good wife, had she not? Borne sons, raised them, not complained? What had she done wrong?

The keys to his other houses hung on the rungs by the door. She had not touched them before now.

***

The first house was still shuttered, and there were dead leaves in the driveway. It had not been inhabited for some time.

Francesca almost decided to just go home, but decided to check the apartment building he rented. After that, she decided, she would go home.

The inside of the lobby was cold and quiet, marble floors clicking under her heels. She checked her key. Room 2103.

She took the elevator, nervously worrying if someone should spot her, one of her husbands' "friends". Francesca had never done this before--but she had never mistrusted him like this before.

The silence of the hall rang in her ears. It looked new. Artificial. Like no one lived behind any of the lacquered doors.

She twisted the key into 2103, and slowly pushed it open. The onside stunned her--it was a wreck. It looked like a bunch of hoodlums had come through and trashed it. As she stepped onto the mussed rug, she heard a distant gasp and a moan.

Her heart went into overdrive. She crossed the room in one stride, yanked open the bedroom door, and saw her worst nightmare

Inside the bedroom, on a bed with the sheets crumpled and tossed over the edge, Leonardo, her… her… husband was lying on top of what looked like a young girl, his body between her thighs.

As soon as the door swung open, Leonardo whipped around onto his back, next to the girl, and his eyes displayed a wild panic before they focused on her and recognized her. "Chicca. I can--"

He had not called her Chicca since they had courted. Somehow, that detail made her fury rise to neverending heights. "You disgusting disgrace!" Francesca screamed, tears streaming down her face. Ten years of marriage were slipping down a black hole in front of her horrified eyes.

The girl had rolled over onto the floor, covering her small breasts with the sheet. She had to be in her teens at the very least, early teens if Francesca was being truthful. She felt the disgust roil in her belly.

"Francesca," said Leonardo finally, and he stepped towards her, curving his hand over her tear-stained cheek. For a moment they were back in Sicily again, in Scafapani, at their first meeting in the cathedral, him with his hair in rebellious curls framing his gentle face, her hiding behind her scarf to shield her beet red flush. But he had laughed and taken her hand and kissed it anyway.

And his hand drifted down to her neck.

***

Patience ran out of the bedroom, clutching the sheet around her like a cape, and burst through the front door. She heard Borghese's wife wailing behind her, calling him mixed insults in English and Italian. When she came to the elevator, her high, despairing voice stopped as quickly as it began.

Cut off. Like a pig's throat slit, or a goose's neck strangled.

Tears beaded in her eyes as the silver doors of the elevator opened. When they klinged on the first floor, Patience ran out of the building, never looking back.

***

Chris knew there was something wrong as soon as his father called upstairs. There was a stern, sorrowful edge to his voice. "Giuseppe. Christoforo. Come down here. Your father wants to talk to you."

"I didn't do it, dad!" Johnny protested immediately as their father sat them down in the sitting room. Dad was holding baby Fiorella on his lap.

Chris felt the chill rest over his shoulders before he started speaking. He knew it was more enormous than that.

"You didn't do anything, Johnny. It's about your mother."

"What about mama? Is… is she all right?"

"Mama isn't coming back. She… had an accident."

There was a pause, and Johnny began to howl loudly. Chris's eyes welled with tears, but he didn't speak. All he could do was stare. His brain refused to believe it.

With Johnny's wails, Fiorella began to cry too, and Dad rocked her in his arms, getting up. "I'm so sorry, my darlings. I'm so sorry." He took them both in his arms, and Chris finally let himself weep, face pressed into the breast of his father's suit.

"What are we gonna do?" Sobbed Johnny when his father let go. "What are we gonna do without Mama?"

"Hush now." He gently stroked his son's head, gentle fingers threading their way through his thick dark hair. "Things will be back to normal soon. You won't be without a mother for long."

"Whaddyou mean?" Sniffed Chris. His father smiled a strange, secret smile and looked down at his daughter in his arms, bouncing her.

"There is someone I want you to meet. And I promise you… you are going to just adore her."

#bonus chapter

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trylonandperisphere · 6 years

Text

Room and Board, Ch. 5

A/N: I know, you guys. Over TWO YEARS later. What can I say? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I promised myself I would finish this eventually! Extra special thanks to Akanevm for becoming my patron and encouraging me to pick this mess up again. This is soooooo not beta'd, by the way. <3

Also on fanfiction.net and AO3.

I'm afraid what happened next was not my finest moment. I completely froze.

For a moment that seemed to stretch endlessly, I stood there, my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide, as the lights continued to flash and the music to pulse, echoing in my head. Not a single word came to me, to recoil, reassure or respond. Instead, it was like the beat of the bass drum synced with my heart, causing it to beat louder, faster, vibrating my chest and pumping blood through my body until I could feel it pulse all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. I registered a rush of cool sweat on my head, arms and legs, and a coiling in my stomach, all the while she was looking at me, watching me, the red, yellow and blue beams chasing each other across her body, glowing on the round of her left cheek. And then the smallest movements happened: her eyes tracked back and forth once to read mine, her eyebrows twitched above her glasses, and her lips pressed together just the slightest bit, and I could tell that from my silence, some kind of damage had been done.

