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blush-and-books · 3 years

Text

she lives in daydreams with me

3+1 in which julie’s daydreaming spreads to luke, too. title and inspiration from she by harry styles.

a gift for my fellow fantoms on this beautiful clowngate.

a/n: this isn’t meant to be tied to/inspired by blissful reveries by noblealice on ao3, but it’s a great fic that i love and it’s a julie daydream fic so i may as well link it because you should check it out!!!

Luke noticed that sometimes, Julie would completely zone out.

It wasn’t often that she did it around him, but while she would try and study her pencil would be moving on the paper but her eyes would not be focused. Or when she would be washing the dishes, a faint humming could be heard under her breath as her hands mindlessly rinsed the plates and placed them into the dishwasher.

“They’re daydreams,” she whispers into the nearly pitch-black garage one night when they stay up, despite their exhaustion, just to be with each other. “I had them a little when I was a kid. It was how I got inspiration for a lot of songs.”

Julie’s voice raises to a higher pitch at the end of her sentence. It’s a familiar sound to Luke, now -- most of her little vocal cues are -- so he turns on the floor to face where she’s lying on the couch, and brings his hand up to her bare ankle.

“They’re musical?”

“They were, and then… They weren’t. I daydreamed a lot after my mom, but it was mostly her walking through the front door like she never left.”

He doesn’t have to say anything. He just needs to be there.”

“And then,” Julie continues, “after I met you, the music came back.”

His heart skips a beat. He knows she meant “you” as in him and Reggie and Alex, them as a collective unit; but it’s a fun little dream of his own for her to just be thinking of him.

Lightly, his thumb skates across her skin. “I’m glad. If anyone should have music in their life, it’s you, Julie.”

“Do you ever daydream?” Her voice is quiet. She’s probably falling asleep.

There’s no reply. So it’s just the two of them, in the dark, with his hand attached to her because now that he can feel her like this he doesn’t want to stop until he has to. His hand is just barely on her ankle, but with every trace of his fingers back and forth along the curve he marvels at his ability to do it in the first place.

A smile pops at the corners of Luke’s lips. “Not really,” he tells her. “If I did… They probably wouldn’t be musical, like yours.”

“Then what would you do?”

He stares, fixed, at his hand on her leg.

“The stuff I want to do, but can’t.”

nine in the morning, a man drops his kids off at school; and he’s thinking of you (like all of us do)

It’s a few days later when Luke realizes that something is off.

A simple Wednesday morning, when Julie darts into the garage before school with her backpack bouncing on her back as she runs up to each of them for a hug. Luke is the final recipient.

He enthusiastically throws his arms around her just as tightly as he does every morning, because in his heart, he wishes she could just stay. It’s ridiculous, and selfish, but he longs for the ability to lay on the torn old couch with Julie at his side and never have to leave.

“Writing when I come back?”

Her eyes are gazing up at him, round and wide and hopeful as her arms stay latched around his neck. Safely, he keeps his hands at her hips and doesn’t allow himself to consider letting them go anywhere else.

“Won’t you have homework?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, but I also have a song I want to work on and I won’t be able to focus until we finish it.”

Ironically, it sounds like one of the excuses he would give his parents long ago. Once the music was out of his head, he would tell them, then he could focus on homework.

(He didn’t.)

“You’re turning into me,” he jokes at her; to which she laughs with a bright and beautiful smile right in front of his face. His eyes can’t help but slip their focus to it. “Music before school? What happened to your dad saying ‘school first?’”

“I’ll tell him I’m going to the garage for peace and quiet.”

God, she’s making this harder and harder. For months, she was the one scolding him about her need to focus on school; and so he trained himself to come across as (marginally) less eager. But now that she’s bouncing on her tiptoes and her head is lifting right in front of his face as she teases fibbing to her dad to write with him, he doesn’t think he has much restraint left.

“How about…” He begins, trying to find something neutral to say. “How about you see how much homework you get and then decide what you want to do first?”

“Since when did you-”

The sound of Ray honking for Julie to come out ends their back-and-forth. It Luke looks close enough -- which he is, because why would he have anything better to do right now than look at Julie -- he can see her disappointment. “Go on, Boss. Your ride’s waiting. I’ll see you after school.”

Carefully, she slips from his arms and wishes them a final goodbye before hustling out of the garage.

And Luke collapses onto the couch the second she’s gone.

“You okay, man?”

“He’s fine, Reg. Just an idiot.”

Luke’s arm, that was covering his face, slides up so that he can glare at Alex. “Hey! Rude. Why am I an idiot?”

“Because all you do is agonize over Julie instead of talking to her.”

His forearm comes back down, blacking out his vision. “No point.”

Moments of quiet pass between the three boys, and eventually, the telltale sound of his bandmates poofing out of the room is faintly heard. Luke is left alone, on the couch.

He doesn’t know how much time passes where he sits in his self-made darkness before the garage door is opening again, and Julie is standing in the doorway, looking adrenaline-rushed and practically glowing. Luke, being Luke, jumps up from the couch in surprise.

“Julie! Hey, uh… What are you doing here? Didn’t you leave for school?”

Her grin is almost fake, it’s so blinding. “I forgot something.”

Unprompted and unexpectedly, Julie is confidently making her way towards him before softly resting her hands on his jaw and pulling his lips down to hers.

Even through his all-encompassing shock, his hands somehow find their way to her waist, and then her back, and then her hair. She’s pulling him down to her, so he’s kind of uncomfortably arched over her but he doesn’t care one bit. Just the same as this morning, she is pressed against him from head to toe but this feels so much better.

He’s trying to keep it slow and soft so that he can savor every moment of this random, welcomed action; but Julie’s asking for a quicker tempo. Her hands are skating across his shoulders and running up to his hair, pulling him down even farther, and he finds himself grasping at her thighs to lift her up and make things more comfortable but she’s pulling away before he can.

Once they part, she shyly takes her bottom lip between her teeth and Luke almost steals her away and begs for more. “That was it,” she mumbles, and then the car horn is echoing out front again, and-

Luke shakes awake.

he takes a boat out, imagines just sailing away (and not telling his mates)

He knows it’s a daydream almost immediately -- a long period of staring at a blank journal can do that to a guy -- when Julie suddenly appears and dangles car keys in front of him.

She’s only just got her permit. She can’t actually drive independently yet.

But he’s spent time on more than one occasion considering what they can go do together when she can.

“You ready for a break, Rockstar?” She asks with a coy smile, and it’s just more confirmation that it’s a fantasy. Julie has only ever called him “Rockstar” once.

But he already likes where his imagination is taking him, so he puts the journal on the coffee table and poofs over to her. “Born ready.”

Her hand tangles itself in his, and she enthusiastically tugs him from the studio into the sunny daylight where her dad’s car sits in the driveway. “Carlos and Dad and Tia are at a baseball game,” she grins, almost proudly, “so you and I get to have an adventure.”

God, this really is a dream. Julie isn’t as impulsive as he can be, but he occasionally finds himself wanting at the idea of going MIA for a day. Just a day. Less than 24 hours, even, with Julie by his side and nobody around who knows them or their situation. Julie and Luke against the world, against life and death, and whatever comes next.

“Lead the way, Boss.”

Nearly within the blink of an eye, they’re on the PCH, speeding down the asphalt with loud music blaring from the speakers. With the windows rolled down and the humid but fresh air billowing around them in the car, it was all too easy for Luke to imagine that he was…

Alive.

This should have been them in 1995 -- him and Julie, him and the boys, all of them together and feeling the rush of being a group of stupid teenagers who love each other.

He knows his hair is getting ruffled as he tilts his head back against the leather headrest, closing his eyes to directly face the air blowing into him. Maybe, through this dream, just for a moment, he can be human.

“This is so fun!” Julie screams next to him, and his face just breaks into a grin because it is so fun. She sounds so full of joy. It’s his favorite sound.

While a part of him wants to hold the daydream in this moment, with the sun hitting his legs and Julie’s hair chaotically whirling around her head; he decides to let things keep going. A moment later, they are pulling into a nearly empty parking lot on the beach.

Their seatbelts click and slide from their chests. Julie’s hand firmly latches around his wrist and proceeds to sprint with him laughing hysterically as he trails behind her, the ocean shimmering in the distance. The moment that their feet splash in the saltwater, Luke takes the chance to pull Julie into his arms by her waist and lift her up; droplets popping up from the water in a cyclone of laughter.

There’s already sweat layering both of their foreheads, but Luke feels honored that he’s standing close enough to her to be able to see it.

Hours -- or, what he assumes are hours -- pass by with water lapping their legs and Luke licking the salt from her shoulder in a move that started as a joke but was really just another ridiculous fantasy fulfilled. After he tries to splash her particularly roughly, she squeals and turns away; turning back to reveal a dripping wet face behind a curtain of hair.

Even though there’s a glare in her eyes, it’s playful. And she doesn’t fight him when he walks up to her, lifts the hem of his loose-fitting tank, and swipes across her cheeks to catch most of it.

The blush on her cheeks could be blamed on excessive sun, or the affectionate gesture, or-

“Luke?”

It takes less than a second for Luke to be back in the studio, back in front of the blank page, back in his reality.

And Julie is in the doorway.

Her cheeks aren’t pink, her legs aren’t bare, her skin isn’t sweat and seawater sticky. It was just a regular school day for her.

She still glows.

“Luke?” He hears her say again, and it’s the final nail in his coffin.

“Yeah, sorry. I was zoning out there for a sec.”

Her curious smile relaxes, and she takes the unspoken invitation to enter the garage and throw her backpack down next to the couch. Her eyes quickly find the journal, “write anything good?”

“Not a word. Didn’t have my partner.”

The line earns him a friendly shoulder-nudge. It’s not much compared to what he just had, but it’s something.

Only, his impulsive brain tells him he needs more.

“Can we go to the beach one day?”

Refocusing her gaze from the open notebook to his face, she amusingly furrows her eyebrows. “I mean… When I have my license, totally. Whatever you guys want.”

“I…” Shut up. Stop here. “I was thinking you and I, actually. Just us.”

“Oh.” He knows that “oh.” It’s the same one she gave him when she was flustered in the school hallway. He can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad sign. Her fingers are twitching against her legs and her eyes avoid his, but a part of him sees his daydream bleed into reality when a pink hue dusts her cheeks. “Just us.”

“Yeah, if you’re-”

“I’d love to.”

Her mouth zips shut like she didn’t mean to say it. But he’s already smiling at her, and probably sporting a blush of his own, and he knows he doesn’t even have a funny remark to say in response.

All he can do is count the days until Julie gets her license.

and she sleeps in his bed (while he plays pretend)

Sometimes, when Julie is gone, he’ll just… Go to her room.

It’s not weird.

He doesn’t snoop -- well, he tries not to -- but everything that’s out in the open is there for his eyes to take in. This way, he gets the little intricate details of what makes Julie Julie that would otherwise take years to learn about a person.

Today, when he poofs in, the bed is unmade. Normally she makes it before leaving for school, but on the rare occasion that she is running late, it will remain in disarray until her return.

Unless, he…

No, no, boundaries.

But it’s just a little favor. And it’s not like she can kill him or anything right?

Once again, his impulsivity dominates the argument. And he’s suddenly wrapping her sheet in his fists and tugging it up and over her pillows, followed by the comforter.

With each puff of air that brushes his face from the falling sheets, he catches a bit of her peach perfume.

The action of making a bed feels so distant to him, but he remembers having to do it himself like it was yesterday. He was too careless to tuck anything in or smooth anything out -- it was just a simple tugging of his sheets to cover the mattress. If he had Julie around back then, pulling him back from the precipice of his relationship with his parents and making music that Bobby wouldn’t steal, then she probably would have shown him how to make his bed more presentable for when she came over.

In front of him, the bed he's making doesn’t look like Julie’s anymore.

It looks like his. His old twin bed at Mitch and Emily Patterson’s house, his old bedroom tucked in at the end of the hallway. Every shade of blue and gray and yellow feels so familiar but only a little off; like his brain is vaguely reconstructing his home with blurred edges and familiar memories.

“Your bathroom is surprisingly clean,” a familiarly warm voice says from behind him. Julie stands in his doorway, adorning an ethereal flower-patterned dress and clunky black combat boots.

The strength of the daydream takes over when she approaches him with a smile and his hands, on instinct, find her hips. “I don’t know why you’re shocked. I’m not a slob.”

“Well…” They both chuckle at her tone. “I thought that with your parents out of town, everything here would be falling apart.”

“Well, you’re here, so that could never happen.”

Her smile is the one thing that he knows he got exactly right in this reconstructed environment. He will always know Julie.

The smile that he leans down to lightly kiss is the same smile he sees when they know they have a catchy chorus on their hands, or when she gets an A on a test, or sometimes just when she comes come to say hi to them. It’s pure Julie joy.

“Now that you’ve made your bed since I was in the bathroom,” she murmurs as they pull away, “can we take that nap we were talking about? School was exhausting.”

Tiredly, her head falls to his chest. It’s such a small, warm gesture; but it sends his heart soaring painfully into the wall of his ribs. “Of course, Boss.”

With a gentle touch, he pulls back the covers of his bed and gestures for Julie to crawl in first. She waves him off, trying to tug at the laces of her boots so that she doesn’t sleep in her shoes, but Luke is quick to prop himself on the edge of the bed and lift her foot to her knee.

“Such a gentleman,” she mocks him, but there’s no venom to her voice. In fact, she’s looking down at him like she loves him.

He slowly helps her slip her foot from the boot with a soft grip on her ankle. “For you, anything.”

Charged, quiet beats pass between them as he finishes work on the other shoe and instantly scoots over to make room on the bed for her to lay next to him. He can make out a small, pleased smile as she does so; rolling over to cuddle into his chest and tangle their legs the moment that she is able to do so.

He feels her take a deep breath against his collarbone as he pulls the sheets up to cover them both. “It all smells like you,” she sighs as she exhales.

“Is that a good thing?”

No verbal response -- just a nod, and the sight of her fingers curling into the edge of the sheet and pulling it up right under her nose. “You cozy, Boss?”

Her melodic hum vibrates against his sternum. Parents out of town, cuddling with his girlfriend, playing music -- this was the dream.

Truly, because it fades around him the moment the recognizable sound of a car rolling up the driveway hits his ears.

And he’s poofing down to greet Julie, acting as if he doesn’t have all of these wants and needs in his head that all go back to her.

It’s a late night, it’s after a gig, and adrenaline is still running fast through Luke’s nonexistent veins. The elevation is still carrying him across the walkway as he recalls the way he shredded his solo and the audience leapt to their feet in roaring applause.

Sometimes, just to spend a few more minutes with her, Luke will walk Julie to her front door after a gig. She’ll send her dad inside and tell him she was going to “call” the guys, when really they would be partaking in a celebratory band hug before they all cleaned up and retired for the night.

Tonight was one of those nights, and the cobblestones felt like clouds under Luke’s shoes.

“Jules, you don’t understand, that high note? I didn’t think it could get better, but something about the lights and the crowds and-”

“It was your guitar solo that kept the audience hyped, though!”

“I think after you swung your wrecking ball voice at them, they would have listened to anything afterwards. You don’t get how magnetic you are, Jules.”

The two of them step up her porch, lingering on the top step. Even though he’s been looking at her all night, post-concert Julie has messy makeup and wild hair and he still sees the flashing lights of the stage reflected in her eyes. She carries the energy of performing with her everywhere she goes.

They’re closer than he realized. He can see the exact dark clouds under her eyes where her mascara has rubbed off, and the strands of hair dotting her hairline, and-

“Luke…”

He doesn’t know what she wants to say, but he doesn’t care. “You’re magnetic, Julie, really. It’s like magic. Nobody can resist you.”

The energy crackles against his fingertips, because he can feel himself twitching to touch her.

It’s true -- she’s magnetic. He’s leaning in closer and closer with every passing second.

But she’s the one who makes the first move.

It’s expected and it isn’t when her hands dart from her sides to his neck to his hair and guide him to her as if he would need any help finding her. His hands waist no time in pressing up against her back, bringing her body against his in a way he only feels in hugs-

Only this time, their lips are colliding, and he almost convinces himself this isn’t real.

It’s a sudden and beautiful situation that he’s sure he could only conjure in his daydreams that he has her to blame for in the first place. He’s probably laying on the couch in the studio replaying the look on her face when she hit the high note in question at the gig, and how the gasp she let out at the end propelled him into his solo like he’s never played it before.

There’s no way he’s making out with Julie right now.

And he doesn’t mean to vocalize his hesitation, but as her mouth breaks from his with deep breaths that are muted versions of the gasp from the gig, the words tumble from his mouth.

“Is this a dream?”

With a confused mirth in her eyes, she scrapes the back of his neck with her fingernails and it’s almost tantalizing enough for his head to lull back.

Please let this be a dream so that he doesn’t wake up tomorrow realizing he did all of this on the Molina’s front porch.

“I don’t think so,” Julie whispers through her grin. Her fingers apply pressure on the back of his neck, wanting him to come back to her lips probably as much as he wants to come back, and she leans farther into him with their faces barely an inch apart. “But even if it is -- isn’t it a wonderful dream?”

As her mouth parts underneath his and he coaxes another gasp out of her, he agrees -- it is a wonderful dream.

Tags: @willexx @bluefirewrites @pink-flame @lydias--stiles @constantly-singing @fighttoshinetogether @babydagger28

#jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #jukebox #palina #juke fanfic #jatp fanfic #julie molina x luke patterson #netflixwewantjatp2 #netflixwewantjatps2

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nadisabug · 3 years

Text

Plus One

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3.1 k

Summary: You would do anything for Tooru, but is he asking too much when he asks you to be his plus one to his sister’s wedding?

A/N: Thank you to my lovely betas @luvnami and @snoozless !!!!! This is for the HQ Hangout Net’s Spring Formal Event! Everyone check out the other amazing works everyone else did @hqhangout !!!

This was too much.

You felt like imploding.

The pressure in your head was just too much to bear; tears welled at your eyes and a solid lump was forming in your throat. This was just too much.

However, you kept up your facade. You were still smiling, eyes dry, looking up at Tooru.

And he was smiling down at you.

“Well?” He asked again.

There were a lot of things you could do. You were talented, not that you recognized it yourself. But you were strong, you could do anything you set your mind to. You could say ‘no’ and stand up for yourself. You have done it before.

Like when that chump from your class asked you for your homework. Or like when he then asked you out on a date. Or like when he had asked to put his name on a project that he had done now work for.

You could say no.

You should say no.

So why didn’t you?

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“Hajime, I am going to die,” you groaned into the phone. Tooru had just dropped you off at your house. You called your best friend as soon as you could, still reeling from the life-changing conversation.

“Well, I mean, what did you say?” His voice was level and calm like always, even though you were in hysterics.

“I don’t have a dress,” you sighed.

“Y/n, that’s basically a yes.”

“I am aware!”

“What did he say?”

You fell silent.

“Y/n, what did he say?”

You mumbled your response, pressing your mouth to the end of the phone.

“Well I for one can’t fix that. You’re screwed,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Don’t say that Hajime! You’re supposed to make me feel better!”

“He wants to go dress shopping with you, on top of being his date to his sister’s wedding, you’re doomed. I'm sorry that’s just how it is.”

“Hajime!”

“What, what am I supposed to say? I want to be optimistic but this is kinda the worst it can get. Especially since you’ve been in love with him sin-”

“I am not in love with him!”

Hajime didn’t respond. You sighed.

“Fine I am, but how does saying it help anything?”

“I’m just trying to get a better sense of your situation.”

“Oh really? It sounds like you’re trying to rub it in.”

“You know I would never,” Hajime sighed.

“Yeah, you’re a good friend,” you paused. “A really good friend, the best friend. How long have we been friends? Quite some time right, I was thinking-”

“I am not coming with you and that is final.”

“Please, Hajime, I’m begging you.”

“Well beg someone else, Y/n, because I am not third wheeling.”

“Hajime, it won’t be third wheeling!”

“Yes it will, it’s a no and that’s final!” He paused for a moment. “Sorry, Y/n, but I just can’t. It’s already too much having to play therapist to you both talking about each other.”

“Oh shove off,” you rolled your eyes. “He does not like me.”

“Whatever,” Hajime sighed.

“He does not. If he did, why wouldn’t he just ask me to be his date like a normal person?”

“Really? This is Shittykawa we’re talking about.”

“Okay true, but still. He had plenty of chances to date me back in high school and he never did.”

“You never made a move either,” Hajime noted.

You didn’t respond to that.

“How long has it been since you last saw him?”

You had to think about that for a minute. It had been years since you graduated high school, back when you saw him on a daily basis. You guys still talked all the time, but you really didn’t see him that often.

“The night that he came to my house to tell me goodbye. The night before he left.”

Hajime hummed. He knew all about that night, you had called him as soon as you had gone back inside. It felt like he had something else to say, but instead he changed the subject.

“When are you guys going?”

“About that…”

“Oh no…”

“He’s waiting outside for me right now.”

“Right now? What are you doing talking to me then?”

“I said I had to do a few things then I’d be out. It’s fine.”

“Well you better get going. We’ve been talking for a while.”

“Please come with me?”

“Ahaha, no. Bye.”

“Wait don’t hang-”

You were greeted by the click of the receiver. Great. You tossed your phone beside you and sighed. You were sprawled out on your bed, in the same position as you were when you first threw yourself onto it.

You laid there for a second, cursing your luck. Well, it wasn’t really your luck, you were the one who said yes anyways. You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes, but you shook them away. You got up and changed out of your work uniform and into better clothes for dress shopping.

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

“I am not wearing that,” you spat angrily.

“Aww, why not,” Tooru purred, sliding up to you while holding the offending dress out in front of him.

“Because I like my privates to be private, thank you very much,” you rolled your eyes and pushed him away.

The piece was a strapless, v-neck dress with a slit up the side. It also had holes in the sides, like those vintage swimsuits you saw in old magazines. It was a pretty color, but you knew you could not wear that in front of Tooru.

“Okay, fine.” Tooru put the dress away. You knew he only plucked it out to tease you; he didn’t actually think you were going to wear it.

“Why do you need a date again?” You asked while perusing the dresses.

“Because,” he sighed. “I begged my sister to allow me a plus one and she finally granted my wish so I can’t show up alone.”

“But she knows me. She won’t believe that we’re dating,” you sighed.

“Well…”

“What?” You whirled on Tooru.

“I already told her that I asked you out… and you said yes.”

Your jaw dropped. What were you supposed to say? Tooru had that look on his face, the one where he knew he had done something wrong but was trying to weasel out of it. It never worked on Hajime, but on you… you could never resist his honeyed eyes.

“What did she say?”

“Finally.”

You laughed, genuinely. As if anyone would think that you two would get together. Tooru was just… out of your reach.

“What? Is it that ridiculous that we could be dating? I’m hurt,” Tooru pouted.

“Yes it is, as if you would ever date me,” you answered honestly, knowing in your heart he could never love you.

“And why is that?” He asked. You missed the look in his eyes as you pulled out another dress.

“Because,” you shrugged. “You only see me as a friend, a little sister if I may be so bold. Now what about this dress?”

“But what if I didn’t,” Tooru smirked and leaned on the dress rack.

You rolled your eyes.

“Then I’d eat this dress. Simple. Now come on, what about this one?”

“Let’s try it on.” He smiled. “Then we’ll see.”

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

“I’m gonna throw up,” you groaned. Tooru just rolled his eyes at you.

“No you’re not, you’ve seen my family a thousand times, this is no different.”

“Yes it is!” You hissed. “Back then I was a little sister, now I’m a fake girlfriend.”

“Well, they don’t know about the fake part, so can you keep quiet about that?”

“Whatever,” you sighed. You watched as he knocked on the familiar door, an unfamiliar sensation in your gut.

You heard clamoring behind the door and suddenly you were swept up in Mrs. Oikawa’s arms.

“Aw, Y/n, I am so, so, so happy you are here, and especially why!” She pulled back and you saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I always knew you and ‘ru would get together, I am just sad it took this long!”

A sharp pain ripped through you. “Yeah, of course.” You forced a smile.

“And ‘ru, how dare you take so long to confess!” She whirled on Tooru and hit him lightly on the shoulder.

“Ah, sorry Mom.” He shrugged it off, scratching the back of his neck with his other hand. “I guess I am just slow to the uptake.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Oikawa nodded solemnly. “It was obvious you both liked each other way back in high school.”

“It was?” You stammered.

“Yes, of course, the way you guys used to look at each other.” She smirked. “And still do.”

“Yeah,” Tooru said softly when you did not say anything.

“Now let's get you two inside, we have a lot to do!”

You were then rushed inside and whirled around as preparations fell into place. The rehearsal dinner flew by quickly. You didn’t have many responsibilities as a guest, so you spent your time talking to members of Tooru’s family. Which was… awkward, to say the least. You already knew all of them (you found out that this was supposed to be a very small family event) so it was awkward reintroducing yourself as Tooru’s girlfriend. It was harder because technically you weren’t supposed to be here.

You found Tooru in a gap in his busy schedule and pulled him to the side.

“Why didn’t you tell me this is a family affair?” You seethed.

Tooru smiled shyly. “That’s why it was such a big deal that Sis allowed me a plus one, that’s why I just had to take you.”

“I hate you,” you spat angrily, but Tooru just smiled. “Do you know how many people asked me if we were engaged?” He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Now is that anyway to talk to your fiance?”

Your jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”

“Just kidding, love. Don’t worry, we’re not engaged yet.”

“I hope your family gives you so much shit when we ‘break up.’”

Tooru frowned. “About that I-”

“Tooru? Where the actual fuck are you?” Tooru’s sister nearly screamed.

“You better go,” you sighed.