Abruptly, she leaned back and put her hands up in a placating gesture.

"Oh, hey," she said, and a grin that was not comfortable stretched her mouth. "I just… my mistake, okay? I, like, just got myself the wrong impression." Now I was uncomfortable both for myself and on her behalf, pained that I was causing her to feel awkward, too. "Look, no offense, right? I get that you're straight, and, well, I couldn't help but try… but I won't again. I've been having such a good time with you, so… so could we forget it and just"—she huffed out something like a laugh—"just hang out like two people who could get to be friends?"

Part of me knew it was hard for her. It's not like I'd met a lot of gay people, much less any our age. But Mémé Aurora used to tell me how free Berlin and Paris had been for all types of people before the war, and then what the Nazis did to anyone different, and how so many people went along with it, either agreeing or not wanting to get into trouble. She told me how, even if it wasn't as bad and things had changed, people were still shunned, attacked, and discriminated against, even in countries as progressive as Switzerland. And of course I had seen it, now and then—harsh words spoken, or even milder insinuations in school, meant to embarrass someone, put them down, isolate them. Mémé had always instilled respect and kindness for the humanity of others in me, even when I had felt my worst, my most alone. So I hated to see Cosima, whom I knew had put herself out on a limb, made herself vulnerable because, well, for some reason she liked me, looking worried at how I might react, at my silence, at a rejection that could turn ignorant or cruel. I hated it, and yet I felt a panic welling, a panic that stunned me,and I wasn't sure why.

I just needed some space, some air. I just needed it.

"Uh…" I forced out, then felt a smile stretch my face that was equally as uncomfortable as hers, and I hated myself for it. "It's, it's okay," I finally managed. "It's fine; don't worry about it. I just… It's just that I'm awfully tired, and hot, and… I just think I need to get some air. So…"

I could see her face fall in hurt and confusion, and maybe a sort of disbelief at my behaviour. I didn't want that at all, and part of me was shouting at myself for being such an idiot, when I'd been enjoying being with her so much, and nothing wrong had happened, really, had it? Of course you could still be friends, it was telling me, don't let yourself mistrust again, believe in the worst, now when you've been doing so well. Don't go to that place again. But at the same time, my body was pulling me backward.

So, I fumbled for a moment, and just pushed out what I could.

"I just… I just have to go. But… I'll contact you, alright? You… you're the only Cosima in the competition, yes?" I tried to smile, though it felt strange. I hoped that somehow repeating back to her what she'd said before would be some sort of talisman of my well meaning she could hold onto, of how I remembered the fun we'd had together and wasn't dismissing it, even if I was backing away as I spoke.

She nodded, just once, and I couldn't take any more.

"Goodnight, Cosima," I breathed, careful not to say goodbye. It felt like the best I could do.

And when I pushed out of the dark and noisy club into the cold, night air, I just kept walking, head down, in rapid steps back to my room.

Of course I didn't have a key.

I stood there at the door, my mind swirling in distress like the fog of my breath as it met against the door and rolled back at me. I hadn't bothered to bring my coat, since the club was just a short walk from our cabin, but I could only stay outside so long before the freezing temperatures sunk into my bones. It was then that I heard someone laugh from within.

"Hello?" I called, puzzled, with a soft knock on the door. There was a pause and a shuffle, and then it opened, revealing Aida, looking back at me in surprise.

"Del? What are you doing here?" she asked, and then shook her head at herself. "Uh, I mean, sorry, it's cold out there. Come in, before you freeze your ass off."

I stepped in and as she closed the door to the room, I noticed the blonde girl from earlier sitting on the sofa. She gave me a little wave and a smile.

"Oh, euh, hello… Inge." I glanced back at Aida, who was locking the door. "I didn't know you two would be here."

"Ah, we, uh," Aida started, slipping past me to stand by the coffee table, "we were talking and we didn't want to keep spending money on drinks. So, I remembered we had this here." She picked up a bottle of some peppermint schnapps from the table and shook it to make a sloshing noise. "It's a drink and a mouthwash in one!" she joked. I gave a halfhearted chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd left and I…" Suddenly my vision was swimming as unexpected tears welled in my eyes. Aida's face dropped with bemused concern.

"Oh shit, did something happen? Are you alright?" she asked, and I nodded, but I had to press the back of my hand to my mouth to hold in a gasp. She took a step toward me, then paused and looked back and forth between me and Inge. She seemed hesitant, nonplussed.

Finally, Inge rose from the couch.

"Why don't I give you two some space to talk?" she offered, then addressed Aida. "I'll be back at my room if you want to reach me. 417, in the Dalgång Building, remember?" Aida nodded and the tall blonde gave me a kind nod and left.

It was quiet for a moment, then Aida stepped to me and gently put her arm around me to guide me to the couch.

"Here, have a seat," she said, taking one next to me and angling herself to take in my expression, which was no doubt contorted in my struggle not to cry. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a breath. What was I even crying about? I let it out slowly, working to regain control. When I opened my eyes she raised her eyebrows and shook the bottle again.