“Yeah.” Tooru frowned.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but decided against it when his sister screamed for him again.

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

The wedding was beautiful. It was a small affair at a local meadow, with blooming wild flowers surrounding the guests. It was ethereal, overflowing with the spirit of spring. You sat alone next to family, as Tooru was a part of the wedding procession. After the ceremony, the reception took place at a nearby banquet hall. You were shuttled off into a separate car from Tooru, but you didn’t mind. You had made friends with one of his cousins and you had been talking with him to pass the time.

“So when did you and Tooru meet?”

“Back in high school,” you responded easily, recalling the memory fondly. “He came up to me randomly in class and demanded that I be the volleyball club’s manager. I had said no, of course, until his friend had asked me a bit nicer.”

“Sounds just like him,” he scoffed. “Only concerned with himself.”

“Yeah,” you agreed absentmindedly.

“So what made you date him? I mean, no offense, he’s my cousin and all, but why do you even like him?”

You paused for this question. What did you like about Tooru?

“I… well… everything. I didn’t like him at first, I actually hated him. He was so arrogant and cocky and rude, but after a while I realized that there was so much more to him. He’s dedicated and strong. Tooru puts on this facade for other people so that he can be strong for them, too. He understands people and helps his teammates, he treats them like family. He’s so receptive and intuitive, you really can’t hide anything from him. He’s just… so perfect, yet so layered. He is so raw and human and I love that about him. I love that side of him, the one no one ever sees. So I guess I just love everything about him.”

“Wow,” he laughed. “Wasn't expecting that.”

“Sorry.” You shrunk in on yourself.

“No it’s fine, I was just gonna say I’ll shoot my shot if it doesn’t work out with him, but it turns out you really like him.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could say.

“Can I have a pity dance?” He extended his arm towards you.

You smiled. “Sure.”

He led you out onto the dance floor and swept you up into his arms. You followed his lead, not really sure how to dance, but he assured you that you could just follow him.

“You know, you look amazing in that dress.”

“Ah, thank you,” you smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Thank you, I can clean-”

A person behind you cleared their throat. You turned to see Tooru. If you were anyone else, you would have thought he looked pleasant, with the soft smile on his face. But you weren’t just anyone else. So you knew that there was a rage in Tooru’s eyes.

“May I speak to Y/n?”

“Actually, we’re in the middle of a dance so-”

“That wasn’t a question,” Tooru smiled, closing his eyes and tilting his head.

“Tooru,” you hissed. “Just let us finish the-”

Instead Tooru grabbed your arm and tugged you away from his cousin. The cousin scoffed and threw his arms up.

“Calm the fuck down, Tooru. She’s all yours.”

The cousin walked off, and right after you whipped around to face Tooru.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?”

Tooru looked around him and then grabbed your arm again. “Let’s talk somewhere else,” he urged. You looked around to see a commotion beginning, with you guys at the center. You bottled your rage for a moment and allowed him to lead you outside.

Once you were out of earshot of the guests, you let loose.

“Oikawa Tooru, you explain yourself right now, because that just now was not okay.”

“He was hitting on you, I heard him,” Tooru responded, his face set into a scowl.

“So? And if he was? What right have you to step in?”

“I-”

“No,” you cut him off. “You have no right. I’m not even your girlfriend!”

Something flashed in Tooru’s eyes, but you were too angry to analyze it.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Tooru hung his head.

“You should be. You’re just so obsessed with your image that you don’t want a guy to hit on your supposed girl.”

“That’s not it,” Tooru bit out, looking up to meet your gaze.

“Oh? Then what? Do you have such little faith in me that you think I would leave you for your cousin at your sister’s wedding?”

“No.”

“Then what? Then what Tooru? What in the world could drive you to do something so fucking stupid-”

“I was jealous, alright!” When you didn’t respond to him he took a deep breath. “I was jealous,” he said again, except much calmer.

“Why?” You breathed softly. The air was tight between you two, and you felt like if another person yelled it might shatter.

Tooru slumped. “Don’t make me say it.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No you don’t.”

“Yes, I-”

“No, Tooru, you don’t. You are just hurt over your girlfriend and you're reaching out for something, anything, and I will not be it so don’t you dare say it.” You felt tears welling up at your eyes but you willed them down.

“Y/n, I’m not. I actually-”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned again.

Tooru sighed. “Y/n, do you know why she broke up with me?”

You didn’t respond.

“Y/n… she broke up with me because she realized that I was in love with you.”

You blinked once. Twice. You took a deep breath and tried to process what he just said to you.

“How…” It was the only thing you could mutter, you were too taken aback.

“I was just talking about you and she asked me. She asked me if I loved you. I couldn’t lie to her any longer.”

Your heart raced in your chest and you looked into eyes, searching for any dishonesty. The sheer earnestness in his gaze made you swallow thickly around the lump in your throat.

“How long?”

Tooru sighed and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “Dunno. Been a while though.”

It fell silent.

“So what do we do now?” You asked.

“Well, will you give me a chance?”

“Pull that shit with your cousin again and it is a no.”

“Okay, okay, I said I was sorry I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you and you technically weren’t mine yet and I-”

You reached up and kissed him. It was a passionate kiss, years of pent emotion behind it. Once Tooru reciprocated, it just felt like he was smashing his face into yours, desperate to be closer. You pulled away, Tooru chasing you with his lips.

“Calm down, I’m not going anywhere,” you smiled at him, cupping his face.

“I know I just-” Tooru stopped mid sentence, but he really didn’t need to say more. You understood.

“Tooru, where the- oh.”

You tried to look behind you to see who it was, but Tooru was holding you too tightly. The best you could do was crane your neck to catch a glimpse of white. Tooru’s sister.

“About time, bro,” she laughed.

You looked up at Tooru. He had a sheepish smile on his face. The gears in your mind suddenly slotted together.

“She knew it was fake? But… then… why…”

Tooru didn’t answer, instead his face grew red and he averted his eyes.

“He wanted to take you the whole time, sweetheart. He’s just emotionally constipated so he can’t ask like a normal person.”

“I am not!” Tooru cried indignantly.

“Whatever, I need you back in there so you got five minutes with your new girlfriend before I drag you back in there. Got it?”

Tooru nodded. You heard the door close behind her and looked back up at Tooru.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“I really am.” Tooru smiled brilliantly.

Then he leaned down and stole your lips in another kiss.

Taglist: {OPEN}

@tanakas-hugs-and-kisses , @snoozless

#ahh thank you for those that filled out my tag form ily #looking at you meg <3 #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru #haikyuu tooru #tw: cursing #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #hqhangoutnet #Hqhangoutnet's SPRING FORMAL #haikyuucafe

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mistresseast · 3 years

Text

Here is my shuake temporary amnesia threadfic I posted to Twitter earlier! Presented to you in screenshots for the full cinematic experience of being spammed with gross fluff on your timeline. The complete text is under the cut in case you don’t want to or can’t wade through all of those images ❤️

The procedure was really simple. Akira’s appendix hadn’t burst or anything, it was just inflamed and the doctor decided to have it removed as a precaution. Nothing to get worked up about, Goro kept telling himself. His husband would be in and out within a day, no hospital stay required.

Akira was all jokes before the surgery, teasing Goro about putting on a nurse’s outfit to take care of him at home, and Goro just said something threatening about suppositories, which earned a cheeky laugh.

It didn’t take long, and the other thieves showed up right as Akira was getting out. He was pretty woozy as the anesthesia wore off, but Goro was just relieved everything had gone perfectly, according to the surgeon.

When Goro comes back, eyes red-rimmed but dry, the thieves are visibly struggling to hold it together. Ryuji is facing the corner, shoulders shaking. Ann and Futaba are clinging to each and Haru has her hand over her mouth. Makoto is holding her head like she has a headache.

Except when Akira is coherent again, he’s...weird. He keeps avoiding Goro’s eyes and he barely responds to the others when they speak to him. Goro tries to take his hand, and he locks up, going pale. The others just watch, looking awkward, and Goro excuses himself, suddenly feeling ill.

Akira is sitting up in bed, beaming.

“What happened?” Goro asks.

Sumi smiles innocently. “Nothing.”

Goro eyes them all with suspicion. “The neurologist will be here soon to clear him for discharge.”

“Great,” Ann squeaks.

“Somehow, I do not think--” Yusuke starts before two of the others shush him.

Well, that’s weird, but when are the thieves not weird? Goro is more interested in Akira, who’s staring at him with a crooked grin.

“Feeling better?” Goro asks, retaking his seat.

“I am now that you’re here,” Akira says, flashing him a wink.

Goro squints at him. “Are you sure? You were pretty out of it earlier. I can go get a doctor—”

“That was nothing,” Akira insists. “I was just surprised to wake up to someone so pretty waiting at my bedside.”

“Oh is that what it was.” Rolling his eyes, Goro sits forward to guide Akira back down against the pillows. “You shouldn’t be sitting up. You’ll pop your stitches.”

“Yes, sir.” Akira lies back obediently and catches Goro’s hand when he tries to pull away. “I can think of some more fun ways to pop them, anyway. Are you free later?”

Goro stares at him while Futaba lets out a hysterical giggle and Makoto mumbles something.

“You think you’re so cute,” Goro says eventually. “The doctor said to hold off on that for at least a week.”

"Oh, right." Akira hitches up his coy smile. "What's your schedule like in a week, then?"

Cheeks warm, Goro cuts his eyes to the others, who are all studiously avoiding looking at the bed. "What's gotten into you?" he scolds. Akira is never this…overt in public.

Akira's smile droops. "I...sorry, I—" He flicks a glance at the others as well, and Goro catches Ann giving an encouraging little hand wave.

"What?" Goro directs at her. "Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head quickly, eyes wide and glittering.

"Everything's fine," Akira insists. "I was just...uh, wondering if, after I'm recovered, you'd like to grab some coffee or something?"

Goro furrows his brows at him. "You realize that's a ridiculous question, right? What are you playing at?"

"But—you—" Frowning, Akira darts a look down at the ring encircling Goro's fourth finger, then over at the rest of his friends. "You guys—"

Futaba bursts out laughing and Ryuji nearly keels over from the force of his own elated wheezing. Makoto pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry," Akira mumbles, releasing Goro's hand, cheeks red. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to play a trick on a sick person."

"A trick?" Goro repeats blankly.

"Of course you're already taken, someone as hot as you—" Akira scrubs a hand through his hair. "I saw your ring but they said it wasn't—you weren't—"

Realization clicks in Goro's head and he angles a glare at the others, which apparently breaks the final seal because the remaining thieves, minus Makoto, dissolve into helpless giggling.

"I'm really sorry," Akira continues, oblivious. "If I knew, I wouldn't have hit on you, but you're just so...and when I woke up and saw you being so nice to me, I thought, you know—" he grimaces.

"Oh my god." Goro rubs his temples.

"When you left, I asked them if you were single and they said yes, but they were just taking me for a ride." Akira scowls at the others. "Not cool, guys."

Futaba snorts. She has her phone out and pointed at them but Goro can't worry about that at the moment. "Akira, how much do you remember right now?"

Akira shrugs. "Everything's pretty hazy. I figured you all had to be my friends since you don't look like family and you were all really happy when I woke up, but I can't remember the specifics. That happens with anesthesia sometimes, right?"

"Yes, it—" Goro breaks off on a sigh.

"Look, I'm really sorry again," Akira says earnestly, "—and I hope this doesn't make things awkward with us, but I just wanna say that I hope whoever you're with knows how lucky they are."

"Oh, they do," Ryuji pipes up. "They never shut up about it!"

The others all snicker and Goro wishes he was close enough to elbow Ryuji in the gut.

"Good." Akira smiles sadly, putting Goro in mind of a kitten left in the rain. "Who is it, anyway? Do I know them?"

Goro makes a strained noise in the back of his throat. "Akira, it's you."

Akira blinks. "What?"

Digging in his pocket, Goro produces a simple silver band and grabs Akira's hand. "You're the person I'm with, we're married—" he slides the ring into Akira's unresisting finger. "And your friends are all assholes."

Akira stares slack-jawed at his ring. "Wait, really?" He glances between Goro and the others. "Really?"

Goro nods with another sigh while the others struggle to compose themselves.

"Sorry," Ann says, at least looking a little contrite. "When we realized he didn't remember you, we just couldn't resist."

"We owe you," Sumi titters. "Please don't be mad! We'll make it up to you!"

"You absolutely will," Goro grumbles, already planning just how he's going to make the thieves pay for this.

"Hang on—" Akira snags Goro's hand again, eyes shining. "We're really married?"

"Yes," Goro answers patiently. "For nearly two years."

"Holy shit," Akira marvels. "How did I manage that?"

"Here we go," Futaba groans.

Goro shoots her a warning look before reaching over and smoothing Akira's fringe off his forehead. "Hopefully you'll remember that on your own soon." He doesn't really want to recount the whole operatic series of events.

Akira leans shamelessly into the touch, a dopey smile growing on his face.

The neurologist assures them that Akira's brain is fine and that this kind of disorientation is common after general anesthesia. Nevertheless, he stays in the hospital until his memories start returning.

"Look at it this way," Ann suggests while Akira hides his face in embarrassment and Goro signs his discharge papers. "Now you both know that Akira's not just into you because you tried to kill him."

Goro still isn't pleased with the thieves, but he's starting to see the humor in the situation. "That's definitely a load off my mind. Though now I'll have to rethink our anniversary plans."

Akira whines something that sounds like "please stop"

"I did quite enjoy hearing about how hot I am, though."

Akira lowers his hands, pouting petulantly. "I tell you that all the time."

"You should remind me more often."

"Oh?" Some familiar impishness sparks in Akira's gaze. "So you like when I praise you?"

"Your memories must still be hazy because that's not a secret."

"Please don't do this," Makoto begs.

Laughing, Akira ignores her and makes grabby hands at Goro. Smirking, Goro sets his clipboard aside and leans forward, allowing Akira to pull him into a kiss.

It's just as sweet as always.

#shuake #akeshu #shuake fic #my fic #isablogging

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kurowrites · 4 years

Note

“You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good” Wangxian with rabbits? : ) If you like?

Wei Ying released the latch carefully and slid the window back. It had taken him a while to figure out how to do it, but by now, he was a pro at getting inside any window even while drunk. He felt a little bad having to sneak around like this, but he didn’t want to wake Jiang Yanli in the middle of the night. At the same time, he didn’t want her to have to give him another scolding for camping out on a park bench somewhere because he missed the last bus home. So sneaking in and borrowing Jin Zixuan’s overpriced sofa for the night it was. It wasn’t like he cared about Jin Zixuan’s inevitable whining, after all.

He fumbled around in the dark for a moment, trying to orient himself. But strangely enough, he didn’t encounter furniture where he expected it to be. Was he that drunk, or had they recently redecorated the living room without telling him? Was this some kind of mischievous plan concocted by Jin Zixuan? The ridiculously giant flatscreen TV was gone, in any case. He wouldn’t even be able to binge on some mindless late-night TV show before he inevitably conked out. Instead, there was… a cage?

Curious, he got closer to the cage to inspect this new addition to the living room. It was, in fact, a large animal cage! And as he watched, there was a movement in the little hutch at the end of the cage. A moment later, a rabbit poked its little nose out, wiggling it curiously.

“Heyyyyyy, babyyy,” Wei Ying cooed. “What a cutie you are! I never knew Dajie liked rabbits.”

The rabbit, maybe hoping for a snack, cautiously hopped out of the hutch. In the darkness, he looked kind of greyish, but in daylight, he must be a pretty white.

“Aw, you are so pretty! Come here, little beauty! Is it fine if I pet you?”

With clumsy fingers, he worked to undo the latch of the cage door. Disturbed by the noise, a second rabbit hopped out of the hutch. This one was black.

“Aw, another one! Come to papa,” Wei Ying coaxed, stretching his hand through the cage door.

The white rabbit came to him easily. Wei Ying lifted him out of the cage and carefully set it onto his lap. Then he picked up the black one, lifting it to his face.

“Such good children,” he cooed. “So well-behaved. You deserve some cuddles.”

He pressed a quick kiss onto the little black rabbit’s forehead.

Wei Ying was starting to feel really tired, and sitting upright seemed like too much of a chore after sneaking through the window. So he lay down onto the carpet on the floor, and then placed the two rabbits onto his chest, where they would be comfortable and where he could pet them.

They really were very good children, not scrabbling around but sitting on Wei Ying’s chest peacefully, content with Wei Ying softly ruffling their incredibly soft fur.

“I wonder if the peacock did something dumb and bought you as an apology,” Wei Ying mused. “It would be so much better if Dajie just kicked him out. She can keep you two, though. I think I like you. You are very soft. I like soft things.”

One of the rabbits hopped forward and managed to somehow cram itself under Wei Ying’s chin, as if snuggling up to him. The rabbit was so soft, and it was such a sweet gesture that Wei Ying nearly cried.

“I think I need some rabbits, too,” he said, blinking tears out of his eyes. “And if you’re behaving badly, I can always make rabbit stew.”

The next moment, the light in the living room suddenly turned on, and Wei Ying was momentarily blinded by the sudden glare of the light.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“What the hell!” Wei Ying groaned, trying to shield himself from the stabbing pain of the bright light. “That hurts!”

The next thing he knew, the two rabbits were removed from his chest.

“Noo!” Wei Ying whined. “We just became friends! The cruelty!”

But no mercy awaited him. Instead, once his vision cleared, he found a perfect stranger staring down at him, the two rabbits safely cradled in his arms.

“What do you think you are doing?” the stranger asked again.

“What the fuck are you doing in Dajie’s house?” Wei Ying shot back, a little hysterical. He’d never seen this man before in his life. What was he doing in his precious sister’s house?

“This is my house!” the stranger exclaimed.

That gave Wei Ying pause. With blurry eyes, he looked around. The general architecture of the house seemed to be quite similar to the one Jiang Yanli shared with the peacock, but the furniture most definitely wasn’t. The furniture here was all elegant dark wood with white and blue accents, absolutely nothing that Jin Zixuan would ever want in his gaudy house.

This was also the point where Wei Ying remembered that his sister lived on a street with several houses that were built around the same time and looked remarkably similar to each other, and uh. His orientation might not work best when he was inebriated?

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groaned. “This is not Dajie’s house. Shit, she’s going to kill me. I’m just going to show myself out. And maybe drown myself in the next body of water. I promise I wasn’t trying to rob you or anything.”

He struggled to his feet, trying to find his footing. Somehow, the movement made him feel a little dizzy, and before he knew it, he’d grasped the stranger’s arm to steady himself.

That brought him eye to eye with the rabbits again.

“Awww babies, I’m so sooorry,” he cooed to them. “We only just met and it’s already goodbye. Be good children for your papa, okay?”

He leaned forward and gave both of them a little smooch.

As he straightened up, he came face to face with the stranger. And what a handsome stranger it was! Such pretty, dark eyes, and such elegant eyebrows! And that mouth! So kissable! Did he know that his mouth was very kissable?

“Do you know you’re really, really handsome?” Wei Ying asked the stranger. “Like, so handsome. Kissable handsome. Oh! Do you also want a kiss? I would totally kiss you. Ah, but I’m a man. Maybe you don’t like getting kisses from men. What a waste though. I would totally kiss you. And do wicked, wicked things with you. Well, not that I’ve ever done wicked things with anyone. I would make an exception for you, though! Too handsome not to be kissed.”

The handsome stranger was not at all impressed, apparently. Without comment, he untangled himself from Wei Ying and went over to the rabbit cage, placing the rabbits back inside the cage. He didn’t close the latch before giving both of them a quick petting.

It was very sweet, Wei Ying thought. He also wanted someone to put him to bet with a little bit of gentle petting.

“I’m, uh,” he stuttered, “just going to show myself out, I guess.”

But before he could return to the window he had snuck in from, the stranger had taken a hold of him and was pushing him down the hallway.

“Oh,” Wei Ying said as the stranger opened a door that clearly led to a bedroom. “Is this some kind of kinky porn situation? ‘Please, don’t call the cops, I’ll do whatever you want!’ Am I doing it right?”

The stranger did not comment, but placed him on the bed and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he handed Wei Ying a pair of pyjamas.

“Good night,” the handsome stranger said. “Do not disturb the rabbits again.”

And then he was left alone.

Wei Ying considered a window escape for a short moment, but he was already sitting on a very comfy bed, he was tired, and it was cold outside. Inertia was already claiming him. With a shrug of his shoulders, he wriggled out of his own clothing and clumsily slipped into the (very comfortable) pyjamas. By the time his head hit the pillow, his eyes were already closed.

---

Wei Ying woke up in an unfamiliar room.

He panicked for a moment. Fuck, where was he?

But then his mind was generous enough to remind him of his little criminal break-in last night, and he shot out of bed in a panic, scrambling to slip into his clothes. He had broken into a stranger’s house! And played with said stranger’s rabbits in a dark living room!

Okay, the rabbits had been very cute.

But still!

He left the bedroom, hurried down the hallway and burst into the living room without ceremony.

There was the same stranger from last night, Wei Ying saw with relief, his precious little rabbits settled in his lap as he was feeding them some leafy greens.

“I am so sorry!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “I totally broke into your house last night. And you even let me sleep here! I guess I really have to thank you for not calling the cops on me.”

“Hn,” the strangers replied, and gave another green leaf to the black rabbit.

“I’m Wei Ying, by the way,” Wei Ying said awkwardly. “In case you want a name. For the police. Or, uh.”

The stranger finally deigned to look up from the rabbits in his lap, and look at Wei Ying properly.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, and then he turned back to his rabbits.

A pretty name for a handsome man. It seemed unfair somehow.

Wei Ying stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to do now. But the rabbits were right there, adorably munching on their leaves. Wei Ying inched a little closer, hoping against hope that he would manage to get another cuddle in before he was kicked out of the house.

Lan Zhan looked up when he saw Wei Ying approach, but turned his attention back to the rabbits without comment, so Wei Ying chose to interpret this as permission.

Once he had come close enough, Lan Zhan lifted the black rabbit and held it out for Wei Ying to hold.

“This is Ying,” Lan Zhan explained. Then he pointed at the white rabbit still in his lap. “This is Guang.”

Wei Ying laughed. “Guangying. I see. You are terrible at naming things.”

Lan Zhan sent him a flat look that clearly spelled people who drunkenly break into other people’s homes have no room to complain.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying laughed. He cradled Ying to his chest and cooed at him. “A-Ying is a good child, despite the terrible name. Ah, you are so cute, I want to eat you.”

Lan Zhan sent him a stern glare that made Wei Ying laugh again.

“No eating the rabbits, I see,” he hummed as he bumped noses with Ying. “Just a lot of kisses and love.”

“You promised me one too.”

“What?”

Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan in confusion, but Lan Zhan was still feeding Guang, not looking at Wei Ying.

“You said I’m too handsome not to be kissed.”

Wei Ying blushed deeply and hid behind little Ying. “Oh my god, don’t listen to my drunk babbling! I can’t believe that after I broke into your house, I also harassed you.”

“So, not handsome enough to be kissed?”

“What?”

He peeked out behind Ying and found Lan Zhan gazing at him with a peculiar look in his eyes. When Lan Zhan was sure he had Wei Ying’s attention, he lifted his finger to his lips and tapped them twice.

Wei Ying burned. There was no way he could possibly–

He strode forwards to deposit little Ying safely back into Lan Zhan’s lap. But before Wei Ying could draw back and flee to safety himself, Lan Zhan had taken hold of his arm and drawn him in.

Their lips brushed gently, and when Lan Zhan released him, there was a smile on his face.

“Payment,” he said with evident satisfaction. “Go to your sister. She must be worried.”

And Wei Ying, still blushing furiously, could do nothing but flee. This time, out of the front door and not the window.

What a payment, he thought as he hurried along the path in front of the house. Stealing someone’s first kiss like that. How could he take the words of a drunken man seriously!

He turned a corner and watched the house disappear. Never again was he getting lost in this street!

…but maybe he might want to break in again. Just for the rabbits. To make sure Lan Zhan was treating them right.

---

* Ying as in 影 yǐng, not 婴 yīng.

* Guang as in 光, the same character as Hanguang-jun. :3

* So it’s…. light and shadow, basically. Hahaha.

#kuro answers #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #prompts #enter21

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gerrystamour · 3 years

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 6

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Some Important Notes:

I choose to believe that anything is possible in the future and that includes ridiculously quick turnaround times after near-death and also Getting Sexy New Teef bc I personally find it really hot.

The smut is only available on AO3! Link is in my pinned post! There is nothing in the smutty parts that is plot heavy, so you aren’t “missing” anything that isn’t covered in the PG-13 parts.

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man, as in he does not experience any dysphoria, and has not hat top-surgery, and he does not wear a binder. I use a mix of typically masculine and feminine terminology for his anatomy, particularly his genitalia, as I do for my own body as a transmasc individual.

Nureyev is never depicted with dysphoria in my fics, or having discomfort with his body because describing such a thing with a character I deeply identify with will trigger discomfort in my own body, etc.

Chapter Six [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev woke up slowly, his entire body feeling heavy and fatigued with a dull pain in his back and across his stomach, along with lesser pains all over his body. He swallowed and grimaced at the sensation of bandages across his throat.

The memories of the heist were slow to return to him. He could remember the sewers before entering, remembered getting to the vault and collecting the weapons. Then Nureyev remembered the Piranha, Juno coming to rescue him and the slice of pain as the knife plunged between his ribs. He remembered only flashes of their desperate escape, mostly just perfect, stupid, noble Juno refusing to leave him behind, even after discovering the wound.

Straining a bit, he could remember the sewers, laying on the ground while Juno was on his comms, panicked and pleading. The memory of Juno’s outrage at the thought of Nureyev—a thief, a murderer, a nameless criminal, a wanted terrorist—dying in a gutter like he deserved, his conviction that he wouldn’t…

“I love you, Nureyev.”

Jolting at the memory, Nureyev found himself properly awake and looking around for his beautiful detective.

Dread settled in his gut as Nureyev noticed multiple things at once. First, Juno was not anywhere to be seen. Second, he was in a hospital room, which did not bode well. Third, he had no glasses, which made it difficult to get an accurate impression on his situation.

The room he was in appeared to be either rundown or unfinished. The bed he was on felt new, however, so he was inclined to assume the latter. Swallowing thickly, he realized just how dry his throat was and looked around again.

He startled when he realized that someone had actually been sitting beside him, and Nureyev wondered how strong of painkillers he was on were. At first, with how groggy he felt and how fuzzy his vision was, he thought it was Juno, but quickly realized it was Benten.

Benten was reading a book but looked up as Nureyev moved around. He snorted a bit before standing to hand Nureyev a pair of glasses.

“Juno grabbed those for you from your hotel room,” he explained as Nureyev put the glasses on, adding, “He paid for a reservation extension, by the way.”

Nureyev attempted to thank Benten, but only a croak came out. When Benten handed him a water bottle and a straw, he nodded gratefully and took long sips. With his throat soothed a bit, Nureyev tried again and asked, “Where’s Juno?”

Benten stared at him, his expression stony before he sucked his teeth and said, “Taking care of whatever you idiots stole.”

“Ah, right,” Nureyev said with a nod, leaning back and trying not to feel disappointed. That was the smart thing to do, and Nureyev knew it. But waking up, remembering the panicked confessions, and not seeing the lady himself… “That’s good, then.”

“Don’t be too upset, Rex. He was here day and night until you were given the all-clear,” Benten said blandly at Nureyev’s sulking. “It would have been romantic, but he’s my brother, so it’s gross.”

“I’m sure,” Nureyev said with a laugh, looking around again now that he could see. Sure enough, the room he was in was unfinished, with most of the equipment missing and wires hanging from where there would someday be cameras.

“Okay, you know what? No,” Benten burst out, startling Nureyev out of his thoughts abruptly. When Nureyev looked back at him, Benten was glaring at him. “It wouldn’t’ve been romantic, because what you two did was stupid , and reckless , and so far beyond selfish, even I am disgusted with it.”

“Pardon?” Nureyev questioned, bewildered. “We were stopping—”

“Yeah, yeah, you were saving the world, whatever ,” Benten snapped, and it was at that moment that Nureyev realized there were tears in his eyes. “I’m just a little sick of hauling my brother out of gutters, covered in blood. And worse, you two and Rita hid it from me!”

“Benzaiten,” Nureyev started, but he quickly closed his mouth when he realized that nothing he could have said would be helpful.

“Like, fuck,” Benten said with a heavy sigh as he slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “When Juno told us to open without him, and Rita was jumpy all day and then you didn’t show, my first thought was you two dumb saps eloped—”

Nureyev actually choked a bit, blushing deeply. “I didnʼt— We wouldnʼt—”

“—That was literally my worst-case scenario, you know that, Rex? Then Juno’s call happened, and then…” Benten trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Nureyev in the bed before he pouted at the wall next to him.

“Benzaiten, I’m— There’s nothing I can say that can make up for what we did, but I am sorry,” Nureyev said slowly, carefully, and he barely refrained from flinching when Benten looked at him sharply out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Benten said sternly, heaving a huge sigh. “Still mad as hell, though.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said with a nod before asking, “So, what happened after I passed out?”

Benten shrugged before saying, “Rita and I closed the cafe early, raced over, you were… bad , and Juno was…”

When he trailed off again, Nureyev remembered the hysterical edge to Juno’s voice just before he faded completely, and nodded.

“I called Mick, since he’s a security guard here, and he pulled some strings to get you up here,” Benten continued after a moment. “No cameras, and no records at all. Juno threw a ton of creds at the doctors and nurses. Rita’s checking constantly to make sure they keep their end of the deal.”

“Thank you,” Nureyev said after a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“It was Rita’s idea, mostly,” Benten said with a shrug of his shoulders and an eye-roll. “She heard you say ‘no hospitals’ like one of those ridiculous characters from her cheesiest streams and hatched the whole idea.”

Nureyev smiled at that and leaned back against the pillows. “Still, thank you, Benzaiten.”

“Whatever, Rex,” he replied with another eye-roll.

Nureyev actually chuckled, feeling exhaustion coming over him again. “Careful, Benzaiten. You’re almost being nice to me.”

“I’m contractually required to do anything my brother asks for twenty-four hours if he cries,” Benten said flatly. “He asked me to wait with you and ‘be nice’ when you woke up.”

Nureyev laughed out loud, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Licking his chapped lips, he flinched when he found the gap where his teeth used to be. He pressed his tongue into the hole, and made a face, resolving to fix that as quickly as possible.

“Plus, I mean,” Benten began with an explosive sigh. “I can’t really listen to my brother sob about how much he loves a guy while he’s bleeding out in a gutter and then get right back to bullying him when he wakes up. I have some morals or whatever. Yelling at you for being stupid does not count as bullying, though.”

Nureyev froze, eyes flashing open to look at Benten sharply. “How much… did you overhear?”

“Some of it. Enough of it, I guess,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. “Juno already tore into me about your name, by the way. I get it, my lips are sealed, I’m leaving it alone. You’re ‘Rex’ until you tell me otherwise, okay?”

“Sounds agreeable,” Nureyev said tensely, but he forced himself to relax. This was Benzaiten Steel, the love of his life’s twin brother, with whom Juno shared nearly everything. If there was another person in the galaxy Nureyev would have eventually told, it likely would have been him.

“Just don’t be too hard on him about it,” Benten said quickly. “He’s been working himself into at least three ulcers over it.”

Nureyev merely nodded before he closed his eyes again and laid back. He would think about it more later when he had the opportunity to do so alone.

Benten made an unimpressed noise. “You have to choose your meals, Rex. It’s the paper on your tray.”

Nureyev sighed and shook his head. Exhaustion was dragging on his limbs and he couldn’t be bothered to choose what awful hospital food he would have forced on him.

“Fine, go to sleep. Gonna set you up with a liquid diet,” Benten said sourly. “Nothing but smoothies and broth.”

Nureyev laughed a bit before allowing himself to drop off back to sleep.

It was the next day when Juno returned.

Nureyev was picking at his meal, having eaten everything remotely palatable while Mick sat with him, shuffling a deck of cards. They had played a few rounds of various games up until someone delivered him his meal.

He could hear Juno’s heavy boots in the hall and looked over at the door moments before the detective walked in. Seeing him again, after everything they’d gone through, took the breath right out of Nureyev’s lungs.

Juno’s clothes were dusty and rumpled in a way that made Nureyev think heʼd slept in them, and he had more than a little bit of stubble on his jaw. Nureyev remembered that Juno loved him, and a thousand butterflies took wing in his stomach. He wanted to leap out of the bed and embrace Juno, shower him with romantic verse and tell him over and over and over again that he loved him, too.

But when Juno’s eye met his, he froze in the doorway, his expression open and easy to read for only the briefest of moments. It showed relief first, and then fear before it was closed, like shutters being pulled to keep Nureyev out.

That was concerning, but he wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions.

Mick looked over and grinned, his big goofy one that was usually contagious. “Hey, JayJay! Welcome back!”

“Hey, Mick,” Juno greeted, biting the inside of his cheek but not entering the room any further. “How’s everything?”

“Everything’s great!” Mick replied, turning to scoop up his cards and put them away in their box. “Especially now that you’re back, everything’s perfect!”

“Where are you going?” Juno asked, a look of panic overcoming his expression when his big friend stood and walked toward the door.

“I mean, I was going back to work? I do actually have a job here, you know,” he replied with a full laugh, looking between Juno and Nureyev with a suggestive look. “That, and I figure you two lovebirds would like the chance to catch up.”

Before either of them could say anything, Mick was already out the door, only pausing to clap a heavy hand on Juno’s shoulder as he passed. Once the door shut behind him with a loud clap, silence fell over the room.

After a minute or two with nothing said between them, Nureyev motioned to what was left of his food. “Hungry? I’m not eating the rest of this,” he said, sneering at the remainder of his meal.

Eying what Nureyev had left on his tray, Juno snorted. “Too good for jello and applesauce, Rex?”

“Yes,” Nureyev replied flatly.

With a chuckle, Juno picked up the applesauce pouch and opened it, eating the stuff slowly while Nureyev watched him. The detective was obviously thinking about something, and it wasn’t sitting very well on his mind either. Nureyev just wasn’t quite sure how to bring the topic up in a way that would be productive with his detective.

“Juno, darling—”

“I have to check on the cafe. It's been closed for a couple days,” Juno said suddenly, furrowing his brow down at the pouch of applesauce. “Gotta make sure it’s still in one piece.”

“I—” Nureyev started, his mouth twisting with hurt but he didn’t know what to say. Despite saying he should go, however, Juno hadn’t made any move to leave which gave Nureyev some hope. “O-of course, I understand. Could we talk before you leave, dear?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Juno asked, still pointedly looking at the pouch in his hands, and Nureyev’s frown deepened.

“Well, we can start with something small. How did disposing of the weapons go?” Nureyev asked, working hard to keep his voice steady.

“Went fine, your friend isn’t very talkative,” Juno replied, still not looking at him. “Feel like he kinda overcharged for his services, but hey, I’m not about to argue with someone twice my size. Plus, seemed kind of fitting to use Pereyra’s hush-money.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said, and the sigh escaped him before he could stop it, and he asked, “Have I done something wrong, Juno?”

“What?” Juno asked, finally meeting Nureyev’s gaze with an alarmed look.

“I mean, of course, I’m struggling to think of anything I could’ve done, given that I’ve been unconscious—”

“Rex, why the hell would you think you’ve done anything wrong?” Juno interrupted and Nureyev laughed at the question.

“You have barely looked at me since you returned and were planning to leave the moment you saw I was conscious,” Nureyev listed back at him, raising an eyebrow, trying to calm the rising panic in his gut. “So, either I’ve done something, or… I don’t know, Juno. I don’t know what else all of that could mean.”

“No, Rex, that’s not—” Juno abruptly cut himself off, and just like that, the wall came crumbling down. “I’m—I fucked up, so much, and didn’t listen to anything you said. I know you said no hospitals—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know it was really selfish of me to risk your identity—”

“My love, please—”

“—But I couldn’t just let it happen like that. And then Benten reminded me about Mick—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know Benten overheard your name, I fucked up, forgetting the comms—”

“Juno! Please,” Nureyev finally managed to get in, and Juno shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. Nureyev swivelled his tray out of the way and looked at Juno. “Yes, I said I couldn’t go to the hospital, but you seem to have sufficiently worked around the issues I have with them. As for your other point, yes it was not ideal, someone else learning my name, but I’m not— you didn’t do anything wrong. It can’t be taken back now, regardless.”

“But Rex—”

“I’ve talked to Benzaiten about it already. Now answer this for me: would I have survived if you had not brought me here?” Nureyev interrupted curtly, and he could feel himself shaking as he waited for Juno’s answer.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, and his eye went glassy and wet with emotion. “No,” he replied, his voice something quiet and delicate.

“Then I’m grateful you ignored my wishes, Juno,” Nureyev said with a smile, holding his hand out to reach for Juno. “Now, please, can you just come here and lay with me?”

Juno was quick with tossing the empty pouch of applesauce in the trash and removing his boots before climbing onto the bed next to Nureyev. Juno only paused in laying down to give him a kiss, deepening it with a keening whine and a swipe of his tongue, straddling his lap carefully. The rasp of Juno’s stubble against Nureyev’s face was novel and exquisite, and he almost pulled the detective in for even more.

Then Juno pulled away with a bit of a grimace, laughing at Nureyev’s puzzled expression. “Sorry,” he laughed again, not sounding sorry at all. “Feels kinda weird with the missing teeth.”

Nureyev groaned. “I’m well aware, dear.”

Juno chuckled and kissed him again. “I’m sure I can get used to it. You know, if we practice a bit,” he said suggestively, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in for another kiss. Nureyev smirked and deepened it just enough to warrant a quick nip at Juno’s lower lip as he pulled away.

“That is certainly something we can do,” he agreed, grabbing the front of Juno’s shirt and pulling him in for more.

They made out slow and easy with no sense of urgency and very little heat for some time. Juno brought his hands up to hold Nureyev’s between them, sighing happily as Nureyev licked into his mouth.

After some time passed languidly like that, Juno pulled back to grumble, “How is it you can be out cold for two days and not have just rancid morning breath?”

“They do let me out of this bed, dear detective,” Nureyev replied with a laugh. “That is actually a requirement for them to discharge me. I’ve both bathed and brushed my teeth today.”

“Right, yeah,” Juno said sheepishly. “That makes sense. So you’ll be discharged soon?”

Nureyev nodded and said, “In a few days. The wound on my back has one more round of treatment before I can resume most normal physical activity.”

Juno nodded but was startled by a very big and very loud yawn. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Rex, I’m not bored, just exhausted,” he grumbled a bit as he rubbed his eye tiredly.

Nureyev smiled sweetly at Juno, which had the detective looking at him with a wide eye and chewing on the inside of his cheek. The expression was so strange on his face, so vulnerable that Nureyev expected the shutters to be pulled any moment, but then they weren’t. Another flock of butterflies burst to flight in his stomach.

“You’re fine, darling. Come and lay down with me,” Nureyev finally said, beckoning Juno into his arms, an invitation that was immediately accepted.

Nureyev let out a contented sigh as Juno wrapped around him like an octopus, his mouth and nose pressed into his throat, against the parts of his skin that weren’t covered in bandages. Nureyev shivered at the brushing touch of Juno’s lips, at the hot breath against his neck and felt the fluttering in his gut settle as he wrapped an arm around Juno’s shoulders. Held tight in Nureyev’s arms, Juno sucked in a deep breath through his nose, seemingly holding it before slowly releasing it and burrowing deeper into the nape of his neck.

“Is everything okay, Juno?” he asked quietly, feeling his entire body relaxing with the warmth of his lover against him.

“Mm-hmm,” Juno mumbled, his voice already thick and sleepy. “I was just… just needed to check something.”

Nureyev smiled at that and turned to press his lips against the top of Juno’s head in a gentle kiss. “Juno,” he said quietly, his heart jumping when he remembered Juno’s confession again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

There was no response from the detective except for a quiet, gentle snore. Juno was sound asleep within the handful of minutes it had taken him to settle in against him, and Nureyev couldn’t have helped the smile that came to his face if he wanted to.

- - - - -

It was dark when Nureyev was woken up, and he was immediately tense. Something was wrong, and for a delirious moment he thought it was the weight holding him down that was the issue. Then the memories of the hospital, Juno returning, and both of them falling asleep together came back in a rush.

Juno twitched and let out a low groan, his fingers curled tightly into the front of Nureyev’s medical gown. He was clammy, his sweat soaking through to Nureyev’s skin, and he was shivering. Then Juno gagged, dry-heaving as he woke up and looked around wildly.

Nureyev grabbed the little bucket he had been provided by the hospital and handed it to Juno, who immediately used it with incredible enthusiasm. The whole time, Nureyev rubbed his back gently, pausing to massage the back of Juno’s neck when he was done unloading the contents of his stomach, humming quietly as the detective tried to calm his breathing. A few minutes later, after successfully staving off another bout of puking, Juno finally leaned over to place the bucket on the bedside table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he groaned, covering his face and his voice sounded entirely too upset for Nureyev’s liking. “They come back when I’m stressed out. The nightmares, I mean.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nureyev asked, reaching up to gently pull Juno’s hands away from his face.

Juno blinked at him as if the answer was plain as day, baffled that he would even have to ask. “I woke you up,” Juno said flatly, as if that was enough of a reason. “I woke you up, almost puked on you, and shit, I’m so sweaty—”

“Juno, dear, do you realize how low those things are on my list of priorities?” Nureyev interrupted, lifting his hands to cradle Juno’s face. “Right now, I’m worried about you, love.”

He could feel Juno’s face heat up against his palms, the detective clearly embarrassed and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. “It’s— you need your sleep, so I should go,” Juno quickly said, but before he could get up, Nureyev adjusted his hands to hold the back of Juno’s head.

“What you’re going to do, Juno Steel, is go into that bathroom and use one of the toothbrushes provided by the hospital,” Nureyev said firmly, and Juno went still next to him. “Then you’re going to come back here and lay with me again.

“You don’t have to do this, Rex,” Juno whispered, and Nureyev pulled him down so he could press a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course I don’t, Juno. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Nureyev replied, sighing as he let Juno sit back enough to meet his gaze again. “If you refuse to let me do this for you, then do as I ask for my own comfort. I’m worried about you, and would very much like to hold you.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he eventually asked and Nureyev laughed softly.

“Of course I am, darling,” he replied, pursing his lips tightly. “Now go and brush your teeth. I expect you to come right back here.”

Juno huffed a weak laugh and as he slipped off the bed, he muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Nureyev found himself a bit breathless at being called “sir” and decided that might be something for them to explore properly later.

A few minutes later, Juno crawled back onto the bed, squawking a bit when Nureyev yanked him forward by the front of his shirt. Tucking the detective in beside him, Nureyev dipped his head to capture Juno’s lips in a chaste kiss, sighing when Juno pressed up into it.

“Would it… help to talk about it?” Nureyev asked a bit haltingly when they pulled apart. He personally had very little experience with nightmares and even less with the nightmares of a loved one.

“I don’t know,” Juno replied after a bit, and he flopped down next to Nureyev, tucking his head under his chin. “They’re just about when I lost my eye.”

“Ah, I see,” Nureyev hummed, rubbing Juno’s back soothingly.

“But now you’re there,” he confessed, wrapping his arm tightly around Nureyev’s waist. “When I was so busy fussing about my aim that she got you. Keeps replaying.”

“Juno, please understand that I am incredibly grateful for you taking what time you did to aim,” Nureyev said firmly. “Also, understand that she was going to ‘get me’ whether you shot her or not.”

Juno stiffened in his arms before propping himself up to look at Nureyev’s face. “What?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure if this will be comforting to you or not,” Nureyev started, before sighing. “I felt the knife before you even lifted your blaster, Juno. It was likely her plan to stab me, and let me bleed out while she continued taunting you.”

At that, Juno sat up fully to meet Nureyev’s gaze properly. “Seriously?”

“She underestimated you, dear detective,” Nureyev replied, smiling. “She didn’t do it as some sort of last moment revenge on you. She truly believed she had won.”

“That’s…” Juno trailed off before chuckling a bit. “That actually is kind of comforting.”

“I should hope so,” Nureyev said with a laugh of his own. “You were amazing in there, and I cannot thank you enough for doing literally nothing I told you to.”

Juno laughed out loud and bent to kiss Nureyev, slow and searching before pulling away to snuggle in tight again.

“I’ve always had a problem with authority,” he joked around a yawn.

Nureyev chuckled at that and squeezed Juno against his side. Within a few minutes, Juno was asleep again and Nureyev was drifting off to join him.

- - - - -

Nureyev discharged himself from the hospital a day early. He had managed to convince Juno to go home early in the evening, and that he would come by the cafe the next day at dinnertime, so there was no need to visit him again. There was part of him that knew leaving Mars immediately was wiser, that staying was just asking to get caught again by Ramses or even Pereyra.

But Nureyev was fairly confident that the information dug up and subsequently leaked for both mayoral candidates would keep them busy for the foreseeable future, at least long enough to spend a couple more nights however he pleased.

And what he wanted most was to spend his last night on Mars with a cranky private investigator. He also had another appointment.

So he changed hotels to something fancier, though discreet with very few surveillance cameras in the halls, as the establishment catered to guests seeking a more romantic experience. They would not be watched, nor bothered, and the rooms all had incredible sound-proofing between units.

Nureyev decided he should go all out for his romantic evening with Juno, and rented the honeymoon suite. It was a corner suite on the highest floor, which would give them an almost panoramic view of Hyperion City and the surface of Mars beyond the dome through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. Just off the spacious living room through a set of double-doors was the bedroom and it’s ensuite.

Nureyev was particularly enamoured with the king-sized four-poster bed, which was on a raised platform and tucked right into the corner of windows. There were gauzy fabrics hanging from the ceiling and secured at points above the corners of the bed, though they only draped to curtain off the two sides of the bed facing into the bedroom. The gauzy fabric was lined with thousands of dots of gentle, amber lights that twinkled like stars.

The ensuite itself was massive, with a huge soaker tub and luxurious shower stall, both also situated against floor-to-ceiling windows.

Nureyev spent the better part of his afternoon chatting with the concierge about arrangements for the next evening and then, after asking her a few questions about local stores, he headed out to do some shopping.

The next day, Nureyev properly groomed himself for the first time since the heist, which had been… a bit of an ordeal he hadn’t anticipated.

It was the first time he had seen himself naked for any amount of time without bandages and there was a vain part of him that cringed away from himself, that squirmed at the idea of Juno seeing him like that.

The scars on his face would be easy to hide with make-up, he decided, especially the thinner ones that decorated his cheeks and the line of his jaw. The ones on his throat would be trickier, and he cursed his lack of foresight during his shopping trip the day before. He could have gotten a nice collar or something to cover them up. He would have to use make-up until he found a more suitable alternative.

It was the mess of slashes on his chest and the electrical burn scars on his abdomen that caused him the most distress, given his penchant for revealing tops. He didn’t have much in the way of sexy clothing that would hide those, and make-up wouldn’t be ideal.

What would Juno think?

But then he remembered that Juno wore his scars, if not with pride then with defiance. What would that say to Juno, if Nureyev went to such great lengths to hide his own wounds? What would that communicate to his sensitive detective?

So with a determined sigh, Nureyev got dressed without consideration for hiding anything, putting on a black, cropped top with a plunging neckline that showed off all of the jagged scars across his chest, and if not for the corset-waisted slacks he wore, the burn scar would also have been almost completely visible.

He finished his look off with a loose braid, tied off with a black ribbon, keeping his hair quite nicely out of his face.

Nureyev looked at himself in the mirror again, and hated what he saw, but he would learn to be okay with it. If Juno could, so could Nureyev.

As he left the hotel that afternoon, he stopped by the front desk to verify that the special accommodations he set up the night before were still happening, and to inform them he was leaving for the day for their convenience.

The cab ride to his first destination was short and sweet, and Nureyev asked the driver to keep the meter running, regardless of how long it took him to return.

It did not take long, as he had been promised it wouldn’t when the specialist had visited him at the hospital. It was only thirty minutes, and he was returning to the cab with a new set of teeth. The marvels of modern medicine and cosmetic surgery had allowed him to easily and almost painlessly fix the mess the Piranha had made of his iconic smile. He even paid a little bit extra to get something a bit flashier than boring old white, going instead with something that looked like rose gold, inspired by the ear cuff Juno always wore.

In the back of the cab, Nureyev was beside himself with excitement to show Juno, bouncing his knee and drumming a beat on his thigh. By the time they reached the cafe, he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Keep the meter running again, please,” Nureyev said breathlessly to the driver, sliding out and walking into the cafe

Juno was behind the counter with Benten and Rita, the three of them chatting while Juno was balancing an empty serving tray on the tip of his finger. Juno was less rumpled—wearing a pink sweater-dress that exposed his shoulders and just enough of his collarbones to make Nureyev’s mouth water—though he still had quite a bit of stubble defining the sharp edge of his jaw.

Nureyev may have commented on the stubble at one point while he was in the hospital, perhaps in the middle of a heated make-out session with his detective. There was also the possibility that he had made a crude comment about where else he might enjoy feeling the burn of it. Juno had since been conspicuously lax on shaving, and that excited Nureyev greatly.

Juno looked over, and when he properly registered that it was indeed Nureyev he was seeing, his face lit up. It wasn’t a grin, but there was a way his face would shift when he smirked at him that felt like the entire sun was being channelled through it. Juno’s posture straightened and he grabbed the tray between both of his hands to avoid dropping it.

“They let you out early for good behaviour?” Juno asked teasingly, pushing a grumpy Benten out of the way so he could lean against the counter as Nureyev approached. “Thought you wouldn’t be here until after dinner.”

“I actually discharged myself last night to get a few things prepared. I also had an appointment today,” Nureyev said as he stopped at the counter. He placed his hands on the counter top and leaned close, grinning broadly at the detective.

The moment Juno saw the new teeth, his eye widened and the tray slipped out of his hands, clattering loudly against the counter before hitting the floor.

Benten let out a low, begrudgingly impressed whistle before turning a judgmental look on Juno.

Rita however shoved herself up as tall as she could get on the counter short of standing on it, letting out a high-pitched sound of excitement. Without hesitation, she grabbed Nureyev’s face with both hands and turned it side to side before squealing again.

“Wow, Mista Glass, that is so cool! And preeetty!” she gushed before gasping dramatically and letting go of his face. “They’re pretty-cool! Not pretty cool as in cooler than normal, boring cool, but pretty-cool as in they’re both pretty and cool because they’re cool and pretty!”

She barely paused to catch her breath before she smacked Juno’s arm with a stern look. “Mista Steel, aren’tcha gonna say something nice about Mista Glass’ new teeth?” she growled in a tone that she possibly thought was quiet, but the entire restaurant heard her.

Juno swallowed thickly, taking in a shaky breath before nodding. “Uh,” he began, his voice too hoarse to continue right away, so he cleared his throat before saying, “They’re, uh, they’re really great. They l-look, uh, good.”