"Want a sip? Looks like maybe you need it." I laughed a little.

"Non, thank you. I'm sorry." I took another breath against a wave of emotion I didn't understand, and pulled myself together.

"I'm fine, really. I just… what you said was right. Cosima… likes me. She said something—" I actually had to chuckle at myself, because in repeating it I realized just how innocuous it was, and wonder at my overreaction. "She said I was her type of woman."

Aida took that in and made a little face.

"Uh-huh," she said. "Well, no smoothness points for phrasing on that one." She cocked her head and looked at me more seriously. "Did that upset you, that she came onto you? Did she do anything else?"

I found myself making a frustrated groan in my throat.

"No, she didn't… she didn't do anything wrong, really. I just… I don't know, I suddenly felt so uncomfortable. I didn't know how to act. You know, I've just never had anything like this happen to me before."

Aida let out a sigh and uncapped the bottle to take a pull.

"Yeah, okay," she said, after a moment. "So, you're thinking that a girl… hitting on you… is gross?"

"No, not like that," I answered, trying to understand my thoughts, myself. "I just… I should have just said 'thank you, but I'm not interested,' or something, and just left it at that, shouldn't I? But I didn't want to hurt her feelings… and I also had been having such a good time with her, and maybe… maybe part of me thought, 'what if I was leading her on?' You said maybe it could be interpreted like that…" It still wasn't making sense to me. Aida just looked at me steadily, saying nothing.

"Oh my god, I just freaked out, didn't I? Am I some kind of… asshole? A terrible person?" I asked.

Again, my best friend let out a deep sigh. She seemed to mull it over.

"Well… what did you do?" she inquired.

"I… I said it was alright," I replied slowly, going over it in my head. "Well, first I kind of froze. I didn't know what to say. And then she, she saw I wasn't responding, so she backed off. She said she was sorry, and she understood I was straight… I mean, that she'd made a mistake… and then she asked if we could just forget it happened, and if we could just hang out as friends."

Again I saw Cosima's face in my mind, small and sweet, transforming from nervous hope into dejection, maybe even resignation.

"I'm such an idiot," I said. I shook my head at myself. "So, then I just… kind of smiled and said it was okay, but I was tired and hot, so I had to go… but that I would contact her. Merde. Merde!"

Aida sighed.

"And then you left?"

"Yes, I just… left."

"And," she paused and looked at me closely, "did you mean it? Like, was it okay? Do you really think you'll contact her? Do you even want to?"

I sunk back into the cushions, feeling worn and disgusted with myself.

"Yes. I really think so. I mean… if she never said anything, I would still be there, now. But, that's not the point, is it? She did say something, and I reacted and… I don't know!"

Aida seemed to stare at the coffee table in front of us for a moment. She took another sip from the schnapps, and and made a low, little grunt in her throat. When she spoke again, her voice and inflection were serious.

"Delphine, do you think that if she was interested, she's going to keep thinking about you that way, and does that make you uncomfortable?"

I sat there for a moment, and something about her tone struck and rung inside me. I opened my mouth, then paused to really try to think about how I responded.

"I… I don't know if she will continue to think that way about me. I know people do have crushes, and think about other people a long time. B-but… it's all theoretical, because I haven't really ever had that." Aida's brow crinkled.

"I thought you were into that guy Luc before you…" she trailed off. I closed my eyes, knowing what she was thinking, then met her gaze again.

"I don't know if I was… 'into him,'" I admitted. "I thought I was… I really wanted to be. I mean, I know he was cute, and I did enjoy kissing him. I did think he was nice to me, and smart. So, when everyone teased me, I thought… I thought I was hurt because he rejected me. But… I think maybe it was more because I thought I'd never fit in." My eyes were welling up again.

"Shit, Delphine," she murmured. "Wait, what are you saying? Are you saying that you didn't like him, or you just haven't met someone you're attracted to, or you don't like guys, or…?"

I noticed that I trembled before I answered.

"I, I'm not sure," I finally said. "The therapist said… maybe it's just my depression. Maybe I don't have to rush myself into liking someone, that I have enough on my mind with school, and everything. He said this is a very overwhelming time of life sometimes, you know? And that I would work it out eventually… that many people are confused, even if they don't show it, or just do things they think they should because everyone else does. All I know is… I don't know what that's supposed to feel like, being attracted to someone, much less trusting them enough to… to acknowledge it in my brain and maybe even let them know, tu compends?"

I searched her eyes, feeling a little desperate. After all, although I had shared more with her than anyone else at school, there were still things I didn't express—not to anyone. I felt, in this moment, that she wouldn't judge me, that she truly was a kind person, but at the same time I felt vulnerable, nervous… maybe something like the way Cosima had felt with me, and I had messed that up.

The moment before she spoke seemed to stretch a long time.

"I think maybe I do understand," emerged carefully from her lips, and then my best friend said to me, "because, the truth is, I'm gay, Delphine... and I had a crush on you for a long time."

#room and board #cophine #orphan black #fan fiction #fan fic #writing #mine #clone club #the drought is over!#whether the water is of good quality is another story #TEEN ANGST CITY

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