Nureyev took a moment to bite his bottom lip, feigning shyness to show off the teeth pressing into soft flesh. Juno’s breath left him in a quick whoosh at that, his expression taking on an even more dazed quality.

“Holy shit,” Juno whispered dreamily, quiet enough that only the three of them with him at the counter could hear.

At that, Benten pulled a face and gagged audibly. “Oh, gross. Get a room,” he groaned loudly, and Juno spluttered for a moment, successfully snapped out of his stupor.

Nureyev turned a broad grin on Benten, not missing the way Juno’s eye locked on his mouth again.

“I did, in fact, get one,” he said, and turned to look at Juno again, adding, “I’m here to collect my dear detective for the evening.”

Rita actually screamed with her delight, gaining the attention of every patron in the cafe, and abruptly turned to start pulling Juno’s apron off.

“Aw, Mista Glass, how romantic! C’mon, Mista Steel, get outta here!” she commanded, growling when Juno kept knocking her hands away.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, finally managing to get Rita to stop grabbing at his clothes. For the first time since Nureyev arrived, Juno looked unsure and Nureyev wanted to pull him into a kiss.

“I’m not really dressed for a date, Rex,” he said, and Nureyev could tell he was pulling down the back of his dress nervously. Nureyev smiled at him, feeling utterly fond of Juno in a way that was almost smothering.

“You look beautiful, radiant even, my love,” he replied and Rita made that sound of hers again, the one like a rocketship revving, while Benten groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What a line, Rex,” Benten said flatly. “Juno’s not that easy—”

“Y-yeah, okay. Yeah,” Juno interrupted, his gaze turning dreamy again as he fished the keys to the cafe out of the pocket of his dress and finished taking off his apron.

“Wow, I stand corrected,” Benten murmured, eyebrows raised as he accepted the keys from Juno. “Are you going to be home in time to open tomorrow, or should I post a sign?”

Juno glanced at Nureyev, who merely smirked at him suggestively, relishing Benten’s gag and Rita’s snickers.

“The sign might be a better idea, Ben,” Juno replied with his own little smirk before he came around the counter and followed Nureyev out.

They slid into the backseat of the cab, sitting flush together and the moment they were settled, Nureyev pulled Juno into a kiss. It was chaste, for the sake of the driver if nothing else, but he desperately wanted to deepen it. Juno, the absolute minx, tested his restraint when he dragged his pierced tongue along the seam of his lips.

However, the driver cleared his throat and Juno pulled away so quickly, Nureyev feared he might exit the vehicle entirely.

“So, where to now, Mr Rose?” the driver asked, his expression unimpressed in the rear view mirror.

Nureyev only smiled at the man’s sour look and said, “Back to the hotel, please.”

“Your hotel?” Juno asked, and when Nureyev looked at him, he was delighted to see the confused little pout.

It was obvious Juno was thinking about the seedy little hotel room he’d booked before the heist, and it was endearing that he had expected better. Nureyev smiled soothingly down at Juno, grabbing his thigh and squeezing lightly.

“Do you trust me, love?” Nureyev asked, low and quiet.

“Well, yeah,” Juno said without hesitation.

Nureyev leaned down and gave Juno a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and the detective immediately turned into it. Nureyev was almost sad that he had to pull away, lest he get carried away.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t take you to a hovel for—” he paused, realizing what he was about to say, and that it would be the first time he was saying it aloud. Nureyev took a deep breath, and said, “For our last night before I leave.”

Juno’s expression faltered, becoming deeply sad before he visibly rallied himself with a small smile. “Okay.”

When they pulled up to the hotel, Juno let out a low whistle and looked down at his sweater-dress and clunky leather boots. “Damn, Duke. Now I’m definitely underdressed,” he said, and while it was said as if it was a joke, it sounded a bit too self-deprecating for Nureyev’s liking.

Nureyev paid the cabby handsomely for being a chauffeur and got out when the doorman opened his door. Reaching back into the cab, he helped Juno slide out with a firm grip on his hand.

“I said you looked radiant, love, and I meant it,” Nureyev soothed. “And if it worries you so much, I do have something up in the room for you to change into.”

“You bought me clothes?” Juno asked him incredulously, his face the picture of annoyance but his tone lacked all heat.

“Only a few items, love, and at quite the discount, too. A steal even,” Nureyev said cheekily, kissing the top of Juno’s head and tangling their fingers together. “So don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Duke, is this… okay?” Juno asked quietly as Nureyev led him inside by their clasped hands. When Juno tucked himself in close to his side, Nureyev looked down at him and while the detective looked unsure, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

“This hotel is very discreet, very few cameras,” Nureyev explained, squeezing Juno’s hand a bit. “Also, we aren’t hiding from mayors, aspiring or otherwise, nor their shared criminal bodyguard.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Juno said as an adorable smile curved his lips, and Nureyev was very nearly about to bend and kiss him senseless right there in the lobby.

“And,” Nureyev began in a lower voice as they arrived at the elevators. “The staff might think it’s odd if we walked in acting like we barely knew each other.”

“And why’s that?” Juno asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

“I requested a few romantic accommodations earlier,” he replied with a smirk, pausing at Juno’s shaky inhale. “And, I did rent the honeymoon suite.”

“Are you serious?” Juno asked as the elevator dinged with its arrival, his hand twitching in Nureyev’s.

“Of course I am,” Nureyev says with a winning smile as they stepped inside. Juno’s gaze, as Nureyev expected, was immediately drawn to the new teeth. “Only the best for my beautiful lady, after all.”

As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Nureyev was dragged down by the front of his loose and flowy shirt, his mouth captured in a hungry kiss. Juno whined, pressing as close to Nureyev’s body as he could, tongue pressing into his mouth insistently. The sudden armful of solid detective had Nureyev stumbling back against the wall, chuckling into Juno’s mouth before meeting his tongue halfway. He allowed the kiss for a few moments before he gently pushed Juno back, grinning at the detective’s dazed expression.

“Slow down, love,” he said soothingly as the elevator slowed to a stop. When the doors reopened, Nureyev took Juno’s hand again and began to lead him down the hall. “We have all night.”

“That a promise?” Juno asked huskily, and Nureyev was shocked at how slick he felt between his legs already.

“Well, I’m certainly up for the challenge,” Nureyev replied as they arrived at the door to the suite, pulling out his key and smirking down at Juno. “And I fully expect you to stay the night this time.”

“Sounding pretty confident there, Rose,” Juno teased.

“I can be quite persuasive, I’ve been told,” Nureyev replied, beckoning Juno inside once he got the door open.

Upon seeing the suite, Juno gasped and let go of Nureyev’s hand to cross the room to the windows overlooking his city.

Nureyev took the time that Juno was distracted to survey the room for his requests and remove his gloves. There was a small table set up with a tablecloth and a beautiful flower arrangement, ready and waiting for their dinner to be delivered in the next hour or so. The monitor was on, set to a station that was playing gentle, romantic music.

Overall, he was pleased with the hotel’s work and had faith the bedroom and ensuite were to his specifications as well. Joining Juno at the windows, he looked down and his breath caught at the stunned expression on the detective’s face. Juno finally turned his gaze away to look at the suite, his eye wide.

“Nureyev,” he started, and it was that moment that Nureyev realized he hadn’t heard his name from those lips in days, a realization that almost knocked him off his feet. “This is… really nice.”

Nureyev was very suddenly unsure of his plans, whether they were the right course of action or if they were more likely to scare the detective away. Juno looked overwhelmed, his eye wet with unshed tears, his bottom lip quivering a bit before he bit it lightly. Nureyev cupped Juno’s cheeks in both hands, wiping away a tear that was about to fall.

“Juno, is this okay?” he asked, truly worried he’d gone too far.

“Yeah, jeez, sorry. This is amazing, just,” Juno said with a laugh, tilting his head into one of Nureyev’s hands and closing his eye with a watery sigh. “No one’s ever done something this nice for me.”

Not for the first time, Nureyev was overcome with the urge to hunt down and strangle the life out of every single person who had deemed themselves worthy of Juno Steel’s time. They had all swept him up and they took, and took, and took from him, not once putting in the work to deserve him, leaving Juno to tear up over the bare minimum.

Instead, Nureyev stooped to kiss Juno, deep and searching, drawing the soft little gasping moans he loved so dearly from his gorgeous detective.

“Well, then I’m glad to have been the first,” he said as they parted for air. “Dinner should be arriving in just over an hour. The bathroom is just inside the bedroom if you would like to freshen up a bit?”

Juno took a deep breath and nodded, stepping out of Nureyev’s embrace. “Yeah, I’ll go do that,” he said, a bit dazed still, and when he turned to walk away, Nureyev followed him.

“You know, I’ve been running around all morning, so I think I’ll get cleaned up as well,” he said with a cheeky grin, the expression widening at Juno’s sceptical snort.

“I doubt we have time for both of us to take a shower, Nureyev,” Juno said.

“I’m sure we could think of some sort of arrangement, love,” Nureyev purred suggestively, thoroughly enjoying the confused look on Juno’s face when he glanced back.

“What the hell does—” he began, but at Nureyev’s smirk, his expression went slack with realization, an expression Nureyev found as beautiful as it was priceless. “—Oh.”

Juno swallowed thickly and stammered, “Y-yeah, I mean sure—yeah, we can do that. Totally.”

Nureyev smiled wide when Juno cut himself off shyly, biting the inside of his cheek. Juno glanced at the new teeth again, and Nureyev took that moment to drag his tongue lightly across the points of them. Juno took a shuddery breath before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

The opulence of the bedroom actually tripped Juno up a bit, Nureyev running into him when he staggered to a halt with a gasp.

The curtains around the bed were freed from their tie-backs, and the twinkling lights in the billowy canopy were turned on. The gauzy fabrics obscured the view of the bed and windows beyond by quite a bit, but Nureyev did like that they wouldn’t offer complete privacy.

Taking a deep breath, Juno continued into the ensuite, only to come to an abrupt halt all over again.

The room was lit up in the gentle, amber light of the chandelier hanging above the huge round soaker tub to their left. It was set into a ledge which sat against the massive windows overlooking the city. The tub was already full of steamy water, and there was a near-solid layer of rose petals across the surface. The petals were also scattered across the edge of the tub, the window ledge, and the floor around it.

“Jeez, Nureyev. Are there any roses left in Hyperion City?” Juno all but whispered next to him, and he flushed deeply.

He had requested a romantic set-up for the evening, certainly, but he had expressed that his date would not appreciate a spectacle. The concierge had confirmed a subtle, understated romantic feel, and Nureyev shuddered at the thought of what the full romantic package would have looked like.

Nureyev turned to defend himself and saw the expression on Juno’s face. His eye was wide with wonder and delight, as well as something intense like yearning— no, it was love that overtook Juno’s expression. Nureyev was winded when he realized that Juno loved it, every part of it, right down to the floral massacre in the bathtub. The sass was an attempt at deflecting, at trying not to let on just how much he wanted it.

With a tug of their clasped hands, Nureyev spun Juno into his embrace and dipped down for a searching kiss, hands twisting in the knit of Juno’s dress. Juno whined and opened for him, pushing up onto his toes with his hands holding Nureyev’s biceps. They stood flush together, mouths moving slow and perfect, and Nureyev sighed when Juno’s tongue pressed against his own, the piercings sending a thrill through him.

Nureyev pulled back to catch his breath, and Juno tipped back onto his heels to stare up at him, dazed and smiling. He took in the face of his detective, his gaze lingering on the plain black eyepatch for a few moments before lifting a hand questioningly. It wasn’t even particularly important to him if Juno wore the eyepatch or not—that was Juno’s decision, and his decision only. Nureyev only figured that it would be an inconvenient obstacle in the bath.

Juno sucked in a sharp breath as Nureyev’s fingers lightly touched the eyepatch, and Nureyev waited for a sign to continue or back off. There was a beat before Juno gave him a quick nod, and Nureyev slowly lifted it off, tossing it onto the vanity.

Turning back to his detective, Nureyev took in the full view of Juno’s face for the first time since meeting him.

Nureyev found himself surprised to see that Juno still had his natural eye. For whatever reason, he had expected the eye to have been completely removed, but that was not the case.

“They were able to save the eye itself,” Juno muttered quietly, tensely as if hearing Nureyev’s thoughts. “Couldn’t get the vision back.”

Nureyev nodded with a comforting smile and looked his face over, really taking it in and cataloging each new thing.

There were three very distinct scars running vertically over the eyelid. Two of them were quite shallow and short, just enough to have drawn blood and cause pain, but minimal permanent damage. The third, however, was deep and jagged, starting just under Juno’s brow and ending just about his cheekbone. While the eye itself had been salvaged, it was murky where the scarring and blood vessels had formed over the damaged iris and pupil.

The injury would have been brutal, the pain immense, and for a moment Nureyev was deeply disappointed that the Piranha had been given a quick execution.

Juno’s breathing quickened as Nureyev took his time, his eyes glancing down before he began to turn away, biting the inside of his cheek. Nureyev made a small sound, a gentle tsk as he cupped Juno’s jaw with both hands and turned him back to meet his gaze. The detective was shaking, waiting for Nureyev’s reaction and it was obvious he expected the worst.

And Nureyev wasn’t sure he could blame Juno; if anything Piranha had said about this supposed fiance of Juno’s was true, he had every reason to fear such vulnerability.

Slowly, Nureyev bent to place a gentle, lingering kiss to Juno’s cheekbone, waiting out the bout of shuddering breaths. The moment Juno released a soft sigh, and the tension leaked out of his shoulders, he moved his lips to the corner of his eye. There he waited again, humming happily when Juno almost immediately tilted his head back, and leaned his body closer to Nureyev.

Nureyev dropped a hand to wrap around Juno’s back to hold him firmly, soothingly, and gently brushed a gentle, barely-there kiss to Juno’s scarred eyelid.

“You’re gorgeous, my love,” Nureyev breathed, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyelids with the ferocity of his emotions for Juno. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Juno made a soft, almost wounded sound before he tipped his head back and surged up onto his toes to capture Nureyev’s lips again. With a happy sigh, Nureyev gathered Juno up into his arms, pressing closer and deeper, wanting to taste and feel Juno as much and as quickly as possible. He was overwhelmed by the way the detective clung and squirmed against him, making soft and desperate sounds against his tongue.

Nureyev pulled back with a groan and dropped his mouth to Juno’s shoulder, exposed as it was with the open panels of his dress, and bit it lightly. Juno gasped, tipping his head back with a shudder, and Nureyev let go to place an open-mouthed kiss against the spot, lapping at it soothingly as Juno let out a sob.

He startled at the metallic tang of blood and pulled back to check on Juno. There were two cuts, each tiny enough to have stopped bleeding already, but Nureyev still cursed himself under his breath for being reckless.

“I’m sorry about that, my love,” he said sheepishly, kissing the spot soothingly again. “These new teeth are quite sharp.”

“Yeah, they are,” Juno sighed dreamily, and when Nureyev properly looked at him, the detective appeared perfectly blissed out. “They’re amazing.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, are they?” he asked with a smirk, and at Juno’s rare, unrestrained grin, Nureyev pressed in for another searching kiss.

- - - - -

They sat in the bathtub for some time, slowly making out while they caught their breath after their impromptu romp. Nureyev was floating above the clouds it seemed, weightless and blissed-out with his lady in his lap and in his arms.

Juno made a small sound in his throat at one particularly languid pass of Nureyev’s tongue and squirmed against him. Heat was building again, and Nureyev was happy to be swept away by it again. He knew there was a reason not to, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember it when Juno shifted to straddle his lap, sitting flush to his front and playing with his tits idly.

“The hell was that?”

Nureyev actually whined when Juno wrenched away from his mouth, and he chased after the kiss. His lips found Juno’s throat instead, which was perfectly fine for him.

“Duke, knock it off, I heard something!” Juno hissed and that caught Nureyev’s attention.

Pulling away, Nureyev and Juno sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of movement in the living room. At a sound that was clearly the clinking of cutlery and crystal, Nureyev cringed.

“That is likely the serving staff,” he said slowly, tipping his head back against the cushioned lip of the tub and closing his eyes. “Delivering our food.”

“Duke… did you close any of the doors coming in here?” Juno asked quietly, drawing the question out and pulling a chuckle from Nureyev.

“I did not,” he confessed. “I foolishly had not planned for us to have… appetizers, so to speak.”

“So they heard at least some of that?”

There was something odd in Juno’s tone, and Nureyev opened his eyes again to meet his gaze, worried that Juno was upset. “It’s entirely likely,” he replied carefully.

Nureyev did not miss the look of intense interest that crossed Juno’s face, and he was a little shocked that the detective would be inclined toward a bit of exhibitionism. Then again, he thought, Juno had been the one to wear fancy lingerie to work under a sweater-dress that barely covered his ass. Excitement pulsed through Nureyev at the thought of Juno wanting to show off a bit, about taking Juno where they might get caught, where they could be heard and possibly seen.

He quickly filed that away, however, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he got too hot again.

“Perhaps we should wash up while we wait for them to leave?” Nureyev suggested, and Juno nodded quickly, smiling openly at the thief.

They took their time wiping each other down, slowly kissing while they did. Nureyev paid special attention to Juno, keeping his touches light and chaste, though their intent for later were quite clear. Juno leaned heavily against him, accepting the pampering with a sigh while he mouthed at Nureyev’s pulse.

When they had finished up, Nureyev cradled Juno’s cheek gently and smiled lightly when their gazes met again. Juno leaned forward with a sigh, and Nureyev happily accepted the slow, sweet kiss, wrapping his detective in his arms loosely. It was utterly perfect, and Nureyev almost cursed when the noises from the living room quieted and they heard the door to the hallway close.

“I think it is safe to get out now, dear,” he murmured against Juno’s lips, gently pushing him away and encouraging him to stand up.

Juno grumbled as he did, unclipping the collar of his harness and peeling it off of himself. Nureyev watched Juno move around the bathroom in all of his naked glory with an appreciative eye as he got out of the tub.

“I have something else for you to wear this evening,” Nureyev said as Juno moved to grab his sweater-dress off the ground, touching his arm lightly and smiling when the detective looked up at him questioningly. “It’s in the closet just inside the room. I’ll meet you at the dinner table.”

Juno blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the gentle commands, and nodded as he returned the smile.

Nureyev watched the detective leave before he turned to the cabinet in the bathroom, where he kept his own outfit for the evening.

It could hardly be called an “outfit,” though.

After seeing Juno in his harness on their first date, Nureyev simply had to get his own, a sleek black and gold number that had straps and the gold detailing all the way down to mid-thigh. The embroidered design decorated his abdomen with a chevron that ended just below his sternum, framing his pelvis along the outside edge of the piercings lining his hips.

Over the harness, Nureyev pulled on a short, sheer black robe which tied shut at the waist with a thick black ribbon. The entire back of the robe was lace and completely see-through, showing off all of the straps of his harness where they hugged his pale skin.

Slipping his glasses back onto his face, Nureyev looked around the room and made a face at the smudges, huffing with some annoyance. He picked his pants up off the floor and dug for the cloth he kept specially for cleaning them, cursing his hoarding tendencies for the first time in his decades-long career. After a few too many moments of struggling, Nureyev made a small sound of triumph when his fingers finally closed around the little scrap of material.

Wiping his glasses clean and putting them back on, he completed the ensemble with a pair of black silk slippers. Then, fixing his braid, Nureyev walked out to the living room to join his lover.

Nureyev was nearly winded at the sight of Juno as he stood by the windows and looked out over Hyperion City in the long, sleeveless robe Nureyev had bought him. The fabric was gauzy and pale pink, sheer enough to see the outline of Juno’s legs through it with the neon of the city shining in on him.

Juno must have heard him and turned around a bit with a warm smile. Nureyev could see a hint of the new harness he procured for Juno through the V of the robe, pink and cream flowers decorating his chest and ending in a pretty collar of flowers at the base of his throat. The robe itself was tied by three delicate ribbons at the thick panel of pink and blue flowery lace just above Juno’s natural waist.

Nureyev wanted nothing more than to untie those little ribbons and devour Juno.

When he finally snapped himself out of his own thoughts, he realized Juno was staring. Their gazes met in the next moment and they both swallowed thickly. Juno’s expression was so beautiful, full of want and love, that Nureyev was ready to forgo every plan he had to leave the next day and stay.

Juno cleared his throat and he glanced away. “The hell do you have such long legs for, Nureyev?” Juno asked, his tone so offended and accusatory that Nureyev couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“And why are yours so thick and enticing?” the thief countered, looking pointedly at where he could see Juno’s gorgeous thighs through the opening of his robe.

Juno merely bit the inside of his cheek, and the smirk he wore was tinged with something distinctly pleased.

Nureyev motioned at the table set with their dinner and asked, “Care to join me, dear?”

Juno smirked and crossed the room. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teased and sat down.

Their dinner was quite lovely, filled with casual chatter, laughter, and more than a few glasses of champagne. Juno looked so happy and relaxed across from him, smiling and laughing openly. Nureyev couldn’t help but watch him dreamily as he animatedly told a story from his childhood.

Juno looked so beautiful in the dim, amber lighting of the living room, and Nureyev’s heart ached with the weight of knowing he could not keep him.

Nureyev remembered the pleading “I love you’s” from the sewers as Juno ended his story, and he placed his glass on the table.

“Juno, I distinctly remember I had asked you to accompany me to a gala,” Nureyev started, drawing it out only in part to enjoy the way Juno pouted. “I had done so with the hope that I would have the honour of dancing with you.”

Juno cringed. “Yeah?”

Nureyev nodded and stood, his gut churning with anxiety about what he was about to do for the first time that evening. Offering his hand to Juno, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

“Here?” Juno asked, biting the inside of his cheek. “Now?”

“There’s music, there’s space, and there’s two of us,” Nureyev replied, smiling winningly down at Juno, even as his stomach roiled. He was only comforted a small amount by Juno’s hungry look at his new teeth. “So why not here? Why not now?”

Juno made a face of mock disapproval, but accepted the offered hand and allowed Nureyev to tug him in close. They were hardly dancing, only holding each other and gently rocking, but for Nureyev it was perfect. When he looked down at the detective, he could see tears in Juno’s eyes, belying once again just how much he loved it. It only took a few slow turns for Juno to melt completely against Nureyev with a sigh, resting his ear against the thief’s chest.

They danced together quietly while Nureyev contemplated how best to bring up what he heard in the sewers. He didn’t want to scare Juno off, but Nureyev couldn’t leave Mars without telling the beautiful detective the depths of his own feelings.

“Juno, I wanted to ask you about something,” Nureyev started tentatively, and frowned when Juno tensed in his arms.

“Mm-hmm?” Juno prompted, and Nureyev really wished he’d started this when he could see the detective’s face.

“Well, it’s more I would like to tell you something, but,” he babbled a bit nervously before he took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to help calm him, and said, “I remember hearing you say something in the sewers before I passed out.”

Juno went rigid and pulled back, though they did not pause in their dance. Nureyev’s stomach twisted when he realized that Juno had that unreadable expression on his face that he’d only seen once before.

When he had told him his name and confessed to working for the people who ruined his life.

“You do?” Juno asked, his voice flat and Nureyev realized too late he had brought it up all wrong and began scrambling internally for the words to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Nureyev said after taking a deep breath. “I was still lucid enough to hear you, when you said you lo—”

“Shit, I didn’t—” Juno hissed, pulling out of the embrace, and Nureyev let him. Then he growled at himself, “Shit, Steel, there you go ruining things again.”

Nureyev stepped forward and gently grabbed Juno’s hand. “Juno, just let me finish—”

Juno wrenched his hand away and looked around the room. His expression was so intensely sad for just a second that Nureyev felt his own eyes prickle with tears. Then the shutters behind Juno’s gaze slammed down, and when Juno’s eyes met his again, he saw anger.

“I always do this, get too attached, too soon and then—” Juno muttered, mostly to himself before cutting off with a bitter laugh and eye-roll. “That’s why you did this, isn’t it?”

“Well, the short answer is yes, Juno, but—”

“All of this, it’s all just a joke. Or I’m an easy lay until you find the next stupid sap on some other stupid planet who’ll spread their legs for you,” Juno spat, but then his expression changed, filling with something like humiliation. “Or worse, you felt bad.”

“Juno, please—” Nureyev began, reaching for the detective again, frustration building in him when Juno stepped away from him. For how intelligent and logical he knew Juno to be most of the time, Nureyev was genuinely surprised by his commitment to jumping to the worst possible conclusions if the truth meant happiness for him.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Juno cut him off again, and though he worded it like a question, it was spoken as an accusation with such bitter anger that Nureyev almost flinched. “You feel bad for me because I was stupid enough to fall in lo— fall for you in two weeks like some fucking teenager. About what the Piranha said about my ex. About my eye. All of it.”

Nureyev’s thoughts were swirling as he felt everything falling apart. He loved Juno deeply and fully, and he had desperately needed him to know it, but now their last few hours together were unravelling because he tried to say it. He berated himself for his impulsiveness, for jumping the gun and breaking the fragile truce he’d come to with Juno’s sense of self-worth.

He wanted to drop it and ask Juno to forget he had said anything, but the longer Nureyev said nothing, the surer Juno became in his conviction.

Tears brimmed Juno’s eyes when Nureyev met his gaze again for just a moment before he strengthened his glare.

“Admit it, Nureyev,” Juno demanded, crossing his arms over his middle.

Nureyev reached forward to grab Juno’s hand with both of his and held tight when the detective tried to pull it away again. “Juno, I promise—”

“Just admit it, Nureyev!” Juno all but growled, fighting the grip on his hand.

“You won’t even allow me a word in edgewise, Juno, even for that much!” Nureyev snapped, not quite yelling but close to it, and Juno’s mouth shut with an audible click.

Nureyev softened, pulling Juno closer and cradling his jaw gently in one hand while the other wrapped around his waist. He held tight when Juno made a half-hearted attempt at breaking free, and after a few moments Juno’s breath left him in whoosh.

When the detective relaxed almost completely against him, Nureyev felt hopeful that he could turn this evening around for both of them.

“You are so clever, so good, and absolutely gorgeous, Juno,” Nureyev said fondly. “You are also frustratingly committed to self-sabotage, love.”

Juno pulled a face, and he looked almost embarrassed. “What the—”

“No, I’m talking now, detective,” Nureyev said sternly, and Juno instantly closed his mouth again. “Do you truly believe I would do all of this for you as a… a pity fuck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Nureyev,” Juno snapped. “Had a guy almost marry me, and it turned out he only stuck around as long as he did because he felt bad for me.”

Nureyev felt rage wash over him at that, wanting to know the name and last known location of Juno’s former fiance. Perhaps this was information he could get from Benten or Rita before he left, he thought briefly but dismissed it in favour of focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Juno, I would never do that to you,” he said instead, tone gentle and earnest. “This isn’t a pity fuck, I’m not using you, I’m— if you wanted to leave right now, I wouldn’t stop you. You could walk right out that door, and that would be the end of it. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek and glanced around. For a heart-stopping moment, it looked like Juno would actually pull away and get changed. Nureyev was prepared to stand by his promise, but he felt gutted at the mere thought of having to.

Then Juno sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to lean into Nureyev’s palm, and asked so quietly Nureyev almost couldn’t hear him over the music, “What the hell else is this, then?”

Nureyev lifted his other hand to cradle his face in both, lifting Juno’s gaze to his own again. “I’ve done all of this—the room, the clothes, the dinner—as well as given you my name, Juno, because,” Nureyev paused to take a deep breath, “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you as well.”

Juno sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, a tear falling as he quietly asked, “W-what?”

Nureyev wiped the tear away with this thumb with a gentle smile. “I love you, Juno. I thought that much was obvious since our first night, but I suppose you could benefit from hearing it being said.”

“B-but you— that— you barely know me,” he stammered, trying to look away but Nureyev held fast.

“You know even less about me, Juno,” Nureyev pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Yet you love me?”

“That’s different,” he said stubbornly, and Nureyev’s heart broke.

“How is it different, Juno?” he asked gently. “If you truly believe that, help me to understand it.”

Juno let out a gusty sigh and his eyes teared up even more. Seeing both eyes—one a deep blue and the other murky white—glassy with unshed tears had rage boiling in his gut all over again. He wanted to hurt every single person who taught someone as beautiful, and good, and caring as Juno to feel shame and guilt for being told he was loved.

And suddenly Nureyev understood why Juno couldn’t readily accept his confession; Juno saw himself as inherently unworthy of love and affection while giving himself completely to everyone, hoping they would finally see he had something to offer. That was where it made sense to Juno that he could fall in love with someone he barely knew, but those feelings could not be reciprocated.

“It’s just different,” Juno repeated firmly and with such finality that Nureyev knew he couldn’t push for a proper answer without damaging something between them beyond repair.

So Nureyev stepped closer to Juno instead, their bodies pressed flush together again. “Do you trust me, Juno?” he asked, stroking both of the detective’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Yes,” Juno said without hesitation.

“Do you trust that I wouldn’t lie about something important?” he asked, and when Juno’s expression twisted, he added, “If we were having any other conversation right now, would you trust I was being honest with all of the important details?”

“Yeah,” Juno answered quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Then allow me to put things into perspective for you,” Nureyev said earnestly, meeting Juno’s gaze and holding it. “You are the first person to have learned my real name with my consent in twenty years.”

Juno took a shaky breath, and though his expression was still sceptical, it was also so soft. Nureyev could see that Juno wanted to believe everything, that he wanted to accept what he was offering, so Nureyev continued.

“Do you think a master thief would have risked courting you the way I had just for fun?” Nureyev asked, and did not wait for Juno to respond before he wrapped an arm around his waist. “I have given you the key to a past I’ve tried to bury, as well as the very thread that could unravel my entire career for the past twenty years.”

Juno looked up at him, his expression unreadable as he lifted a hand to cover Nureyev’s still cradling his cheek.

“Look me in the eye and tell me none of that means anything, Juno,” Nureyev offered, and shivered when Juno closed his eyes and turned his head just enough to press his lips to the middle of his palm. “I wouldn’t give any of that to just anyone, Juno.”

Juno was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes closed and breathing softly against Nureyev’s palm. Eventually, the detective sighed and kissed him gently before turning to meet Nureyev’s gaze.

“You’re about to sign up for one hell of a time trying to convince me, Nureyev,” Juno said lightly, and though it was said as a joke, Nureyev could tell he was also completely serious.

Nureyev smiled broadly and stooped to kiss Juno, sweet and chaste.

“Then I gladly accept that challenge, starting tonight,” Nureyev said against Juno’s lips before kissing his way up his cheek, taking a small detour to press a light kiss just below Juno’s right eye. He finished his journey at the hinge of Juno’s jaw and whispered, “I love you, Juno Steel.”

Juno exhaled sharply and sobbed, angling his mouth up for the searching, needy kiss Nureyev had for him.

“I love you…” Juno whispered when they pulled apart for air, and very quietly, almost reluctantly, he added, “Too. I love you, too.”

The quiet concession, even if it was clear he didn’t quite believe it but was willing to try, made Nureyev’s heart pound and butterflies burst to life in his gut. Just hearing those three words again, this time when he was meant to hear them and he wasn’t knocking on Death’s door, brought tears to Nureyev’s eyes.

It was at that moment when Nureyev realized, or allowed himself to realize, that he hadn’t let himself get close enough to anyone since Mag to be loved. He kept himself unreachable and unknowable for twenty years, leaving Mag as the last person to have said they loved him and meant it.

Several moments of heart-stopping terror followed that revelation, and Nureyev wanted to run from it. He did the calculations instantly; he knew the flight schedule for every ship off of Mars by heart for the next week and a half, and with a good distraction, he could catch one within the hour. His fingers itched for his comms and he instinctively began to slip out of Juno’s arms, pretty words and a prettier lie already on the tip of his tongue.

Juno pulled him in tighter, however, clinging to him as he brought their lips together again, and Nureyev was shaken from his thoughts.

“Shit,” Juno all but sobbed against his lips, laughing wetly as tears fell down his cheeks. “I love you, Nureyev.”

Just like that, Nureyev dumped every contingency plan and escape route he had drawn up. There Juno was, giving him everything he had, and Nureyev was thinking of leaving him with nothing. Master thief though he may be, Nureyev was determined to not become one of the people to steal Juno’s heart. He would make a fair trade for it, give himself to Juno, and share the heartbreak of their parting.

Nureyev recognized the desire to run, to leave and never look back, but he knew that he would never be able to compartmentalize his love for Juno.

At Juno’s shivery whine, Nureyev hauled him up into his arms and groaned when Juno’s legs locked around his waist. With one arm around Juno’s waist, and his other hand holding his thigh, Nureyev stumbled in the direction of the bedroom. Juno’s hands were in his hair, messing his braid up and pulling on the freed strands, and Nureyev couldn’t help the soft, needy sounds he was making. Losing focus and rapidly losing his balance, Nureyev stopped just outside the bedroom, and pinned Juno against the wall next to the double-doors, licking deep into Juno’s mouth while he slid his hand up to grope at his ass.

When Juno turned his face away to catch his breath, Nureyev latched onto his throat, kissing, biting, and licking the length of it, paying extra attention to the underside of his jaw when Juno’s cries grew higher in pitch.

“N’reyev, the bed,” Juno whimpered and Nureyev moaned his agreement into the bruise he had just worried into Juno’s skin.

After a few more stumbling moments and close calls, Nureyev found the bed, which was tall enough that Juno was almost sitting on it already when he let him go. As he stepped back a couple paces, Juno looked up at him with eyes still glassy with unshed tears, but the softest smile Nureyev had ever seen on his face. Juno reached out to hold Nureyev’s hand, as if needing some sort of physical contact and Nureyev could understand.

Stroking the back of Juno’s hand with this thumb, Nureyev asked, “How do you want to spend the rest of our evening, my love?”

With a shiver, Juno shifted onto his knees to undo the belt of Nureyev’s robe and admired the view as it fell open. Nureyev shuddered a bit as the silky material slipped down his arms and pooled around his feet. Juno pressed in for another kiss, wrapping one arm around Nureyev’s shoulders and walking the other down his stomach teasingly.

“Think it’s pretty obvious what I want, Nureyev,” Juno replied cheekily as his fingers reached his lower abdomen.

“Use your words, dear,” Nureyev scolded lightly, grabbing Juno’s wrist gently. “Or you get nothing at all.”

Juno huffed, but it had no heat to it. Nureyev did not doubt that Juno was a bit frustrated—used to being tipped over and tumbled without ceremony as he was—but he also knew Juno thoroughly enjoyed being told what to do.

“Do I have to do this every time?” Juno asked with a pout.

“With me?” Nureyev replied with a chuckle, stooping to kiss Juno’s cheek. “Yes.”

Juno shivered and nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek before he pressed up against Nureyev, both arms around his shoulders as he untied the ribbon holding Nureyev’s braid together.

“I-I want you to fuck me into this mattress until the neighbours complain,” Juno whispered in a bit of a rush, and Nureyev’s breath hitched.

“The sound-proofing in this hotel is almost absolute, dear detective,” Nureyev responded huskily.

Juno laughed lightly before looking up at Nureyev coyly through his lashes. “I’m sure it is,” he said softly and deliberately.

Nureyev groaned and recaptured Juno’s lips, bringing both hands up to cradle the back of his head and keep him there while he kissed the breath from his lungs.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Nureyev all but growled between kisses and swallowed Juno’s excited laugh.

- - - - -

Nureyev worked to catch his breath, his arm slung around Juno’s waist so he could run his hand up and down his back soothingly. Occasionally, he would sweep his palm further to massage the muscled thigh thrown over his hip.

“Are you okay, love?” Nureyev asked around a yawn when Juno stretched with a bit of a pained sound.

“Yeah, I’m golden,” Juno said softly with a dreamy sigh, nuzzling his forehead against Nureyev’s chest before meeting his gaze with a blissed-out smile. “I’m perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my love,” Nureyev hummed, stealing a chaste kiss from Juno before saying, “We should wash up before bed, though.”

Juno groaned and snuggled in closer, shaking his head with a little hmph. “Don’wanna,” he mumbled petulantly.

Nureyev laughed, just as disinterested in the prospect of getting up, but there were some general hygiene items they needed to take care of. “Come along, love, up we get,” Nureyev said, sitting up and giving Juno’s ass a sharp slap.

“Babe, if you want me out of this bed, you better knock that off,” Juno teased with a sexy sprawl, but the effect was lost when he yawned hugely.

“No offense, dear, but I don’t think either of us have the stamina to make good on any threats like that,” Nureyev laughed, and eventually dragged Juno out of the bed and into the ensuite.

The shower stall was ridiculous in its size, and set in the bathroom so one of it’s walls was just windows. The windows in the shower weren’t quite floor to ceiling, and had a tiled ledge that was about half a foot tall. There was also a safety bar that travelled along the window. The spray of the shower came from a fixture right above them, the water coming down like a perfect, warm rain. It reminded Nureyev of a rain storm he had found himself caught in the one time he had gone to earth, and Juno hummed thoughtfully when he told him as much.

Neither of them was particularly keen on turning on the lights, so they showered by the lights of the city coming through the window. Juno was looking down at Hyperion City, his city, with his hands resting on the safety bar while Nureyev lathered up a plush washcloth and began wiping his body down.

Standing flush behind Juno, Nureyev wrapped an arm around his shoulder and chest, holding him tenderly as he washed his stomach and lower. With a contented hum, he pressed a kiss to the hinge of Juno’s jaw and frowned when the detective sighed a touch too wistful for Nureyev’s comfort.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked before mouthing at Juno’s throat.

“What if you could stay?” Juno asked, his tone flat but curious.

Nureyev hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yeah,” he replied after a thoughtful hum. “The honest one.”

“That would be the only one I would give you, dear detective. You’re too important and too smart for any of the others,” Nureyev sighed, and he couldn’t help the teasingly bitter tone out of his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juno snorted, and Nureyev could hear the eye-roll. “You’re deflecting.”

“We would be happy for a bit, I think— No, I know we would be happy, at first that is. Then I would get bored,” he confessed in a sigh against Juno’s ear, and when he felt Juno tense in his arms, he added quickly, “Not of you, my love. Never of you. But I would go mad sitting still. Doing busywork.”

Juno chuckled, as if laughing at some private joke, but the humour didn’t quite reach it.

“Like a caged fox. Or something,” Juno supplied, and leaned his forehead against the glass.

“Exactly,” Nureyev replied quietly, a sad smile of his own twisting his mouth. “And if you could come with me?”

Though he couldn’t see Juno’s face completely, Nureyev could tell there were tears in his eyes with the way he bit his lower lip.

“I… I would be miserable without Benten and Rita,” he admitted, his voice watery. He lifted his hand to wipe a tear that fell away and Nureyev’s heart broke. “I don’t think I’d be happy without them at all, even in the beginning. I’m sorry—”

Nureyev turned Juno around and kissed him soundly, sighing when Juno opened for him readily. There was no way to measure who would hurt the most when it came time for Nureyev to leave, the one who could stay and would hate it, or the one who could leave but would suffer. But they didn’t have to think about that tonight.

Nureyev just wished they didn’t have to think about it at all.

“Don’t apologize, Juno,” Nureyev whispered when he pulled back to finish washing them up. “I understand.”

A short time later, they slipped back into the bed, still damp and naked from their shower. Nureyev propped himself over Juno, kissing him breathless with lazy and slow motions. With a contented noise, Juno kissed his way to the line of Nureyev’s jaw, lips pausing over the raised line of the new scar there. Nureyev shivered a bit when Juno pressed his fingers against his chest, gently feeling the jagged lines before sliding down to press his whole palm to the burn on his abdomen.

When he didn’t move his hand any further, Nureyev pulled back to look at Juno’s face.

Juno was thoughtful, looking down at the lines of his scars, stroking the burn gently with a furrowed brow. Nureyev reached up to brush his thumb across Juno’s cheekbone, below his blinded eye. The detective almost flinched away as if the touch burned before he settled and leaned into the touch.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Nureyev asked, dropping a soft kiss just below his eye.

Juno shivered under the gentle affection with a little sigh. “Are you going to get your scars reduced?” Juno asked after a bit, scrunching his face up adorably when Nureyev moved his lips to the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Why would I?” Nureyev asked, pulling back and meeting Juno’s gaze.

The detective shrugged, glancing away and chewing his cheek. “Your whole anonymity thing?” Juno offered in a quiet mumble. There was obviously more to that thought, but Nureyev wouldn’t pry.

“Going under for surgery is risky, so I typically avoid doing so outside of emergencies,” Nureyev replied with a small smile. “I’ll simply cover them as needed if I must.”

Juno hummed at that, nodding and moved his gaze away to look at the jagged lines that criss-crossed his throat.

“Besides,” Nureyev continued, lowering himself to lay his full weight against Juno, his legs straddling his thick thighs. He gave Juno’s eye another soft kiss, and said, “I find scars to be quite… sexy.”

“Of course, you do,” Juno said with a snort.

“I do,” Nureyev replied seriously, figuring Juno didn’t have to know how much he hated the scars at the moment, and coaxed Juno into a searching kiss.

Juno didn’t respond as readily as he had expected, so Nureyev pulled back and met his eyes again. The detective was still pensive and even a bit sceptical, which was far too serious for Nureyev’s liking.

“Juno, darling,” he prompted gently. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong, just thinking,” Juno said almost flippantly, but he seemed to realize he was dismissing and deflecting. With a sigh he said, “I don’t… believe you when you say the scars don’t bother you, but that’s not— You didn’t— I get it, if you didn’t like them. They’re ugly—”

“They’re not ugly,” Nureyev interrupted firmly, and Juno glared a bit up at him. “If we’re to have these sorts of talks, dear, we should keep this… negative self-talk to a minimum.”

Juno snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Juno conceded and took a deep breath. “My ex wanted me to get mine fixed, or reduced, or whatever. He was really pushy about it, and wanted me to get a fake eye, too. Even just a basic glass one. Nothing fancy.”

“But you didn’t,” Nureyev encouraged.

“Well, obviously. I didn’t want to spend Pereyra’s hush money, and I just… didn’t want another surgery,” Juno said quietly. “I didn’t really get that it was such a big deal for him until he— until I ended things. Or, when he left.”

“Do you know why it was such a big issue with him?” Nureyev asked, even as he planned the very painful way he would dispatch the bastard. When Juno raised his eyebrow at him sceptically, it hit him instantly.

Juno had looked like Benten, until he lost his eye.

“It’s the past, and it should stay there,” Juno replied eventually, and hummed when Nureyev drew him into a gentle press of lips.

“I will be honest with you, Juno; I hate my scars, as they are right now,” Nureyev confessed when he pulled away, smiling weakly at Juno’s curious expression. “Perhaps once they’re less fresh, I will find them more tolerable, but I was considering covering them up before meeting with you tonight.”

“Why didn’t you?” Juno asked.

“Because of you, honestly,” Nureyev said, smiling openly at Juno. “I thought of you, and how beautiful I believe you to be, and your scars are part of that.”

“Jeez, Nureyev,” Juno huffed, glancing away bashfully and chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re laying it on pretty thick.”

“All of it is the truth, my love,” Nureyev sighed with a grin. “I just can’t believe no one else had figured it out as well.”

“Well,” Juno started with a shrug, “I got you out of it, didn’t I?”

“I was avoiding celebrating decades of people being incredibly stupid and cruel to you, dear,” he chastised lightly, pulling a laugh from Juno.

“Go ahead and celebrate. I mean, I am,” Juno said, accepting another kiss with a quiet moan.

“Are you?” Nureyev asked teasingly, their lips still pressed tightly together.

“Little bit,” Juno sighed and Nureyev laughed, deepening the kiss.

Nureyev kept it up until Juno began faltering in returning the kisses, his eyes fluttering shut. The detective would shake himself awake every time his mouth fell slack under Nureyev’s, returning the kisses with renewed fervor and enthusiasm, hands finding their way into his hair to ground himself.

Eventually though, when Juno drifted off, Nureyev pulled away and let him sleep.

Nureyev laid next to Juno for a while, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully, partially lit up by the city beyond the windows. The next day, he knew he would have to leave, but he thanked every entity from every planet orbiting every star that must have answered whatever secret prayer he had whispered.

Juno Steel was such a gift he didn’t deserve, it had to have been divine intervention.

With a sigh and one last chaste kiss to Juno’s cheek, Nureyev lowered his head to his own pillow and quickly drifted off to sleep as well.

[Previous Chapter][Next Chapter]

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #full fic #bittersweet

14 notes · View notes

the-last-cuddlebender · 4 years

Note

F, I, S, T & W, if you'd please

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Most of my posted stuff doesn’t have as much dialogue as I normally write because I’m practicing a new style. I really enjoy descriptions because I like to create scenes where words fail and all a character can do is react, and I find that writing action is a lot more effective than dialogue sometimes.

I know this is a little long, but it’s part of a conversation that I’m particularly proud of. I think I’m starting to nail Aang and Katara’s characters, and I think this bit is my favorite exploration of their reactions yet. Plus, I am an absolute sucker for Kataang worrying/losing their minds over each other getting hurt/kidnapped/etc.

*******************************************************

“You already said that,” Katara pulled the bag away from him like a red flag from a bullhound.

Aang made a frustrated noise and seethed like he really was a bullhound. “Well, it seemed worth reiterating. Now just gimme—Ugh! Katara!”

Aang missed yet again, and Katara couldn’t believe it when he flushed red and stomped his foot like he was about to either throw a tantrum or level this side of the world in a rockalanch. The graceful airbender she fell in love with was tripping over his own feet like a drunk ostrichhorse. He would have normally been able to circle around her back and out-maneuver her to get the bag back. He knew it, too; the broken look he wore nearly made her hand it over just to keep him from becoming hysterical.

He was unraveling, and she wasn’t even gone yet.

“Well, then allow me to ‘reiterate’ myself too: I promise you that I’ll be fine, and I also promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. You are going to get on Appa and fly to Kyoshi. He should get you there in less than half a day if you fly fast.”

“Kyoshi?”

“Yes, Kyoshi. It’s the closest spot with people we know, and Suki and Ty Lee and the Kyoshi Warriors are more than capable of helping you. Now would you please stop fighting me so you can leave while there’s still daylight?” Another miss. “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Katara innocently asked.

“Dammit, Katara!” Aang raised his voice as close to a shout as he could ever get with her. He rarely cursed, and the swear shot off such a loud alarm in Katara’s mind that it nearly deafened her. “I’m trying to help you. Please, just hand it over so I can finish packing your things and you can leave. Please.”

Aang held out his hand expectantly.

Katara looked at his hand. Then she looked at his face. She took clear note of the stubborn desperation and poorly concealed fear polluting his eyes.

She was still looking him in the eye as she threw the bag out the window and into the canyon below.

“What—Did you just—?” Aang gaped like a fish out of water. Katara struggled not to laugh, despite the severity of the situation. Aang flushed crimson and tensed so hard that his whole being shook. “This isn’t a game, Katara! This is serious!”

“No, this isn’t serious. This is you overreacting yourself into hysteria. I’m fine, Aang. You’re acting ridiculous over something completely normal.”

Aang threw his hands up. “Oh, gee, how couldn’t I see it before? I’m the one being ridiculous. Of course! I mean, throwing your bag out the window was such a finely tuned response to this situation.”

“Well, since you refuse to listen to me, acting as ridiculous as you are seems to be the only way to get your attention. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m not going before the message sinks in, but I’m more than happy to stand here all night and verbally beat it into your skull if I have to.”

It was quiet for a long second. Katara wished she could read Aang’s mind when his expression changed to...whatever it was that made him look so vulnerable and hardened at the same time—a boy’s fear and a man’s resolve. It reminded her of something sad. Like having to tell someone that their loved one was missing or dead.

Aang closed his eyes and sighed. The breath that left him took all of his energy and liveliness with it, and Katara could have sworn that a mournful whine slipped out of him. He looked so tired all of a sudden, exhausted like he had been beaten within an inch of his life and slapped into manacles that weighed him down like boulders. His whole body sagged with defeat and something even heavier—regret?

He stared at her and then through her and then at his own feet, and even though he rose to his full fight, she could tell that he was struggling to stand tall. He walked towards her, and Katara almost had to look up to meet his eyes. The laughter she so loved was muted and colorless, caged by something she didn’t recognize.

She immediately hated it.

More silence. Aang was thinking. Katara hated when he did that. He glanced about her face, scanning every detail, searching for something. He spared her singed dress and half-burned arm long looks—too long—before circling back to her face.

When he spoke, his small voice was soft and sad but bellied by conviction.

“You are leaving whether you want to or not, Katara.”

*******************************************************

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Sass, cuddles, reunions, action fights, and tender moments

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

small/tall pairings are a little guilty pleasure (I’m 6′4 and practically an Amazon, so it’s all I know lmao), anything wholesome, and any AU that has a fantastical element—pirates, mythology, soulmates, magic, etc.

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

Not particularly? Any trope can be done well or bad. Or I probably haven’t been exposed to enough of the bad yet. Love triangles can absolutely take a long walk off a short pier, though.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

Both!

#kataang #answered #aang #katara #sweeties gonna sweet #justoceanmtth #thanks for the ask!#post #myfanfictiontag #mywiptag

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shipaholic · 3 years

Text

Omens Universe, Chapter 13 Part 2

Nearly made it to Alpha Centauri!

Warnings for this chapter: the terrifying vastness of space; vertigo; and more child endangerment than we’ve seen so far.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 13, cont.

Of all the infinite spaces they’d found themselves in recently, this one truly made each of them feel small.

Nebulae crackled in the corner of their eyes. Comets sparked across the heavens like distant fireworks. There were stars, billions upon billions of stars, a riotous tumble of them. And planets, cold and grand, passing by like ships.

Aziraphale had never been here before. For the life of him, he had no idea why. No - perhaps he was afraid of the vastness. Of feeling engulfed.

He leaned, half-consciously, towards Crowley. Their fingers brushed. Slowly, as if moving underwater, Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the magnitude of space and looked at Crowley. He was in profile, lips slightly parted. His eyes shone with starlight. Aziraphale wanted to kiss him and keep watching him forever. He remembered Crowley had probably seen this room before. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the past. Perhaps it hit him harder to come back than Aziraphale to see it for the first time.

“Did I ever mention I helped build some of these?” Crowley whispered.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale whispered back. His heart brimmed over.

He happened to know the only part of Her creation missing from this room was the Earth. That was because it was on the top floor. He saw it the last time he presented his weekly report to Gabriel, floating in the air like a large, sedate disco ball. They would all use it in three days' time to transport themselves to Earth for Armageddon. Every angel in Christendom, pouring out of the sky.

Aziraphale peered around. There didn’t seem to be much of a filing system in here. Maybe all he had to do was…

“Alpha Centauri?” he said.

It was like going for a gentle stroll and accidentally stepping off a skyscraper.

Space lurched. The detritus of the universe streaked towards him, and past him before he could think about screaming. Two blue dots came out of the darkness like all-knowing eyes that meant the end of all things. They expanded until they were the size of suns, filling his vision, pinning him under their gaze, until with a heart-stopping wrench -

It all stopped.

Space was still again. The binary star system of Alpha Centauri lay before them, winking blue.

Aziraphale shook off the feeling he’d just freefall dived from a million miles up. He glimpsed Crowley’s face, and got a sudden idea of what it must have felt like for him, before all this happened. The Fall. He squeezed Crowley’s hand. Crowley’s eyes were glazed. Slowly, he came back to himself and squeezed back.

Aziraphale remembered, a fraction later than he should have, to check on Adam.

The boy’s face was white with exhilaration. “Wicked,” he whispered to himself.

Spacedog yipped and scratched his flank with his cybernetic back leg. His ears jiggled inside his fishbowl helmet. He didn’t look impressed. Aziraphale supposed he was made for this environment. Then he went back to deliberately ignoring Spacedog, because while Spacedog’s existence was remarkable, Aziraphale found him far too ridiculous to dwell on.

“We want Proxima Centauri B,” he said.

This time they all braced themselves. There was a relatively short, painless lurch forward as the room zoomed in on the planet orbiting one sun, Proxima Centauri. The planet was pockmarked like porous stone. It turned ponderously in the light from its star.

“Oh!” Crowley leaned forward in wonder. He pointed down at the craggy little planet. “I remember this! This one was one of mine.”

Aziraphale watched him puff out his chest and smiled.

“Yup. I totally helped with this one. Well. I looked over the plans. Well. I graffitied a rude word in some space dust.” Crowley paused. “They probably took it out.”

“How lovely,” Aziraphale said, dryly.

This was it. Triumph rang through his head. He was about to become an outer space fugitive. He couldn’t believe they’d got this far. There was only one step left, and they were home free. Or… not home. Not yet. But definitely free.

“Crowley, do you trust me?”

Crowley’s head snapped round. “That’s a funny question at this stage,” he said, sounding perturbed.

“Sorry. I need to be sure, though, or this next part won’t work.”

Crowley’s golden eyes regarded him.

“I trust you, angel.”

Aziraphale turned to face him. Crowley did the same, mirroring him. Aziraphale caught his other hand, holding them both, bare and gloved.

“Fuse with me.”

Relief lifted Crowley’s face.

“Oh, thank Satan. I was worried for a moment.”

Aziraphale gave a chuckle. “Sorry for being dramatic. I wasn’t -”

He broke off. He hadn’t been sure. If Crowley had truly forgiven him, yet. It would be understandable if he needed more time.

Apparently not. Crowley was attempting to loosen up in the receptionist’s tailored trousers. He stretched his inhumanly bendy spine, wiggled his snaky hips. It would have been rather alluring if Crowley wasn’t, as Aziraphale well knew, an awful dancer. It still was quite alluring, actually.

“Remember how to do this?” Crowley grinned.

“Of course. Like riding a velocipede.”

Crowley groaned and laughed. He began… a kind of shimmy, Aziraphale supposed. It was very wriggly. It had a slight drunk-wedding-guest-cum-gay-bar aspect, not that he’d been to a wedding or a gay bar in over eighty years.

Now that push came to shove, he felt rather foolish doing this in front of an audience. He avoided looking anywhere near Adam and broke into a modified Gavotte.

They danced towards each other. They were taking it slower than the urgency of the situation asked for, if he was being honest. But it was thrilling, the build up without touching, the coy flashes of eye contact. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s body heat through his silk blouse. Crowley’s long, skinny chest wiggled inches away from him. His gem glowed softly, like it was warming up.

Aziraphale clasped his arm, and his own gem flared.

They melted together.

Zadkiel stumbled out, wide-eyed and flushed.

“Wow. I need to get a room.”

He noticed Adam.

“Ummmm. Hello there. We’ve sort-of met, sort-of haven’t. I’m Zadkiel.” He held out his hand.

Adam glared as he took it. Some weird grown-up stuff had just happened, and he was ready to zip away from it at the speed of light.

“They just… turned into you,” he said.

“Yup.”

“They’re really bad dancers.”

“So am I!”

“Right. Why’d they do that, then?”

“Well… they’ve been apart for a while, and while they’re not human, as you know, er, I know for your species the whole dancing thing can be something of a mating ritual… has anyone ever given you the Talk?”

Adam looked deeply disgusted.

“Why’d they turn into you?” he asked, in slow, measured tones.

“Oh! So they can’t track us.” Zadkiel flashed a grin. “The people we’re running away from can tell whenever Aziraphale or Crowley use their powers - their alien powers, that is - but I don’t show up on their, errr, alien scanner things. So they can’t follow us to Proxima Centauri.”

This was going to require a lot of discipline, he realised. If they wanted to be good intergalactic space fugitives - and Zadkiel absolutely did - there would have to be no more performing of miracles unless fused from now on. One thoughtless snap of the fingers from either of them, and it would all be over. Zadkiel hoped the other two were up to it.

He squared up to the orbiting planet below.

“Enough explanation. It’s time to go. Are you ready?”

Adam nodded. The blue lights of Alpha Centauri shone in his eyes.

“Brilliant. Hold on to my arm and don’t let go no matter what.”

Adam scooped up Spacedog,[1] along with the Book, and looped his spare arm through Zadkiel’s. He may have shown up unexpectedly, but he was a reassuringly large presence.

Zadkiel performed the ritual on himself and Adam. Nobody needed to leave their gems behind accidentally at this stage. He guessed it would be messy in Adam’s case.

“Here we go -”

Zadkiel reached out.

His fingertips dissolved as they neared the planet. Then his whole body melted into a stream of atoms, and this really was a freefall, dimensions compressing around him, his body stretching back miles, stars streaking across his vision. He was made of mist and he was rushing through a cold tunnel faster than any living thing had ever moved

~*~

They popped out at the other end, mouths agape like fish.

The first thing was the silence.

It was crushing and absolute. It was the silence of a void. A sea of darkness full of pinpricks of light that only made the darkness more infinite. He remembered, from two different perspectives, rowing across a lake that had been like this.

Then, the planet.

It spread out below him. A hard, mountainous, canyon-pocked waste-scape. He could see where it curved, the crescent of light like the rind of an orange. He could see the shimmering corona of its atmosphere. He could see the granite and sandstone and marsh-coloured patches of its body, all merging like a paintbox left out in the rain.

He had never seen anything like it. A new world. Untouched. Alien.

He had to admit it was a cracking view.

Adam’s fingers dug into his arm. The green dog yipped at a hysterical pitch.

Zadkiel looked down at the boy and noticed the third thing.

Adam gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. He stared into Zadkiel’s eyes, terrified, as his lips turned blue.

---

[1] Neither of Zadkiel’s components knew what to make of the dog. They’d each secretly hoped that fusing would bring some wisdom on the subject. Zadkiel was happy to report: nope. The dog thing was really weird.

(Link to next part)

#omens universe fic #omens universe #good omens fic #good omens #ineffable husbands #steven universe #yeeeeah so Aziraphale and Crowley are terrible guardians #who forget that children need things like oxygen #and to have their eyes shielded from thirsty fusion dances #any gross space-inaccuracies I wish to preemptively attribute to Antichrist-induced cartoon physics #I spent an afternoon on wikipedia looking up details on Proxima Centauri B #and the best I could come up with for a description was still 'the planet... was... brown...'

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Zapped Perspective (10) (Final)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Mention of treating people like pets

First Chapter || Previous Chapter

——————————————————————————————————–

Roman’s sleep that night had been...weird. Maybe it was all his time he spent with Virgil and listening to him about his world because he dreamed of a place where humans didn’t know borrowers existed. He...also dreamed about Logan but that was nothing really new. Still, the overall dream was weird and left a strange feeling in him as he woke up.

Roman barely opened his eyes before swinging his legs off the bed. He yawned and stretched and then opened his eyes, looking in the direction of the house Virgil now occupied. His eyebrows furrowed, however, when it was gone.

“What?” He stood up and looked around his room. His mind caught up with him as he looked around and saw that...this wasn’t his room. This was nowhere close to his room, where was he?

And, most importantly, where was Virgil.

Meanwhile, just a few feet away, a certain borrower yawned, awoken by the familiar sound of Patton getting up. But something had sounded..wrong.

Logan opened his eyes, sitting up and blearily opening his eyes to take in the sight before him.

Logan blinked. He blinked again.

“Roman?” Logan spoke up in disbelief, wondering how a dream could appear so vivid.

Roman froze at the sound of an all too familiar voice. A voice he hadn’t heard in days but had seemed like forever. His hopes were high even as he tried to force them down. He slowly turned, looking down at the nightstand and towards the borrower standing there.

The borrower wasn’t Virgil.

“...Logan?” Roman whispered, as if saying it any louder would cause him to disappear. He took a step closer.

Logan nodded, slowly getting to his feet as his mind tried to wrap around this phenomenon because how on earth could Roman be here of all places? And yet...Logan had never experienced an illusion this lucid, and despite suspecting this was all fake Logan felt his heart throb with hope.

Roman’s breath hitched and he came even closer, kneeling down slightly. He slowly reached out his hand, half expecting Logan to disappear as he gently patted the top of his head.

But he didn’t.

Roman’s eyes widened and shined with tears. “You’re real…” He whispered before grinning wide and scooping Logan up, holding him to his chest. “Logan! You-you’re actually…” Roman felt his tears start to fall.

“You’re actually here.” Logan finished his sentiment, clutching to Roman’s shirt like it was a lifeline as his own eyes began to feel quite wet. “I-how-? It’s- It’s not possible…”

“Who cares?!” Roman laughed. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re together again and that is all that matters.” He brought Logan up to his face and nuzzled him with his nose. “I missed you so much…” He whispered, tears still falling.

“I missed you too.” Logan could have given a hysterical laugh, hugging Roman back with vigor. He could have made a witty comment about Roman’s dramatic behavior, but any flaws Logan had once seen were so undeniably Roman that Logan eagerly embraced them all. “I missed you to what was frankly a ridiculous degree, I became such a mess, my thoughts kept traveling back to you subconsciously and I was quite distraught.”

“Heh, I...felt the same. You should have seen me the first day you went missing.” It was easy to joke about it, now that Logan was safely back with him. “I even scared Virgil...a little bit.”

Logan leaned back a bit, enough so he could look Roman in the eye but still refusing to break contact with his human. “You really did meet Virgil, then? And the two of us just inexplicably swapped?”

“Yeah, I did! And that means you really met Patton, right?” Roman asked.

Logan nodded, his ears turning a bit pink. “He was not as physically affectionate as you, though.”

Roman blinked before a teasing grin appeared on his face. “Aww, did someone miss our cuddle sessions? You did, didn’t you?” Roman teased, prodding Logan’s chest gently.

“I was accustomed to a certain lifestyle!” Logan protested. “It was an unexpected change that was not wholly welcome.”

“Uh huh, just admit it my little nerd, you have a secret soft spot for my cuddles. And really, who can blame you, I am the best at them after all.” Roman said, showing this by pulling Logan into another hug.

“Considering I have only been in close proximity to two humans, I doubt that title can be reasonably drawn.” Logan argued, but he leaned eagerly into the hug all the same.

Roman laughed, having missed Logan so very much. He was happy to see his borrower again. But now that the excitement was subsiding a little, Roman couldn’t help but look around the room. “Hey...where are we, anyway?”

“Ah, yes.” Logan realized now that it must look strange to Roman, despite having become familiar scenery to Logan. “This is Patton’s apartment. It would seem that, if my hunch is correct, for an unknown reason you and Patton have now switched dimensions just as I had with Virgil, resulting in you traveling here to dimension B.”

Roman blinked. “Wait, so...I’m in Virgil’s dimension right now? So no one here knows borrowers exist?”

“Well, Patton knew, and you know, obviously.” Logan thought back for a moment. “And possibly a rather confused information phone woman. Regardless, in spite of individual incidents, borrowers are not public knowledge.”

“That’s so...weird,” Roman said, taking a seat on the bed. “How do borrowers even live? Well, I mean, I know how because Virgil told me but still.” It was nice talking about this with someone who understood.

“Indeed.” Logan nodded in solidarity. “It has been quite strange, I actually woke up in his nest the first day, it’s nearly impossible to see and quite a dangerous mess in the walls. Then I could hardly go anywhere because Patton is always concerned with me being ‘discovered’, and it took forever to explain to Patton it’s more efficient to be carried from room to room.”

“Huh...well, I’m glad he didn’t hurt you at least. Not that I think he would have! From what Virgil had told me, he was really nice.” Roman explained himself. “...Although he did break Virgil’s leg when they first met…” He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“He what?” Logan said incredulously, his eyes blown wide.

“He didn’t mean to, of course. But he grabbed Virgil wrong when they first met and...broke his leg. That’s what Virgil told me, at least.” Roman explained. “And yet, even with that, Virgil still called told me I was a worse first meeting, can you believe that?”

“Did...did you harm him as well?” Logan asked cautiously.

“What? No! Of course not.” Roman pouted. “How could you ever even think that?” Roman shook his head.

“No, I just...may have scared him a bit...but in my defense, I was very worried about your wellbeing. And him claiming to have come from another world was very unbelievable...at the time, anyway.” Obviously not so much now.

“Then Virgil’s line of reasoning sounds completely illogical.” Logan frowned. “Even despite his fright, you did not cause him physical arm, while Patton caused him a serious injury.” Though Logan found it hard to believe Patton was capable of such a deed, but perhaps that could explain Patton’s hesitance towards touch.

“Yes, well...Virgil did tell me his reasoning. He claimed it was because he thought I saw him as nothing more than a...er, pet. It took a lot of explaining to convince him that he was wrong on that front.” Roman explained with a frown. “I still don’t understand how I am worse but...I will admit our first meeting could have gone...better.”

“That doesn’t excuse his response.” Logan insisted. “You were just as confused, and while I understand his fright, he is the one living the sheltered and incorrect borrower lifestyle.”

“Yes, I agree with you there.” Roman chuckled. “How about you? Was your meeting with Patton better than mine with Virgil?”

“It was tense.” Logan squinted, attempting to remember the details. “I was quite convinced he was pulling some manner of practical joke for the longest time, and when I attempted to contact you via cellular device I grew distraught. However, besides Patton occasionally breaking down in an emotional manner, I never found myself in any danger.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re alright.” Roman couldn’t help but hug him again.

He then stood up, walking towards the door. “Now come on, let’s go see if Patton has any food we can have for breakfast.”

“He usually does.” Logan informed him. “Patton keeps a more well-stocked kitchen than yourself.”

“Hey! I have plenty of food!” Roman argued but when he looked in the kitchen, he bit his tongue. “...Okay yes, I see what you mean.” There was a lot of food. Patton must like to cook.

“And it’s healthier.” Logan noted smugly. “You can see he actually knows to use his stove as something other than a neglected friend.”

“Oh hush, bite-sized einstein.” Roman said but with a teasing smirk. Oh, how he missed this. “I make plenty of good food.” Roman grabbed some pancake mix with his free hand, deciding that was what they were having today. He assumed Patton wouldn’t mind.

“You make edible food; that does not guarantee it has a redeemable quality.” Logan retorted with a small smile, having missed their banter as well.

Roman pouted but then came to a dilemma. He would...have to set Logan down if he wanted to cook breakfast. He bit his lip. “I...looks like I need both hands...for breakfast.”

Logan understood the situation immediately, not wanting to be put down in the slightest. “I could go on your shoulder.” He offered, pointing up. Logan was often against such a position when Roman was actively moving around, considering how easy it would be to be jostled off, but today Logan felt willing to make an exception.

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes, great idea!” Roman set Logan up there and was more careful with his movement as he started on breakfast. “So, you mentioned Patton wasn’t very...touchy?” He supposed it made sense, based on Virgil’s accounts.

“Indeed.” Logan confirmed, grabbing a tight hold of Roman’s collar. “It was only last night we had our first movie night with continued contact.”

“Oh? And how did that go?” Roman asked, both curious and maybe a touch jealous.

“It was better.” Logan said decidedly. “Compared to the more isolated ‘bonding’ activities. It was clear I was touch-starved, even if that is a mostly figurative concept.”

Roman blinked. “You were...oh.” Roman looked down at the cooking pancakes, eyebrows furrowed. “Well...I suppose we’ll have to fix that.” He said, reaching up with a free hand and pressing Logan against his neck.

“You already seemed quite intent on that.” Logan actually chuckled, nestling into Roman’s neck and rolling his eyes only slightly. “You have not stopped touching me since picking me up moments after your initial recognition.”

“And I do not plan on stopping any time soon! Have to make up for lost time, after all.” Roman claimed, putting the finished pancakes on a plate and heading to the table. He looked sat down but then paused. “Er...although I might have to so you can eat…”

“Does the mighty Roman really lack the imagination necessary to concoct a plan where a simple borrower can be fed without being released from his grip?” Logan challenged.

Roman blinked, before determination settled in his eyes. “What? Of course not!” He grabbed Logan off his shoulder and placed his cupped hand on the table. He then grabbed a piece of the pancake and gave it to Logan. “There,” He said smugly.

“I am unimpressed by your ingenuity.” Logan assured him, smirking as he began to eat. “That was not exactly difficult, but now you have blocked yourself from consuming food.”

Roman frowned and looked around for a solution before looking down at his shirt and smirking. “Sorry Logan, I’m afraid I’m going to have to move you into third class.” Roman all but dumped Logan into his shirt pocket with a chuckle as he then began to eat.

Logan let out a small noise of offense, a habit he had picked up after spending so much time with Roman. “This is incredibly unsanitary.” Logan huffed, continuing to eat as he certainly did not sulk.

Roman laughed, having missed Logan’s comments. “Aww come on, I washed this shirt just last week.” He joked.

“That will hardly matter after it becomes coated in pancake crumbs.” Logan couldn’t stop the smile that grew from the feeling of Roman’s laughter rumbling around him.

“Huh? Hey! No making a mess in my pockets!” Roman jokingly yelled, still chuckling. “If I find crumbs in there later, I’m making you eat it.”

“Now that seems unnecessarily cruel.” Logan’s brow furrowed.

“Well, I for one, think it’s more than fair.” Roman laughed. He paused to take a bite, his laughter dying down slightly. “...I missed this.” Roman said, a small smile on his face. Virgil was great company, don’t get him wrong but he had never fully warmed up to Roman. Not to the extent that he could joke and tease and handle like with Logan.

Logan leaned into the fabric wall that separated him from Roman’s chest, basking in the warmth and listening to the steady thumping of Roman’s heart. “I missed this as well.”

***

Patton yawned, his hand gripping tighter around the warm blanket that covered him, feeling far softer than it usually was.

Patton froze, tracing his hand along the fabric again. This was definitely not his blanket.

Slowly Patton sat up, gazing wearily around at what was clearly not his bedroom. In the corner sat a large ornate dresser, and in the other corner sat...a dollhouse?

“Logan?” Patton called out cautiously, growing worried when Logan wasn’t on the nightstand. Neither was the blanket he usually used as a little bed.

Virgil shifted and groaned as he was woken up by the sound of a different name being called. Roman must still have a bit of hope in him, that he would wake up with Logan back. But...wait, the voice hadn’t sounded like Roman. Maybe it was just his half-asleep state but it had sort of sounded like…

But no, it couldn’t be. He was still in the dollhouse. Still in Roman’s house. In Roman’s world. He wasn’t home...he was never going home. The thought alone made him want to stay in bed but he decided against it. Instead, he got out and went over to the window. “Sorry Roman, it’s still-” His voice caught in his throat as he saw the human sitting up on the bed. A human who wasn’t Roman but still a familiar one. “P-Patton?” Was he dreaming still?

Patton jumped, completely startled at the sound of that all too familiar voice. “Who said that? Virgil?” Patton dared to hope as his head darted around, scanning the room.

“Patton! Over here!” Even if this was a dream, he wasn’t going to miss a chance to see Patton again. He ran downstairs and out of the house, waving Patton over.

“Virgil?” Patton gaped incredulously, shocked at the tiny figure that emerged. He quickly darted out of bed, kneeling in front of the short table. “But- I- what were you doing in there? And where are we?”

“W-We’re in Roman’s room, I…” Virgil felt a few stray tears run down his cheeks and he wiped them away. “Are...Are you real? Is this a dream?”

“Oh, Virgil, I- no, it isn’t a dream.” Patton felt his heart aching, praying this was real. He couldn’t take it if this was just his own mind playing tricks on him. “Can I...can I touch you? I mean, to prove it?”

Virgil would almost always say no to when Patton asked him. Because he wasn’t a very touchy person, especially with someone so big. But in this instance, in this desperate need to know, he nodded.

Patton immediately wanted to scoop Virgil up, but he restrained himself and went slow, not wanting to startle Virgil. A small sob escaped him once the borrower was in his hands, tears of joy surfacing. “Oh, Virgil, you have no idea how much I missed you.”

Virgil gasped as the actual real feeling of hands slowly picked him up. He brushed his hand over the nearby thumb, more tears leaking from his eyes. “This is real…” He whispered, looking up at Patton. “You’re...P-Patton, I-I thought I would never see you again.”

“Same here, kiddo.” Patton held Virgil gently to his chest, shaking as he tried to give the borrower the best hug possible.

Virgil did his best to hug back, relishing in the touch he knew was Patton. His best friend. “But-But how are you even here? This is Roman’s world.”

“I don’t know, I just woke up here.” At the mention of Roman, Patton pulled Virgil back, looking over the borrower with a worried eye. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I mean are you alright?”

Virgil smiled. “I’m fine, I promise. It...It was a rough start.” He winced at the memories. “But we’re okay now. I’d even say we’re...friends.” Speaking of though, it didn’t seem like Roman was anywhere in sight and considering Patton woke up in Roman’s bed… “I think you and Roman must have switched places this time.

“You really think so?” Patton glanced back at the bed, still a mess from when Patton rushed out. “Well, I hope so. I know Logan was really missing him.”

“I’m going to go with yes. Which makes all this make even less sense.” Virgil mumbled, pushing his hair back. “It’s starting to seem like this switching business is random or something…” He shook his head. “But you know what? Who cares, you’re here and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah...here.” Patton slowly remembered all that Logan had said. “Is all that stuff really true? Are borrowers really...um…” rather than finish his statement, Patton just made a sort of hand gesture to try and get his words across.

Virgil winced. “Yeah...but from what Roman said...I think it’s a lot better than what I initially thought. I thought borrowers were pets but...it’s more complicated than that.” Virgil kind of wished Roman was here so the human could explain everything better.

“What do you mean?” Patton pressed, remembering Logan trying to explain the same thing.

“Roman was saying that there are a lot of steps in order to get a borrower. Like interviews and all that stuff. It’s always up to the humans, in the end, but Roman claims there’s hardly been a case where the borrowers and the humans don’t reach an understanding…” Virgil did his best to explain. “It still doesn’t sit quite right with me but...it’s not the worst outcome, I guess.”

“Me neither, but I’m glad you’re okay.” Patton tried not to think about what might be happening outside these four walls.

“Yeah, Roman is one of the good ones, I’m happy to say.” Virgil said with a smile. “How about we get some breakfast in us and then we can...figure out what we’re going to do.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Patton paused, remembering how Logan liked to be carried but Virgil had always wanted to walk. He felt almost as unsure as when he first found Virgil. “Um, do you want to walk? Or I can give you a lift, if you want.”

“A lift would actually be great right now.” Yes, being able to walk on his own would be nice too but he just wanted to be close to Patton right now.

“Alright, sounds good kiddo.” Patton nodded, carefully standing up. “Logan actually preferred that, if you can believe it. It was...different.”

“Really? I mean...I guess it kind of makes sense, from what Roman said about him. I just always had a hard time believing it. Different is one word for it.” Virgil commented, still not understanding how a borrower could like the constant touches. Sure, once every now and again but all the time? And by Roman? It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Patton walked towards the kitchen, still a bit thrown off by the image of Virgil in his hands for so long; of course, if Patton had his way he’d be holding Virgil for a while still. He never wanted his little friend to disappear on him again.

“Did, ah, did Roman carry you?” Patton asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“Yes, all the time,” Virgil answered, running a hand through his hair. “Like...all the time. He was very hands-on and grabby but...he was also gentle-at least after our first meeting-so I guess it wasn’t too bad. Still overwhelming though.”

“And you were okay with that?” Patton frowned. “Did you try telling him off, did he listen?”

“I did try, at least at first, but no he didn’t really listen.” Virgil shrugged. “I kind of gave up near the end cause that’s just how Roman is.”

Patton paused, for a moment too furious to keep walking.

“...well that doesn’t sound very nice.” Patton muttered, a bitter edge to his voice as he entered the kitchen.

Virgil put his hands up. “Whoa, Pat, it’s okay. It was fine, really! That’s just how things go here. I guess borrowers here never really…walk anywhere? They probably don’t even know how to climb. They rely on humans to be able to get places. Besides, Roman did have a point. It, uh, was faster.”

“Well just because it’s faster doesn’t mean you should have to do it.” Patton huffed, but his tone had softened slightly as he gave Virgil a fond look. “Slow and steady can win the race too. It should be about what makes you the most comfortable.”

Virgil chuckled and smiled up at Patton, returning the fond look. “And that’s why you are and will always be my favorite human.”

Patton’s heart jumped for joy, and he gave Virgil a teasing grin. “Aww, I’m your favorite human?” For a while, Patton had been his only human.

Virgil chuckled. “I mean, compared to Roman there really is no competition in the first place but...yeah, Pat. You really are. No matter how many humans I meet-which I hope stays at three and never goes up.”

Patton paused, his hands hovering above the counter. “...three?”

Virgil blinked. “Oh! Yeah, Roman took me out to a diner and I technically met the waitress there. She was nice but still not compared to you.”

“Uh-huh.” Patton bit down lightly on his tongue, trying to decide what to say as he set Virgil down. “That's ...nice? What...what happened? What was that like? How?”

“It was...nerve-racking, for sure.” Virgil admitted, remembering how terrified he was. “But...well Roman and I actually ended up having fun? It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Since people here know about borrowers, no one batted an eye at me. They even had tiny utensils and silverware and tiny portions for borrowers. It was kind of cool, actually.”

“Well that does sound pretty neat.” Patton agreed, even if the idea of bringing Virgil out in public still made him anxious. In fact, the idea of leaving Roman’s apartment at all was nerve-racking, considering it could be a whole other world out there.

“Okay, breakfast.” Patton clapped his hands together, before beginning to open cabinet doors at random. “What’re you hungry for?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m good with anything. What does Roman have?”

“...great question.” Patton laughed awkwardly, trying to orient himself in the new space.

Virgil tried to peer up at the cupboards that Patton has opened. “Hmm...try that one. I saw Roman get food out of that one before.” He pointed.

“Aha!” Patton gave a triumphant grin, pulling out a single cardboard box. “Mac and cheese!”

Virgil chuckled. “Knew Roman had to have had something in there.” He joked.

“I mean, it’s not a typical breakfast food, but I think it’s fine.” Patton shrugged, now scouring for a pan.

Virgil sat down, feet hanging off the edge of the counter. “So...do you think we’re stuck here?”

Patton focused on his prep work. “I...don’t know. Maybe? It’s kind of strange it keeps happening though.”

“Yeah...it was already weird when it was just Logan and I. But now you and Roman switched? It doesn’t make any sense. What’s even the cause of this?” Virgil asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought it over.

“We couldn’t figure it out. Logan and I tried researching a bit.” Patton explained.

“Yeah, so did Roman and I and nothing came up. I have a feeling this is the first time it’s happened...well, second time now, I guess.” Virgil corrected himself. “It’s just so weird...how are we going to get back home?”

“I don’t think we will- I think either we’ll be thrown there by accident, or…” Patton’s phrase dwindled off, looking around the room. “We live here now, I guess.”

Virgil looked around too. “Man, that’s weird to think about.” He muttered, despite having come to terms with it already, it was different now that Patton was here with him. “I mean...at least we have each other.”

“Right.” Patton nodded, giving a determined smile. “And together, we can do anything.”

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #borrowers #human!roman #human!patton #borrower!logan #borrower!virgil #platonic #zapped perspective #part 10 #final

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spaceskam · 5 years

Note

31 and 70 from the prompt list for Rosabel

“Your brother won’t stop making heart eyes at my sister, it’s grossing me out.”

“I’m sure Liz says the same thing about me.”

Rosa gave Isobel that smile-that-wasn’t-a-smile, but it wasn’t a frown so Isobel took it as a win. Isobel was still trying to navigate the large walls that surrounded Rosa Ortecho. Sometimes it’d seem like she’d found a hole to weasel her way inside, but then a gate would shut and she’d still be on the outside.

Sometimes it drove her insane. Sometimes she enjoyed the challenge.

“Hey, uh, after I get off, do you wanna go to a movie?” Rosa asked while somehow avoiding eye contact. She was usually overwhelming with it. Not today. Isobel found herself smirking.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh my god, Izzy! You-you’re too much!”

Isobel took a step away from Rosa. She’d come to the roof of the Crashdown to see her, only to find her hysterically sobbing. She didn’t really know how to handle this, especially since every time she tried to comfort her, Rosa would push her away. She didn’t know what she did wrong. All she knew was that they were fine one day and then Rosa was ignoring her the next.

Isobel happily skipped over their almost-kiss goodnight in the preservation of her own ego.

“Do you want me to go get Liz?” Isobel offered. Rosa clearly didn’t want her there, but Isobel wasn’t about to leave her this all by herself. The closer she looked, the more she realized Rosa was probably strung out. She felt even more compelled to go get Liz.

“No! No, I don’t want you to get Liz!” Rosa screamed, her hands going to her hair and pulling as her voice echoed in the empty space. Isobel slowly took a step towards her once again.

“Okay, I won’t.” Rosa nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized Isobel was close again. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Izzy! Just-just stop! Stop talking to me!” she shouted.

Isobel stared for a moment, watching her pull at her hair and pace wildly. She debated if she should just listen. As worried as she was, she also wasn’t wanted. She was scared she was just going to make it worse. As much as it hurt, Isobel decided she had to back off. She wasn’t helping, she was hurting.

Isobel didn’t want to hurt her.

“Sorry. I’ll leave you alone,” Isobel said softly. However, she could barely take a step away before Rosa tightly grabbed her arm. Rosa’s eyes were frantic with emotions even she couldn’t read, her pupils blown beyond recognition.

“Don’t leave me.”

Isobel nodded slowly, “Okay, I won’t.”

“Liz is leaving, my mom left, every fucking friend I had left once I got clean, now you’re leaving to? Jesus Christ, am I that hard to be around?”

Rosa was high. She said she was clean, but Isobel had spent enough time around a clean Rosa to know this wasn’t her. Still, she stayed quiet about it as they laid close on the rooftop. Pointing it out only upset her.

“No one is leaving because of you,” Isobel said, hesitantly reaching out to touch her arm. She never knew what was okay and what wasn’t. Rosa changed her mind every time they hung out. Today, she was okay with arms touching.

“Really? Because it feels like I chase everyone away. Hell, I’m even losing you and you’re the most persistent person I’ve ever seen,” Rosa laughed. Isobel pulled her hand away and turned to face her. Was that what she was? Nothing more than a persistent person?

Isobel made a mental note to talk to Max about what to do when the person you like is completely oblivious. He had more practice in that area than she did.

Rosa looked at her when she took her hand away. They laid there, staring in silence for a while. They did that a lot. Rosa moved closer, her eyes flickering across her face. Isobel prayed her face didn’t betray how flustered that made her feel.

“It’s just college,” Isobel whispered, “You haven’t lost me.”

Isobel didn’t have much time to enjoy it when Rosa surprised her with a kiss. It lasted maybe seven seconds, half of which Isobel spent in shock. When Rosa pulled away, an involuntary part of her pushed her to try to follow for more. Only, Rosa sat up and left her feeling more pathetic than before.

“You’re a good friend, Izzy.”

“How do you know if someone is gay or bi or… open to same-sex trysts?”

Michael slowly looked up from his comically large physics textbook with furrowed eyebrows. Isobel stared at him helplessly, hoping he could play wise older brother. She was lost, confused, scared, and slightly horny over everything that was Rosa Ortecho. She was like a glitchy traffic light, one minute she was fine and the next she was freaking out. To Isobel, it seemed like a massive sexual identity crisis and she didn’t know how far to push.

“Why?” Michael asked.

“Because there’s this girl I‒”

“No, I got that part, I mean why are you asking me?” he clarified. Isobel rolled her eyes and waited for him to laugh, but it never came. She snorted.

“You’re, like, the resident queer-who-will-talk-to-me,” she explained. He somehow looked even more confused. “Oh, come on, Micahel, there is absolutely nothing heterosexual about the way you stare at Alex Manes.” Michael sunk down in his seat, but he was no longer confused about why he was the one being asked. “So how do you know?”

“I mean, there’s not really a for sure way to tell,” Michael told her. She groaned, her head hitting the table.

“Well, how did you know Alex was into guys?” she asked. If it was a slightly less serious situation, she might’ve laughed at his progressively reddening cheeks.

“Lucky guess?”

“Oh, so you are banging the MCR reject?”

Micahel’s eyes went wide, “We are not talking about me, we’re talking about your massive hard-on for Rosa Ortecho!”

“Hey, no call outs!”

“You literally just called me out!”

Silence rose between the two as they glared. However, the glares were replaced by small smiles that grew into snickering once it settled in how ridiculous they sounded. It didn’t help that they were literally sounded. It didn’t help that they were literally in the Crashdown and the probability of the people they were talking about overhearing was absurdly high.

“Okay, for real, what do I do?” Isobel asked. Michael leaned in closer.

“I know this might sound insane,” he started, “But maybe you should just ask her.”

“You’re right that does sound insane.”

“Can we talk?”

Rosa looked up, smiling when they locked eyes. That was hard to decipher. It could mean ‘let’s kiss under the stars for hours like last time’ or ‘you’re such a good friend’ or ‘touch me and I’ll scream’. She was truly a wild card.

“Of course.”

Isobel slowly sat beside her. Rosa sat up and faced her, putting their knees together. She was so confusing. The confusion didn’t stop the heat from coursing through Isobel when they touched.

“I… I don’t understand how you feel about me,” Isobel admitted. She hated how weak she sounded. There was no way to bullshit her way through this conversation. Boys were easy, they usually didn’t get confusing. They either liked you or they didn’t. None of this messy shit.

“Izzy,” Rosa said, smiling softly as she reached for her hands. Isobel relaxed when she noticed this was sober Rosa. This was her favorite version, the sweetest version. “After all my bullshit that you’ve dealt with, you still don’t think I love you?” A smile twitched onto Isobel’s lips as she involuntarily leaned forward.

“But… as a friend, or…?” Isobel said softly, hoping she’d just fill in the blank. Rosa leaned forward, resting her head forehead on Isobel’s and nudging their noses together. Isobel’s heart leaped into her chest as her eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re so naive, Izzy.”

“That’s a new one.”

“Besides, I thought you were seeing Michael Guerin,” Rosa said. Isobel’s eyes shot open in confusion. Rosa looked dead serious.

“I’m sorry, you thought what?” Isobel asked. She nearly pulled away, but Rosa grinned and put her hand on the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Kidding. I know he’s with my baby Alex,” Rosa laughed and Isobel somehow managed to relax into her hold once more. This was the most Rosa had taken control in their entire friendship. She was rarely ever the one to make the first move. Now she was making almost all of them. It was insane and exhilarating and she wanted to explode. This was good. “I love you, Izzy. Not like a friend.” This got better.

And she leaned in for a kiss.

#today i learned i suck at writing rosa #but i hope you like it!#rosabel fic #rosabel #Rosa ortecho #rosa ortecho fic #isobel evans #isobel evans fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #request #1.5k #isobels pov

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caslikescoffeeandfreckles · 6 years

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hello this is my extremely, pathetically, ridiculously late birthday offering to the wonderful @wanderingcas. I love you Sam and hope you had a great birthday!

Summary: A game of truth or dare brings up some old memories and a lot of buried feelings for Dean and Cas Word count: 3k Read on Ao3

It's just a small get-together a few weeks before graduation.

Dean makes himself at home in Charlie’s kitchen, pilfering through her cabinets and setting out snacks. He hears the front door open and the living room is suddenly loud with too many voices. He opens another beer and takes a long pull.

“If you get drunk before we even get the games out, Charlie will kill you,” Jo teases as she breezes toward the fridge and puts her six-pack inside.

“It’s only my third,” Dean promises. “We have a long way before we reach Twister levels of destruction.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right because if you fall on me again, I’m slashing one of your tires.”

Dean gasps, horrified, and brings a hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t dare harm my baby.”

“You bruised my tailbone!” Jo cries and Dean almost grins remembering how he hadn’t been pulled out that mess of limbs in much better condition.

“i really think you need to stop living in the past, Jo, and move on-” He cuts off into a laugh when Jo punches him and dashes back out into the party area.

Another few people arrive and Dean leans into the counter with a handful of pretzels, feeling heavier as he listens to his friends chat. He just hasn’t been able to shake this exhaustion and part of him longs to just be at home in his bed. He’s not sure if it’s the looming threat of finals or what that’s holding him back, but he knows for sure that this is one of the last times he’ll have to see all of his favorite people before they get their degrees and walk off in different directions. So he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Okay!” he hears Charlie shout from the next room. “Put that away and then everyone get ready for some Trivial Pursuit!”

There’s a chorus of groans that follow and Dean joins in and brings his beer to his mouth. If they’re starting with that shit he’s going to need to drink faster to survive.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean coughs and nearly chokes when he hears the deep voice. He sets the beer down and wipes at his face, trying to recover as smoothly as possible.

“H-hey, Cas.”

Cas stares at him a little concerned before his lips curve in a soft smile. “Hiding in the kitchen again?”

“I, uh, I put myself on snack duty,” he replies and flinches when he feels the crushed pretzels in his fist. Cas notices and Dean’s immediate reaction is to unclench his hand and a few crumbs start to fall on the floor and flails for a moment, no idea what to do from here.

Finally, he just chucks it all in the trashcan next to Cas and dusts his hands off, avoiding all eye contact.

The silence that follows is awkward to he point of being painful and Dean briefly considers just throwing himself in the trashcan for a moment of mercy.

Cas makes a small noise. “Well... I just, um.” He lifts the back in his hand. “I’m just gonna put this in the fridge.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead,” Dean says and nearly slaps himself because this isn’t his fucking house.

Cas puts his things away and inches toward the door. “Guess I should... get back to everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Dean says a little too quickly and he registers the way Cas kinda flinches. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll, uh, be there soon.”

Cas hesitates just a moment before fleeing the room and Dean shoves his hands through his hair, tries to release a slow breath and tell himself that everything is going to be okay.

He catches a glimpse of his beer bottle and sighs. Everything is going to be okay.

But he’s gonna need to switch to the hard stuff.

Whiskey carries him through a downright hostile game of Trivial Pursuit because — as they’ve told Charlie a million times — nobody fucking likes Trivial Pursuit.

After that massacre they transition to Taboo and a game of Kings. At this point everyone has a nice buzz going and the shouting is more playful and nearly drowned out by fits of laughter. Everything is loud and obnoxious and happy and Dean sinks into the couch with a pleased grin.

He catches sight of Cas a few times from across the room. He’s pressed up against Hannah and Dean tries to ignore the nauseous curls of jealousy in his stomach. Cas never looks back at him.

The night starts to wind down and Charlie suggests a dread classic: truth or dare. Everyone groans again.

“It’s either that or more Trivial Pursuit, bitches,” Charlie threatens and they shut up real fast.

The thing about playing truth or dare with people you’ve known for four years is that there aren’t many things you haven’t shared with them either through previous games, late night heart-to-hearts, or drunken rambling. So the game primarily becomes a list of petty dares, like making Benny shave half of his beard, or making Charlie record a video of her saying that Star Wars is better than Star Trek which just about makes her scream and in retribution Dorothy has to post a selfie in a full face of makeup.

They go round a few times and it comes back to Dean. He’s already been forced to perform a One Direction song and he had to take a photo in shorts. The whiskey is sitting in him pretty heavily and he isn’t too keen on moving anymore so he just blinks and slurs, “Truth.”

Victor grins like a proud hyena. “What is the most orgasms you’ve ever given someone?”

The room explodes in snickers and lecherous smiles while Dean chokes on air. “Dude! I’m not gonna tell you that!”

“You have to answer, Dean,” Garth sings.

“That’s the rule,” Jo says and the rest of the room hums in agreement.

Dean fidgets in his seat as the right night comes to mind and his body feels hot just remembering it. He keeps his eyes on the floor because if he looks up and sees ±god, he’s gonna have a heart attack.

“Dean, come on!”

He swallows. “Five.”

“Damn!”

“You’re lying!”

“There’s no way that’s true,” Jo says, “or else we would have known because you wouldn’t have been able to keep your big mouth shut about it.”

“I, for one, am extremely proud of you and honored to call you friend,” Charlie said and hits her chest with her fist.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whose next?”

“Oh no, no, no, hold up,” Victor says through his laughter. “We need to know who the lucky person was!”

“That’s not how the game works; you get one question.”

“Ah come on, Dean,” Dorothy whines and hits his legs. “Tell us who it was!”

“Yeah, I’m dying to know who had the pleasure of being satisfied by the great Dean Winchester so thoroughly,” Charlie says with an almost purr that in any other situation would have had Dean falling over backwards laughing. But now it just makes him feel sick.

“I can’t-”

“Was is Lisa?” Benny asks.

“No.”

“Or Aaron?” Garth wonders.

“Guys, no, it doesn’t-”

“I bet it was Anna,” Dorothy whispers conspiratorially to Charlie.

Dean stares at the floor helpless and feeling sicker with each name thrown out because this is all sorts of wrong, but he absolutely can’t let himself look up. If he does he knows exactly what he’ll see and he can’t-

But he does.

And looks directly into blue eyes.

“Oh my god, it was Cas!”

His gaze snaps to Charlie whose practically jumping up and down, grin threatening to split her face and she pointing between Dean and Cas.

Their friends dissolve into hysterics and Cas bows his head, hiding his face, while Dean sits there horrified and sober in an instant.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Charlie giggles. “And that neither of you ever said anything!”

Cas looks up then and his face is unreadable. “Dean and I agreed that our sex life was none of your business,” he says and his voice is so calm it’s terrifying.

“But friends tell friends when friends make them cum five times,” Jo says and sounds genuinely outraged at having been kept from this information. Right before falling into another fit of laughter.

“Five times,” Victor gasps, catching his breath. “That’s impressive.”

“Yeah, Cas, I can’t believe you’d let him go after that,” Dorothy jokes and reaches for her drink.

“Cas didn’t let him go.”

The voice is quiet and takes everyone a minute to calm down but then all eyes turn to Hannah.

“What?” Dorothy asks.

Hannah sips from her glass and licks the liquor from her lips. “You said you couldn’t believe that Cas let him go.”

“Hannah,” Cas says softly. A plead.

“But Dean is the one who dumped Cas.”

The words settle in the middle of the room and its like all the joy and easiness that had been there just moments ago was pushed out. Vanished.

Dean stares at the carpet like it holds the answer to turn back time five minutes and prevent this conversation from ever happening. Or maybe it could go back two years, five months, and sixteen days. Before Dean fucked everything up.

“Cas, man,” Benny starts, his voice as soft as Dean’s ever heard it. “Hey, we didn’t mean to-”

“It fine,” Cas says, still sounding calm but distant. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Dean hears Cas stand and he doesn’t dare move. There a soft murmur of voices and then the front door opens and closes and the room is still.

“Dean?” Charlie asks and he feels a gentle hand on his knee.

He swallows and doesn’t look at her. “I think I need to go too.”

He practically runs out of the house and sucks in a few deep breaths. The sun is long gone and the air is cool and he lets it bite at his skin for a minute before pulling on his jacket and starting to walk.

He wants to be angry — angry at Victor for asking that damn question, angry with his friends for goading him, angry at himself for even answering and signaling out Cas like that.

Cas. Goddammit.

As if Dean hadn’t hurt him enough, he then had to humiliate him in front of all of their friends — the people who were the entire reason he and Dean had agreed to stay friends after everything ended.

That had probably been the hardest decision of Dean’s life, a painful and long transition to go from loving someone one day to still loving them the next but not being able to kiss them or touch them or really even look at them without feeling your chest cave in.

Dean kicks at a rock and breathes out. What’s done is done.

He nears the end of the street and makes out a figure leaning against the light post. They have their head bowed and Dean makes to cross for the other side of the road. But as he gets closer he can make out their frame better and he stops.

“Cas?”

The figure startles and turns, Cas’s face coming into the light and he looks like an angel.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s heart gives a sharp kick. “What are you doing?”

Cas’s eyes wander for a moment and then return to Dean and he shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Dean takes a moment to steel himself and walks closer. Cas doesn’t move but his eyes track Dean until they’re just a foot apart.

“Look, Cas, I’m sorry about tonight. I never meant to put our business out like that.”

Cas offers a half smile. “It’s fine. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

It’s an out but Dean can’t take it. “I could have lied or something.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Cas repeats. “It was just a game.” He tilts his head back, looking into the light and he looks so soft and beautiful and Dean wants to touch him everywhere. He sighs and looks at Dean again. “I need to get home. Have a good night.”

Cas... walks away. With the ghost of a smile. He turns his back and walks ahead and Dean feels each step echo in his chest.

This could be the last time. It could be the last time that they ever see each other.

His last memory of Cas can’t be him walking away. Can’t be that smile.

“Cas, wait!”

Dean runs after him and Cas turns back with a tired expression. “Dean, please-”

“Truth or dare?”

Cas blinks. “What?”

“Truth or dare?” Dean repeats.

“I don’t understand, Dean, what are you-?”

“Cas,” Dean pleads. “Truth or dare?”

Cas tilts his head and regards Dean carefully before slowly answering, “Truth.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Dean!” Cas cries, sounding shocked.

“Please just answer the question.”

“I-I” Cas stutters and looks around uncomfortably. “No,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I don’t hate you.”

Dean accepts the answer with a nod, trusting Cas’s word. “Okay ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Truth or dare.”

Cas scowls. “You can’t be serious.” Dean just looking at him and Cas breathes out sharply through his nose. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Dean says immediately.

“Why are you doing this?” Cas asks and looks Dean in the eye with a challenge.

Dean swallows roughly. “Because we haven’t talked in over two years and it’s been killing me and I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other.” Deans says it all at once until he’s breathless. Cas just blinks. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Cas says, folding his arms over his chest, and Dean knows he’s just trying to be difficult but he goes along with it.

“Then I dare you to tell me one thing that’s happened to you in the last two years that I don’t know about.”

Cas shakes his head, looking irritated. “I don’t know, Dean. I... My mom’s in remission.”

Dean feels his heart flip and he grins. “What? Really? Since when?”

“About seven months ago. She still has a while before they deem her cured, but she hasn’t had treatments in a while and she’s feeling a lot better.”

“God, Cas that- that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. W-why didn’t you tell me?”

Cas frowns at him. “Because we weren’t talking, Dean.”

“But you had to know that I would always be there for you. We used to be best friends.”

“And then you broke my heart,” Cas says coldly and matter-of-factly. “So I apologize if I didn’t feel comfortable confiding in you anymore, but that’s what happens when you blindside someone and crush them, Dean.”

Dean’s face stings as if he’s been slapped. “I know, Cas. I know I hurt you but you gotta know I never meant to. You were everything to me.”

You still are.

“Then why did you break up with me?” Cas asks and some of the edge to his tone is gone, replaced with a deafening vulnerability Dean isn’t sure that he’s ready for. “I know we’re young and relationships end all the time but I thought... I thought we were different. I thought you were the one. And you made me feel like an idiot.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes and tries to reach out but Cas twists away. “I didn’t- you weren’t...” He’s had this conversation with himself about a thousand times but he still doesn’t know how to respond. Why did I ruin the one thing that made me happy? is there even a good answer to a question like this?

“I was terrified.” The words fall from his mouth without thought. “Because I thought you were the one too. But no one meets the love of their life at nineteen.”

“I did.” Cas says it with so much conviction it’s startling and all Dean can do is gape for a moment.

He looks down in shame. “I didn’t have that confidence, Cas. I knew it was going to end one day, that you would leave me when you realized... I thought if we kept going it was just going hurt worse when it finally did end.”

Cas stares at him, his face unreadable. “So you left me because you thought I was going to leave you?”

Dean doesn’t trust himself to speak just yet so he just nods.

“And you didn’t think to talk to me about it first?”

Dean shakes his head and unclenches his fists helplessly. “You know me, Cas. What could you have said that you honestly think I would have believed?”

Cas doesn’t say anything and just looks away.

They stand there for several long seconds in the glow of the light post, neither making a sound other than to breathe.

“Truth or dare?”

Dean looks up. Cas still isn’t facing him. “I think it’s technically my turn.”

“Just answer the damn question, Dean.”

“Truth.”

“Do you regret it?” Cas turns then and he looks scared and braced for a blow.

Dean feels his heart stutter. “Every day for two years, five months, and sixteen days.”

He watches the fear in Cas’s eyes turn to wonderment and he can see a soft blush high on his cheeks.

“Truth or dare?” Dean asks.

“Truth.”

“Do you think we could... could we ever- I mean, I know I don’t deserve it, but is there a chance-”

Cas steps forward and presses a finger to Dean’s lips. He’s so close it takes the wind out of Dean and he doesn’t dare move, just stares into the blue eyes he’s missed so much.

“Yes,” Cas says softly. “There’s a chance.”

Nothing changes immediately. They take their time getting to know each other again and building the trust they need to make it work.

The day of their graduation, they share their first kiss in two years, six months, and seven days. Every touch to follow is slow and calculated but desperate and revered.

Things pick up gradually as more time passes until it’s like no time has passed at all and you’re lucky to catch one without the other.

Its at two years, nine months, and twenty days when Dean suggests they try to break their record. And Cas blushes and says it’s impossible even as his eyes light up and he licks his lips.

Dean leans in and kisses him, long and deep, pulling away to nibble down his jaw until he can whisper in his ear that if anyone has a chance, it’s them.

#destiel #destiel fic #wanderingcas #au #college au #post break up #getting back together #angst #angst with a happy ending

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mcarfield · 6 years

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oh my god, dear anon, you don’t even know how bad i am at games, ahahaha, i had to watch a tutorial just to remember how to play Munchkin. So I apologize for how little actual gaming there is in this game night, lol, but look, thank you for giving me an excuse to write what seems to be the only thing i ever want to write: a totally drunk and/or high Andrew Garfield and a James McArdle in varying degrees of sobriety, platonically not-platonically being boyfriends in love.

Game nights are supposed to be full of rousing competition, but apparently, game night among the Angels in America cast just means that instead of sitting around exhaustedly in dressing rooms, everyone sits around exhaustedly at Andrew’s house.

It’s honestly quite relaxing, James thinks, though that has quite a lot to do with the blunt he and Andrew have been passing back and forth. It has even more to do with the warmth of Andrew at his side, leaning his head on James’s shoulder, even though James’s side has kind of gone numb from trying not to dislodge him.

The group is playing Munchkin, and considering how lifeless they all are, it’s actually going quite well.

“No!” Nate shrieks and throws his cards on the table as Denise takes all his treasure, cackling, and adds it to her growing pile of loot. Everyone groans, and James glances quickly around the room to assess how everyone is doing, out of killer competitive instinct that won’t quit just because he hasn’t slept properly in a few days.

They’re spread out, sitting crosslegged around Andrew’s giant coffee table. Lee looks mildly depressed over the state of his hand, but then Lee tends to look mildly depressed about most things. Beth isn’t even looking at the game; she and Susan are giggling into their martinis, but Susan keeps glancing back at her cards. Shrewd, that one, James notes. One to beat.

Next to him, Andrew stirs briefly from his position against James’s shoulder. "How long has this game been going?” he asks blearily, arching his perfect neck and exhaling a plume of smoke. “How has she not won yet, she’s got all the cards!”

James seizes the opportunity while Andrew isn’t leaning against him to jostle some feeling back into his shoulder. He stretches, then slips his arm around Andrew’s waist and shifts to settle him more comfortably against his side.

“Is it because you keep using all your moves to keep her from reaching the last level?” Andrew yawns, running his hand lightly over James’s chest. “Is that why this twenty-minute game has taken us nearly an hour?” James swats his arm, and Andrew hums and tucks himself into the curve of James’s body.

“I take issue with your framing of the situation,” James says.

“Oh, Louis,” Andrew says.

“I’m just saying,” says James, “I’m keeping Denise from winning, but I’m also keeping everyone else from losing.”

Everyone else groans.

“You’re incorrigible,” Andrew says. He picks up the blunt he’s been smoking and places it between James’s lips. “And now it’s your turn,” he says as James takes the hit, “and you don’t have any cards left to fight your own monsters. Typical.” James’s lips brush Andrew’s fingers, and Andrew takes the blunt back, watching James through hooded lids as he exhales.

“You know you’re not technically supposed to be a team,” Denise says pointedly. Nate snorts. “They’re not!” Denise protests. “You’re not supposed to be able to see his cards!”

Andrew sticks his tongue out at her. “You should be happy,” he tells her. “You’ve robbed him of his dignity and soon your path to the crown will be clear.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” says James, confident as only the pleasantly stoned can be, “I’m not going to get any monsters,” and he kicks open the door and promptly meets a plutonium dragon.

Andrew bursts into a string of giggles.

“Oh, noooo,” James says, and he’s probably snickering too much because of the weed, too. “This is your fault.”

“How is it my fault? I’ve been trying to save you from yourself.”

“You jinxed me. Somehow.”

“I thought I was your lucky charm.”

“Not lucky enough,” James says, glancing over at Andrew’s cards. He looks around the room.

“Don’t you dare, you cutthroat,” Nate says.

“You have nothing to give me anyway,” James reminds him. “You’ve been razed to the ground.”

“I’ll help you,” Beth says from her corner, “I’m only on level 3, I have nothing left to live for.” She hands James a few cards.

“Don’t encourage his folly,” Andrew says disdainfully.

“Don’t listen to him,” James says, pressing a kiss against Andrew’s temple. “He always encourages my folly.”

“I could help you,” Denise says, wagging her eyebrows and fanning her giant pile of cards.

“You are not helping me!”

“What?” Andrew swats at the hand James has curled around his waist. “Let her help you! Take away her power, profit from her bleeding heart.”

“I can’t do that, babe,” James says, pinching Andrew’s stomach in retaliation. Andrew jumps and elbows him, so James reaches up and tickles the back of his neck.

Andrew squeaks and turns to him, grinning. “Why not,” he says, in a tone that’s either long-suffering affection or the sound of someone very high, or possibly both.

“Because,” James says, wrapping his other arm around Andrew’s waist and tugging him closer, “if we take things from a powerful sorceress, we get cursed. Powerfully.”

“I thought she was an elf,” Andrew says. He’s frowning, but he’s looking at James and his eyes are soft. “She drew the elf card!”

“I did, but I’m still a sorceress,” Denise says, grinning.

“You have to help save me from getting cursed,” James tells him.

“I stopped paying attention to my cards like ten minutes ago,” Andrew says, leaning forward to brush his nose against James’s, like that’s just a thing they do — and James supposes when they’re both this stoned, maybe it is. “I have no idea if I have anything that can help you fight the, the whatever it is.”

“Plutonium dragon,” says James, letting their foreheads drift together, aware even in his haze that they probably are crossing all manner of inappropriate public displays of affection right now. “And you have two cards that could help me very much, if you wouldn’t mind donating them.”

“Poof,” Andrew says, shrugging. “Take them, they’re gone, they’re yours.”

“Beautiful,” James murmurs, and he doesn’t mean to kiss Andrew, not then, not in front of everyone, not ever, but it happens without his conscious thought: he cups Andrew’s chin and kisses him briefly but firmly on the mouth, because they’re partners and, and, because that’s the only natural response. Isn’t it?

Andrew kisses back and then blinks at him, blank shock in his eyes. James stares back, grateful that the light fog in his head is keeping him from immediately panicking too much. He searches Andrew’s face for any sign of panic or revulsion, but Andrew just looks startled and surprised and otherwise unreadable.

“So you are dating, then,” says Nate. He looks at Lee. “You owe me five bucks.”

“They’re not dating,” Lee says boredly. “That’s not how you kiss someone you’re dating.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” James says hurriedly. “Susan, do you have a card? I only need one more level to defeat this dragon and plunder Denise’s treasure, which would let me win the game.”

Susan narrows her eyes at him.

“What do I get in return?” she says.

“You can win with me!” James says eagerly, desperate to keep the conversation going. “I’ll give you half Denise’s treasure and we can level up together.”

“We know you’re just playing dirty right now to distract us from the fact you and Andrew just lost a round of gay chicken,” says Denise. “And I’m your friend, so I’m going to let you, but just be aware, we all know what you’re doing!”

“I am going to demolish you and burn and pillage your castle and keep,” James says calmly.

“So,” says Susan, even more calmly. “If I give you this card, you beat Denise and win the game, and I get…. a consolation victory, is that it?”

“Er, well, it seems that way,” says James, laughing shrilly. Beside him, Andrew has gone still, and that’s probably not a good sign, but James can’t look back at him right now or he’ll be absolutely sunk.

“Right,” says Susan. “Well, for starters, I want you to kiss Andrew again before he starts getting that dejected puppy look he gets whenever he thinks you don’t love him, and then I want the two of you to go somewhere and figure out whether or not you’re dating, because my lord, it’s game night, not an orgy.”

“I,” says James.”What?”

“We’re not dating,” Andrew blurts, and James turns to him and now he does look a little mortified. James takes his hand and laces their fingers together, because obviously Andrew can’t look like that, he mustn’t ever, and Andrew sends him another startled confused glance.

“We’re not dating,” James says, face turning red, gazing back searchingly at Andrew. ”We just…” he swallows and tries to figure out what on earth to say. “We maybe skipped that part.”

“We just,” Andrew stammers. “We just…” he looks at James and smiles at him slowly, helplessly. “We just belong to each other.”

“Right,” James adds, dizzy. “Because of the play.”

“Yes,” says Andrew, and then, “No. Not because of the play.”

“No?” James blurts.

Andrew gulps and shakes his head, and then they’re kissing for real, a proper Prior-and-Louis kiss, only somehow it’s nothing like Prior and Louis, it’s Andrew, Andrew who smells like his favorite ridiculously citrusy aftershave and tastes like salt and grass and vermouth, Andrew who melts into him completely, Andrew who belongs to him and always has.

Another moment, and they’re on the verge of deepening the kiss when they both seem to abruptly recall where they are. They break apart with a gasp and stare at each other, slow dawning smiles replacing their stunned dazed looks.

“Don’t kiss like that onstage,” Lee says dryly. “My sanity can’t take it if they were to extend the run.”

Andrew lets out a hysterical giggle.

Susan says, “That will do, I suppose,” and tosses her winning cards over. James reaches up and thumbs Andrew’s cheek, and Andrew covers James’s hand with his own.

“Look at that,” says James, smiling at him. “Seems like I’ve won.”

Denise sets all her cards down on the table. “Not so fast,” she says. “I think you’ll find I have enough cards to quadruple the fighting power of the plutonium dragon, which means that not only do you not win, you end up with negative levels.”

James blinks at her. “You cheeky bastard.” She sends him an exaggerated courtly bow. “You could have just beaten me and saved me the confession.”

Denise grins slowly, and then sends Susan a thumbs-up. Susan laughs.

“I could have,” Denise says. She crosses her arms, smug. “But I like this way much better.”

James splutters.

“Shh,” Andrew says, brushing a kiss over his cheek and leaning his head against James’s temple. “Just let her have this.”

“I’m a terribly sore loser,” James murmurs, pulling him close. ”You’ll have to console me very hard.”

Andrew smiles and presses his lips to the curve of James’s jaw.

“I think I can do that,” he says. “After all — she might have won the game.” He raises his head and winks, and James’s stomach somersaults.

“But I’m pretty sure you’re the one walking away with the flawless victory.”

#mcarfield #mcarfield fic #lol this is so shameless #i'm sorry #long post

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xx-pseudopsycho-xx · 6 years

Text

Body? What Body?

Summary: Bucky has accidentally killed someone and needs help getting rid of the body. Loki isn’t exactly the help he needs... or is he? Crackfic! with Winterfrost

A/N: This is for @beautifulbows924‘s 200 follower writing contest. I used the prompt “Why is there blood on my furniture?!?” I had an absolute blast writing this, so a big thank you to her for posting this challenge!

Warnings: There is implied sex but nothing too graphic is shown, as well as inappropriate jokes and some blood.

No.

This could not be happening.

Not after he had been doing so well.

Bucky squinted his eyes, hoping uselessly that he was mistaken.

The body lay sprawled out on the floor, with limbs bent at odd angles. There was blood seeping on and around the motionless person.

Bucky glimpsed at the face and felt whatever hope he had left in him vanish.

The eyes were glazed and unseeing.

This man was dead, and Bucky had killed him.

Bucky stumbled backward, falling into a nearby couch.

“No.” He said, as if that would change things. He went to put his head in his hands but paused when he saw that they were soaked in gore.

“A nice look for you, don't you agree?” A voice on his right said. Bucky looked over in surprise;

Sitting beside him was a pale, attractive man, sharply dressed in a dark blazer and pants. In his hands, he held a teacup, and on his face he bore an unsettling smirk.

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky demanded. The man looked somewhat familiar, but Bucky couldn't really pinpoint why.

The man took a long sip out of his cup, evidently in no rush to explain anything.

“Who was that?” Bucky pressed, pointing to the body. “What happened?”

The man looked down, his grin widening. “Really now James, isn't it obvious?” He spoke as if they were good friends, and even his voice sounded familiar. “Or perhaps you need it written in gold? You just finished murdering a man.”

“I know what I did,” Bucky growled. “I just don’t know why.”

The man looked up, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Does it really matter, though?”

“Yes, of course it—” Bucky stopped, suddenly feeling untrustworthy of the man. After all, who exactly was he? And why was he here? Was he with SHIELD? Had they found him?

With each thought, Bucky grew more and more anxious. He quickly looked around the room. Where there others? Was he being surrounded?

He didn’t see anyone.

The man beside him started to get up. Bucky, reacting on impulse, surged over to him and firmly grasped his neck, throwing him back into the couch and nearly climbing on top of him in the process to prevent the man from struggling. While all this happened, the man dropped his teacup.

“My tea!” The man exclaimed in agony. Then he went silent, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Bucky raised his other hand, forming a fist, ready to strike the man should he try and fight him. He opened his mouth to demand the man explain what was going on.

“Be gentle with me.” The man said quickly.

Bucky’s face twisted; of the many reactions he had expected, that had not been one of them.

“Who are you?” Bucky demanded. “Who do you work for? SHIELD? Wakanda? Tony Stark? What the hell do you want?”

The man sighed, seeming bored. “I can assure you, James, I don't work for anyone trying to get revenge on you.”

“No, no.” Bucky shook his head, chuckling with no humor. He wasn't buying this. This was a trap. “How the hell did you find me, then? Why are you even here?”

“You’re fairly easy to find.” The man replied shortly. Bucky became agitated with his unconcerned manner. He tightened his grip on the man’s neck.

“Enough beating around the bush—”

“—Tighter, daddy.” The man interjected.

Bucky was taken aback by that statement. He tried to speak again but was at a loss for words. The man, on the other hand, looked quite pleased with himself.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked.

“No, I don’t, please don’t ever say it again.” Bucky warned.

“Or what, you’ll spank me?” The man laughed. Bucky punched him in the face, feeling both frustrated and uncomfortable. “Who are you?!”

“Agh! My names Loki, if you must know.” The man replied angrily.

Loki. That name rang another familiar bell.

It took Bucky a moment before it finally hit him;

“No… you don’t mean… that Loki…” Bucky trailed off as he looked at the man. “No, are you telling me you’re the Loki?”

“Of course I’m the Loki. What other Loki did you expect?” The man asked, sounding offended.

“Wait, so that means you’re Loki of Asgard—”

“Yes, yes, burdened with glorious erections, now please, can we start?” Loki asked.

Bucky cringed at his words, but was too shocked about the all-around situation to say anything.

He sighed. How the hell was he supposed to explain all this to Steve?

A lump of regret formed in his throat. Not two days ago Steve had commented that Bucky had been doing better, and, up until now, Bucky agreed. He had been feeling good. Not great; it wasn’t terrific with the looming thoughts that popped up here and there, reminding him of what he had done and all the years that he had wasted. But he was still much better than he had been before Steve decided to practically move in with him.

“What are you doing?” Loki cut into his thoughts.

“Nothing,” Bucky said quickly, realizing he had somehow forgotten he was still restraining Loki. At least, he hoped he was restraining Loki; he wasn’t exactly sure how powerful this otherworldly being was.

“So if your not here looking for revenge, what exactly are you here for?” He allowed an edge to creep into his voice as he pressed Loki further back into the couch. He knew it might have been useless, but he didn’t care.

Loki laughed loudly, the sound grating against Bucky’s ears. “I’m merely bored and seeking entertainment.” He explained. Bucky raised an eyebrow. “When I saw you dragging that man—” His eyes flicked over to the body. “—into here, I followed you.”

“What?” Bucky asked in surprise. “I dragged him in… did I see you? Did the guy say anything?”

“You saw me, but you hardly acknowledged my presence,” Loki explained. “The man was mostly just begging for you to let him live and stuff like that.”

Bucky felt his stomach churn. He let go of Loki and fell back into the couch.

“No one outside saw me, right?” He asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Loki replied. “I can’t be certain, though.”

Bucky knew he should have been more concerned about getting caught, but he felt awful and sickened by himself.

This was all made worse by the fact that Steve would be home in a couple hours, and Bucky couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out what he had done. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell Steve that he had killed a man.

As if he had read his very thoughts, Loki spoke again; “Don’t you want to clean all this up before your boyfriend gets home?”

Bucky glared at him, “I don’t have a boyfriend, you idiot.”

“Oh really? Then who’s this?” In a flash that was far too quick for Bucky to see, Loki seemed to melt away, replaced with Steve. Bucky nearly fell off the couch. “Wha—?”

“C’mon old Buckwheat! Let’s fuck!” ‘Steve’ said in Loki’s voice.

“Cut it out,” Bucky murmured, standing up and crossing his arms. “Our relationship is strictly platonic!”

“Yes, I suppose that’s why you two share a bed,” Loki said as he reappeared.

Bucky looked away, wondering just how much Loki knew about him.

His eyes fell upon the body and he shuddered. He had to fix this.

Bucky stomped off to the kitchen, and with newfound determination, grabbed a garbage bag and some paper towels. He walked back into the lounge and, ignoring the fact that Loki was watching him in amusement, shook the garbage bag open and set to stuffing the dead man inside of it.

“By the Norns, what are you trying to do?” Loki didn’t bother trying to conceal the humor he was getting out of this.

Bucky swore violently, half at Loki and half at himself. The garbage bag was too small and only covered a portion of the body, and because it was white and now nearly bulging, it was transparent.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked again, much to Bucky’s annoyance.

Bucky glowered at Loki. Despite his aggravation towards him, he couldn’t help but admire the man’s physique. The way his blazer seemed to shape his chest perfectly, and the teased form of his long legs that was covered by his tight pants—

No. Bucky stopped himself. This was a maniac. This was a jackass. This was not someone sexy.

“I’m trying to get rid of the body!” He growled.

“Well, that’s certainly not going to work...”

“I am aware of that!” Bucky shouted.

“Let’s have a threesome,” Loki said. It took Bucky a moment to understand what he was implying. When he did, he looked at Loki in shock.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Bucky demanded. Loki just smiled, that twisted, infuriating smile that Bucky wanted to rip off his face.

He looked back at the body, considering his other options of disposing of it. If he could get it outside without being noticed, perhaps he could load it onto his motorcycle and drop it off in the woods.

He shook his head. That would never work; he would be caught without a doubt. He could try calling the police and putting on a disguise while claiming that he walked in and found the body.

Bucky snorted. Ridiculous.

Before he could concoct another plan, he heard the sound of the front door opening. He panicked. Was Steve home already?

“Are you guys home? I got pizza!” Relief washed over Bucky for an instant. It was only Sam Wilson, who had been given keys to the apartment at Steve’s insistence, and came by nearly every day. Sam had helped fix this place up by buying appliances and furniture, saying he needed to make it more cozy.

Bucky knew he still had to hide this mess.

“Quick! Help me!” Bucky whisper-screamed to Loki as he started to lift the half-covered body. “Sam! Hi!” He added loudly. “Stay where you are, I’ll be right there!” He tried his best to sound cheerful.

“Okay,” Sam replied. “I got a pie with pineapple on it; your favorite.”

Loki, who was in the process of helping Bucky lift the body, started laughing hysterically. Bucky tried to quiet him, but he only grew louder.

“P...Pineapple...on…” Loki gasped between laughs, trying to form words but eventually giving up.

“Shut up!” Bucky growled.

“Is someone in there with you?” Sam asked. “Who’s laughing?”

“No! It’s just me, Steve’s at the store!” Bucky shouted. He heard footsteps approaching, and quickly he shoved the body to a hyperventilating Loki.

“Stuff it in the closet.” He ordered in between gritted teeth, having no idea whether or not Loki would comply. He turned and sprinted out of the room and into the hallway, nearly crashing into Sam.

“Sam!” Bucky exclaimed, trying to force as much enthusiasm into that one word as he could.

“What were you laughing about—”

“—Good to see you again, I’m great,” Bucky said. “So what’s up with you?”

Sam frowned, puzzlement clearly written all over his face. “What’s got you all revved up?”

“Uh—” Bucky tried to think.

“Is that…” Sam’s eyes widened as he looked Bucky up and down.

Bucky panicked, “It’s not—!”

“Is that blood all over you?” Sam stared at him in shock.

“What? No!” Bucky tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a dying pig. “I was—painting! Yeah! I’ve been getting into some real hardcore painting!”

“Painting, huh.” Sam’s eyes were replaced by two suspicious slits. Bucky felt himself shaking, feeling as though a cold was seeping through him, paralyzing him.

“Would you like some constructive criticism? I’d love to see what you’ve made.” Sam said, beginning to walk past him.

“Oh, no! No! It’s not—it’s nothing great.” Bucky explained hastily, blocking Sam’s path.

“Come on!” Sam darted past him, heading for the lounge.

“No!!” Bucky cried, but it was too late; Sam had already entered the lounge. Bucky hurried after him.

“Sam, I’m sorry, it’s not what you think—”

“Why is there blood on my furniture?!?” Sam shrieked, pointing to the couch.

“It’s paint!” Bucky shouted.

“Bullshit!” Sam retorted. “What the hell happened here?!”

Bucky was at a loss for words. There was only one thing left to say;

“I started my period.” Bucky said.

“You what?!” Sam exclaimed.

“Happy birthday motherfuckers!” A voice said gleefully. Bucky looked around. Loki had appeared by the closet door and threw it open; revealing the body, which collapsed to the floor with a thud.

Sam was silent for a long, dreadful moment. Then, he let out a heavy breath and started laughing.

“You know what, this is great.” He said. And then he shouted; “Why the hell is there a terrorist in your apartment?!”

“Hey, I am not a terrorist, I am a noble king trying to tame my unfaithful subjects.” Loki objected.

“What have you done?!” Sam shouted to Bucky, who, at this point, had given up on trying to explain himself.

“Oh calm down, he’s had a rough day; killed a man without even knowing it, the poor guy.” Loki explained in a mocking way.

“Is that true or horseshit?” Sam questioned Bucky.

“It’s true. I don’t know.” Bucky shook his head gloomily, his shoulders drooping. “One minute I was out buying plums, and the next, I found a body in my apartment.”

Sam was still suspicious. “Then what’s he doing here?” He asked, pointing to Loki.

“Bucky was feeling sexually frustrated,” Loki replied before Bucky could. “He hired me to help him with that.”

Sam’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped open as he looked at Bucky in horror. Bucky shook his head frantically. “What? No! Gross. That didn’t happen!” He explained, throwing a glare at Loki. “I don’t even know how he got in here.”

“Then If you don’t remember killing that guy,” Sam nodded to the body. “Then wouldn’t it be possible that Loki killed him?”

“I did not.” Loki protested. “Look at how messily he was killed; that’s not my handiwork!”

Bucky frowned, wondering why that explanation had never crossed his mind. He eyed Loki. What could he possibly be gaining from framing him with murder?

“Look. I just want it out of here and forgotten about before Steve gets home.” Bucky said.

“I can get rid of it.” Loki spoke the moment the words had left Bucky’s mouth.

“Why the hell didn’t you offer earlier?” Bucky demanded angrily. “And anyway how are you going to do it?”

“I have my ways.” Loki waved a hand. “I’ll do it… for a price.”

Bucky didn’t like the dangerous, threatening tone in Loki’s voice.

“What kind of price?” Bucky wondered what he had that Loki could possibly want.

“I’m sure I could come up with something.” Loki’s eyes traveled all over Bucky’s body, gazing at him in a lustful way and coming to rest at his crotch area.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, “You don’t mean…”

He trailed off when he glimpsed at what appeared to be a bulge in Loki’s pants that had not been there a moment before.

“Oh… oh…” Bucky said in realization. He averted his eyes, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

“Man—That’s just—” Sam stammered.

Bucky considered his options. “You would…” He began, shuffling his feet. “You would get rid of all the evidence?”

“Of course.” Loki’s voice sounded overly sincere. He walked closer to Bucky, stopping inches away from him.

Bucky looked back up at him.

“Anything for you, James.” Loki said. Even his face was innocent; adorable almost, bearing no hint that in actuality he was blackmailing Bucky.

“Now wait just a minute!” Sam barked. He had his arms crossed, looking stern. “What’s stopping me from calling Cap and having him do away with you?”

Loki laughed, “I highly doubt a mere mortal like he stands a chance against me alone. Besides, I’ve done nothing wrong; and I’m sure James here doesn’t want the good Captain to find out about this… incident…”

“You cant—” Sam began, but Bucky cut him off;

“I’ll do it.” He said. “Just as long as you get rid of the evidence and get yourself the hell out of here afterward.”

“Getting aggressive, are we? I like that,” Loki grinned. Bucky looked down again, this time to conceal a small, giddy smile. He hadn’t had any… intimacies for years. Maybe it would go okay. Hell, maybe he’d even like it.

He felt his face heat up even more at that thought.

“You know what, fine, great, go nuts. I don’t care.” Sam marched out of the room, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Bucky watched him go, and then turned back to Loki, who shot him another charming smile.

“Care to show me to the bedroom?” He asked.

Bucky woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door.

He sat up in bed groggily, scratching his head. “Yeah, who is it?” He grunted.

“It’s Steve.”

In a flash, Bucky recalled all that had happened hours earlier. The body, the confusion, Loki.

Bucky’s eyes widened.

Loki.

Dammit, why did he have to fall asleep? Where was Loki? Did he get rid of the body?

In the midst of his panic, Steve spoke again; “Are you alright? There’s a whole pizza in the kitchen that you didn’t touch.”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky stammered. “Yeah, uh, Sam brought it over but I wasn’t hungry.”

The doorknob jiggled and Steve stepped inside. “What are you doing in h—” Steve stopped in his tracks and awkwardly looked away from him.

Bucky frowned, not realizing why…

“Shit!” He murmured as he pulled the blanket that had been barely concealing his naked body closer to him. “I was just… Hot.”

“Oh,” Steve said, looking back at him, but still seeming somewhat uncomfortable. “I saw you cleaned this place up a lot; it looks great.”

Bucky frowned as relief began to slowly pour over him. “So there’s no body?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Nothing.” Bucky replied quickly.

For a second, it seemed as though Steve was about to press the issue.

“So I was thinking,” He began. “Maybe tonight we just hang out and watch a couple movies?”

“Sure,” Bucky grinned, letting out a breath. It was fine. No one except Sam and Loki knew what had happened.

It was like a large, heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

“You okay?” Steve asked, his voice laced with concern.

Bucky laughed, “Oh Steve, I’m great,” He tried to stop smiling, but was unable to. “I’ll be out in a minute; I just have to get dressed.”

Steve nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Bucky sighed happily and got out of bed, stumbling over to his dresser. He had just finished picking out something to wear when he noticed a neatly folded piece of paper lay on top of the dresser.

Bucky frowned, puzzled. He snatched up the paper and unfolded it. Inside was a letter;

James—

Firstly, I want to thank you for the pleasurable time we shared. I have also taken care of all the evidence, so no one shall know what’s been done.

—Your King

P.S. I foresee we will be seeing each other again sometime soon.

Bucky felt a smile creep over his face. Shaking his head, he got dressed.

#Loki #Bucky #Winterfrost #loki x bucky #200contest #crack

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